15 Cutter #2
“I’ve been here for hours. We have a new show starting tomorrow and my set designer has been out sick all week.”
I guess I never really thought about what it takes to put on the productions in the theater.
When I first came on board, I scoffed at the idea of a live theater on the premises.
We already had live strippers, wasn’t it enough just to show erotic movies?
Then I stepped into the theater one night during a show.
It was riveting in a way the dancers in the house couldn’t touch.
Yeah, it was provocative, being acted entirely nude, but the quality of the performance was top notch.
Renee earned her reputation, even if she could at times be the queen of high-maintenance.
“You should have said something to Daryl,” I tell her. “He could have called in some temporary help.”
Do they have temporary stage help? I’m sure they do.
She huffs. “By the time he got someone here, the need would be past.”
She’s not wrong. I’m seeing that in my dealings with the security agency, which is more like a bodyguards-for-hire outfit. It’s taken them three days to get me two people available for a long-term contract. I guess most of their work comes from short-term shows and conferences.
“Is there anything you need from me?” I ask, though I don’t know what that would be.
“Not unless you know how to paint a backcloth.”
“I’m afraid that’s out of my wheelhouse.”
“Uh huh. Then can you tell me if you’ve seen Emil?”
“To be honest, I thought I was the only one here.”
She shakes her head and tsks. “For a security guard, you’re not very observant. My car is in the parking lot.”
I bite my tongue to keep from correcting the ‘security guard’ crack because she’s not wrong.
I was so busy looking for an Aubie ambush I didn’t even notice the rest of the parking lot.
Granted, the staff and actors from the theater park at the opposite end of the lot, closer to the theater exit, but that’s no reason to ignore it.
Isn’t that what I’m bringing in extra security to guard against?
Any stranger could be one of Scarponi’s men.
That thought refocuses my attention. “If I see Emil, I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.” I brush past her and head for my office.
I’m grateful Javi isn’t here yet, giving me a little alone time.
I love the guy as a coworker, but he’s a talker and I really need some quiet so I can set up these interviews.
I start a pot of coffee before grabbing a fresh shirt and the deodorant out of my locker and ducking into the bathroom to clean up.
By the time I get back, the coffee is ready.
I pour myself a cup and turn on my laptop to pull up the folder with the applicant resumes.
I’ve narrowed it down to the six most qualified, who I have to call to set up interviews.
I’m two appointments in when Javi shows up.
I hold my finger to my lip to shush him and finish up the call.
“Okay, I’ll see you Tuesday then,” I say before hanging up.
“How’s the search going?” Javi asks.
“I’ve still got four people to call.”
His eyes widen. “How many are you going to interview?”
“I want to get a good cross-section. You know how Daryl is. He wants the best.”
Javi grins. “Does that mean I’m one of the best?”
“Stop fishing for compliments. You already know that.”
“Just messing with you,” he chuckles. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Yeah, can you open today while I finish up these calls?”
“Close last night, open today. Be careful, I might take your job.”
“Days like this, you’re welcome to it.”
I should be relaxed since there’s no danger of running into Aubie tonight, but it’s like the tension I felt last night is permanently lodged between my shoulder blades. I finish making my calls and check in with Javi before heading to Daryl’s office to update him on the search progress.
“How did you get home last night?” he asks when I make myself comfortable on his couch.
It takes a supreme effort not to show a reaction to the question. “What do you mean?”
“Your bike was here when I left.”
Oh. Shit. For a minute I wonder if he saw me get into Aubie’s car on camera. “I didn’t feel like riding it in the rain.”
He smirks at me like he’s in on some private joke. Maybe he knows more than he’s letting on. “So how did you get home?”
“Uber.” Technically, it’s not a lie.
“Might be time to put the bike away for the winter.”
“I should have a couple of weeks before the first snow.”
“I don’t know. It feels pretty cold out there tonight. I think Evie will still like you without the bike.”
Evie? I start to contradict him then stop myself. Better he thinks I’m trying to impress her than what’s really going on. Still, I don’t want to give him any hint of gossip to take back to Selena. “I told you, we’re just friends.”
“So you said. You could certainly do worse.”
“Evie’s not interested in a relationship, and I agree with her.”
“Who said anything about a relationship? Maybe what you need is a situationship.”
“I don’t even know what that is.”
