always shakes things up. Kirk goes with the flow. That’s the best way.”
“I understand,” she said. “I’m sure it will be fine.” Grr.
“You should take a nap,” Eve said to Brody with an affectionate smile. “We’ll be out late. After the taping, I thought we’d check out that new bar near the W.”
“I’m making it an early night, Eve.”
“On our launch? We always party.”
“Not this time. Not me.”
“But I already rounded up the crowd.”
“You’ll have fun.”
“It’s not the same without you.”
“Take my credit card and it will be.”
Eve stared at him. “Aren’t you feeling well?”
“I’m fine. Just taking it easy for a change. Thanks, ladies. Here’s to a great tour.” He tilted his beer at them.
“Looking forward to it,” Jillian said, but she noticed Eve was watching Brody and chewing her nail.
The two women moved outside Brody’s room.
“So, you and Brody seem to be close,” she said, thinking that if she could get Eve talk to her about Brody she might learn some interesting tidbits. She wondered if they’d ever been an item, back before he made that rule about crew.
“We’ve worked together a long time, sure.” Eve paused, then looked at Jillian dead-on. “Brody’s a friendly guy, open and easy to talk to, but he’s really a very private person.” Don’t even think you’ll get close.
Jillian had to try. Maybe he was happy to be a playboy forever. Or maybe that weary look she’d seen meant something. Maybe that was what had Eve worried, too.
Jillian had a week to find out.
4
IT WASN’T BONDAGE SCHOOL that surprised Brody—he’d expected the place to be decorated like a torture chamber, with displays of menacing devices and all the students in leather and latex and spikes—it was Jillian’s reaction to the place that amazed him.
She was relaxed, as calm and easy as if she were filming a field of wheat, a sunny meadow or a small-town park. She focused on the best angle to view a whipping, the right lighting for black leather, how to capture shiny spikes without glare.
He almost laughed when she shifted furniture and climbed a ladder to get the perfect shot of a paddling. Kirk would never have gone to that much trouble.
She put up with a bunch of Brody’s reshoots without complaint, too, just as she’d promised. When Brody blew off the shot list, instead of going along like Kirk would have done, she’d do the new stuff, then go back to what they’d planned and do that, too. She missed nothing.
He was behaving differently, too. Showing off, for one thing. When the head dominatrix, Mistress Mona, tried out the cat-o’-nine-tails on him, it stung like a bitch, but he’d refused to wince.
Now they were in the bar, which was raking in cash with overpriced liquor. The whole school was a moneymaker with brutal tuition fees and criminally expensive paraphernalia. A hundred bucks for a rubber hood? Come on. All part of the punishment, he guessed.
In the bar, the students and teachers mingled, leather and rubber clothes squeaking, chains clanking. It was like some weird costume party with everyone in black and metal.
Whatever stuffed your jeans, he guessed. Not his thing.
They had tons of footage, but he still had that restless, unfinished feeling, so he motioned JJ over, hoping for some ideas. Between shots, he’d noticed how busy she was, scoping the place, talking to the instructors, the patrons, the bartender.
“I need something more from the Queen of Pain,” he told her, nodding toward Mistress Mona, holding court at the bar. “Any ideas?”
She didn’t miss a beat, just leaned close to talk low in his ear, giving him a delicious blast of her spicy scent. “See the guy in the Girls Gone Wild ball cap at the back table?”
He looked, spotting the guy with his frat-boy buds. They’d stumbled into the place, not knowing what it was, then stuck around to gawk and joke.
“He’s laughing like his friends, but his eyes never leave Mona. I think we should bring her to his table.”
“You don’t miss much, do you?” he asked her.
“I try not to. No.”
“I’ll have to remember that,” he said, thinking about the interviews he’d promised her and all he had to hide.
“I’ll go talk up the college boys,” she said. “You tell Mona.”
He headed for the bar and sat beside the dominatrix. “A minute more of your time, Mistress Mona?”
“Yes?” she purred, pursing bright red lips. Her hair was teased platinum and her eyes were heavy with black gunk—pure drama, but he’d seen she had humor about herself, unlike the students who were hyper about the rules of their sexual roles.
“I think we know someone who could use a touch of your lash,” he said.
“Tell me more,” she said in the German accent that ebbed and flowed. While he explained the plan, he glanced over to see how much more time JJ needed. He was surprised to find her waiting for him, ready, and she’d gotten the frat boys primed, too.
She was fast, moving like smoke, subtle and smooth, never drawing attention to herself, almost invisible, efficient and effortless and always there. She’d even gotten Brian and Bob to pick up the pace. The lights and boom mic were ready, too.
She’d told him she often did her own lights and sound on documentaries because it lessened the intimidation factor. The fewer people and equipment, the more relaxed her subjects were.
He and Mistress Mona moved toward the frat-boy table and JJ signaled she was rolling tape.
Mona loomed over the boys, silencing them, and the kid in question blinked up at her. “I’m not really into all this,” he said, looking utterly enthralled. JJ had been right about him.
“Come on,” Brody coaxed. “We all need the occasional smack on the behind, don’t we, Mistress Mona?”
“You vill gif your mistress respect,” Mistress Mona snapped. “Take off zat ridiculous cap.”
The kid jerked the hat from his head, grinning, his face pink. Oh, he was into this, all right.
“Wipe zat smile off your face.” Mona whipped her crop onto the table so that it slapped his fingers.
The kid stared at his hand, then at Mona, utterly thrilled.
“I’ll leave you two alone.” Brody patted him on the back and
