Page 58 of Crew Princess
He’d forgotten who I was. Crew royalty. My pops was in prison. My resume was packed with experience dealing with authority figures like him. I was onprobation.
He muttered something under his breath and leaned back in his chair. He steepled his fingers over his chest. “I’m aware that you and Ms. Bagirianni—”
“The Badger.”
He continued, ignoring me. “—had a discussion a few weeks ago. You expressed interest in fulfilling the rest of your hours through a different means than counseling and the events committee. Correct?”
Oh.
Crap.
That.
He read my face and chuckled. “I can tell by your expression that you remember the conversation.”
I’d tried to wipe it from my memory, actually. I swallowed over a lump in my throat. I hadn’t told anyone. Not Cross. Not Channing. No one. Though somehow, word had gotten out because I’d heard the Hollywood whisperings myself.
“That thing went through after all?”
“Didthat thing, as you refer to it—a documentary series that came to Fallen Crest to shoot—get the clear for production? It did, indeed, and…” He leaned forward, his chair squeaking. “They’ve asked to come to Roussou for further footage and interviews.”
This. This whole thing he was talking about was my worst nightmare.
The Badger had brought it up to me a month ago. The original production had been about Mason Kade and his wife, Samantha—their story. She was an Olympic runner. He now had two Superbowl rings. The project ran on ESPN, and it was a hit.
That was fine, dandy even. It wasn’t my problem. It had nothing to do with my life.
Then Badger had said there was enough interest in the town dynamics that another project had been greenlit. The film crew was coming back, but to do a new story on the rivalry between Roussou and Fallen Crest.
Principal Broghers cleared his throat. “Ms. Bagirianni asked to have you to help one of their production teams, to assist with the locals because of your unique connection to Mr. and Mrs. Kade.”
I gritted my teeth. My arms crossed over my chest, and every fucking muscle in my body stiffened. “I have no connection to them.”
He started to speak, but no.
I jerked forward, my arms still crossed tight over my chest. “I have no problem with the football guy or the big-time runner, but I don’t know them. He is friends with my brother. She is friends with my brother’s fiancée.They’reconnected totheirlives, not mine. Not me. Not my crew. And I told Badger thank you, but no thank you. I asked for a different option because I’m done with counseling, and the events committee is finished for the year. Prom was their last event, and I had nothing to do with that.”
Without waiting a beat, he picked up right after I finished. “And I’m telling you that Ms. Bagirianni is no longer offering counseling as part of your probation hours. And because you chose not to assist with the prom planning, you are ten hours short of fulfilling your obligation.”
Oh…
He wasn’t finished. “I have looked into all the other options, and none of them has an opening for you. So that means you have a choice: fulfill your hours by helping out one of the production teams or go to juvie.” One of those manscaped eyebrows curved. “Your decision.”
I glowered at him. “My brother can find an alternative—”
“No, he cannot.” He was so smooth now. “That would take too much paperwork. I would have to sign off on all sorts of things, and I’m telling you I am unwilling to do that.”
I opened my mouth, an argument ready to spill. I didn’t know what I was going to say, but my God, it would be a good one.
The principal held up a hand. “And I just got off the phone with your brother. I explained the project, the connection to his friend, and sorry to burst your bubble, but your brother’s actually on board with this one.”
Consider my fucking bubble popped. He’d strapped a grenade to it and pulled the pin.
My mouth snapped shut.
My brother. My own flesh and blood. Channing sold me out.
Mr. Bro chuckled again. “I can see you’re upset, but I don’t get it. I really don’t. Why don’t you want to help this camera team?”
