3. February 9th

FEbrUARY 9TH

Kai

The default ringtone blared,and Kai startled. She frowned. Unknown caller. Shaking her head and mumbling about Russian bots, she focused back on her laptop, clicking through the renderings of the obstacle course she was designing for daily workouts on the set. Eventually, the phone stopped ringing.

As she scratched a note to her six-page list, the phone began ringing the default tone again. The frown turned to a scowl. Insistent bastards. She ignored it.

A few seconds after it stopped, it began again. She hit the Block Caller button.

No luck. The same number popped up on her screen within thirty seconds of blocking them. Now, she was pissed off. She threw her pen down, swiped the answer icon, and hit the speaker button.

"Whomever the fuck this is, I am not selling you my timeshare, voting for your candidate, or sending ransom for some random woman screaming you're threatening to chop off her hand."

Silence. Then, after a beat, a voice came over the line. "I don't need a timeshare, the elections aren't for another year and a half, and I'm not Russian. I also promise not to chop anything off anybody." After a split second, he amended, "At least, not today. Although it is still early in the day, so I guess I shouldn't make that promise."

"Shit." Kai shivered and cleared her throat. "My apologies, Waters. The number was listed as unknown, and I don't answer numbers I don't know. I assumed you were a telemarketer."

There was another brief pause. "Do telemarketers often threaten to chop off appendages if you don't purchase what they're selling? Because if they do, I need to look at what lists you're on."

She snorted, but she also wasn't quite sure if he was making a joke or not. "Well, I doubt this is a phone call to ask me on a date, so what can I do for you?" As soon as she finished speaking, she hung her head with a wince.

Shit.

There was yet another pause before he replied, "Did you want it to be?"

"Well, it has been a while." Kai smacked herself on the forehead.

Way to double down, dumbass!

"I'm sorry to hear you're short of plus ones. Now I need to know what lists you're not on."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Blah, blah, blah. Yet here I am, still dateless."

Stop! Stop talking! You're making it worse! Filter that shit!

"Hmm. You know they have apps for that, right?"

"Ick." She shuddered. "I'm pretty sure each and every one of those people is a serial killer or in training to be a serial killer."

"I have no experience there to judge."

"Pfft. Of course not. Looking like you do, I highly doubt you need a dating app. Women probably have an app that finds you." As soon as she said it, she slapped a hand over her mouth.

Well, open mouth, insert foot up to the knee cap. Time to just lock the trailer door, crawl under the covers, and never come out, even if California falls off the rest of the country and into the ocean. What is the fucking matter with me?

There was extended silence on the other end of the phone this time. She couldn't even hear breathing. Eventually, he asked, "What would they call it?"

"Wh-what?" Her heart was pounding, the blood rushing to her face.

"The app. What would they call it?"

All she could do was sputter random letter sounds.

"I'm guessing it would have the G.I. Joe logo for its avatar."

She groaned and cleared her throat. "Shit. I have severe filter issues."

"You can't have filter issues if you have no filter."

"Truth. My mouth runs constantly and nearly always inappropriately. I'm just going to blame it on the fact that I didn't expect to hear back from you so soon, which makes me worried your boss is saying ‘no,' which means I'm fucked, so now my self-destruct mechanism is attempting to take control of my universe."

"Can't have that now, can we?"

Confused and again unfiltered, Kai asked, "Which one? Can't have me fucked, or can't have my self-destruct mechanism taking over my universe?" She lowered her head until her forehead was on the tabletop, softly banging against the surface three times. "Never mind. I'm running away from home. Please pretend I didn't ask that question."

She swore she heard a smile in his voice, but it could have been her imagination. "The first one sounds like a tragedy. The second one sounds like one hell of a superhero movie. Can't wait to hear what your character name would be. So"—he switched topics—"let me guess. Yesterday, what we saw was the ‘irritated' filter imploding. This must be the ‘nervous' filter imploding."

