Page 4 of Just for the Cameras
Sign everything held my way?
That’s easy for her to say. She doesn’t have to protect the value of her autograph. I barely sign anything now unless it’s for a kid because I learned from Daddy Dearest to limit autographs as much as possible. Looks like that’s about to change.
Grumbling, I open the door to my truck and heft my sore body ontothe paved concrete of the back lot of the zoo. Luckily, they allowedus the option of private parking to avoid any run-ins with fans.
As I lock up my truck, I glance down at the two text messages waiting to be opened.
One from Gretchen…and one from my dad.
Gretchen:Meet up at Gate B, your zookeeper and Phil will be waiting for you.
Next I pull up the text from my dad as my shoulders tense just from his name popping up on my screen.
Troy St. John:Don’t let this zoo situation distract you from what the hell you’re really supposed to be doing. You need to be focused, because I’ll be damned if you embarrass me.
What a fuckwit.
As if I fucking care what he thinks.
Pocketing my phone, I start to head toward the gate but spot Oden O’Connor standing directly in front of me.
“Jesus,” I say, taking a step back. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Thought we could walk in together.”
I adjust my black shirt before moving past him and saying, “I’m good.”
“You know, I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he says as he matches my stride. “Trust me, this is the last fucking thing I want to do as well.”
Ignoring him, I keep pushing forward toward the green gate marked with aB.
“And it might not hurt to, I don’t know, communicate since we’re in this together.”
“You can fuck off,” I say, reaching the gate just as it opens, with Gretchen and Bennett standing on the other side.
“You’re late,” Gretchen says.
“The fuck I am,” I say. “I’m five minutes early.”
“Which means you’re late. I wanted you here at least ten minutes early.”
Who the fuck does she think she is?
“Then maybe you should say that,” I shoot back, really not in the mood for her sass, or anyone’s for that matter.
I’m a moody dick as it is, but put me in a situation I don’t want to be in and you make me almost unbearable.
She purses her lips and gives me a slow once-over as she juts her hip out, looking to put me in my place. “Might I remind you about the attitude you’re supposed to have at these outings?”
“We’re still backstage,” I say. “Out of the public eye.”
“But there are employees all around.” She clenches her teeth. “So plaster a smile on that disgruntled face of yours and act the part.”
From the corner of my eye, I catch OC smirk, which of course makes me want to smack him right into the fence, but I hold back the urge, creating another layer of tension that tightens my shoulders.
“Follow me, boys.” In her pencil skirt, she leads the way through the back area of the zoo. Dirty golf carts are lined up one right after the other, while dumpsters, shovels, wheelbarrows, and bins flank the sides of the worn-down, paint-chipped buildings. Seems like they only put their money into the publicly viewed spaces.
We zigzag through some alleyways and then pass through the door of a large building with a thatched roof. Impractical, but also not my problem.