He cocks a brow. “How about friends with benefits? Surely you’ve heard of that.”
“Yeah, but I’ve never done that.”
“You’re kidding? You never had sex just for the hell of it?”
I roll my eyes. “You forget, Daryl, I was in a committed relationship for four years.” And after that I was an impotent drunk who wouldn’t remember what I did anyway. Luckily he knows enough not to bring up those times.
“So? What about before?”
“Jesus, I was in high school. All I cared about was baseball.”
“Maybe it’s time you sowed some wild oats. You’re young, you’re reasonably good-looking–”
“Gee, thanks Grandpa.”
He grins. “Just saying. You attracted Evie’s attention. If she’s not interested in jumping your bones for the night, maybe there’s someone else out there who is.”
“What’s with this sudden mission to get me laid?” If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he put Aubie up to his shenanigans. I know it’s a ridiculous idea, but I’m clutching at straws to explain the brat’s unlikely infatuation.
“Can’t I just look out for my friend?”
“I appreciate your concern, but I’m good. Not all guys equate good health with screwing around.”
“Are you implying something?”
I bite my tongue; I don’t want to piss him off. “Just that I don’t need sex to define me.”
“I don’t need sex to define me either. It’s just fun.”
And that’s the problem, I don’t say. For him and guys like him–like Callum, like Aubie–it’s all fun and games. But rather than beat that dead horse, I change the subject. “I got all the interviews lined up for next week.”
He gives me a sly look like he knows what I’m doing. “We’ll circle back to this.” Not if I can help it. “You said the other guys are going to be here tomorrow?”
“Actually,” I say, glancing down at my watch, “they should be showing up any minute now.” I stand up and move toward the door when I remember my conversation with Renee. “Did you know the set designer for the theater has been out sick all week?”
He shrugs. “First I’m hearing of it. Why is that important?”
“According to Renee, they’re starting a new show tomorrow and she doesn’t have anyone to paint the backdrops.”
“Fuck,” he sighs, standing up. “Wait up, I’ll walk with you. I need to talk to Renee anyway.”
I know she’s not one of his favorite people. He loves having her here but the two of them are like oil and water.
“Sure you want to start your Friday like that?” I tease as I lead him into the hall.
He rolls his eyes. “Might as well get it out of the way.”
We turn the corner by the house dressing room and run into Izzy. “Good, just the man I’m looking for,” she says, grabbing Daryl’s arm and steering him aside.
This sounds like a conversation I don’t have time for.
“I’ll catch you later,” I mumble and move past them.
The thump of bass hits me as I cut through the house to get to the front entrance.
It’s too early for anyone to be on stage, but Reggie’s getting the already healthy crowd tuned up.
I nod up to him and skirt around the back of the room.
I used to like this time of night at the club. The buzz of activity among the staff, the anticipation of the audience. The only thing I can compare it to is how I used to feel before taking the mound to pitch a game.
But that was before Aubie showed up. Now, like everything else here, I just dread it.
Claire is signing in some guests when I get to the lobby, but she looks over at me and nods toward the two men standing against the wall. They’re an imposing pair, both of them taller than me and nearly jacked out of their snug suits. I can see the bulge of their weapons under their arms.
I approach them and extend my hand. “Gentlemen, I’m Cutter Knight.”
The shorter of the two steps forward and shakes my hand.
“Simpson Burns. This is Blair Robbins.” He looks like a no-nonsense type.
Buzz cut, permanent scowl. Probably ex-military, since a lot of these security guys are.
He nods toward the other guy, who in contrast reminds me of a rockstar bodyguard–long blond ponytail, tattoos that curl up his neck and across the back of his hands. He shakes with me after Simpson.
“Let’s go to my office,” I say, leading them through the door toward security’s domain.
“How big is this place?” Blair asks, looking around.
“The original footprint of the mansion was roughly 32,000 square feet, but the wing we’re using as a theater was added on later as a ballroom.”
I show them into the office and offer them a cup of coffee.
Simpson takes me up on it; Blair passes.
After I get the coffee, we settle in the lounge area of the spacious room.
There are additional desks in here because it was always supposed to be a four-man office.
One corner is dedicated to surveillance, with monitors showing split screen feeds from all twenty-four cameras.
A locker room and bathroom with showers is attached on the other side.
“I noticed the building is three stories. What’s upstairs?” Blair asks.