Before It Happens

Chapter III

    By the time that the crew was back together, Killian could hardly stand, and Christopher was wearing a shit-eating grin. Luckily, Oswald had the intestinal fortitude not to drink anything, and stood strong with his camera on his shoulder. Ash found himself a bit discouraged by the whole thing, eyes shifting from crew member to crew member, before standing up straight and wringing his hands.

    “We’ve got Mary on her way here to take us to Town Hall. When we get there, we need to wrangle some more interviews and-”

    Ash’s gaze had wandered as he spoke (as it often did), but suddenly he found himself staring directly over Oswald’s shoulder and down the street. Just barely, he could make out a slim black figure, gliding down the path. When he focused, the figure came to an abrupt stop, almost as if it recognized him. She recognized him. Had Ash been a bit more self-confident, he would have sworn that just then, he was looking right at Seraph, the same woman from the interview earlier that day. But as soon as she was there, she was disappearing into a shop. The entire moment felt to Ash as if something that was not real, like a scene from a movie that had been superimposed onto the real world.

    The crew stared at Ash blankly, and Christopher continued his incessant chuckling. Part of Ash wanted to tell him to fuck off back to the hotel room and crash there. Another part, however, decided that it would be better to make him suffer. So he looked at his watch and awkwardly picked up in the middle of his sentence, despite having forgotten how it had begun.

    “Then we need to be back by ten at the latest. Tomorrow we will be waking up early for the Inside Unity segment. I expect everyone to be up and ready to go for that by five. If not,” he said, sparing Christopher a glance deadly enough to kill three men, “then you will be sent home. I know Mary will not have an issue.”

    Ash hated being disciplinary. He saw his crew as friends and brothers, not as kids he had to keep in check. His job was, however, ultimately more important than any friendship. Christopher had threatened it in doing what he had done, and Ash knew that the time had come to put his foot down.

    For a few minutes, they stood in silence, Christopher’s bulging arm (god, why was he so muscular? Was that what holding a boom did for someone?) slung awkwardly around Killian’s paper-thin frame. Oswald stood still and silent, as always, and held his camera like a child, cradling it cautiously in his arms.

    The car finally arrived, and everyone was piling in, Ash going in first, followed by Oswald, then Christopher being pushed awkwardly into the car, and Killian piling in front. All in all, it wasn’t entirely too bad. Sure, one of them was drunk and one of them refused to speak. One of them was hungry for fame and attention and approval, and one of them was barely out of high school. But altogether, they weren’t too bad. As the hummer lurched forward, Ash silently wondered exactly how the team had yet to fall apart.

    Mary was an elderly woman, the oldest of all those involved in the Ivan Investigative Team. She was a thirty-something Chinese woman who always wore entirely too much make up. Her thin fingers were always busy with something-- gripping a wheel, spinning a pen, pointing, drumming, pinching-- and her eyebrows were always drawn on. Was that the definition of beauty where she came from? Ash had never put much thought to it. Mary was engaged to one of the news anchors, a jolly and plump and equally as Chinese man who covered news involving wildlife, whenever it might strike.

    She was the type of person who spoke, and knew that she was being listened to.

    “How are you gentlemen doing?” She asked, a smile on her thin and pale lips.

    Killian was first to speak. “Mr. Christopher got drunk and told Mr. Ash we were at Starbuck’s instead of at a sport’s grill.”

    God, if there was one thing that rubbed Ash the wrong way, it was how Killian addressed them all as Mr. and Mrs.. He understood that it was a term of respect, but something about the whole idea of being a legal adult made Ash want to throw up and hide under a rock. He had initially put a lot of effort into trying to get Killian to stop calling him Mr., but it had been to no avail. Ultimately, Killian persisted, and Ash just let out a brief and silent sigh when he referred to him as Mr. for the umpteenth time.