2. Chapter 2
Chapter two
Aras
A ras mostly stayed out of the way, waiting with the rest of the crew while production got everything set up inside the meeting room. Ozzy and Evander were off getting coffee. Mason, a husky guy with a sweep of bronze hair, fiddled on his phone, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Jake was muscular and tall, and when he caught Aras’s eye, he grinned and winked. Robinson paced slowly, arms stretched up with his hands clasped behind his buzz cut head. He stared at the ceiling, seemingly lost in thought, but never once tripped or stumbled.
Bunny sidled up next to Aras and leaned against the wall. She was a bit shorter than him, with dark skin and tight curls currently pulled up into two puffballs on the back of her head. “Anyone ever told you it takes more muscles to frown?”
“Every day of my life.” He never intended to frown or scowl. He just had a terminal case of resting bitch face. “There’s a reason I don’t have any wrinkles. Keeps the muscle tone up.” He tilted his head to the side to look at her a little more directly. “Any reason I should waste the energy to smile?”
Bunny shrugged. “We’re in Baltimore. I’ve never been before. Seems nice. New job. No one’s been fighting lately.”
That was at least true. Their first two jobs since they started filming the show had been…tumultuous. Jake and Ozzy got into a fistfight, then Ozzy and Evander somehow got their on-again, off-again relationship back on-again. It was holding for the moment, but that didn’t make them any less chaotic than usual. Still, they’d had two jobs—a ranch house in Ohio and a two-story with a flooded basement in Vermont—where things had gone smoothly. And that Vermont job had been hell on Aras. The water damage had done a number on the wiring, and he was the crew’s electrician.
The door opened and half a dozen members of the production crew filed out, which meant talking time was over. Mason popped to his feet and Robinson turned from pacing to walking in. He offered Aras a tight smile on the way past.
Aras and Bunny followed. Eliza, the show’s producer, was already there. She was razor thin with her black hair tied back in a tight ponytail, and wide brown eyes. She nodded to them as they came in and took their seats around the table, then peered toward the doorway. “Ev and Ozzy?”
Bunny shook her head, shrugging. “They’re off doing…whatever it is they’re doing. I’m sure they’ll be here.”
Eliza sighed, then nodded. “Well, client is inbound. Anything you want to go over before this gets started?”
Everyone pulled out their phones. Except for Mason, who already had his in his hand, and Aras, who’d gone over the project details they had several times already. Why, he couldn’t say. It didn’t give him any actual info, and anything any of them tried to glean would probably get turned on its head as soon as they talked to this Caroline Dalton. All he really had to keep in mind was that she had a bad marriage and a contentious divorce she’d finally gotten through, and now she was moving into a new house in a new town in a new state. It was at least a noble cause they could devote themselves to. Helping her get back on her feet and live a better life than she had in her marriage.
Ozzy and Evander marched in, holding hands, and took two of the remaining empty seats. Evander was all smiles, teeth bright white and eyes sparkling. He was in a floral jumpsuit with the chest halfway open. They hadn’t exactly been traveling around the tropics, but apparently they were getting more sun on the road than back home in the mountains of Washington. His brown skin had darkened to a much deeper copper color since they started filming. Either that or he was using a metric butt-ton of bronzer.
Ozzy sighed. “We all sitting with our thumbs up our asses or did we actually miss something important?”
“Only one of us had something up our ass.” Aras kept his voice lower than usual, but loud enough he was sure everyone heard it. Why Ozzy had to always needle and pick, he’d never figured out. Probably something to do with his upper crust upbringing. Backbiting like that would be the norm for the wealthy.
“Are you calling me a bottom?” Ozzy pressed his hand to his chest, mouth dropping open in mock horror. “Pretty sure you’d know better.”
“I’ve seen enough to know what I’m talking about. You never learned how to lock a damn door.”
Ozzy didn’t get a chance to respond—although his expression had collapsed just enough that Aras knew he’d struck home somewhat—because a soft knocking came from the door. Aras turned along with everyone else to see a tall, heavyset woman standing in the doorway. She wore a bright pink windbreaker and black jeans. She had dishwater blonde hair, cut into a simple A-line, and wore sparkly earrings like miniature chandeliers. “Am I too early?”
Mason shook his head as he stood. “Not at all. They’ll want to get you set up with a mic, and then we’re good to go.” He beckoned her inside as a couple members of the production crew came forward to hook her up.
Aras sat up straighter and rolled his shoulders. It was time to actually get to work, so he grabbed one of the hotel-branded notepads in the center of the table and dug a pen out of his pocket.