Free Smoke and Ashes by Tanya Huff

flimsy-looking blade. “Windmills R Us?”
    â€œProp shop over at Bridge,” Amy explained. “We borrowed it. And before you ask, I suspect it was part of some bucolic alien landscape.”
    â€œI was actually going to ask if they know we plan on burning it down in a blatant Frankenstein rip-off.”
    â€œWith any luck, that would be a big fat no and, according to the writers, it’s not a rip-off, it’s an homage. Krista, this is Tony, our TAD. Tony, this is Krista, the new office PA.”
    â€œHey!” Krista waved a hand in Tony’s general direction. “I don’t suppose you could help me get this onto the soundstage.”
    â€œThrough there?” He glanced toward the scuffed door that led to the hall that led to the soundstage that led to the show that CB built. Lined with racks of extra costumes, the hall was barely wide enough for one and not even remotely wide enough for one and a windmill.
    â€œWell, duh.”
    â€œNot possible. You’ll have to take it outside and go around to the carpenter’s door.”
    Krista looked at the windmill and then at the bloody knuckles she’d acquired getting it into the office. “You’re fucking kidding me.”
    â€œHe really isn’t,” Amy told her cheerfully.
    The new PA’s brows drew in, stretching the blue crescent moon on the left side of her forehead. “This is a test, isn’t it?”
    As Amy shook her head, Tony leaned close and murmured, “You’re lucky. The last two got sent to Starbucks.”
    â€œBad?”
    â€œOne of them’s still there.”
    â€œRight.” She took a deep breath and began to force the windmill back outside.
    â€œNeed some help?”
    â€œNo, thanks. I’ve got it.”
    Tony backed toward Amy’s desk as something cracked. His view blocked by the base of the windmill, so it was impossible to tell what.
    â€œGet out of my way, you fucking asshat,” Krista’s voice snapped out like a whip.
    Or who.
    â€œI think I’m starting to like her,” Amy said, grabbing for the phone. “She has a way with words. CB Productions.”
    â€œI definitely like her,” Tony growled as Kevin Groves came into the office cradling his left arm. Anyone who recognized Groves for the fucking asshat he truly was, was a person worth knowing. “Hey,” he waved a hand in front of Amy’s face. “I’m out of here.”
    She nodded at him and began explaining the company policy regarding their actors and reality shows. As far as Tony knew, CB didn’t actually have a company policy. Amy just enjoyed maligning the intelligence of reality show producers on CB’s dime.
    â€œTony Foster.” Groves’ voice matched his looks: thin and unmemorable.
    â€œCan’t talk.” Tony spun on one heel, rubber squealing against tile, and headed for the exit. “Have to work.”
    â€œJust a few minutes of your time.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhy were you out riding with RCMP Constable Jack Elson?”
    â€œAsk him.”
    â€œIs it true you’re lovers?”
    Tony turned in the open doorway and laughed in Groves’ face. “You know, you should ask Constable Elson that—but wait until I’m there so I can watch you get your ass kicked.”
    â€œI just intended to get your attention.” Groves took a step closer. His jaw worked at a wad of gum. Spearmint from the smell. He was holding up his PDA, the record icon flashing. “Were you with him today because of the construction worker who was killed last night by your location shoot?”
    â€œ My location shoot?”
    â€œFine. By the show’s location shoot. By the location being used by the television program known as Darkest Night . Whatever. Do the police believe that supernatural forces are responsible for the removal of the man’s arm?”
    Groves knowing the arm had been removed was better