Page 14 of Good Enough
Like Kai, he was a lister. She internally laughed at the symmetry of a SEAL using bullet points. His printing was precise, block, capital letters. If he made a mistake, he used a clear, single strike-through line. His work on the page was much like him: solid, strong. However, unlike him, it was readable.
When the hell did he swing around next to me in the booth? I distinctly remember at one point turning things in his direction and looking at everything upside down.
She’d been so focused that the change in their proximity hadn’t even registered.
While they were working, people were constantly knocking on her door: signatures needed for the casting director to restructure a contract, renderings needed for the costume designer to correct decorations on the Navy uniforms, and approvals needed for various expenditures. Whenever someone came in, he sat quietly. Patiently. She could feel him watching and knew he was listening closely. He never spoke to those who entered other than to return the greetings and partings, handshakes on both ends.
The sun had gone down before Kai realized how much time had passed. Currently, they were looking over elements of the obstacle course she wanted to build, and Waters was making sketches on his notepad, annotating for the construction crew what would be needed for the various elements. Suddenly, her door whipped open. No polite knock. Not even a cursory knock. The door slammed behind the man entering.
She knew it was Stapleton, but she refused to look up and acknowledge his rude entry, which she knew would make him crazy. Interestingly enough, Waters also ignored him and kept writing while she was talking to him, and she had a sneaking suspicion he was more than aware of everything about the new presence in the room.
“Serrano, who the hell is this?” She continued speaking to Waters, looking at him, then at the screen where she was pointing with her stylus. “Serrano!”
Fuck a duck, here we go.
Kai finished her sentence to Waters before looking up. “Craig. I didn’t hear you knock.” The jab was light, but she knew he recognized it. Waters was now looking directly at Stapleton. His face was neutral, but she was certain that he was running an assessment of the situation similar to when the Terminator came through to modern-day Earth. “What can I do for you?”
“I asked, who the hell is this?” He jerked his head in Waters’ direction.
Stapleton was Hollywood handsome with black hair, blue eyes, a wide smile, and tan skin. When he smiled for the cameras and people he met for the first time, he gave the impression of confident, successful, and friendly. Once you got to know him? The hair screamed dye job, the blue eyes were clearly colored contact enhanced, the tan sprayed on, and his pearly white teeth often conjured images of a shark just before it tore into its prey. Always dressed to the nines and always an ass.
“This? This is Waters, from Tribe. They’ve agreed to do the consulting for the film. I reminded you about them this morning.”
Stapleton glared at Waters, not offering a hand in greeting. “I didn’t approve that expenditure yet. His being here is a little premature, don’t you think?”
“His presence is an approved portion of the budget.”
“Well, I don’t have a contract with details, nor do I have the appropriate work releases, NDAs, and employment forms on file, and until I do, he’s not getting paid.”
“He’s not an employee, Craig. He’s a consultant. His firm pays him out of their fee, which I know you remember. As for NDAs, he’s a former Navy SEAL, so I’m guessing he knows how to keep a secret.”
Stapleton grunted. “I still think this is an unnecessary expense.”
She bristled at the pronoun relegating Waters to a thing rather than a person. “He,” she emphasized, “has already clarified several huge mistakes in the script that would stand out to anyone with experience in military service, so yes, we do need him. We discussed all of this, for what feels like the ten millionth time, at our meeting this morning, so I refuse to discuss it any further. Now, was there something new you wanted, or can we get back to work?”
A muscle tic in Stapleton’s cheek showed the level of anger he was holding back. “Invoices,” he ground out.
“What?” Kai was confused.
“Invoices. For your purchases. I want to look at the invoices.”
“Why?”
“Because, as you recall from this morning’s meeting, I have concerns regarding your spending. Therefore, as executive director, it’s my prerogative to view them. I am in charge of the money, after all.”
She rolled her eyes. “You get a copy of every invoice as soon as it arrives. Why would you need mine?”
“Just give them to me, Serrano.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, keep your pantyhose on.” Kai slid out of her seat and went toward the back of the trailer. “It’s going to be a minute. Waters, don’t poke him. I doubt he’s had his rabies shots.”
When she returned a few minutes later with a file box, Stapleton stood as tall and imposing as he could, arms folded over his chest as he stared down his nose at Waters. Waters was sitting just as she’d left him, staring back at Stapleton with no expression whatsoever. Neither seemed aware of her presence, but she would bet her next residuals check that Waters was more than aware. She slammed the box down on the table, but neither man flinched, their eyes still locked on each other. Kai rolled her own in disgust and sat back down.
“All my copies are in that box, organized by budget item line and then by date. Try not to fuck up my system, please, so that I don’t have to waste my time refiling everything.”
“That’s what an assistant is for,” Stapleton growled.
“No,” she muttered back, “an assistant is to assist with duties that need assistance. I don’t need an assistant to file pieces of paper I’m perfectly capable of filing. Now. Are we done?”