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“Interviews?” Stretch echoed, confusion in his tone.
Adalee nodded, adjusting her glasses. “Production is starting to go through the footage we’ve gotten, and we need you guys to sit down and talk to the camera about it.”
“Kind of like confession time,” Dove remarked, drawing parallels to reality TV.
Adalee nodded in agreement. “Yes, but it’s not like you guys need to tell us your darkest secrets. We just want you to give a play-by-play of things to accompany the footage. I can go over it with each of you individually,” Adalee offered, sensing the confusion in the room.
“What?” Yarder’s voice boomed as he entered the common area, his presence commanding attention.
“We’ll need Aero, Sloane, Dove, and Throttle for the interviews,” Adalee explained, her gaze shifting to Yarder. “The footage from the wedding trip is what we’re focusing on for now. Just a few hours each.”
“A few hours for each of us?” Throttle groaned, clearly unenthused about the prospect of lengthy interviews.
Yarder intervened, his authoritative tone cutting through the murmurs of protest. “Do it all together. We don’t have sixteen hours to waste on ten minutes of airtime.”
“We can do Throttle and Dove together, and then Aero and Sloane together,” Adalee suggested, seeking a compromise.
Yarder nodded in agreement. “Fine.”
“But we’ll need a couple more club members to give feedback,” she added.
“Stretch and Pirate, you’re up,” Yarder ordered. “Try not to be idiots on camera.”
“That’s what he’s been telling us all along,” Stretch smirked. “I think I hear him tell me not to be an idiot in my sleep.”
“And yet you’re still an idiot,” Pirate joked.
Adalee nodded in agreement, ignoring the extra chatter, her demeanor eager to get started. “No problem. We’ll get more than enough footage with them.”
Yarder then turned his attention to me, taking a seat beside me at the bar. “You good?” he asked, his eyes searching mine for any signs of distress.
I nodded, forcing a small smile. “Yup. Just taking everything in.”
Yarder glanced around the room, his gaze lingering on the camera crew. “I guess this isn’t really normal for you. Especially the camera crew.”
“You would be correct about that. I normally work and sleep,” I admitted, a pang of guilt washing over me as I realized I hadn’t informed my employer of my absence.
“I took care of it,” Yarder interjected, his words catching me off guard.
“What?” I questioned, disbelief coloring my tone.
“I talked to your boss and let him know what was going on,” Yarder explained. “He said he couldn’t hold your job for you, but if you decide to go back to work and if there’s an opening, you can have it.”
“If I decide to go back to work?” I echoed incredulously. “I need money to live.”
Yarder leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “I wouldn’t call what you were doing living, babe. I think that was just surviving.”
“Surviving or living, it’s the same thing. You can’t do either without a job,” I countered, my frustration bubbling to the surface. “I need to go back to work sooner rather than later.” Sooner as in tomorrow.
“You go back to work now, and you’re just going to be a sitting duck for Boone and Gibbs,” Yarder warned, his tone serious.
“You know who is trying to kill me?” I asked, my fear escalating at the mention of the names.
“Not one hundred percent certain, but I’d be surprised as fuck if it was someone else,” Yarder admitted, his words sending a shiver down my spine.
“So just tell the police who blew up the garage, and that will be the end of this.” I couldn’t help but blurt out the words, frustration bubbling up inside me like a dormant volcano finally erupting.
Yarder shook his head, his expression somber. “This is not that easy, babe. The police are not going to help us.”
