Page 4 of Steamy on Set

“So?” I shift so my whole frame is facing him. Even in heels, I have to tilt my head back to try and meet the fullness of his stare, as the top of my head doesn’t even clear his shoulder.

“So no one cares what you think about the tea selection.” The lines around his eyes deepen as his frown pulls his mouth further down, sharpening the look of his cheekbones.

“It’s too early for this.” Dropping the packets back onto the counter, I awkwardly step around him as he makes no effort to move out of the way.

“Let me guess, you also have a problem with the start time?”

“Actually, yes I do.”

“Typical.”

“What does that mean?” Just as I’m about to walk out the door, his last word pulls me up short, forcing me to look in his direction.

His long thick fingers unravel from one another to point at my heels.

“You just act how you look.”

“And how exactly do I look like I would act?”

The room grows taut as he arches one sharp eyebrow. He looks at me, a small smile pulling at his lips, as if he finds humor in being insulting. The heat of my anger engulfs my body, making me feel flushed. I wait for his response, tasting the tart swill of frustration on my tongue.

“This is a job. Not a bar or party. You look like you came here to socialize.”

“And you look like you got dressed in the dark,” I spit out, pointing at his rumpled t-shirt and clashing pants. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you are wearing mismatched socks.”

His hands twitch at his sides as if he is stopping himself from pulling at his clothes. We both look down to his feet at the same time to see that I’m proven right. Expecting resignation when I look back in his eyes, it throws me when all I see is fire.

“Usually people try to hide the fact that they are vain, but kudos to you for just throwing it all out there.”

I snort. “I’m not the one who remarked on the other one’s looks first. You’re a judgemental jerk who’s mad they got called out on their shit.” I look him up and down, and then turn before he can try and spark another argument.

Slamming the door behind me, I want him to know just how displeased he made me with his behavior. I mean, honestly, if people should look like they acted, his rich brown skin should be rough like old leather. The long dreadlocks that twist his coiled hair into neat lines should instead be rough and crusty. No one who talks to people like that should be that damn handsome.

I find Mira back in the wardrobe room. It takes everything in me not to shit talk about the person I just met, knowing we have to work with them.

“You ready?” she asks, guiding me in the direction of the gathering crowd. Bodies shift to the side as she pushes us closer to the front so she can see. Without heels, she can barely look over the average person’s shoulder.

“What exactly is this meeting about?” I follow behind her and apologize on her behalf.

“Just an introduction and safety guidelines. It’s also to handout the schedules and timeline.” Finally satisfied with our placement, she stops just in time for the passing paper to reach us.

Taking a copy, I hand it to the next person and look down at the expectations. With my eyes glued to the sheet, it’s not until the hum of chatter comes to a halt that I glance up to see the person in charge.

“Fuck,” I whisper loud enough for Mira to look to me for answers. I don’t give them. I’m too busy trying to avoid the eyes of the jerk from the break-room as he waves to get everyone’s attention.

“Okay guys.” His voice is all smooth and condescending. “Can I get you to quiet down please?”

Oh now he has manners.

“Thank you. I won’t take up your time for too long. I just wanted to introduce myself before the production manager takes over. I’m Errol Davis, the director and one of the writers.”Fuck.“Over the next two months before filming, a lot is going to be expected of you, and I want to say thank you in advance.”

His eyes scan the crowd, looking to make contact with as many people as possible. I lower mine and raise a hand to block my face, like that will stop him from recognizing me.

“Now with that out of the way, do we have any questions about the schedule, or do we have any complaints about the start time?”

I look up and catch him staring at me with his hands linked in front of him and his head tilted up. Having already entered into an unprofessional spat with him, common sense tells me to disregard the jab and look away. Unfortunately, that part of my brain shut down after he cleared his throat. I stare him down, letting all my steely disregard for him shine through my eyes. He doesn’t lower his gaze, and the whole room grows antsy from the awkward silence as we death glare one another.

When it seems like neither one of us is going to stand down, someone taps him on his shoulder, forcing him to look away. He hands the reins over to a woman named Priyanka, and I try to remind myself why it’s a bad idea to piss off the director on day one.

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