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I smirk and roll my eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Eden giggles to herself as she moseys on back to her desk, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Youtotallyhad fun.”
She has me dead to rights. Itwasa lot of fun.
As I sit back down and do my best to return to work, I happen to notice movement out of the corner of my eye. Just outside my office door through the opaque glass window, a shadow shifts away. I’m not sure if it’s a trick of the light or if I’m being paranoid. Whatever it was, it’s gone without a trace.
Probably just imagining things, then.
Chapter 14
Tip #14: Rumors spread faster than news, and news spreads faster than the happenings.
EDEN
He has a lot of his in-person business meetings at fancy restaurants. I have to wonder if he does this on purpose so he can enjoy a nice meal and write it off as a business expense. I wouldn’t even blame him for it. If I had the opportunity to basically eat for free at some of Los Angeles’ finest restaurants, I would do it every chance I got.
We’re at El Blanco this evening to meet Charlie and a couple other members of the film crew. I’ve learned by now to call ahead to ensure Hunter’s favorite table is available upon arrival. It’s the large circular table near the back of the restaurant, closest to the massive fish tank display. He has me order ahead, too, because he isn’t the kind of man who waits. Always a steak —medium rare— with a side of garlic-roasted beans and a glass of the house red.
I’m a fast learner. In the few short weeks I’ve worked for him, I’ve learned a great many things about Hunter Stride, producer extraordinaire.
He doesn’t do a lot of talking during his meetings. At first, I thought it was because he was doing that macho alpha bravado shit that insecure boys do, silently sizing everybody else up while giving off the appearance of control. Upon closer inspection, I’ve noticed that he really is listening. He’s paying attention, offering the members of his team his time and respect. He only interjects with short questions for clarification, but then he sits back and lets them continue.
Charlie spreads out the storyboard he’s prepared across the surface of the table. The panels are hand drawn and messy, but his sketches still get the message across. “I’ve prepared three sequences for the opening shot,” he says. “One that sticks closely to the script, and the other two are variations that I think would work better in terms of jumping right into the action.”
Robert, the screenwriter, scrunches his nose. “I wrote the opening for a rolling exposition card.”
Charlie shakes his head. “That’s too fucking boring, man. Nobody wants toreadtheir movie. Info dumps are the worst.”
“There’s a lot of background information the audience needs to know if they’re going to understand what’s going on. They’ll be confused otherwise!”
“Would you rather they be confused or bored?” Charlie quips.
“This story is based on real events. They need context!”
I sit next to Hunter, quietly scribbling down notes as they squabble back and forth. I have my work phone on the tablecloth with the screen face up so I can keep up to date with all of Hunter’s incoming emails. My personal phone is shoved in my back pocket, silent as the grave.
While Charlie goes into an elaborate speech about how shifting to a narrator off the bat is just as bad as written title cards, my mind wanders.
I haven’t spoken to Dad in a while. I’m getting a little worried. He’s normally super prompt about answering my phone calls, and if he misses them, he always follows up with a text. I know he’s super busy trying to get his project off the ground, and I can understand the stress he’s under, but I don’t like not knowing what he’s up to. The last time he dipped on me like this was when…when he got sick.
I take a deep breath and shove the thoughts away. I’m on the clock. I can’t afford to split my focus.
Beneath the table, something brushes against my knee.
No, not something.Someone.
Hunter grazes his fingers up the top of my thigh beneath the cover of the tablecloth. My heart leaps up into my throat as I give him a sideways glance. The other guests at the table are so wrapped up in their heated dispute that they don’t pay us any mind.
“What are you doing?” I whisper to him.
“Bored,” is his simple answer.
“You said never again.”
“Never againat the office.”
“What do you think, Stride?” Charlie asks.
