I didn’t sleep well, tossing and turning in the unfamiliar bedroom, and eventually gave up on sleep and started reading instead. That was my default response to insomnia. If my brain didn’t cooperate by turning off to rest, then I’d cram it full of knowledge until it begged for mercy.
Unfortunately, all the research I’d started for Dragomir’s problem fascinated me too much to actually be useful as a sedative. A good philosophy of medicine textbook would have done the trick, but once I started down the rabbit hole of virology and immunology, it was a lost cause. I hardly even noticed the sun rising.
I would have stayed there all day, taking notes and marking pages despite Mom’s scandalized admonishment in my head about not dog-earing books, but my phone chimed and I launched across the room to answer the text. Maybe Betsy got my message and wanted to meet for brunch or something, and we could finally…
My heart sank when I saw Archer’s name. Not that I didn’t want to hear from the mouth-watering hunk of man. But Betsy was a piece missing from my heart, and I hadn’t found a place there for Archer yet. Keeping my heart whole came first, and that meant repairing what I had with my best friend. Archer took second fiddle, even if he wore a pair of jeans better than any man I’d ever seen.
I debated ignoring the message so I could fill the whiteboard I dragged out of the shed with more hypotheses. But my stomach growled and reminded me I hadn’t eaten in a while. Plus I needed to pick up the packages I’d paid a fortune to have overnighted. They’d probably buy lunch since it would qualify as a business meeting, or at least I could assume and make it super awkward if they expected otherwise. Archer said they had an expense account when he brought Thai food, so not outside the realm of possibility that this meal would also be free.
He mentioned going over the contract and doing some initial background on camera at the restaurant, and named a steakhouse in town with a private room for parties. I heaved an overly-dramatic sigh and hauled myself out of bed. With the cast and brace, it took way too long to shower and get dressed, and I didn’t have much time before the proposed time. I responded that I’d meet them after an errand, and wracked my brain for what to wear so I didn’t look crazy, poor, or mousy. Since ninety percent of my wardrobe fit those categories, that would be the challenge for the day.
Two hours later, I managed to pick up the heavy boxes of silicone, clay, and other mask-making supplies. Luckily the postmaster took pity on me and my cast and helped pack all it into the back of my truck. A tarp protected it all from rain and prying eyes, so at least I felt confident as I parked at the steakhouse away from the fancy rental SUVs with out-of-state plates. After finding bags of blood in my fridge, hopefully Archer wouldn’t find loads of silicone and plaster so crazy, but I didn’t want to test that theory.
I’d found a pair of reasonably nice hiking pants that unzipped and adjusted around my cast, and layered a long-sleeve T-shirt with a T-shirt for the local high school the band had been selling to pay for new uniforms. On top of that went an unbuttoned flannel and scarf, and I finished it off with my nice boots. I didn’t bother with makeup, since they already said they wanted me to look pretty roughed up for the first interview, but I put my hair in a high ponytail and put in small earrings. Just to look interesting on camera. It had nothing to do with Archer at all.
Despite Dragomir’s warning to stay focused on only his stuff, I had no intention of avoiding the film crew. The vampire hadn’t handed me a fat stack of cash to buy groceries or the supplies needed for masks and UV-resistant clothing. There was only so much I could charge to my credit card before someone showed up at the cabin to break my legs for late payments. The remnants of my last Park Service paycheck barely covered a few necessities at the grocery store, and then I was out of luck. Archer and his people at least represented a windfall and potentially a string of windfalls if I played my cards right. I had plenty of time to research for Dragomir, and if I indulged in a little vampire blood speed, I could work around the clock and do both.
Easy.
I ignored the stares as I stepped into the restaurant and asked about the private room, though I paused to talk with one of Dad’s old friends who asked after my health and wished me well.
Archer and his team sat in the quiet room, but stood when the hostess let me in. Archer shook my hand like he hadn’t practically tucked me into bed the night before, and even pulled out a chair for me. I waited for some looks or comments from the rest of the crew about what kind of interview had been going on at the cabin, but they all remained professional and politely uninterested.
Giselle flicked long, mahogany hair over her shoulder as she shook my hand, and looked ready for a runway in Paris instead of a mountain town in Tennessee. There wasn’t anything wrong with her trendy jeans and blouse, or even with the oversized jewelry she wore, but all together the look screamed she was from somewhere else and probably wouldn’t even slow down on her way through the state. In comparison, Archer projected an easygoing, relaxed woodsy guy, maybe even a lumberjack though he didn’t have a red-checked flannel shirt. He wore cargo pants, so I didn’t get to enjoy his jeans again, and a T-shirt that stretched across his broad chest until I didn’t even notice the logo on the front. Something to do with barbecue, maybe.
I blinked as he introduced me to the three guys sitting off to the side as they finished steaks and burgers. Lars, the tallest of the three, handled one of the cameras. With arms equally as muscular as Archer’s, it looked more like he handled boulders. A full tattoo sleeve on his left arm flashed different colors and iconography which intrigued me. I’d always wondered how people decided what to have permanently marked on their bodies, what they believed in deeply enough to have it driven into their skin with needles and ink.
Or how drunk they had to get for it to seem like a good idea.
Isidro smiled like a charming son of a gun, making my heart flutter even with Archer standing right next to him, and damn me if he didn’t bow, kiss the back of my hand, and wink at me. I laughed, because what the hell were you supposed to do in that situation? Betsy would have known, but she’d ruled cotillion class in Chilhowee and ran the Ladies’ Auxiliary Club with an iron fist.
