Blood Rites (The Dresden Files #6) - Jim Butcher Page 0,21
the rental car, and slung it over his shoulder. He approached, offering his hand. "I'm Jake."
I traded grips with him. His hands had the calluses of someone who worked with them, and he had a confidence that conveyed strength without attempting to crush my fingers. I liked him. "Harry," I responded.
The second man who got out of the rental car looked like a weight-lifting commercial. He was tall and built like a statue of Hercules beneath tight leather pants and a sleeveless workout shirt. He had a high-tech tan, coal-black hair, and wasn't old enough to qualify for decent rates on his auto insurance. His face didn't match the Olympian body. His features rated on the western slope of the bell curve of physical appeal. Though to be fair he was staring at me with a murderous scowl, which probably biased my opinion.
"Who the hell are you?" he growled.
"I the hell am Harry," I said.
He pulled out his own gym bag and slammed the car door closed. "You always a wiseass?"
"No. Sometimes I'm asleep."
He took a pair of hard steps toward me and thrust the heel of one hand at my shoulder in a belligerent push. Classic macho-jitsu. I could have done a bunch of fairly violent things in response, but I try not to get into fights in a gravel parking lot if I can help it. I took the push without yielding and grunted.
"Wrist is a little limp," I said. "If you like I can show you an exercise or something, help you out."
His face twisted with abrupt heat. "Son of a bitch," the man swore, and dropped his bag so he could ball his huge hands into huge fists.
"Whoa," Jake said, and stepped between us, facing the big guy. "Hey, come on, Bobby. It's too early for this crap."
Bobby got a lot more aggressive once Jake was there to hold him back, snarling and cussing. I'd faced too many literal ogres to be too terribly impressed by a metaphorical one, but I was just as glad that it hadn't gone any farther. The kid was a hell of a lot stronger than me, and if he knew more than nothing about how to handle himself, he could ruin my whole day.
The kid subsided after a minute, picked up his stuff again, and scowled at me. "I know what you're thinking, and you can forget it."
I lifted my eyebrows. "So you're psychic too?"
"Wiseass stunt double," he snarled. "It happened once. You aren't going to make a name for yourself. You might as well just leave now."
Jake sighed. "Bobby, he's not a stunt double."
"But he said—"
"He was joking," Jake said. "Christ, he's newer at this than you. Look, just go inside. Get some coffee or springwater or something. You don't need this on a shooting day."
The kid glared at me again and jabbed his index finger at me. "I'm warning you, asshole. Stay out of my way if you don't want to get hurt."
I tried to keep all the panic and terror he'd inspired off of my face. "Okeydoke."
The kid snarled, spat on the ground in my direction, and then stormed inside.
"Someone woke up with his testosterone in a knot today," I said.
Jake watched Bobby go and nodded. "He's under pressure. Try not to take it personal, man."
"That's tough," I said. "What with the insults and violent posturing and such."
Jake grimaced. "Nothing to do with you personally, man. He's worried."
"About being replaced by a stunt double?"
"Yeah."
"Are you serious? What the hell does a stunt double do in a porno flick?"
Jake waved a hand vaguely toward his belt. "Extreme close-ups."
"Uh. What?"
"Historically speaking, it doesn't happen often. Especially what with Viagra now. But it isn't unknown for a director to bring in a double for the close of a scene, if the actor is having trouble finishing."
I blinked. "He thought I was a stunt penis?"
Jake laughed at my reaction. "Man. You are new."
"You been doing this work long?"
"Awhile," he said.
"Guess it's a dream job, eh? Gorgeous women and all."
He shrugged. "Not as much as you'd think. After a while anyway."
"Then why do you do it?"
"Habit?" he asked with an easy grin. "Plus lack of options. I thought about doing the family thing once, but it didn't work out." He fell silent for a second, his expression touched with faint grief. He shook his head to come out of it and said, "Look, don't worry about Bobby. He'll calm down once he figures out his stage name."