Chapter 10 Kris
This recording gig is harder than expected , I think as I pop another Oreo in my mouth. Not the actual work or being stuck here all day. Those are fine. I could even park Jer here for the day if he appeared again.
The problem is I have too much down time. It gives a man time to think and that’s exactly what I don’t want to be doing. I’m worried about Jer. I’m annoyed with the insurance company, and there’s the fact that I haven’t booked my band in a month.
And of course, there’s Dave standing in front me all day with his arms overhead flexing his tattooed bicep and repeatedly flashing glimpses of his lower stomach. I think I've memorized every step of the happy trail that starts at his belly and narrows into the front of his cargo shorts like an arrow pointing home. And I don’t even want to talk about his ass. I just want to…well it’s obvious what I want to do.
I grab a stick of beef jerky and check to see where Dave is now that we’re taking a break. The food table is in the same spot as it was yesterday, right outside the building. Dave’s sitting on the loading dock nearby. He must sense my eyes on him because he looks up from his phone, sees the beef jerky, and scowls. I raise the jerky like a toast, and he shakes his head and turns back to his scrolling.
Without really intending to, I walk over. He lowers his phone as he sees me approaching. I love how clearly his emotions reflect on his face. Annoyance. Anticipation. Excitement.
Before I can say anything, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Normally I would ignore it, but the insurance adjuster said she might call, so I answer.
“We need to get some more details on the fire to make sure you’re not liable for the damages,” the adjuster says after some bullshit pleasantries.
I feel a hot spike of annoyance rush through me.
“I don’t understand. The diner next door to my club had a grease fire that spread to the roof, then leapt to my building. I’ve given you the police report, the fire department report, and my own fucking first-hand account. What more do you need?”
“We just need to confirm that your building didn’t encourage the spread of the fire with faulty wiring or other code violations.”
“This is bullshit!” I practically shout. “I didn’t ‘encourage’ the fire in any way. Holy Christ you make it sound like I invited the fire over to wreck my fucking life. Now you listen–” I’m about to really tear into this fool when I feel the phone get plucked out of my hand. I swing around to find Dave talking on my phone. What the hell?
“Hi, this is Mr. Waggoner’s assistant, David. Mr. Waggoner had to run to another appointment. But maybe I can help? Can you tell me exactly what you need?”
I’m watching him, frozen. Part of me wants to kick him in the shins and snatch the phone back. But I'm also morbidly curious if he’ll be able to talk some sense to this insurance company dumbass.
“Aha. I see. That should be fine. An official copy of the fire department report? Okay. Oh, you need a hard copy?” He raises an eyebrow at me. I nod. “Yes, he can send that to you. And the address is in your email signature. We have that, I think.” I nod in agreement.
All of this would be adorable if it wasn’t so infuriating. Who gave him the right to butt in like this? But I know in my bones he’s trying to help. I can’t keep growling and yelling my way through this process if I want it to go my way. Sometimes I have to be nice. Fuck. I swing my attention back to what Dave is saying now. He’s practically oozing nice all over the phone.
“Great. We’ll get all that out tomorrow. Is there anything else you need? Okay, we’ll get that too. Anything else? No? Fantastic. Thank you so much for taking the time to go through that with us. You’ve been an amazing help. Thanks again. Have a good one.” He switches the phone off and looks up at me. His lips curve up in a self-satisfied smile.
“What the fuck was that?” I hold out my hand and he drops my phone onto my palm. Even though the words are sharp, I think Dave can tell I’m not really mad. Incredulous maybe, but not mad.
“I was saving your ass.” He sits back down and pulls out his phone. I sit right down next to him.
“Who asked you to do that?” I really want to understand his motivation.
Dave looks at me like I’m a kid having a tantrum.
“No one. But I could tell nothing good was going to come of you shouting at Angelica.” He knows her name? Next, he’ll be telling me about her sick aunt in Peoria.
“She deserved it,” I grumble, but I feel the last bit of fight leaking out of me, because I know he’s right.
“Perhaps. But you need to be calm when you’re dealing with folks over there. Strategic and level-headed. Otherwise, they’ll write you off as a hot-head who’s probably lighting fires on his own roof.”
Okay, now I feel fighty again. I turn to him, even though we’re sitting close already.
“That’s insane. Anyone who would think that is nuts.”
“Do you think I’m wrong?” Dave raises his eyebrows and taps on my leg.
“No. Still, you should have asked.” I watch his expression shift to satisfaction.
“It’s easier to ask forgiveness than ask permission. That’s like your motto, right?” He smiles his perfect Hollywood smile.
I groan and try to steady my breathing. The things I want to do to wipe that pretty smile off his face.
“I’m sorry Kris. You looked like you were in trouble, and I couldn’t help diving in.”
He absolutely doesn’t look sorry, but I can tell he’s telling the truth. I get this weird feeling in my chest.
“Okay. I appreciate it, I guess. But why do you even care?”
Dave looks surprised by the question, like it hadn’t occurred to him that he does care.
“I don’t know. I mean, we’re kind of friends, I guess. Friends don’t let friends get in trouble, right?”
“So, we’re friends now?”
I let that question roll around after I say it. I look over at Dave and I think he’s doing the same. After a beat, he responds.
“Yeah. We’re friends.”
“Good.” I bump my shoulder into his. He bumps me back and we kind of smile at each other for a second.
“Places for scene 15, everyone,” the assistant director, Soheil calls out the door.
The moment breaks, and the butterflies I totally did not feel, dissipate.
Before I can move, Dave is already halfway through the door.
“You know what this means?” I call to him.
He stops and turns to me.
“No, what does it mean?” He raises his eyebrows.
“We can be friends with benefits.”
His cheeks flush, and he turns back for the door.
“Hurry up Kris. We don’t want to make the crew wait.”
Wow, he’s avoiding that suggestion hard.
“We’ve been waiting for them for an hour,” I say, hurrying to catch up.
“Still, we should go.” He’s very carefully not looking at me as we reenter the studio.
“Alright, boss,” I say, before leaning in close…close enough so that I can smell his spicy vanilla scent.
“Think about it,” I whisper. I totally expect him to shoot me down like usual, but instead he turns to me and looks me dead in the eyes.
“Maybe I will. In fact, let’s imagine I say yes. Are you going to do anything about it?”
His eyes are hot on me, and I feel like high fiving the universe.
“Hell yeah, I will. As a matter of fact–” Before I can say something filthy, the assistant director calls again. We both spin to face him.
“Places now everyone!”
When I turn back to Dave, he’s already walking away. I don’t know if he was just fucking with me or if he’s serious. Even if he is serious, there’s a good chance he’ll want to back out. I’ve just got to remind him why this is a very good idea. The best, as a matter of fact.