Free Out of the Box 7 - Sea Change by Robert J. Crane Page B

radioactive disaster site that was Oprah’s couch.
    “Oh, shit,” I said, covering my mouth.
    “It’s okay, I’m good,” he said, stretching his back and finally taking his hand off his spine. He still had a pained look, but it was—uhh, well—it was kind of a goooood look. Like, really good. Like, ruggedly handsome, just got done filming an action scene where he did something super heroic and then fell off a building but was totally casual about it and—
    I’m gushing. In my own monologue. For shame, Sienna.
    “Hey,” he said, locking those coffee brown eyes on me, “aren’t you S—”
    “I’m nobody,” I said casually, shaking my head. “Definitely not that, uhh … crazy person.” I giggled under my breath and then considered briefly creating a distraction by pulling my CZ Shadow and shooting myself in the foot in order to get out of this awkward situation. It’s not like it would kill me, after all. I mean, I’d just giggled, for crying out loud. Who does that?
    “That’s soooo amazing,” Kat said, strolling by with a guy on her arm, emitting a throaty giggle as she threaded her way past me on the other side of the island in the middle of the kitchen.
    Oh, no. I’ve become that girl.
    Kat, as if sensing my horror, turned her head and looked right at me then scanned on to Steven Clayton. Her eyes widened in undisguised shock and revulsion, and she promptly rescued her arm from the crook of the elbow of the man she was strolling with, probably dislocating his shoulder in the process. I cringed. That meta strength … you really gotta watch that.
    “Oh, hi!” she said, moving around the island toward me with a hustle that I wouldn’t have expected to see from her in life-and-death battles, let alone in a kitchen in Hollywood. “Steven, I’m Kat. How do you do? We have so many mutual acquaintances—”
    “Oh, uh, yeah,” he said, looking a little startled by her sudden offensive. “Nice to meet you, Kat. I’m familiar with your show—”
    “Oh, you watch my show?” she asked, the falsely modesty oozing like green phlegm down an upper lip. Yeah. I went there. She was subtle as snot, okay?
    “Well, I’ve heard of it—”
    Unasked, she looped her arm around his, faster than he could say anything, and started to lightly drag him along. “You simply must tell me about your latest movie …” She reminded me of something out of a Jane Austen novel, but with a much more predatory air. She shot me a furious STAY BACK! look as she hauled him out of the radius of my … I dunno, my antisocial slime, probably.
    “Oh, good, she got to meet Steven,” Taggert said, easing up behind me. He wasn’t quiet about it, fortunately, which gave me ample warning so I wasn’t surprised. Which would have been bad, but mostly for him.
    “Why is that good?” I asked.
    “Have you seen the guy?” Taggert asked, like I was stupid. “California’s most eligible bachelor. He’s not just a flavor of the month, that boy’s got staying power. If he could even do a guest spot, maybe as a date for Kitten, we’re talking top-shelf ratings. We’ll gain five points of share that night, it’d be an event.” He squealed a little, under his breath. “Can you imagine the wedding ratings?”
    “She just met him.”
    “It’d be huge,” Taggert went on, probably not hearing me over the sound of cash register bells in his head. “And the divorce episodes would be a great storyline for—”
    “I like how you jump right to assuming they’re going to both marry and divorce, mere seconds after they just met for the first time.” The former was kind of optimistic, but the latter was the sort of practiced cynicism I would have tended to hang my hat on. If I ever wore a hat.
    “You don’t like me, do you?” Taggert asked with a grin.
    “Oh, good,” I said, “I was afraid I wasn’t being obvious enough about it.”
    “Listen,” he said, putting a hand on my shoulder. If I hadn’t had both a jacket and a