Bill waved his hands in front of him. “Chris, my main man. Don’t worry. She’ll get you your pretzels, but I need you to get in your headspace.” He tapped his temples. “We’re going to have to do this a lot more dynamically than I planned, so you’ll need to be ready. In the zone, ready for the game. You got me? We have to keep the vision alive.”
“I’ll be fine as long as I have decent water and I know my pretzels are coming.” Chris continued his withering glare at Selena. “I can tolerate the mustard, begrudgingly. I’m reasonable. It’s not like I expect her to make it herself. Not that she could.” He cocked his head to the side and laughed. “That’s what I should have stuck in my rider. There’s always next time.”
It was in that moment Selena appreciated her self-control. If she lacked self-control, she would have flipped off the pompous bastard right then and there or climbed over the table to strangle him. What kind of fake butt self-absorbed bastard thought the words coming out of that mouth were remotely reasonable?
Selena took slow, even breaths to calm her raging heart and kept repeating her new mantra in her thoughts.
Don’t strangle the talent. Don’t strangle the talent. Don’t strangle the talent.
I miss discussing editing of meerkat documentaries.
This job was supposed to be her big chance. A recommendation got her a gig working as a production assistant on the commercial after her post-school years of toiling as a PA on low-budget documentaries. She thought this would be her opportunity to bust into true success. It still could be if she survived the idiots without murdering them.
“Do we understand each other?” Chris asked, enunciating each word carefully. “Or do I need to write it down for you in crayon?”
“Yes, I understand your needs.” Selena offered her best smile to Chris. “I’ll do my best to make sure they’re satisfied.”
Not every director was a freak and not every actor a self-absorbed idiot. This was a commercial, not a show. All Selena needed to do was tolerate some annoyance for a short time, and she would be well-positioned for better opportunities in the future. This was just another test in a difficult industry.
“Your best?” Chris snorted. “I guess I’ll just make do without my pretzels then. It might affect my motivation, though. I hope you understand.”
Bill glared at Selena. “Make sure he gets his damned pretzels. We’re already operating at an artistic disadvantage as is. I can’t believe you’re sabotaging my shoot! Are you doing this on purpose?”
“I’ll get the pretzels,” Selena managed to get out without shouting. “Just give me the time I need, unless you want to blow the whole budget of the shoot on emergency chartering a private jet to deliver a box of pretzels.”
She looked around the table for support from the other staff, but they all avoided her eyes. One loser ducked underneath the table. Who did that?
“As long as I get them before the end of the shoot,” Chris muttered. “They’ll taste better with the seasoning of the anticipation of a job well done.”
Bill clapped once. “Good, we’ve got that settled. We need to go back to the commercial, and…” He frowned as his phone rang. He yanked it from his belt. “Rick, I told you I was going to be… What? You’re sure?” He glared at Selena. “Understood. I’m not surprised. I’ll take care of it.”
The director tossed his phone on the table and continued to frown at Selena.
“Is there a problem, Bill?” she asked calmly.
“Rick was double-checking on the permits before renting a truck to move the gear,” Bill said, his voice filled with hostility. “And according to Rick, our permit’s been revoked.”
Selena’s eyes widened. “What the hell? They just approved it this morning! That was only a few hours ago.”
“I bet you showed them the same respect you showed me.” Chris laughed. “You’re going to need to learn to be a people person, Sabrina, or you won’t last long in this industry.”
“I was nothing but professional, and my name is Selena.”
Chris rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
“I don’t care what happened,” Bill bellowed. “I want this shit cleaned up yesterday.”
Everyone but Selena ducked low this time, even Chris.
“I’ll handle it, Bill,” Selena said. “There’s obviously been a mix-up.”
“Yes, there’s been a mix-up.” Bill’s face twitched. “And you better get it cleaned up if you don’t want me to fire your ass and make sure you never, ever get a job near a production again.”
“I-I’ll get it figured out.” Selena hopped up, some of her fire fading. “Right away.”
“Good. The clock is ticking.” Bill tapped his watch.
“And make sure I get my pretzels,” Chris added with a cheerful wave.
Selena narrowed her eyes. She’d been wrong. Chris didn’t need a punch to the face. He needed a kick to the crotch.
Chapter Three
Scratching his beard, Maximus looked around the cramped motel room filled with his team. Small hybrids were rare, and there wasn’t anyone among the twelve remaining members of Alpha Squad who met that description. The one-room briefing sounded like a better idea before they’d all arrived.
Many of the hybrids, like Maximus, were larger than normal hybrids, which meant they were all but giants compared to humans. Cassius, whom they called CJ, was lithe compared to Maximus, but that didn’t mean he was the kind of man who was going to feel comfortable in a compact car.
Maximus dismissed the concern. This was a special mission, and these twelve, including himself, as the affected, deserved to be here more than anything. Whatever was happening to them was related to something the Phoenix Corps did. They could get their revenge on Quinen for trying to take hope away from them.
After a survey of the room, Maximus nodded to himself. Everyone was ready for the mission. They always were.
