He grinned. “Are you kidding me? Your name on a chair? That’s boss shit.”
I held my phone up. “Say ‘boss shit.’”
“Boss shit,” he said through his warm, broad smile.
Before I forgot, I sent the picture right to Sunny. She was going to lose it.
I hoisted myself up and managed to wedge my hips into the unforgiving chair with a grunt. “My ass was not made for this chair.”
He shook his head, unbothered. “No, it’s the chair that wasn’t made for your ass.”
I tried to swallow, but my throat was suddenly dry and mytongue felt like it was too thick and I couldn’t form words. So instead I just let his comment sink in between us, slowly sucking the air out of my lungs as waves of want rolled through me. Was Nolan Shaw an ass man? Was he an ass man for my ass?
A few moments later, Gretchen strode toward us. “You two look great,” she said. “Tonight, we’re just looking for some really playful moments for the montage. We’ll be in the diner and then reset for some street scenes. I don’t want to keep you both too late since we have an early call time tomorrow. We’ve finally got almost all the crew replaced, so we’re ready to get moving at a quicker pace starting first thing in the morning.”
Nolan and I both nodded along. Gretchen always presented herself as in control, even when she wasn’t, and there was something very calming about that. She was like that one friend who always volunteered to be the designated driver.
“Nolan, tonight should be cake for you. A montage is just a music video,” she said.
He nodded confidently, and the two of us were led inside the diner, which was decked out for Christmas in red and silver. All the extras inside were bundled up in scarves and hats, and the waitresses wore roller skates with peppermint wheels and diner uniform dresses to match.
As we sat down in our booth, I was thankful that our scriptwork for the night was light. After Nolan’s ass comment, my brain could barely string together sentences.
We were only a few days in. I had no idea how I’d survive the next few weeks without actually imploding, and I honestly couldn’t tell if my little jerk off sesh last night had made things better or worse.
“Bee?” he asked. “They need to know if you’re a vegetarian.”
“Huh?” I shook my head, trying to dislodge the horny, angsty memories of teenage Bee.
“For the chili cheese fries,” he clarified.
I smiled up at the props master, who was not so patiently waiting for my answer.
“Um, no. I’m a failed vegetarian. Maybe it’ll stick one day.”
“You don’t have to swallow,” he said with a shrug. “You can spit if you need to. Just take a bite for the money shot.” He walked off down the narrow aisle.
Nolan tilted his chin up. “Did he just...? Was that...?”
I leaned out of the booth and squinted at the guy from across the restaurant. He looked vaguely familiar now that I thought about it. Must be one of Teddy’s. “Yeah, that felt a little dirty,” I said with a snort.
“A failed vegetarian, huh?” Nolan asked.
“I’m mostly fine in L.A., but that Texas barbeque gets me every time.”
“Inferior,” he coughed into his fist.
“Excuse me?” I said, crossing my arms defensively over my chest.
“Listen,” he said, reaching across the table to touch my arm gently. I felt the heat of his fingertips through the velvet of my sleeve and held back a trembling breath. “It’s not your fault you’ve been led astray your whole life and have never felt the gospel of Kansas City barbeque deep in your bones, but it’s not too late to accept our Lord and Savior, Z-man Christ, into your heart and belly.”
“The Z-who?” I asked.
His jaw dropped. “The Z-man. Only the greatest sandwich known to mankind. Brisket, smoked provolone, kaiser bun, onion rings, and Joe’s Kansas City Bar-B-Que sauce. Perfection.”
I waved him off and rolled my eyes. “Texas barbeque doesn’t require bread. That’s how good our shit is.”
He recoiled from me and opened his mouth to counter just as a tower of chili cheese fries was placed down between us.
