“Yes, ma’am. A café about a block over. Free refills on iced tea, and they let me sit there as long as I like.”
She smiled. “Okay, but only one glass of sweet tea. The others are unsweetened. Can’t have your blood sugar spiking.”
He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.”
They both squinted against the Texas sun toward Jillian posing for paparazzi with their lenses sticking through a side fence.
“I think she found the photographers,” Brooke said.
“Some of ’em anyway.”
Brooke felt tired today. Not sleep-deprived tired, though she was that too—pleasurably so. But worn-out tired. “How much longer are you going to drive for Jillian, Henry?”
“Just between you and me, Miss Brooke?”
“Always.”
“Another year.” He turned his head and smiled, his weathered face crinkling everywhere. “Till my youngest grandson graduates medical school. I’m helping out.”
“That’s fantastic.”
“How about you?” he asked.
“Just between us, Sir Henry?”
He laughed at the nickname she’d given him on her first day. “Absolutely.”
She returned her gaze to Jillian, who was now chatting with various people outside the studio in the warehouse district of downtown Austin.
“A year,” she told Henry, then grinned at him. “Till my sister graduates nursing school. I’m helping out.”
Henry laughed and nodded. “You’re a good girl, Miss Brooke.”
“Thanks, Henry. I needed to hear that today.” She squeezed his arm. “Wish me luck.”
“You won’t need it, honey.”
Brooke followed Jillian, knowing Henry was wrong, but she appreciated his faith in her. She scanned the staff clustered and milling outside the warehouse where parts of the latest Avengers movie were being filmed, but didn’t recognize anyone right away. Brooke had looked over the names of the people involved in the film at the higher levels and knew about half by name, another quarter by reputation. But she usually worked hand in hand with the people who were never listed anywhere other than someone’s payroll roster, which was always where most of the real work got done.
She paused a few feet behind Jillian as her boss sweet-talked an assistant director who had a tendency to hit on Brooke when he was drunk. That wouldn’t have bothered her quite so much if he weren’t married to a lovely woman with three adorable children at h
ome.
With one ear on their discussion, Brooke scanned the area where crews moved equipment, a food cart worker stocked drinks and snacks, and staff conducted impromptu meetings in gaggles of threes and fours.
“We’re doing some staged filming in warehouse B,” Rob, the assistant director, told Jillian, “and there are several smaller mobile stages set up in warehouse A. The stunt crew is blocking out some scenes in there right now.”
Brooke instantly pulled Keaton’s handsome face to mind. She let the director’s chatter about other resources fade, tapped the face of her phone, and wrote a quick message to Keaton.
Hope your new job is going well. I didn’t get a chance to ask you what movie it was before I had to run. Can’t wait to hear about it when I see you tonight. She paused, grinned, and added, And I hope you won’t need much sleep for your day tomorrow.
“Judging by your grin, that text isn’t about work.”
Jillian’s voice made Brooke want to roll her eyes. Instead, she hit Send and turned off her screen. “It’s just ET, forlorn about missing out on your interview.”
That got a placated smile from Jillian. “This way.”
Jillian sashayed toward warehouse A like a queen bee. Brooke followed, curling her iPad toward her chest with one arm.