She left the control room and went through to the booth. Damon’s head came around when he heard the door. He wore his cans around his neck. “Hey.”
“I’ve got your next script.”
“Georgia?”
He said her name as thought he was questioning it. “Did you want to talk to Trent?”
“No, I’m good. Give me five minutes to set this up and we can go live.”
“We’ll project the visual on this screen.” She pointed to the monitor they’d use to get the timing for the read right.”
He frowned at the monitor. “Do you have a bigger screen, by any chance?”
“I’ll check with Trent.”
He turned back to her. “Sorry, I forgot, first day. Crap, right. That out of depth in the bathtub feeling.”
Okay that wasn’t flirty, that was just being, well, nice. Trying to make her feel at ease. Harder to think he was a jerk if he was going to be nice, and really, no doubt: rich, a babe magnet, and a flirt, so he had to be a jerk. Law of averages. She held out the USB, but he didn’t take it.
Definitely a jerk.
“Ah, the script is on here. Would you like me to set it up for you?”
He lifted a hand and turned it palm up. “No, I’ve got it.”
She put the USB in his palm and left him to get it on his tablet screen. In the control room she asked Trent about a bigger monitor.
“Oh shit. He’s used to working with a big screen like they do for movies. We don’t have that gear here.” He toggled the intercom. “Damon, we’re just one little Avocado, not a whole tree, and we only have that monitor you’re looking at. I’m really sorry. If you want to take a break while we hire one in, or…” Trent smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Or call it a day and I’ll have a bigger screen set for you tomorrow?”
There was a silence and they both watched Damon consider that. He rubbed his eyes with the thumb and finger of his right hand. “It’ll be fine. Ready when you are.”
But it wasn’t fine. The job was a simple narration about workplace safety procedures, but there were timing implications, where the voice needed to fit with the vision. Captain Vox should’ve been able to do it with his eyes closed, but Damon Donovan was struggling. He mistimed over and over again, scowling at the monitor and getting increasingly frustrated. It wasn’t that he didn’t know the words, he barely looked at his script on the tablet.
Trent had the twitches for real now. He kept swearing under his breath and eventually said, “Let’s take a break, Damon.” Then he looked at her. “You go in there.”
“Me?”
“He likes you.”
Work experience girls didn’t argue if they wanted to grow up and be proper wage slaves. “Any tips?”
“Dazzle him with good old Aussie she’ll be rightness.”
Georgia stood. She pulled her shirt down so it sat flat around her hips and wiped her hands on her jeans. “I’m going in there.” It sounded like a line from any number of action movies of which she would never be the heroine.
Trent giggled. He put his hands over his ears as pretend announcer earphones. “In a world of confusion and despair, where a famous professional hacks it up, one woman goes up against,” he dropped his hands and his mock announcer voice. “I’ve no idea what’s gone wrong. Good luck.”
She took another look at Damon through the glass. He was rubbing his eyes still. He was in some kind of trouble. A migraine maybe. They could do savage things to your vision, especially if he was seeing auras. If he had a migraine, it was a wonder he was still upright. When Hamish got them he was practically comatose,
bedridden and unable to eat for days.
She cracked the seal on the door and he looked over, but didn’t speak.
“Hey, can I get you anything?”
“Georgia?” Her name again, like he was expecting someone else. “I could do with a coffee. Black, no sugar.”
“I’ve got headache tablets if you—”