Between Never and Forever by Brit Benson

16

“Morning, Boss. What’s the word?”

I glance down at Brynn as she skips up to my office manager’s desk.

“Ingratiate. Verb. To gain favor or acceptance by deliberate effort.”

Sharon purses her lips and looks at the ceiling for a moment, then gives a Brynn smile.

“I ingratiate myself with the boss by recognizing how intelligent she is.”

Brynn smiles back and flashes two thumbs up. “A Plus, Miss Sharon.”

“Thank you, Boss.” Sharon hooks her thumb over her shoulder toward the coffee station. “Donuts.”

Brynn darts to the donut box, and I pour myself a cup of coffee.

“Late start for you today,” Sharon says, and I grunt. “I suppose she had you up late?”

“It’s summer break, Miss Sharon. My bedtime is nine now.”

“How late did you keep him up doing puzzles?”

Brynn giggles. “Only 10:30, but it was Scrabble, not a puzzle.”

Sharon looks at me. “She kick your butt?”

I raise an eyebrow, and Sharon barks out a laugh. She knows Brynn kicked my butt. I stopped letting her win at six. She hasn’t needed it. I take a sip of my coffee and get to business. As Sharon pointed out, we got a late start.

“What’re we dealing with today?”

“Luke is at the Pine Avenue site. He checked in with me this morning. The crew is on schedule, but the HVAC company is delayed again.”

Fuck. Of course, they are. This is the third job this year they couldn’t meet deadlines.

“I went ahead and pulled some comps,” she says tentatively. “I can call ‘em today for quotes, if you want.”

I take a minute to think it over. I hate to have to go somewhere else. I prefer to source locally whenever possible, but we can’t push this end date anymore. This family wants to be in the house before school starts back up in the fall. I sigh and take another sip of my coffee.

“Give them another week. If they don’t come through by then, you can start making the calls.”

She jots something down on a sticky note and sticks it to her computer, then glances back at her paper agenda book.

“I sent Gemma with Mark to the Birch Isle restoration. Figure it will be good training for her since they’re ripping up the rotted floorboards today.”

I nod. “That was a good idea.”

“I also sent out invoices and checks. Balanced some of the books.”

When I glance at her, she’s staring right at me.

“S’not as bad as you probably think it is,” she hedges. “This bid you won with the studio is already helping.”

I down the rest of my coffee and pour another cup, then rake my hands through my hair and down my face. I think I’m starting to get an ulcer.

The cost of materials has skyrocketed, but I can’t bring myself to raise our prices enough to make a profit. Most of the work we’re doing are repairs from the last hurricane. What was supposed to be a tropical storm turned Category 3 and hooked on us. We’d barely had time to board up, but the next town over got hit bad and so did a lot of places farther inland. The flood damage is the worst our state has seen in decades. Businesses were lost. Homes were lost. Lives were lost.

I can’t charge these people more than what I already do. I feel bad enough charging them anything at all.

My company has been part of the stage workers union for a while now, but winning the bid for the production at the studio was the best luck we’ve had in two years. Or, at least, it was. Now I don’t know if it’s luck or punishment.

I glance at Sharon and raise a brow, seeing if she’s going to address the elephant in the room. She raises an eyebrow right back, telling me the answer is hell no. Fine. We can ignore it for now. But in a few weeks, it will be impossible, and she knows it.

“How’s the rebuild project?”

An hour inland, in the town where I grew up, an entire neighborhood was destroyed by the flooding. The houses in the River View neighborhood were mostly older, poorly structured single-wide prefabs, and not a single one was up to code for the floodplain. It was a local zoning oversight that resulted in dozens of people displaced after the hurricane, and several people injured or killed. When I took on the rebuild project, I was furious to see how irresponsibly the whole thing had been done. The families that lived there had no idea the danger they were in. It was just a matter of time before they lost everything.

“Moving right along nicely,” Sharon says. “Honestly, if we could have a private bank roll like that for all our projects, we’d never have any problems.”

I nod. She’s right. Most of the cost of the rebuild is covered by the emergency relief fund, but I’m refusing to cut corners, and it was a non-stop fight to get quality materials approved on their budget. Then, about eight months ago, the town was contacted by a private donor—the estate of some wealthy philanthropist—who offered to cover any additional costs of the rebuild. Since then, it’s been smooth sailing. I’m not making any money off the job, obviously, but my crew is paid, and those families will have safe, quality homes to move back into soon.

“You’re going to the studio today, then?”

Sharon scribbles something else on another sticky note, then glances up at me for confirmation. I nod. I’ve been spending most of my time at the rebuild, but now that we’ve got the studio job, I have to bounce between.

“Is Brynnlee staying with me today, or is she going with you?”

“I’m going with Dad!” Brynn chimes in from her place in front of the donut box.

She’s got chocolate icing on her face and a strawberry donut in her hand. The girl is going to be on one hell of a sugar rush.

“She wants to see the set before filming officially starts next week—”

“And you said you’d take me to the book shop!”

“And I said I would take her to the book shop.”

Sharon smiles at Brynn, then looks to me and raises an eyebrow.

