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What even was it about her? She wasn’t his normal type. Tall and slim with that fresh off the catwalk vibe. She was short, filthy, gross. And yet there were subtle things about her. The pout of her mouth. The sparkle in her eyes. That button nose and that dimple in her right cheek. Subtle things that, when placed together, somehow screamed at him.
Look at me. Lust after me.
Plus, of course, she made the Dom in him go absolutely berserk. He had this urge to tame her, to show her that he was a man worth listening to, worth respecting. There would be no greater thrill than showing that goblin who was boss.
Half an hour into the run, the endorphins started to kick in. That was better. He’d stopped having inappropriate thoughts about the goblin and he was back to feeling like himself again.
Healthy body, healthy mind.
He picked up speed.
Today was going to be a good day. He’d been working on his gun diagram on the chalkboard and he had made a few amendments to it that he thought would help. He’d made it look more realistic for a start. In the original image, he hadn’t made the barrel long enough. And the trigger looked kinda wonky. It was no wonder the Littles were getting anxious about holding the real thing. It just didn’t look like the diagram he was showing them. He needed the diagram to look as real as possible, so that the gun itself felt familiar to them when they finally got to hold it.
Yesterday, he’d been pissed at Mabel’s bratty rebellion. And he was particularly mad at her for taking the Littles on that unnecessary shopping expedition. Now, he’d come to see it as a blessing. The Littles got to feel like they had been indulged for a couple hours. They wouldn’t be able to complain about needing a break anymore. Today, they would have no excuse not to get down to some good, hard work.
Liberty was a fine place for running. There were obstacles like lakes and streams and hills and rocks, beauty spots like the ancient ruins. There were paths and wildernesses and trees and open vistas. It felt like which every direction you chose, there were an endless number of distinct tracks. Variety kept things interesting, but, more importantly, it kept things challenging. The thought of stagnating was almost unthinkable to Rip. He had to keep improving, keep proving himself, keep showing the world that he was capable.
By the time he arrived back at his cabin, he was psyched for the day ahead. He showered and then put on a crisp, ironed shirt and smart gray pants. He ate a breakfast of oatmeal, nuts, and grapefruit, like he always did, and then at eight o’clock he set off for the movie set. Right on time, as always.
Only, when he got there, things weren’t right.
Normally, he got there half an hour before the Littles. Time to set up, to give himself a pep talk before everyone arrived. Today, though, they were already there. All of them. And Mabel was there too. And, most shocking of all, they were all wearing swimsuits.
“What’s this?” Rip barked. “What’s going on?”
Mabel turned to face him and before he had time to register what was happening, she pointed a gun at him.
“What the—” he yelled, flinching, until suddenly he realized what was going on. The gun was bright green. Made of plastic. And it was squirting a long jet of water at his perfectly crisp, dry shirt.
“Water fight!” yelled Mabel, and instantly, all the Littles ran forward and grabbed a pistol out the box.
The water pistols were pink and rainbow-colored and shaped like unicorns and dinosaurs. Some shot out bubbles, others lit up, or made a funny jangling noise. The Littles held on to them like they were the most trigger-happy people in the whole world. Like they’d been born to shoot pistols. They giggled and squirted as though their lives depended on it.
“Enough!” shouted Rip. His voice echoed around the movie set, and there was even a faint echo of it down the old silver mine.
Enough, enough, enough.
The Littles stopped squirting but Mabel kept her gun pointed at him. It was strange to see her wearing a swimsuit today. He was trying not to let his eyes wander down from her face, but he couldn’t help a quick glance. He was only human, after all. And her swimsuit was such a ridiculous shade of neon yellow that it pretty much demanded attention.
“Rip,” Mabel said, “why don’t you join us? Strip down to your underwear and grab a pistol. Look, there’s a pink one here that’s going spare. Looks about your size.” She held up a tiny, baby pink water pistol and some of the Littles snickered.
Rip felt the heat of anger rising up his neck. He hated when his neck turned red like that. As though he was a barometer for his own anger, and anyone and everyone could take a reading by looking at him whenever they wanted.
“Don’t get cocky with me, young lady. This is serious. I’ll be having words with Haze about you. Screw it, I’ll be having words withBrandon Marshallabout you.”
Some of the Littles gasped. Rip glared at them, but he felt like a bit of a fake. He had no way of contacting Brandon Marshall, as it happened. The Hollywood superstar hadn’t handed him his private number, unfortunately. But when he returned from his sunbed or ski holiday or red carpet event or wherever the hell he was, Ripwouldbe having words with him. So it wasn’t a lie.
“Talk to Brandon and Haze all you like,” said Mabel with a shrug. “Haze was the one who asked me to do this job, and if you ask me, it’s going very well. These fine actors couldn’t evenlookat a pistol yesterday, let alone hold one.” As if to prove her point, she fired a squirt of water at Rip’s nose.
Rip roared in annoyance. “This is unprofessional. It’s outrageous.”
“Maybe that’s what the Littles need,” said Mabel. “A bit of fun to take away the fear.” She paused. “Anyway, if you think this is bad, wait until we get to the next activity I have planned.”
Rip was so furious he could barely speak. He croaked: “There’s more?”
“Uh-huh,” said Mabel, squirting water high up into the air and letting it rain down on her. “Next, we do the visualization games. Imagining you wearing an elephant costume. Or imagining you with a banana in your ears.”
“Me? With a banana in my ears?”
