I told him, "Nah, I'm good."
He paused. "So, uh, what'd you think?"
I gave a tight shrug. "It'll make for some good TV." As I turned to look at him, I said, "So, what'd Waverly think of it?"
Roy grimaced. "Don't ask."
In theory, Waverly was the producer, which meant she had the final say in how the episodes were cut. I asked, "So, is she gonna air that footage or not?"
"Oh, it's gonna air," Roy said. "You can bank onthat."
I believed him.Roy was bucking for a promotion. And I had no doubt he'd get it. As far as Waverly, with every day that passed, she was taking less of an interest in doing her actual job.
I wasn't surprised. Hell, I'd seen it coming.
I knew her type.
Probably she'd expected it to be all glamor and glitz, when in reality, it was hard work on both sides of the camera – and even harder when you couldn’t keep your head on straight, as I was learning firsthand for myself.
Chapter 37
Arden
During the past couple of weeks, things had gradually improved.Thank goodness.
Unlike that first awful day of construction, Brody's brothers were rarely on-site. Instead, they showed up for a few hours here and there to look gorgeous for the cameras, before scuttling back to wherever, leaving me in relative peace.
As far as my dealings with Brody, we'd settled into a shaky truce. We never discussed his flaming truck or that incident with the chemistry lab. In fact, we never discussed anything from back in high school.
It was a good thing too, because there was more than enough tension floating around already.
But this time, I didn't mean arguments.
I meant something else – something that was a lot harder to put my finger on. It might've been friendship. Or might've been something a whole lot scarier.
Regardless, it was growing by the day.
Brody and I were living together, working together, and sometimes even laughing together. I discovered that he was a surprisingly fun roommate, and that he loved a lot of the same things I did.
We both liked toast with crunchy peanut butter, funny action movies, and classic architecture. We both hated McMansions and developers who didn't respect the character of historic neighborhoods.
And we both loved the house.
We spent at least some portion of every night pouring over restoration plans, much to the annoyance of Waverly, who kept angling to get Brody alone.
But for whatever reason, he wasn't biting.
As far as the house, tonight I'd left the job site later than usual. A couple of laborers had left early with some sort of stomach bug, and I'd volunteered to finish their work so the project wouldn't fall behind.
I hadn't done it for Brody's benefit. I'd done it for the house – or least that's what I kept telling myself.
And besides, I was making a terrific amount of money for very little work, so it seemed only fair to balance the scales wherever I could.
As for Waverly, she was looking anything but balanced. Standing in the kitchen, she looked twitchy and unsettled, like a junkie in need of a fix.
That fix had a name.Brody Blastoviak.
She wanted him, bad.Even now, this was glaringly obvious by the way she kept glancing at the side door, as if preparing to pounce on him the moment he walked in.