“Try to have some fun,” she drawls. “Maybe smile a little. I hear it releases dopamine, endorphins and serotonin, which can lower anxiety and increase happiness.”

Sharon sticks out her hand, and Brynn slaps it as she skips past the desk.

“A plus plus, Miss Sharon,” Brynn cheers, then grins up at me. “She’s a good student. You should be more like her.”

My lips twitch into a small smile, and I drop my hand to Brynn’s head and ruffle her hair. This kid is too damn smart.

“Go get in the truck, Einstein.”

“Bye, Miss Sharon! See you later!”

Sharon waits until the door closes behind Brynn before she lets the smile drop.

“Everyone is paid. Crew, contractors, all of it.” Her brow furrows. “Things are getting better, Levi. The first installment from the studio job brought the business almost entirely out of the red.”

I don’t miss that she said almost, and I don’t miss that she specified the business.

“Did you pay yourself?” I ask, and she waves me off.

“Enough.”

I sigh. I’m not going to argue with her again. She’s stubborn. It’s in her DNA.

I wait to see if she’ll ask me anything more about the studio, or the plans for the on-site filming that starts in a few weeks. She doesn’t, so I don’t bring it up, either. We’ll live in denial a little while longer.

“Alright, Sharon,” I say gruffly, opening the door and stepping outside. “I’m out. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

I walk to the truck and climb into the front seat. Brynn is already buckled into her seat in the back. I turn around and reach into the back, tugging on her belt to make sure it’s secure. She rolls her eyes and sighs loudly, so I give her side a tickle before turning back around.

“Ready to roll, Boss?”

“Ready to roll.”

I pull out of the parking lot and onto the main road that will lead us out of town and to the highway. The film studio is a forty-minute drive up the coast, and the ride is an easy one. Minimal traffic and clear skies.

"You think she’ll be there?” Brynn pipes up from the back, and my shoulders stiffen.

“Probably not,” I say, more hopeful than certain. “They don’t start filming for a few more days.”

I glance in the rearview mirror to find Brynn frowning out the window, her little index finger tapping out beats of four on her thigh.

“I’ll get to meet her, though, right?”

I pause before I answer, thinking over the best way to say it.

“I don’t know, Brynn. She’ll be working.”

“But you can ask?”

I glance at her again. Her finger is tapping faster, her frown more pronounced.

“Yeah, Boss. I can ask.”

Her shoulders visibly relax, and when her frown eases away, I bring my eyes back to the road. All the tension she’d felt moments before has left her and entered me. I consciously unclench my hands from around the steering wheel, then turn on some music. It only takes ten minutes before a song by The Hometown Heartless comes on, and Brynn sings along loudly in the back seat. I try to focus on her voice and not the one on the radio.

I’m a wreck. I haven’t slept, and when I do, I dream of Savannah. Savannah then and Savannah now.

I do my best to ignore the click-bait surrounding The Hometown Heartless, but it is literally everywhere. Television. Radio. Hell, even my favorite podcast has discussed it.

Rumors have been soaring since the band announced their “hiatus.” Early headlines cited drug use and the tumultuous relationship between Sav Loveless and the band’s bassist, Torren King, as the reason behind the split. My teeth grit at every mention of Torren King. My last encounter with him wasn’t a good one. I can still picture him fucked up and scrambling in the sand after I ripped his brother off Savannah. I haven’t been able to stand him since.

Which makes the newest headlines even harder to digest.

The band released a joint statement debunking break-up rumors and saying relationships within the band are strong as ever.

We are taking a break to work on individual projects, but we still have the utmost love and respect for each other, the statement said.

Then, last week, Sav Loveless was spotted in L.A. wearing a giant emerald on her left ring finger. They haven’t confirmed or denied the engagement rumors swirling, but I feel it in my gut. My hypocrisy is so loud it’s nearly deafening, my own ring finger feeling itchy and uncomfortable for the first time in years. The silicone ring on my left hand can usually be ignored. I barely feel it, and it’s not a hazard on a construction site. But recently? It’s felt just as heavy as it did in the beginning, when it was brushed gold and strangling.

“Dad,” Brynn says, shaking me from my thoughts.

I can tell by the frustration in her tone that she’s called for me more than once. I reach up and turn down the radio.

“Yeah, Boss?” I meet her eyes in the rearview mirror.

“After we go to Penn and Paige, can we get smoothies?” I nod and she grins. “Thank you!”

I turn the radio back up and we listen to it the rest of the drive. Thankfully, another one of The Hometown Heartless songs doesn’t come on before we’re pulling up to the security gate at the studio. I roll my window down and grab my badge from the dashboard. It’s more of a formality than anything.

“Gonna be seein’ a lot of you for the next few months, I guess,” Tucker says as he signs me in on his clipboard.

“Long as they’re shooting, my team has to be here.”

Tucker grins then glances to the back seat, giving Brynn a wave before opening the barrier gate and letting us through.

“Have a great day, Levi.”

I nod and pull through without another word.

When I put the truck in park outside the sound stage, Brynn is already unbuckled and ready to run. She hops out and jogs up next to me, eyes scanning the parking lot for I don’t even know what.

