Taming Tristan by Leighton Greene

Author:Leighton Greene [Greene, Leighton]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Leighton Greene

Chapter Fourteen

SETH

At our regular crew meeting first thing on Monday, Ash Sullivan announces that a photography crew will be on-site that day. I can only assume Tristan will be with them, and I wonder why he didn't tell me.

I text him as much, and he answers pretty fast: U didn't give me much of a chance to say anything on Friday night!

There’s a wink emoji at the end of the message.

Are you going to be here, I ask.

Yep but I’ll be late gotta get the coffee order and they’re taking foreverrrr

Usually we get a lot more notice when a crew is coming on-site, but Ash says privately to me that the photographer is paying extra for the inconvenience and interruption to our schedule, and that Bianchi Construction is giving everyone on-site today a bonus. It's not much of a windfall, but I'll take anything I can get right now for Dad.

As usual, the crew grouses about having outsiders on-site. Bianchi Construction hasn’t allowed moviemakers in for a while, not since Ash’s boyfriend’s movie, that I know of. But I pull the crew together, and tell them to pull their heads in.

“We’re getting paid extra for nothing,” I remind them. “And the easier we make it for them, the quicker it’ll be over.”

It's not exactly The Gettysburg Address, but it keeps the muttering to a minimum, and Ash gives me a grateful look.

Not long after that, a series of cars, vans, and even a truck arrive on-site. I do a double take when I see Jonathan Ashe exit one of the vans, carting a big case of stuff with him. Huh. Makes sense when I think about it; Jon is a makeup artist, and a friend of Tristan’s. I give a wave, and he cheerfully waves back. When I find an excuse to go closer, I take the chance to talk to him. Miles’s advice from the other night—if that’s what to call it—is ringing in my ears. Maybe I should find out what kind of ideas Tristan’s friends are putting in his head. Maybe they’re the root of his problem with so many Doms.

Maybe. The thing is, what Tristan said about the attitude of all those Doms sure is lining up with my interaction with Bart so far.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Jon says brightly. He is setting out the tools of his trade: brushes, sponges, and enough eyeshadow palettes to satisfy the cast of RuPaul's Drag Race.

“Right back atcha,” I say, and cringe internally. I hang around watching Jon set up, knowing he’s busy, and I sure as shit am too. But I don’t know if I’ll get another chance to talk to him alone, to ask what I want to ask.

“So you probably know Tristan and I have had a few sessions lately,” I start awkwardly.

Jon gives me a wink, even as his fingers fly over his station, placing out cloths and wipes. “I sure do. I’m glad things seem to be going well.”

“Is that what he’s said?” I ask, hating myself.

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