But that didn't mean he was looking out for me.
I needed to remember that.
I'd even confronted him about that scene in the attic, where he'd filmed my encounter with Brody.
If I'd been expecting an apology, I would've been sorely disappointed – because all Roy said was that he'd only been doing his job, and that anything in or around the house was – in his words – "fair game."
And then, he'd offered me half of his second bacon sandwich, as if that would make it all better.
It hadn't, even if the sandwich had been pretty darn delicious.
Unfortunately, it was also the highlight of my day.
After I'd mowed the lawn, Roy had filmed me trimming the bushes – not that they'd really needed it. And then, he'd directed me to toward the rear of the house, where he'd filmed me weeding my grandmother's long-neglected flower beds.
I didn't mind the work. If I were on my own, I would've done it, anyway.
But now, hours later, I was utterly spent – not just from all the physical activity, but from being under the microscope for so many hours in a row.
When I'd signed up for this gig, I'd naively assumed that I'd be merely a side player, not a featured performer.
But of course, I reminded myself, this was only the first day. When the actual construction began, I'd surely fade deeper into the woodwork.
Or at least I sure hoped so.
At six o'clock that evening, I'd returned to the crew house, exhausted, but relieved to get some much-needed privacy.
The reprieve lasted only an hour – until the arrival of Waverly and her suitcases.
Until that particular moment, I'd been holding out a tiny bit of hope that Brody had been kidding about Waverly staying here.
No such luck.
And now, she was asking, "So, where's his bedroom?"
I blinked. "What?"
"Brody's bedroom," she said. "Which one is his?"
The question irritated me more than it should've. "How would I know?"
At this, she smiled. "So you don't?"
"No. Do you?"
Her smile grew sly. "Not yet."
Yet? What did that mean? Now, I was only more irritated. And on top of that, I was irritated for being irritated. After all, she and Brody totally deserved each other.
If they hooked up, it would be a good thing because it would keep both of them occupied and away from me. Or at least, that's what I kept telling myself, even as the thought of them together festered like an open wound.
Would they seriously hook up?
She obviously had a thing for him, even now, after he'd told her to butt out of the construction side of things. And, whether I liked Brody or not, I could totally see why she was interested. He was rich, famous, and dangerously hot.
Even in high school, before all the fame and fortune, Brody had dated more than his fair share of girls. I'd heard rumors, mouth-watering rumors that might've interested me if only I weren't still a virgin at the time.
Now, I watched in sullen silence as Waverly glided past me, heading toward the rear hallway, where the bedrooms were located.
I held my ground for like two whole seconds before it suddenly dawned on me that I'd be smart to follow, if only to preserve my own space.
As I strode after her, I called out, "The last room on the right is mine."
Without looking back, she said, "We'll see about that."
I kept on going. "No, you'll see, because I'm already settled in."
In the hallway, she stopped at the first door and opened it to peer inside. Curious in spite of myself, I joined her at the doorway to get a look of my own.
The unfamiliar bedroom was nice and roomy with a queen-sized bed, two tall dressers, and a big window overlooking the private back yard.
I remained stubbornly in the hall while Waverly entered the bedroom and pulled open a random dresser drawer. It was empty, just like the next one she opened. Without bothering to shut either drawer, she strode to the bedroom's opposite wall, making straight for a narrow wooden door that led to who-knows-what. She yanked it open to reveal an empty closet.
With a sound of disgust, she said, "There's no bathroom."
"Yeah, well, there's a really nice one at the end of the hall."
She turned and gave me a dubious look. "How nice?"
"Really nice," I said. "It has a bathtub and a shower." The distinction seemed important, because my own bathroom had only a shower, not that I was complaining.
She asked, "How's the lighting?"
"In the bathroom?" I said. "Good. I guess."
"How good?"
I jerked a finger toward the bathroom. "It's right down the hall. You could check it out for yourself, you know."
"Oh, believe me, I will." And with that, she left the first bedroom and brushed past me, heading deeper down the hall.
She stopped at the next door and opened it. Inside, there was king-sized bed, a wide dresser, and another interior door. Waverly marched into the bedroom, yanked open the mystery door, and looked inside.
It was another closet – empty, just like the first one. She looked to me and demanded, "Where's the bathroom?"
"How should I know?"
"Well, you told me about the other bathroom."
I crossed my arms. "Which you still could see for yourself."
"Oh, I intend to," she said, leaving the second bedroom and striding once again past me. When she reached the hallway bathroom, she opened the door to reveal everything the bathroom had to offer – a nice long countertop, two sinks, a small jacuzzi tub, and a separate shower.
She flicked on the lights and eyed the whole setup with obvious disappointment. "The lighting's awful."
The lighting looked fine to me. But then again, I wasn't nearly as put-together as Waverly. Her makeup was flawless, and her long blonde hair was twisted into an elaborate knot, making her look more like a movie star than a show producer.
Who knows,
