Chapter Text
"Why is there a literal truckload of lesbians in my driveway?"
The dark haired woman posing the question is peering through the upstairs bedroom window, gaze locked onto the scene below. The little "Oh!" from behind her tells her that her PA knows the answer as she continues to watch how four work women — one of them wearing an honest to God hard hat — tumble out of a Dodge RAM 1500.
"You told me to hire a contractor, so I hired a contractor," the dark skinned woman answers her employer slash friend as she moves closer to the window. Together they look on as the hard hatted woman seems to reprimand two of the others for pushing and shoving their way up to the gate. For a second, they look like scolded pups, but the moment hard hat shows them her back they're at it again, yanking shirts and tool belts in order to trip the other up and reach the intercom first.
Christen Press — recently retired A list actress and quite the recluse — turns to face her PA with a finely plucked eyebrow raised high on her forehead. "They look like real professionals, Crystal. Does the circus in town know they're a few clowns short?"
Rolling her eyes at her boss, Crystal Dunn pulls her phone out of her pocket, connecting to the intercom app. Within seconds her screen is filled with intense brown eyes and full lips pulled into a perfunctory smile. "Hi, Tobin Heath with Five Star Constructions. I'm here to see a C.A. Press about the renovations?"
Already on the move, Crystal presses a button on her phone to slide open the wrought iron gate to let the crew enter. "Hi there, Tobin. Please come on up to the front door. We'll meet you there." Christen watches her go, having no intention of following her PA downstairs. They've hashed out the details ad nauseam for the past few weeks, so Crystal knows exactly what needs to be done, which means Christen can stay safely tucked away in her rooms upstairs.
"Aren't you coming?" Crystal asks from her place by the door, mentally huffing at the steely look on Christen's face. She's quite familiar with that expression. It's not just a regular refusal, it's a big, fat NO! And yes, in Crystal's head it's in all capitals and ending in an exclamation mark, Christen looks that severe. But Crystal has more than one ace up her sleeve and she's not afraid to play a little dirty. "Fine!" She exclaims, right before leaving the room and letting the door fall closed behind her. "But I'm not telling them to take their dirty work boots off inside the house and oh, did I hear you say they can pee in your upstairs bathroom?" Crystal holds still halfway down the stairs, waiting for the inevitable sound of a door opening and quick footfalls down the hallway.
When Christen comes into view, Crystal grins at her, cheeky smile only widening at the chagrined look on her face. "You're fired!" Is all she says as she passes Crystal, trying her damnedest to stop herself from smiling as laughter follows her down the stairs. That's the second time today she got canned and it's not even ten AM.
With Crystal on her way to the front door, Christen's at a loss of where to go. Her office is too small for six people, but the kitchen seems too informal. It's in moments like these that Christen's social awkwardness really shows. Now that she's no longer playing roles, she's struggling to find patterns all her own, but it's not as easy as everyone makes it seem. Now that she's out of the spotlights, the need to hide has become even stronger, because without her costumes and without her makeup, Christen Press has no clue who she is.
Crystal finds her in the kitchen. One look is all it takes for the PA to figure out what's keeping her. "We're out on the back patio. Whenever you're ready, okay?" Christen nods in reply, prepping herself to meet four new people at once. They're a raucous bunch judging from the sounds of loud talking and boisterous laughter filtering in through the open kitchen window and Christen already dreads the invasion of her home for the next couple of months. She waits for Crystal to fix a pot of coffee so she has someone to walk out with. She's used to graceful entrances, but she was usually too blinded by camera flashes to even realize that there were people lining up to see her. Or no, to watch her, because seeing her — the real her — is something completely different. She's afraid to find herself judged by these hard working, blue collared women. Compared to them, they must think she has an easy life. So much money for so little effort, she thinks they think and they'd be right. Maybe they really think that about her or maybe she's just projecting. It shouldn't matter either way, because she'll meet them, they'll do what they get paid to do and then they'll be out of her hair again. Because that's the story of Christen's life. No one ever stays. Not for her. In fact, she's still waiting for Crystal to finally figure out she's not worth it.
Scurrying out after her assistant, Christen quickly scans her visitors as she offers a reserved greeting. By the looks of it, the playful blonde tomboys definitely recognize her. They're huddled together on the wicker bench, falling silent as soon as she steps outside. A warning glance from the woman on their right tells them to behave as the one on their left — hardhat dangling from the fingers of her right hand, thick manilla folder in front of her on the table — seems to have found religion in the flagstones beneath her well worn boots.
"Christen, if you're ready?" Crystal calls for her attention. With a nod and a bashful smile, she finds her way into an empty chair, hoping this forced get together with four total strangers will be over quickly so she can go back to bed.
Crystal takes to her role as chairwoman of the meeting like a fish does to water. Christen knows she hit the jackpot with such a great friend and confidant as her personal assistant. Crystal knows her through and through and many times Christen's needs are met before they even arise. The woman's a miracle worker and the day will surely come when she needs a more fulfilling job than this one, Christen fears. Crystal's a woman of many talents and keeping her in this position feels a lot like robbing her from better opportunities. Christen doesn't want loyalty to be the only reason for Crystal's presence in her life. Now that she's retired, it probably won't take too long before boredom sets in. She should check in with a few of her fellow actors. See if they need a smart as a whip, tough as nails personal assistant. Send her off with the best of intentions before she decides to leave. That way, it won't hurt as much, Christen hopes.
When she tunes back in, she's relieved to find Crystal still talking and about to ask the crew to introduce themselves, starting with one of the wicker bench stooges. She goes by the name of Sonnett or Sonny. She's a fast talker, pleasantly surprising Christen with her wit and overall respectful disposition.
Sitting next to her is Lindsey Horan, a dirty blonde with keen blue eyes and, now that "Sonny" isn't trying to make her fall flat on her face, a seemingly calm demeanor. She looks like a power house, though. Christen's sure this one does a lot of heavy lifting and enjoys doing it.
The terrible twosome's keeper — a woman with slicked back bleach blonde hair — introduces herself as Ashlyn Harris. She's to the point and somewhat charming and Christen enjoys the way this woman speaks to her directly as opposed to her coworkers who still don't know where to look since they're not allowed to gawk at her.
Turning her attention to the fourth crew member — the forewoman is Christen's guess — she's startled by the pair of inquisitive brown eyes already watching her. With a little jolt of something she wouldn't know how to name, she looks away for a second before risking another glance. The woman keeps looking right at her as she starts talking. Tobin Heath, Christen registers. Forewoman and owner of Five Star Constructions. Getting straight to the purpose of their meeting, she pulls the folder to her and opens it, finally breaking eye contact. Christen feels released from something, but not in a good way. It's an entirely foreign feeling and she doesn't care for it. She watches the confident constructor weave that same spell on Crystal and even on the members of her own crew. She's obviously putting on an act. It's all for show, to reel in customers and charm them out of a few extra bucks. Christen pledges to herself not to fall into the same trap as her poor PA. As if on cue, Tobin's eyes find hers again, throwing her a quick wink and a cocky half smile. It makes her bristle, knowing that this complete stranger knows how to rile her up. She decides then and there that Tobin Heath is an asshole and she doesn't want to have anything to with her. Ever!