Finally someone with half of a functioning brain. Bash seems to have come looking for me after I slipped away, so maybe I can put him to use before I have to explain why I don’t want to go.
“Someone broke into my trailer, fucked in my bed, and then decided instead of using a condom or jizzing somewhere inside of the person they were with, they cleaned up with tissues and threw them in my trash can. Here. Proof.” I hold out the bag as Bash recoils with a grossed-out laugh. “My whole trailer smells like sex and it wasn’t me.”
“We know,” Frank scoffs. “No one having sex is as cranky as you, Crane. Chill. We were all busy keeping shit running tonight.”
“Was it unlocked?” Bash asks, and I have to take a second to think about it. I always lock my trailer. I’m the type of person who checks three or four times, but did I today?
Yes, of course I did. My most prized possessions are in there.
“It was locked, yes. I guess that narrows it down to whores who know how to pick locks.”
Steve snorts. “That’s probably half the crew. You know Bash has always had a soft spot for the people who can’t get a job out there because of records and shit. Good luck.”
“You’re not helping,” Kelly offers, shooing them all away. “Try asking Darius. He was walking around the area before the show ended.”
She walks off just as Bash backhands my arm a little too excitedly. “Hey, remember that nanny cam? I still got it if you want it. I found my intruder much faster that way than if I had interrogated the staff.”
His intruder also didn’t work with us, but he might be onto something.
People lie, videos that you record yourself do not.
“I’ll definitely borrow the camera, but while we’re on the subject, I feel like we need better security.”
“Probably,” he chuckles, leading the way toward his trailer. “I’ll talk to Darius. It’s hard to put up cameras when we change cities every night, but maybe we could have some standard ones installed for doorbells or something.”
“Or maybe people who actually... I don’t know. Secure the trailers.” Grumbling, I follow him up and collapse into the armchair by the tv. “I feel like someone’s punking me.”
He pulls the bear out of his closet and sets it next to me, and suddenly he seems to not want to meet my gaze, but because of that I don’t have a clue what he’s thinking. “Maybe. And who would do something like that?”
“I don’t know. I hear what some of them say, especially the ones who knew Leo was sleeping with other people. Bullies exist everywhere,” I say quietly. “This is just admittedly a weird way to bully someone.”
“And people are weird as fuck,” he adds unhelpfully. “But what if someone isn’t bullying you, and really just didn’t have anywhere to go?”
“Then that’s even more concerning because you know damned well the crew stays in the nicest hotels we can find and the rest of us have our own trailers.” Picking up the bear, Istare into his beady little eyes. “Who wouldn’t have somewhere better to have sex than the smallest trailer with the smallest bed? Goldilocks would shit herself at the poor choice.”
Bash laughs softly and collapses onto his bed. “I bet she would. And what will she do when she finds the culprit?”
“I don’t know what the little fictional girl would do other than sick Papa Bear on them, but I’m planning to publicly shame them, get biometric locks, and deliver a box of condoms to whoever it was. And maybe punch them in the face, I’m good at that now.”
Grinning, he finally meets my eyes again. “Are you, now? And how’d you get better than that last one, because our boy didn’t have a mark for my wedding?”
Don’t fucking remind me.
“He showed up and made sure I could do it better next time.” Realizing I never told Bash this story because I didn’t want to tell him I ended things with Leo, and also that he needs to be at the after-party and not sitting here with me, I try to walk it back. “I’m just kidding. I took a self-defense class.”
He must see something on my face because although he looks skeptical, he surprises me when he doesn’t push. “Yeah, okay.” Standing, he nods his head and walks toward the door. “But you’re telling me thisself-defense classstory soon. I’ll be patient for now.”
He leaves before I can respond, and I only wait a few seconds before I follow his lead and head back to my own trailer to hide the nanny cam.
I don’t know how my life got so complicated, but something tells me this is only just the beginning — I’m stuck here for the next four months.
This isn’t as fine as I’d hoped.
