Free An Unintentional Affair (The Affair Series Book 1) by Randi Ocean Page B

oatmeal and fruit?”
    “Oatmeal? Really?”
    “Don’t you know that
oatmeal is brain food?”
    “Ahhh! Another food
lesson learned,” he added, still attempting to be funny. He knew he was failing
miserably.
    He called downstairs
and ordered oatmeal, fruit, and bacon for me and sausage and eggs for himself. And
of course coffee. No Sunday morning, or any morning, for that matter, was
complete without coffee. Breakfast arrived, and as we ate, Adam asked me about
my duties at the studio. I realized in talking through it that I had no
specific daily schedule, with the exception of a few minor tasks that didn’t
take very long. In many ways, that was good. I wasn’t a slave to a routine. Our
shoot wasn’t until Thursday, so I wouldn’t be in heavy prep mode until
Wednesday, formatting drives and creating I.D. cards for each item. If it was
as slow on Monday as it had been on Friday, I might not have much to do.
    He pulled out a piece
of paper and a pencil. “What’s the general layout of the studio?”
    I drew a block diagram
showing the relationship of spaces. “Here’s the entrance, and here’s my desk. Clint’s
office is here. Sam sits toward the back, kind of near the warehouse. The
cantina is here, and the office supply closet is here. When Myra is in to pay
bills, she just works in Clint’s office. When we shoot in Clint’s studio, that
happens over here.”
    “What’s in the warehouse?”
    “That’s where Clint keeps
all of the cameras, lights, backdrops, big stuff like that. There used to be a
darkroom in there, too, but he hasn’t shot real film in years. The room is
still there, but he never uses it.”
    “Have you been in that
darkroom before?”
    “No. On my first day,
Clint gave me a tour of the place and pointed it out to me, but I never went
inside and haven’t been back there since. I’m responsible for the drives and
the computers where we store all of the digital shots. Those are all stored at my
work station, so I work there, and frequent the cantina for my coffee fix. I’ve
been in Clint’s office a few times, but that’s it.”
    “So Clint is the only
one who goes in and out of the warehouse?”
    “No, Sam, the other
full-time assistant, spends a lot of time back there. He maintains all of the
gear, so he hangs out back there with his music blasting and tinkers with the
cameras and stuff.”
    “Are you close with
Sam?”
    “Not really. We’re sort
of friends. We went out on a date one time, and it was awful. He’s a hard guy
to get to know because he doesn’t talk with anybody much. Not even Clint. But
he’s a smart guy and knows how to troubleshoot.”
    “Can you get into the
studio today?”
    “I have a key and my
own alarm code, but the alarm company registers every time someone disarms the
system and reports it to Clint. I left a book there one Friday and stopped by
on a Saturday to pick it up. Clint questioned me about why I was going into the
studio on the weekend. It was kinda creepy.”
    “Okay, no reason to go
there today, then. Maybe we should go to the Jackson Gallery, since we never
got there yesterday, and see if we can scope out where you will be shooting
this week. If nothing else, you’ll at least know where you’re going on Thursday,
and you’ll get to see the exhibit you wanted to see.”
    “I’m not sure I can
really focus on the exhibit right now, but checking out the surroundings might
not be a bad idea.”
    “Okay, let me just
check my e-mail and see if there‘s anything new, and then we can head over
there.”
    I was finishing up my fourth
or fifth cup of coffee as Adam checked his messages. He was making notes and
spending enough time reading his e-mail that I knew something was up.
    “What’s new?” I asked,
trying to be matter-of-fact.
    “Well….” He paused and turned
to me with a very concerned expression on his face. “The information we entered
into the case file last night turned up some new information on Clay Orwell.
Seems