...
* * *
“If you don’t hurry up the meeting will be over.”
“No chance,” Caelan replied leaning closer to the mirror to brush a stray hair back into place, “Chapter cover meetings always take forever and this one is huge. Gen won’t let them leave until it’s perfect.”
“Alright, how do I look?” Caelan stepped back, “Maybe I should change clothes?”
“This is a huge deal for you isn’t it?” Tybalt asked with a slight smirk.
“Townies, Tyb. She’s going to set me up with townies!”
“Oh, no,” Tybalt replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm “the horror.”
“I have standards!” Caelan insisted.
“A pulse?”
“Usually,” Caelan nodded agreement, “but there was this one vamp chick who could …”
Tybalt cringed, “Guess how much I don’t want you to finish that.”
“Afraid you’ll learn something?” Caelan countered with a grin.
“Uh, right.” Caelan’s voice sounded much too loud in the heavy silence, “Let’s go crash a production meeting.”
“Yes. Let’s.”
“I so didn’t deserve that look,” Caelan pouted.
“You did.”
“Alright, I did, but just because you …”
“Ixnay on the oilerspay!” Tybalt hissed through gritted teeth as he reached for the door handle.
Caelan held up his hands in mock innocence, “I was just saying …”
“It will be perfect!” Anto declared as the boys entered the room, “The two of us, larger than life, back to back right in the center with everyone else, smaller and more in the background, off to the sides. Like one of those buddy-cop movie posters.”
A soft groan issued from the woman at the end of the table.
Genlisae propped her chin on her fist, smirking, “The Winston/Anto shippers will love that.”
“Please,” Winston flinched, “Let’s not feed the already overactive imaginations of the readers. One sordid tale of the type of thing you get up to on your countertop is more than enough.”
Anto dropped his head to the table in exasperation, “For the last time, I don’t care what you read on the internet, I would never …”
Winston chuckled, “If you say so.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Caelan cut in.
Tybalt gave a soft snort of laughter, “Like hell you are.”
Genlisae pivoted in her chair eyeing them curiously, “Tybalt, Caelan, what can we help you with?”
“We need to talk about the scenes I have coming up in the next few chapters,” Caelan told her.
Genlisae turned toward the woman at the end of the table, “Does he have scenes coming up?”
The woman scanned the computer screen before her and nodded, “He does. Several, starting with scene 2 of the next chapter.”
“Okay,” Genlisae folded her arms leaning back in her chair, “What’s wrong with them?”
“Nothing,” Caelan admitted, “Except who is in the scenes with me.”
Genlisae shot a questioning look to the woman at the end of the table.
“I have …” the woman leaned forward studying the screen, “Blonde Girl #1, Tybalt, Tybalt and Lilith, a note for a possible scene with Malcolm, Consort and Juliette, Brunette Girl #1, Blonde Girl #2, Tybalt, Ginger Girl #1, Blonde Girl #3 … this list goes on.”
“Exactly!” Caelan exclaimed.
Malcolm cocked his head, “You don’t like blondes?”
“No,” Caelan scowled at him, “Blondes are fine, but they’re numbered!”
“Gen,” he whined, “Numbered means townies. You can’t pair me with townies.”
“Why not?” she asked, furling her brows.
Caelan’s jaw fell open in shock, “Why not?! Townies! I mean … townies!”
“He has standards,” Tybalt put in casually studying his nails, “… apparently.”
“Yes, I suppose he does.”
“There’s just one problem with that,” Genlisae turned her attention back to Caelan, “My bodyshop skills have gotten rusty. All the sims I try to make end up looking the same.”
Caelan nodded, “We think we have a solution. If we could just borrow Bourk for a minute …”
* * *
“I should have changed,” Caelan stared down at himself in dismay, “Put on a suit, maybe even a tux. Should I go put on a tux?”
“You’re beautiful,” Tybalt assured him, “Hold still, you have lint on your shoulder.”
“Lighting check!” Bourk called as he stepped up behind the camera, “And … we’re good. Go.”
“Hello readers! We don’t have a lot of time to get Bourk back to the meeting so we are going to make this short and sweet.”
“Does this look like the face of a guy who should be reduced to whatever random girls happen to pop up in the townie pool?”
“Please, don’t leave me with townies!”
“Seriously, please don’t. I don’t want to listen to him whine.”
“We want your girls!”
“Er. That is to say, he wants. I really, really don’t.”
“Big, small, short, tall, anything goes.”
“Though a complete lack of morals and a willingness to be used shamelessly are definite pluses.”
“I promise they will be well taken care of and have my undivided attention for the duration of their appearance in the story.”
“Which roughly means he will tell them pretty lies and nail them at the first possible opportunity.”
“Well, yeah, I thought that went without saying?”
“Send us your girls so we can get on with the next chapter!”
“They'll thank you for it. Ask them, they want a chance with me.”
“Awesome job guys!” Bourk exclaimed stepping out from behind the camera, “Good work.”
“Thanks Bourk,” Caelan smiled, “I owe you one.”
“So,” Caelan asked as he and Tybalt walked off the set, “Does this make you my pimp now?”
Tybalt shrugged, “Probably, but have you seen the cover Kate came up with for this thing? Moral high ground still totally mine.”