Free Absorbed by Emily Snow

and when I realize she’s not going to respond until I tell her to, I nod for her to continue. “Mr. McBride is ready to begin shooting.”
    I check the time on my phone, 1:55 PM. I’ve worked with Karl McBride on several of the band’s music videos, and as usual, he’s right on time.
    Staring down at the dressing room’s carpeted floor, the assistant works her bottom lip between her teeth. “Should I tell Mr. McBride that you need more time?” Shaking my head, I stand up. She’s wide-eyed as she lifts her gaze to follow me. “I mean, it absolutely wouldn’t be a problem. Mr. McBride wants to make you—” But her voice trails off as I pull the door all the way open and step past her.
    “Happy, I know,” I say. McBride’s assistant continues to look at me like she’s about to sprint off in the other damn direction. Am I that fucking intimidating? “I need to get this over with.”
    “Yes, of course.”
    I follow at a slow pace behind her as she speed-walks in the direction of the set. Once we’re there, McBride breaks away from a group of crewmembers to come speak to me. Grinning, he claps me on the back.
    “Never thought the day would come when you’d want to do something short notice but we’re all in. It’ll be the best YTS video to date,” he promises.
    “Solo,” I remind him. “This is for my own album.”
    He smacks his palm up against his tan forehead. “Damn, sorry. I think of you and I always automatically think the band.”
    “Still with the band,” I say. “Just trying my own shit right now. Which is why we’re”—I gesture at the set, which is a simple backdrop with nothing but a high stool in front of it—“here today.”
    McBride releases a noise of relief. “Then we’re ready to begin.” He glances at his watch. “Melanie?”
    The assistant who came to get me a few minutes ago scurries over, keeping her eyes downcast. For a brief moment, this woman gives me a vivid reminder of my first meeting with Sienna a couple of years ago. Red had jumped at just about every word I said, had flat-out avoided me at all costs, and I’d never been more drawn to anyone in my life.
    I’m not drawn to Melanie—not even close—but she sure as fuck makes me want Sienna more.
    “Yes, Mr. McBride?” Melanie’s got a pen and a little notepad out, but McBride’s instructions are simple.
    “Tell Christina if she’s not out of her dressing room in the next five minutes—” he starts, but I quickly stop him. That name, Christina, sounds familiar. And not the good kind of familiar but the kind that puts a foul taste in my mouth.
    “That psycho who worked with me on the “All Over You” video?” I demand, and he nods. “Why the fuck would she be here?”
    “Your love interest, Lucas.”
    The last fucking thing I need in a music video to apologize to the woman I’m in love with is another woman crawling all over me, especially Christina. I jerk my head from side to side. “Fire her.”
    McBride is suddenly just as flustered as his assistant. “I can’t just get another actress out here right away, Lucas. Not even for you. We can reshoot in a day or two maybe or even in—”
    I shake my head again. “No, no actress at all. When I told you I wanted this video to be simple, I meant that. This is just me. No bullshit. And no actresses dancing around me or up on me. Just me and the song.
    He backs away from me, his face a mask of confusion. At last he nods. “Melanie, sweetheart, can you get in touch with Christina’s agent?” When she immediately tells him she will, he adds, “And get me Deana.”
    Another name that very familiar. I take a step toward McBride, pointing to set at the same time. “No need to discuss concepts, Karl. Everything I need to do this video is right there. You want something extra? I’ll hold up notecards or something, but that’s it.”
    Karl’s shoulders slump, and the look on his face says it all—he thinks this is going to be a clusterfuck of a