Isidro handled the other camera, though he wasn’t as tall or as stacked as Archer and Lars. He spoke with a soft accent and rattled off some Portuguese when I asked where he was from. Brazil. Of course. He had the aquiline features of a damn model and rich dark hair, and a deep natural tan that made him vibrant and healthy. Clean-shaven, his smile was easy to pick up on, but when he gestured for me to meet his last colleague, I noticed that half off the ring finger on his left hand was missing. When he caught me glancing at it, Isidro chuckled and held both hands up to wiggle the scarred and dented digits.
“I was in the military and worked with explosives. I’m a slow learner, so I sacrificed a bit to the gods of ammonium nitrate and PETN.”
“Ooooh,” I said, perking up. I understood the theory behind chemical explosions, but hadn’t delved into the specifics. “We’ll be talking more about that. I always thought TNT could be replaced if we only…”
“Oh no,” Archer said. He caught my shoulders and turned me away from Isidro. “One explosives nut in the room is quite enough, thank you. Especially when you could probably manufacture a subatomic explosive in your shed.”
“Well, obviously it wouldn’t be in the shed,” I said, shaking the third man’s hand. “It’s made of wood.”
Ryan laughed until he dropped my hand, shaking his head. He wasn’t as tall or broad as Archer, but managed to look just as intimidating, though that faded when he smiled. His dark skin had none of the tattoos or scars that his crewmates sported, and he wore nicer clothes than everyone except Giselle: pressed khakis, button-down shirt, and a sweater. He could have stepped off the pages of a high-end men’s fashion magazine. Ryan managed the sound equipment and apologized in advance for invading my personal space to mic me when the time came.
Before I could wink and tell him how much I wouldn’t mind such strong hands anywhere on my person, Archer steered me back to where he and Giselle had been sitting. “Guys, if you want to finish up lunch, we’ll work on the contract. Then you can set up over there.”
He nodded to the corner where a couple of large lights already stood.
Some of my confidence deflated. Shit got real. It looked like a real TV interview, like on the nightly news when someone caught a Congressman doing something he shouldn’t have and someone had to apologize. I took a deep breath and took the seat Archer pulled out, even though I didn’t like my back to the door.
He handed me a menu. “Go ahead and order. It’ll probably take a couple of hours, then we can work out the schedule over the next couple of days.”
I gulped and nodded, scanning the menu. I hadn’t eaten there in years and didn’t have it memorized like all the diners and takeaway places. I looked around for the waiter, but Archer took my order and walked out of the room. Which left me looking at Giselle.
One perfectly-groomed eyebrow arched as she studied me. “You’re looking a lot better than two days ago.”
“Thanks,” I said. “You don’t have to sound so disappointed.”
“Sorry.” She snort-laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll bring the makeup next time. What have you been doing to get the bruises to fade like that? It’s miraculous.”
Telling her to chug vampire blood probably wouldn’t work as an answer. I cleared my throat a couple times as Archer returned with a pitcher of water. “Moisturizer, exfoliant, and drinking lots of water.”
“Interesting,” she said. Her head tilted and the smile stayed in place, though it didn’t really reach her eyes. “I’ll try that next time I get a bump.”
I didn’t want to continue down that path, for fear I’d offer to give her the bump so she could try it out, and glanced at Archer. “So you want to talk business first?”
He smiled and handed me a couple pieces of paper. “Yep. We have an interim contract all set up for you to review. Read over it, let me know if you have questions, and we can get started right away.”
I frowned at the contract and scanned through it. It was the first time I wished I’d gone to law school after I got my PhDs. A better understanding of the finer points of contract law would have been helpful. The only attorney in town specialized in getting people out of jail for dealing meth, selling moonshine, and being drunk and a nuisance in public. I crossed out a few phrases that sounded too vague, a couple that would have required me to spend more time on camera, and something about profits and merchandising that didn’t sound right. At least Archer limited the contract to three episodes, with the option to continue, and a clause that allowed the termination of the contract by both parties if they provided notice in writing.
He and Giselle watched me closely as I reviewed the document, and both of them relaxed as I took the pen Archer offered to sign. The pay was just as Archer said: ten thousand base, five thousand additional for filming a certain number of scenes in nature, and more extras related to lab work, samples tested, and of course evidence of cryptid habitats and behaviors.
I mentally debated whether I could get an advance against the payments when Giselle retrieved a laptop and started clicking away. Archer leaned back. “Your food might take a second, and the guys have to get all the light levels adjusted. How did all the lab equipment work out yesterday?”
An odd tension sparked through the air, even though Archer remained perfectly relaxed across from me, and the back of my neck prickled when Giselle dragged her attention away from the laptop.
“Not bad,” I said. “Just increases the list of improvements to be made on the cabin.”
Archer looked thoughtful and continued asking questions about the tests I would run using the equipment, which led to a much longer discourse on setting up a biochem and quantum chem lab. I’d finished eating by the time I ran out of words. Lars’s eyes glazed over in the first five minutes, Ryan lasted another fifteen past that, and Isidro tapped out about ten after that. Giselle and Archer both remained conscious and apparently interested, which was more impressive than I wanted to admit. Discussing the relative merits of centrifuges probably wasn’t the way they’d imagined starting their documentary.
So good thing it wasn’t on camera.
After that, it was just a second to wipe my mouth and make my way to the chair they positioned in front of the cameras and under the lights. Giselle arranged two chairs in front of me but out of view of the camera, so I’d be looking in the right direction when I spoke. My heart jumped and nerves tightened my chest.
Showtime.