Lorene.” He pulled up a screen featuring fancy black lace nighties. “Which do you think she’ll like best?”
“Jewelry, dude,” Archie said. “She’s an actress. She’ll want to shine like a spotlight.”
“Flowers, dude,” I said. “Look at your pixie cartoon project. We like flowers.” I forced his hand off the mouse and clicked on his minimized window, bringing up an image of pixies dancing with roses between their teeth. I highlighted the character’s smiling face. Cute. While I had it open, I clicked on a whimsical star and marked her eyes with it.
“You know the software?” Archie said.
“I took a few courses.”
Justin made a happy sound and shoved a pink binder at me. “You can make the adjustments outlined in here. They’re trying to add more drama to the pixie art. I’ll email you the files.”
Pleasure hit me. A real project. “Okay.”
“Hey,” Justin said. “You cut your hair.”
“Yeah.”
“Looks good.”
“Thanks.”
***
“Hannah! Hey.” Kursten caught me before I reached the Warehouse 47 guard post. She wore a wrap dress that looked like a karate Gi and black platform shoes. Candace stood beside her, holding a hatbox. Candace wore an emerald and green tartan mini dress with matching shoes.
“Cute shoes.” The compliment went for both of them.
“Thanks.” Candace giggled and pressed the box into my hands. “Here. It’s for Garrett.”
I tried to give it back. “I don’t work with Garrett.”
Candace retreated with her hands behind her back. “You have to give it to him.”
“He’s in there.” Kursten pitched her voice high and her braces flashed. “With Max.”
“Probably.” I looked to the guard for a save. I didn’t want to run fan girl errands. I wanted my co-workers to see me as a professional, an artist, not an assistant. I arched my eyebrows at him. “No unauthorized deliveries, right?”
The guard’s expression soured. “Did you bring me anything from Scoop Out ?”
That took us to a standoff. We both knew I hadn’t brought him anything from Scoop Out. “Not today, no.”
The guard lifted a crumpled brown paper bag and withdrew a plastic-wrapped gas station sandwich. “No matter. I brought my lunch.” He smiled slowly and looked at the hatbox. “I already cleared that delivery. Take it on in.”
“Yes!” Candace squealed and high-fived Kursten.
“Thanks, Hannah,” Kursten said. “Love your haircut.”
“Me too,” Candace said. “Thanks, Hannah. See you later.”
I breathed out and elbowed through the door. “Later.” I hoped they hadn’t sent over anything embarrassing—like unmentionables or love letters or unmentionable love letters. The box was light, but awkwardly shaped. I used two hands and took it over to Garrett.
Garrett lay sprawled across one of the set couches with Max in the nearby armchair. The furniture was ornate and fragile, the complete opposite of the two buff, modern guys. I wanted to paint them. Especially Max. His dark hair, against the armchair’s red velvet fabric. Stunning.
I placed the box on the coffee table. “Special delivery for Mr. Campbell.”
Garrett sat up, his eyes bright, his smile wide. “Is it from Marissa? Is it lunch?”
“Nope. Courtesy of two rabid fans outside.”
Garrett took the lid off. “Jesus.” He blinked.
Max rubbed his earlobe. “What is it?”
It had fluffy, tiger-striped fur, huge round eyes, a round face, and ears that folded over. And, it was alive.
My insides melted. “I think it’s a kitten.” My voice squeaked.
“It’s weird.” Max reached in and lifted it onto his palm. I hurried to his side so I could pet it.
“It’s not weird, it’s a Scottish Fold.” Garrett lifted a card from the box. “Dearest Garrett. Kickers is a Scottish Fold kitten.” Garrett nodded to acknowledge his own accuracy. “He’s six weeks old, and he’s for you. We named him Kickers after your new movie.” Garrett frowned and shook his head.
“Jewelry, dude,” Archie said. “She’s an actress. She’ll want to shine like a spotlight.”
“Flowers, dude,” I said. “Look at your pixie cartoon project. We like flowers.” I forced his hand off the mouse and clicked on his minimized window, bringing up an image of pixies dancing with roses between their teeth. I highlighted the character’s smiling face. Cute. While I had it open, I clicked on a whimsical star and marked her eyes with it.
“You know the software?” Archie said.
“I took a few courses.”
Justin made a happy sound and shoved a pink binder at me. “You can make the adjustments outlined in here. They’re trying to add more drama to the pixie art. I’ll email you the files.”
Pleasure hit me. A real project. “Okay.”
“Hey,” Justin said. “You cut your hair.”
“Yeah.”
“Looks good.”
“Thanks.”
***
“Hannah! Hey.” Kursten caught me before I reached the Warehouse 47 guard post. She wore a wrap dress that looked like a karate Gi and black platform shoes. Candace stood beside her, holding a hatbox. Candace wore an emerald and green tartan mini dress with matching shoes.
“Cute shoes.” The compliment went for both of them.
“Thanks.” Candace giggled and pressed the box into my hands. “Here. It’s for Garrett.”
I tried to give it back. “I don’t work with Garrett.”
Candace retreated with her hands behind her back. “You have to give it to him.”
“He’s in there.” Kursten pitched her voice high and her braces flashed. “With Max.”
“Probably.” I looked to the guard for a save. I didn’t want to run fan girl errands. I wanted my co-workers to see me as a professional, an artist, not an assistant. I arched my eyebrows at him. “No unauthorized deliveries, right?”
The guard’s expression soured. “Did you bring me anything from Scoop Out ?”
That took us to a standoff. We both knew I hadn’t brought him anything from Scoop Out. “Not today, no.”
The guard lifted a crumpled brown paper bag and withdrew a plastic-wrapped gas station sandwich. “No matter. I brought my lunch.” He smiled slowly and looked at the hatbox. “I already cleared that delivery. Take it on in.”
“Yes!” Candace squealed and high-fived Kursten.
“Thanks, Hannah,” Kursten said. “Love your haircut.”
“Me too,” Candace said. “Thanks, Hannah. See you later.”
I breathed out and elbowed through the door. “Later.” I hoped they hadn’t sent over anything embarrassing—like unmentionables or love letters or unmentionable love letters. The box was light, but awkwardly shaped. I used two hands and took it over to Garrett.
Garrett lay sprawled across one of the set couches with Max in the nearby armchair. The furniture was ornate and fragile, the complete opposite of the two buff, modern guys. I wanted to paint them. Especially Max. His dark hair, against the armchair’s red velvet fabric. Stunning.
I placed the box on the coffee table. “Special delivery for Mr. Campbell.”
Garrett sat up, his eyes bright, his smile wide. “Is it from Marissa? Is it lunch?”
“Nope. Courtesy of two rabid fans outside.”
Garrett took the lid off. “Jesus.” He blinked.
Max rubbed his earlobe. “What is it?”
It had fluffy, tiger-striped fur, huge round eyes, a round face, and ears that folded over. And, it was alive.
My insides melted. “I think it’s a kitten.” My voice squeaked.
“It’s weird.” Max reached in and lifted it onto his palm. I hurried to his side so I could pet it.
“It’s not weird, it’s a Scottish Fold.” Garrett lifted a card from the box. “Dearest Garrett. Kickers is a Scottish Fold kitten.” Garrett nodded to acknowledge his own accuracy. “He’s six weeks old, and he’s for you. We named him Kickers after your new movie.” Garrett frowned and shook his head.
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