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Mabel walked up to him and put her arms on his shoulders. He heard some of the Littles gasp. “Sometimes, Rip, it feels good to just… let go.”
Rip raised an eyebrow. “You know that from first-hand experience, do you? Don’t really strike me as someone who lets go very often.”
Mabel scowled. She opened her mouth, about to say something else, but then she thought better of it. She simply adjusted the ridiculous gold crown on her head, and then she left, with all twenty Littles in tow, like the damn Pied Piper of Hamelin.
“Fine!” yelled Rip. “Walk away then. And it’ll befiftylaps when you get back!”
*
All the way out to Dallas and back, Mabel couldn’t stop smiling. She just felt sopleasedwith herself. Sosatisfied. She had always assumed that “job satisfaction” was just a myth. Something that rich people told you existed in order to get you to work for them, to make them even richer.
But honestly, genuinely, truthfully, she’d loved her first ever day of proper work.
It hadn’t been easy agreeing to take the job on. She’d gotten herself thrown out of Liberty first. Yesterday morning she had packed a bag containing some of her most important things, and off she went.
But even though she’d only spent three months in Liberty, the experience had softened her. The moment she left the town, she started to miss it. She missed the free healthcare and the lavender scent of the bathhouse. The food: slightly stale bread that Dax used to give her when the bakery closed on a Saturday night, and scraps of leftover meat from Zayn, the butcher. She missed swimming in the lake and getting the occasional free glass of flat lemonade in The Den.
Most of all, though, she missed the people. And all the wonderful things those people had to offer. There was Billie’s wild creative energy. June’s rebelliousness and love of nature. Brie’s scrapbooking workshops. Tammy’s fairytales, Winter’s generosity, and Isla’s parties.
In the space of three months, Mabel had found firm friends. And because of that, Liberty had become her home. So, yesterday morning, the farther she had walked away from it, the more lost she had begun to feel. Things that had been second nature to her in the past suddenly felt alien: mountains, silence, isolation.
The first night outside of Liberty had ended up being her last. After a dinner of roast acorns and stewed nettles, Mabel had lain awake with a nasty tummy ache. Her mind had been elsewhere, and she hadn’t soaked the acorns for long enough to get rid of the nasty tannins. She’d attempted a quick leaching process, boiling acorns over and over again without letting them cool until the water ran clear. But she’d forgotten how long the “quick” method took. And exactly what was meant by clear.
It wasn’t exactly a major setback, but Mabel had taken it as a sign. She hadchangedsince arriving at Liberty. She didn’t want to just survive anymore. She reallydidwant to thrive. So, with her tail between her legs, she’d returned and asked Haze for another chance. She’d told him that she was prepared to pull her weight. That she’d take the job on the movie set. As long as she was allowed to dress how she wanted, turn up when she wanted, and do things the way she wanted.
Haze had told her that he couldn’t see an issue with that, up to a point, and he’d even lent her his minibus. She’d asked for it in case the Littles seemed in need of a change of scenery. They had been working on the movie set for three weeks without a single day off, and Mabel knew how bad that would be for their mental health.
What she hadn’t realized until she arrived on set was that the biggest threat to the Littles’ happiness was Rip Steele. He was the guy all the Littles were scared of, and it was easy to see why. He barked orders at them like he was still in the army, and clearly he thought he was better than all of them.
So, whisking them away for a day of fun at the toy shop had felt great. And now, as she drove them back to Liberty, she even found herself looking forward to telling Rip all about it. There was something about that guy. His hulking great physique, well over six foot. His wide shoulders and his permanent scowl. His frowning lips and his dull blue eyes. The man had seen some things in his life. That much was obvious. But that didn’t make him better than anyone else, and Mabel was going to teach him that.
As the minibus slowed to a halt, she saw Rip march angrily forward.
“You’ve been gone all day!” Rip yelled, not even looking at the Littles as they filed out guiltily back toward their trailers.
“Dallas isn’t exactly down the road,” she replied, nonchalantly regarded her fingernails.
“This is a workplace,” said Rip. “Not some kind of kindergarten for wayward children.”
Mabel raised her eyebrows. “Not exactly a big fan of Littles then? I guess Brandon Marshall would be interested to hear that.”
Rip narrowed his eyes at her. “You would never tell him tha—”
Mabel shrugs. “Depends how well we work together.”
“I don’t work with you,” Rip replied. “The Weapons Master works alone. I’m in a team of one.”
“Suits me,” said Mabel, quick as a whip. “I don’t work with anyone either. But I guess… we have similar objectives.”
Hands on hips, Rip shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Course we do,” Mabel said. “We both want to make a great movie. Right? Well, you’ve got your methods, and I’ve got mine. And we’ll see whose methods work out best, eh?”
It was faintly ridiculous that Mabel was acting as though she knew how to make a movie, but Rip didn’t know her from Adam. As far as he knew, she was some kind of Hollywood big shot.
Rip looked at her, long and hard. “What’s your deal, Mabel? You’re obviously a Little yourself, but you’re… different to everyone else here.”
Mabel adjusted her crown. It kept falling down ever since she’d hurled it at the ground. Must have dented it out of shape a bit. At last, she said: “That’s because I’m not submissive like everyone else here.”
