Regina and Emery were already inside, setting up lights and cameras, as was Darcy, whose job was setting up the aesthetics in each shot, everything from hair and makeup to debris on the floor.
“Let’s get you settled,” she said, sitting Astrid on a stool in the back of the room. She inspected Astrid’s face, while Astrid focused on Darcy’s eyebrow piercing and her purple eye shadow. “Well, you already look pretty damn fabulous.”
“Oh,” Astrid said. “Thank you.”
“What about me, Darce?” Jordan said, looking affronted.
Darcy laughed, her asymmetrical bob swinging. “Please, you could probably do my job with that eyeliner work.”
Jordan laughed, catching Astrid’s eye. For some reason, Astrid felt a blush creep into her cheeks. How was Jordan so friendly with everyone already?
Darcy fluffed Astrid’s hair, added a swipe of blush over her cheekbones, and then patted her shoulder before releasing her. Astrid stood up, set her bag on the stool. She still had no idea what they wanted her to do in here.
“The network is cool with you wearing that necklace on screen?” Jordan asked, motioning toward the single gold charm around Natasha’s neck, that same double wishbone Astrid remembered from their first meeting last week.
Natasha laughed and picked up the charm, looking down at it. “Most people have no clue what this is.”
Jordan rolled her eyes. “I’m gay. Of course I know what it is.”
“What is it?” Astrid asked and immediately wished she hadn’t. Both women’s eyes flew to her, then back to each other. Clearly, sheshouldknow what this was.
“Point,” Jordan said, nodding at Natasha.
Natasha, at least, was a bit more polite and smiled warmly. That is, until she opened her mouth. “It’s the clitoris.”
“It’s the...” Astrid trailed off. Blinked. She didn’t think she’d ever said that word out loud.
“The clit,” Jordan said.
“Yes, yeah, I got that,” Astrid said.
“Those who have them have to prioritize their pleasure, am I right?” Natasha said.
Another fist bump between Natasha and Jordan. Darcy let out a little woot from near the back door where she was moving a pile of broken wood farther into the corner.
“Right,” Astrid said. Was she sweating? Shit, she was sweating. It wasn’t that she was appalled or offended. Quite the opposite, actually. Iris Kelly was her best friend, for god’s sake. She simply felt... lost. The crew—Natasha and Emery and Jordan, everyone—was vibrant and funny and brazen.
Everything Astrid wasn’t.
Everything she sort of wished she was.
“Okay, we’re ready,” Regina said, face still hidden by the camera. “Five... four... three...” Then she simply held up her fingers for two and one, and before Astrid knew it, the camera’s light was green.
“Oh,” she said. “Um—”
“Here.”
Something cool and smooth pressed against her arm. She looked down at the steel head of a sledgehammer pressing against her bare arm, the long wooden handle in Jordan’s hands.
“What do you mean, ‘Here’?” Astrid asked.
Jordan quirked a brow. She pulled the sledgehammer back and choked up on her grip, hands sliding toward the steel head as she held it up. “This, my sweet summer child, is a sledgehammer. It smashes stuff. Big crash, big boom.”
Natasha, who was off-screen for this shot, laughed into her hand, eyes sparkling. Astrid squared her shoulders. She was going to do this right, goddammit. She was going to sit at that cool kids’ table.
“Oh, so you’re a smart-ass?” Astrid said, and Jordan grinned. Astrid was pretty sure her mouth was trying to do the same, but hell if she wanted to give Jordan the satisfaction.
“You’re a quick learner,” Jordan said. “I’ll show you. Here.” With her free hand, she tossed Astrid a pair of clear goggles, which Astrid fumbled but managed to hold on to. “Protect those baby browns.”
