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Chapter seven, Make Rebecca Great Again. "THE BACKHEEL STRIKE."
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IT ONLY TOOK A BRIEF GLANCE OVER HER SHOULDER To confirm that they were still stood there, watching her. There was a new man now, too – the boom operator. His fishpole microphone was slung over his shoulder as he moved to join his two colleagues by the stands, clearly not needing to hold it up anymore seeing as there was no dialogue taking place.
Just yelling.
"Colin," Ada called out from the sidelines, fingers snapping as she tried for the young man's attention. "Why are you fucking over stepping? Didn't I say pass to Bumbercatch on the third kick?"
The game quickly halted. The players heaved tiredly, bending over to catch their breaths. They had yet to run a full practice match. Each try was interrupted by Ada Tartt, whose apparent perfectionist nature bordered on insanity as she played coach for the morning. They tried not to resent her for the constant criticism, though; the model was clearly irritated, standing there rigidly as a Vogue production crew waited for her to finish up.
(There was also the fact that the entire team believed her to be mourning the absence of her brother, whose abrupt departure only days before had struck them all rather suddenly. Ada would never admit to the fact that she was hurting, but they knew.)
"We're gonna run it again! Everyone back." Ada watched as they all obediently returned to their starting positions, groaning in exhaustion as they did so. "And you can thank Colin for that!"
"Me?"
"Pass on third!"
Rebecca Welton watched on from her office window, a small frown marring her face as she watched Ada bark orders and avoid her actual job.
(And avoid her actual feelings.)
"Are they supposed to be training now?" Rebecca asked quietly. "We're leaving soon."