Kai winced. "I didn't fuck myself, did I?"

"Relax," he reassured her. "God was amused by it, actually. And I doubt you could offend me."

"Give me time," she mumbled.

"Mmm." Another short dead space came over the phone before he cleared his throat. "I'm calling to let you know that God has given the go-ahead as long as the modifications we're suggesting are implemented. I was going to forward you the file, but"—there was a slight pause—"he suggested that we meet so that you could ask questions in real time."

Well, he sounds less than excited about that.

Kai looked at her watch. "When did you have in mind?"

"My schedule is open. We could meet at the office whenever you're free."

She sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Much as I could use a break from the studio right now, I have a meeting with the executive producer in thirty minutes. Depending on how dickish he's being today, that meeting could be between thirty minutes and six days." She mumbled, "Shithead," under her breath. "After that, there will be people traipsing in and out of my trailer for the rest of the day. I really can't get away. Could you come to the lot around three o'clock?"

Another pause followed. "I can do that. Where do I report to?"

She snorted. "I'm guessing you know where the studios are, although thank you for the courtesy of letting me think that you're not looking at a computer screen right now with a red dot pinging my exact location. Or even better, have some satellite training its eagle eye on me and reading my heat signature."

"Mmm," was all he said.

Her eyes widened, and she pulled the phone from her ear to look at the screen. "Oh my God. I was joking, but you're pinging me, aren't you?"

He said nothing.

"Shit." She put the phone back up to her ear, huddling in on herself. "You're seriously not using an actual fucking satellite. Are you?" she whisper-squeaked.

She heard a click on the other side of the phone, like he'd tapped a keyboard. When he spoke, his voice sounded to her as if it had dropped slightly in octave. "You're looking awfully red, Serrano. But I'm betting shades of red look good on you." He clicked off before she could even say goodbye.

Oh. Fuck. Me.

Three hours later,Kai was striding from the front offices back to her trailer at Studio Lot 4, mumbling about pencil-pushing, pencil-jockey, pencil-dick, money-grubbers when her cell phone rang. This time, the ringtone was dogs barking. She stopped in her tracks, dead center in the middle of the roadway, nearly getting taken out by a golf cart as she took a deep breath and swiped the answer icon. "Hello, Gerald. Sorry! My visitor is here, isn't he?"

"Good afternoon, Ms. Serrano. There's a man here who says his name is Waters. Just calling ya to confirm he's expected."

Kai smiled. "Yes, Gerald, I can vouch for him. I'll come to collect my guest."

"Thank you, ma'am."

She could feel her body heating up and resisted the urge to duck into the nearest ladies' room to check her appearance. Not normally a vain woman, somehow Waters seemed to bring out some sort of primitive female insecurity within her that worried if she was presentable. She gave an unnecessary tug to her blue chambray tunic so that it smoothed out under her wide-waisted western-style belt, then snorted at her behavior.

Who cares if I'm presentable? He's here to set up a job. I'll probably never see him after today. Which, while disappointing from my libido's perspective, is probably for the best from a timing perspective.

Resigning herself to a smidgen of disappointment, she neared the west gate. He was standing in the middle of the driveway just outside the center bars in the open sun. Immediately, the disappointment teetered on the edge of despair.

Can't we play with him just a little bit? He's so yummy.

Nope. No, we can't. Work to do.

The gates pulled open, revealing him without obstruction. His arms were crossed over his chest, his legs spread shoulder-width apart. Wearing a tight dark-red T-shirt, another pair of tan cargos, and hiker-style boots, he screamed former military even without the uniform. Mirrored aviators covered his eyes, but the same as yesterday, his expression was blank. Despite that, his presence was not going unnoticed. It was safe to say that every pretty young thing's head—both female and several male—swiveled in his direction, and curiosity was rampant.

However, Kai did allow herself a dose of possessive glee. He was here to see her. While it might be strictly business, no one else necessarily knew that. And her insides could riot away with all the erotic fantasies it wanted as long as she kept it cool on the outside.

