Boom - Sabrina Stark Page 0,15

knew what I was doing, why'd you ask?"

Ignoring my question, she extended her arm and pointed an elegant finger vaguely toward the mower. "And where did you get that?"

She said "that" like it was a picture of her mother, naked with a goat.

I wanted to tell her that it was none of her business. But the sad truth was, this wasn't my family's home, not anymore. And for all I knew, she was Brody's girlfriend or something.

Normally, I wouldn't care who she was. But Brody was doing me a favor, a big one, too. And in spite of our longstanding grudges, I wasn't going to take his help for granted.

So I sucked it up and tried to smile as I said, "If you mean the lawn mower, I found it in the garage across the street."

She looked at me like I'd just confessed to grand-theft-mower. Her lipstick was very red, and her mouth twisted as she gritted out, "In the crew house?"

I shook my head. "Crew house? What do you mean?"

Again, she didn't answer. Instead, she looked toward my grandparent's front porch and literally gasped. "Oh, my God. The shrubs – what happened to them?"

I turned to look. Wasn't it obvious? This morning, I'd spent nearly two hours trimming them. And hey, I wasn't a professional landscaper or anything, but even I knew that they looked a whole lot nicer than they had just yesterday.

"I trimmed them," I explained. "And you've got to admit, they do look better." Or at least, I thought they looked better. What on Earth was I missing?

She whirled to face me. Her nostrils, narrow as they were, literally flared as she said, "I know they look better." Her voice rose to a new crescendo. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Huh?

Now, I didn't know what to say. After a long moment, I managed to stammer out, "Well, I was thinking that better is good, right?"

"Un-fucking-believable." She turned and hollered out toward the SUV. "Roy, get your ass out here!"

Turns out, Roy was the SUV's driver. He was a big burly guy with wavy red hair and a matching red beard. Unlike the blonde, he was dressed in jeans and an oversized plaid shirt.

When he lumbered over, she said to him, "You speak yokel. Explain to this… " Her hands gave a little flutter. "…whatever she is, that she fucked up."

I was still gripping the mower, and my fingers tightened around the handle. "Hey!" I said. "Just what's your problem, anyway?"

She turned to sneer in my direction. "At the moment, you're my problem." She turned back to Roy and said, "The grass – can we put it back?"

Roy frowned. "Uh…sorry. Come again?"

She gave a loud sigh. "Can we rebuild it or something?"

Roy looked at me. I looked at him. In unison, we both looked at the blonde.

Finally, I said what needed saying. "Are you freaking nuts?'

Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Of course I’m nuts," she practically spat. "You ruined everything!" She turned once again to Roy. "So we can't put it back? Is that what you're telling me?"

Technically, Roy hadn't told her anything.

I spoke up. "But why would you want to put it back?"

"Because," she said, "we need the 'before' footage. And for that, worse is better."

When I gave Roy a questioning look, he explained, "We're fixing the place up. Filming starts tomorrow."

Filming?

This could only mean one thing. Apparently, the house was going to be featured on Brody's TV show, the one he starred in with his two brothers.

Probably I should've seen this coming, but for some reason, I hadn't. I mean, I was still grateful and all. It's just that I never envisioned Brody moving so quickly to turn a favor into an opportunity.

I heard myself say, "Wow, that was fast."

The blonde hissed, "And stop talking. I'm trying to think."

And I was trying to keep from slapping her. But you didn't see me complaining, did you?

When I looked once again to Roy, he gave me an apologetic smile.

I could barely smile back. Maybe he was used to the blonde's rudeness, but I wasn't.

It was all I could do to keep my mouth shut as she paced back and forth on the front walkway, looking from me to the house and back again – as if of both of us had personally wronged her.

Finally, she reached into her designer purse and pulled out her cell phone. She tapped angrily at the screen and put the phone to her ear. Without so much as a goodbye, she turned