“You think she’d drive a big fancy car? She wouldn’t be here with a tour bus,” Brynn chatters to herself, skipping along next to me as we walk toward the building. “I bet she had to fly in a plane. Do you think she has a private plane? I hope not. The pollution is bad for the environment. That’s a lot of carbon emissions. She wouldn’t have a private plane, right? Maybe she flew in a regular plane and then took a limo. I don’t see a limo, though.”

I reach down and smooth back Brynn’s hair, escorting her through the door I’ve already opened.

“I don’t think she’s here yet, Boss.”

She glances at me and opens her mouth to respond, but then her eyes go wide when she catches sight of the set we’ve built.

Two of the soundstages have been combined to create a 40,000 square foot area. The flats have all been fully erected, the paint is dry, the textured details have been added, and I have to admit, it’s pretty fucking cool. With the lighting, sound, and camera crews rushing about, it feels much more alive and real than it did two weeks ago.

“Wow,” she breathes out, taking it all in. “You guys built all this?”

“We did.”

My chest puffs out at the awe on her face, and I try to see the soundstage through her eyes as we walk past the sets we’ve constructed. There are several fancy New York offices, a cozy studio apartment, a coffee shop loft, an art studio, a jail cell, a few rooms that resemble an Italian villa, and a ballroom that looks like something straight out of a multi-million-dollar mansion. When we step in front of another structure, Brynn’s jaw drops. She whips her head to me, then back to the set.

“Dad! This looks just like our kitchen!”

I watch her eyes dart around to every detail—the refrigerator, the island, the double oven—and I let my eyes follow. Even the backsplash is the same. It’s actually eerie, and I worked directly with the props and designs crews. All that’s missing are dishes in the sink, Brynn’s artwork on the fridge, and our dry erase board calendar on the wall. Everything else is nearly identical.

“Oh my gosh, I can’t wait to tell Cameron. You’re so cool, Dad.”

“Want to see the back lot?”

She jumps and claps her hands. “Yes!”

I lead her to the open lot where we’ve constructed what looks like buildings, a courtyard and several small roads in a coastal Italian village. I read a lot about this movie when we got the job, and it’s predicted to be quite the blockbuster. An action thriller that takes place in New York City, a coastal village in Italy, and the Hamptons. Conveniently, though, it will be almost entirely shot here in North Carolina.

“Cooper,” someone calls, and I turn to see Jerry, the studio construction manager, heading my way. I lift a chin in greeting, then turn to Brynn.

“Go look, but don’t touch. And keep an eye out for some of my guys. They’re out here somewhere.”

Brynn salutes me, then skips off just as Dustin, a member of my crew, pops out from behind one of the fake Italian buildings. He waves at me. I point to Brynn, and he throws me a thumbs up just as my daughter bounces over to him.

“Hey, Boss.”

“Hi, Dustin!”

I watch them give each other a low five, then Dustin leads her toward the courtyard fountain, just as Jerry steps up next to me.

“Everything is looking good.” He grunts, shaking my hand. “Your guys did a great job. Some of the best work I’ve seen in all my years here, and you worked quick, too.”

“Thanks.”

He waits for a breath, but when he realizes I’m not going to say anything else, he looks toward Dustin and Brynn.

“You showin’ your daughter around?” I nod in response. “She’s welcome here anytime. We’ll get her a badge if you like. Just keep her away from the equipment. Shit’s expensive.”

I raise a brow at him, an unspoken yet sarcastic no shit, and he laughs. We talk a bit more; I get some information about filming, then we say goodbye with another handshake and a nod.

Jerry has been great to work with. I’m pretty sure the only reason we got this job was because he’s seen the work my company has been doing in the area since the storm. I also think he can guess how much we’re not making on the reconstruction and rebuilds. It’s been an unspoken favor, and I won’t let him down.

These towns along the coast are small and tight knit. We all know or know of one another, and word spreads quickly. It's where small town nosy and southern hospitality meet. For as annoying as it can be, it can also be really nice.

I check in with Dustin, then grab Brynn and take her around to the trailer lot. Usually, the studio crew would be driving golf carts to get from one lot to another, but Brynn and I hike it on foot, so when we make it to the crew trailers, we’re damp with sweat.

“This is where she’ll be,” Brynn whispers, walking slowly.

“This is where the cast will be during filming, but they’ll be living somewhere off-site.”

“Do you think we’ll s—” Brynn halts in her tracks, and when I follow her gaze, I find what she’s staring at.

It’s a trailer just like all the others, but this one has a sign on the door that says SAV LOVELESS in giant black letters. The moment my eyes land on that sign, I’m just as frozen as Brynn. I can’t move. I can’t speak. Something like excitement or fear clamors in my chest, and I frown at the feeling. I scowl at that trailer. That door. That sign.

I scowl at the name.

Something about that sign makes all of this feel more real than it did ten minutes ago. The set, the crew, the studio. It all existed in my head separate from Sav Loveless. Until now. My muscles ache with tension and my fists clench tightly. Come Monday, I’ll be better prepared to see her. But right now, I need to get the fuck out of here.

I clear my throat, then gently put a hand on Brynn’s shoulder.

“Penn and Paige and smoothies.”