I laughed, leaning back against him. It seemed like a lifetime ago that I blocked them, when I was a whole different person. My eyebrow raised as a certain something pressed against my ass, and I looked up with a coy smile.
“I didn’t know you liked photography that much, Mr. Davis,” I teased, and he blushed, running his hand through his messy, curly hair.
“I mean, it depends on the photograph—”
“Hey, Hugh.” Someone interrupted him mid-sentence, calling over from the other side of the street. A middle-aged man, balding and clearly in some distress, looked pleased to see Hugh.
“Jason.” Hugh let me go and walked over to the man, adjusting his pants as he walked, although I suspected there was no hiding that bulge. I followed, not wanting to seem rude, and Jason met me with a firm, hearty handshake.
“This is Muriel. Muri, this is Jason, our old IT guy at the paper.”
“Ah, Muriel. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Jason said, and I noticed Hugh attempt to subtly stop him talking by waving his hand across his throat. It wasn’t subtle, and it didn’t work. “You’re some sort of LA big-shot, aren’t you? A model, maybe?”
“Not really a model.” When the man looked confused, I added, “But something like that. Nice to meet you.”
“Hugh used to talk about you a lot. Said you were the cutest girl in high school and the funniest person full stop. And he still owes me five dollars that I lent him on my last day at the paper, which is why I’m telling you this.” The man grinned evilly.
Hugh groaned. “For Christ’s sake, Jase, here you go.” Hugh pulled a wallet out of his jeans, but Jason waved it away.
“I’m only messing with you, Hugh. To tell you the truth, five dollars wouldn’t get me very far at the moment; that’s my house you were taking pictures of.” He waved over at the devastated house.
I suddenly felt a little guilty. “I’m so sorry.” I stared at the house in dismay.
“No not that one. The next one along with the smashed windows.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t be sorry about it. It’s our fault, we decided we were smarter than The Weather Channel, and it seems we’ve paid the price.”
“A lot of people appear to have done the same,” Hugh said, and I nodded.
Chrissy, for one, and I wondered how she was dealing with the disappointment of her wedding not going ahead.
“Mind if I ask you a few questions for the paper? I’ll help you get the house wind and watertight at the same time, if you want.”
“Yeah, that sounds good. Let me introduce my kids, too; they’re out the back trying to board up some windows.” Jason turned and headed toward the house.
Hugh looked at me. “Sorry about that. I didn’t talk about you that much in the office, I promise.”
“Hey, you’d hear far worse if you asked Poppy and Jasmine what I say about you,” I reassured him. “In far more graphic language too, I’m certain.”
He laughed. “I’d like to ask them. We’ll all have to go out for dinner sometime.”
A pang of anxiety hit me. A night out with my boys and my girls would be heaven, once the girls had gotten past the initial shock and questions about the throuple arrangement. But with a film crew trailing behind us? No. I couldn’t let that nightmare happen.
I left Hugh with his old colleague and took the opportunity to get some fresh air, taking photos as I wandered through the nearby streets. I helped out wherever possible, removing dangerous debris from the roads and clearing up the shattered glass before anyone stepped in it.
The sights surrounding me and the clear-up activities made me appreciate only having my problems. Two hundred grand or two handsome men who were also sweet, kind and in work; things could be so much worse.
“Help. Help.”
A high-pitched voice snapped me out of my thoughts, and I looked around to find a very young girl waving her arm at me desperately. I ran over, and on seeing she was crying, I instinctively wrapped an arm around her.
“It’s all right, darlin’,” I said soothingly. “What’s wrong?”
“My mom is stuck,” she cried. “Underground. Please help.” I took her hand, and she led me around the back of her house. “Here.”
The entrance to a storm shelter on the ground was open but almost completely covered in the siding that had fallen from the neighboring building.
The kid ran up and stuck her hand toward the tiny gap left, and her mother’s fingers emerged from it.
“It’s okay, baby, it’s all right,” a tired voice emanated from the shelter. I kneeled beside the child, placing an arm around her for added reassurance.
“Hello?”
“Oh, hi there. How ya doin’?” the voice from the shelter called out.
“I’m... I’m fine. I’m more worried about you. Do you have any other way out, through the main house maybe?”