Kai grabbed a visitor's badge out of the guard shack and then walked toward Waters, who also took several steps in her direction. They met face-to-face, staring at each other for a few moments. She saw herself mirrored in his glasses as she handed over the badge, which he promptly clipped to his belt loop. "Red looks good on you as well."

"Mmm." His expression didn't change.

Attempting to gloss over the uncomfortable attempt at a joke, she offered an abrupt, non sequitur apology with a shy grin. "Sorry about our overprotective guard dog. I was planning to tell them about the visitor coming, and then the executive producer was screaming about my ‘exorbitant spending habits.' Next thing I knew, the dogs were barking, and you were here. Gerald treats his gate as if it were Area 51."

"Dogs barking?"

She laughed sheepishly. "Ringtone on my phone."

"Ah." He nodded in understanding. "Dogs. Guards. Got it."

Despite the heat, he appeared unaffected by standing out in the sun. Not a drop of sweat broke his brow. "This way." She gestured and began walking toward her trailer.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed slight turns of his head as he took in all the chaos. Golf carts whizzed by with harassed-looking drivers, even more harassed assistants, and actors or suits busy on their cell phones.

Ah, the joy of self-importance. The I'm-too-busy-and-important-to-walk-anywhere with the proletariats.

She saw his jaw tick, as if he wanted to smile but was trying to hold it back. She stopped. "What?"

He shrugged. Then it hit her.

"I said that out loud, didn't I?"

He nodded.

With a sigh, she started walking again. "Told you I have filter issues."

"Filters are overrated," he said with another shrug.

"I agree. Just time-suckers. I try to filter my mouth because otherwise, I run the risk of ‘offending' the snowflakes whose egos pass out the money and grace the big screen. I can smooth ruffled feathers and even complete angry bird moltings, but the past couple of weeks have been difficult, so my filter is for shit. In fact, I think it's successfully one hundred percent nonexistent after the last three hours of my life that I'm not getting back."

"I take it you were unsuccessful at unruffling Stapleton's feathers."

She turned her head to frown at him. "How did you know his name?"

His eyes stayed focused on scanning the surroundings. "Research. Never go into a situation without knowing the players. You mentioned a meeting with an executive producer, and that meeting's length would depend on temper tantrums. Your paperwork lists Craig Stapleton as the executive producer, ergo, you unruffled Stapleton's feathers."

"Mmm," she murmured his signature response. "And how did you know his feathers were in a bundle?"

"Isn't that a mixed metaphor? Wouldn't that be ruffled feathers or undies in a bundle?"

She waved her hand in front of her face. "He was between ‘ruffled' and ‘molting,' so it was an alternative. And I doubt the man wears underwear. It would mean he can't get his dick out fast enough to measure it or stick it in someone's mouth."

It was at least three steps before she realized he was no longer next to her. Turning back to face him, she saw that his jaw was clenched, and there was just a hint of pink coloring in his cheeks.

"He didn't try that with you, did he?" His voice sounded near strangled.

She chuckled. "I don't exactly have a dick to measure against."

"Don't get cute with me."

"You mean I wasn't cute before?" she mocked.

Nice one, dipshit. He's going to think I'm flirting with him. Am I? Feels a bit like flirting.

He made a guttural nonverbal noise.

She blinked. "Did you just growl at me?"

"Stop trying to redirect. It won't work with me. No woman should have to put up with that crap from any man. So I'm asking again. Did he try that with you?"

Her grin had a touch of you-got-me in it. "No, he hasn't done that to me, so ease down, G.I. Joe, or you'll burst a blood vessel. He tried early on to romance me, if that's what he wanted to call it, but I shut that down very quickly. But I appreciate your concern."

She turned and began walking again. She wasn't positive, but she thought she heard Waters mumble, "He better not try it, or I'll cut it off and shove it in his own mouth."