See Me .(15)

He hadn’t realized how tense he really was until his jaw relaxed. “Hi.”

Carl removed the unlit cigar from his mouth. “Let’s get this firecracker lit.”

Ron rubbed his hands together. “All right, then. Sean, now that you’ve met everyone, Carl can run through the specifics of what the client is looking for on this one. Abigail did tell me that the shoot was specifically requesting that we show a lot of your ass. She said that wasn’t in the initial report. Okay, I’ll be in the kitchen if you guys need anything.”

“Sean, if you could just go into the bathroom and slip into this.” Tipsy handed him a terry-cloth robe like the one Ron had given him in the blue room. “We can do your hair and anything else while Carl fills you in on the details. Did you have any particular bath products of your own you’d like to use?”

Sean looked through the open double doors leading into the master bathroom. Shit, it was bigger than his studio apartment. “No, I didn’t bring anything. Whatever you’ve got is fine.”

Tipsy was short. Petite was the word he was looking for. The way she fluttered about getting things ready reminded him of a little fairy. After he stepped out of the bathroom, naked under the robe, Tipsy motioned for him to have a seat on the bed. He sat down and let her start to flutter all around him.

She piled a goop of gel in his hair and started to run her slender fingers through the short strands. “You have nice hair. The client’s going to love you.”

Sean had never cared too much about what his hair looked like. It was always cheaper and more convenient to keep it shaved. “Thanks.” What was he supposed to say?

“Now, Sean, this is how the client wants the video.” Carl flipped through a yellow notepad as he chewed on the cigar. Sean must have been giving him a funny look. “Sonsabitches won’t let me light up in here.” His robust laugh made Sean smile. “So today you’re going to do a bath sequence. The typical nighttime routine stuff, then off to bed. Any questions?”

Tipsy gave his cheeks a swipe with a soft cloth. “When do I do it?”

“By it,” Carl said as he flipped another page. “I assume you mean masturbate?”

“Yeah.”

Carl laughed again. “Not today, stallion. The client wants to watch you getting ready for bed, naked butt and all. No touchy-touchy on this one.”

Sean stood up, almost toppling Tipsy over. He grabbed her elbow, steadying her back onto her feet. “Sorry. So does this mean I won’t get paid?”

“Paid? You’ll get the standard $1,000 for solo no sex. Didn’t Ron run through this with you?”

Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t. He just knew that he’d gotten a $500 check for performing during the interview. Shit, he hadn’t expected to make twice that for doing what he did every day.

“Well, you still in?”

Sean sat back down on the bed and held as still as a statue for Tipsy to do her primping. For $1,000, they could dress him up like a fucking chicken if they wanted to. “Hell yeah, I’m in.”

* * * *

“Goddamn son of a bitch!” All the frustrations boiled up as Abigail pounded her flip-flop on the little square machine. “Stupid—stupid—son—of—a—bitch!” Abigail stopped only for a millisecond to see if she’d succeeded in killing the device. The machine continued to play “Anytime” by Brian McKnight. Barely taking a moment to catch her breath, she started whacking away again. “Why—why—why? God, why?”

“If you don’t like the song, all you have to do is hit the Stop button.”

The yellow flip-flop toppled out of Abigail’s hand when she spun around. Sean was leaning against the door frame. She’d left the office door open. Crap! Who else had heard her outburst? “Huh?”

He prowled into the room and picked up the sandal. “The song. All you have to do”—he strolled over to the machine and hit the round Stop button to silence the song—“is hit the Stop button.”

The silence was needed. The echo of the machine sounded too familiar, and the dread the song brought was too much. How many times had he played that song on her machine in Seattle? How many times had she smashed the other machines trying to silence the eerie messages? Too many times.

She sat down behind the desk and pretended to organize papers to steady her shaking hands. “Give me my shoe, smartass.” She hadn’t intended for the remark to be so harsh, but his presence unnerved her. She wasn’t quite sure where she stood with this guy. The smile crossing his face dimmed. He handed over the shoe. “What can I do for you, Mr. Drennan?”