Bad Romeo Christmas: A Starcrossed Anthology by Leisa Rayven Page B
Authors: Leisa Rayven
You're Elissa Fucking Holt. Make them remember that name.>
I roll my eyes. Sure. Like that's easy to do. I've spent my whole career in New York, building relationships and training crews. Here in L.A. I'm just some bossy blonde chick from Broadway.
I tap out another text.
My phone buzzes.
Even though Josh has been living with Angel in L.A. for a while now, he recently chose to go on location with her for a few months so they could pat koalas or whatever when Angel’s not filming. Talk about selfish. Just when I need him the most.
I stride across the stage, careful to avoid half-constructed set pieces and low-hanging lighting bars as I approach the group of burly men chatting and laughing near the fly ropes.
"Gentlemen, I need this stage cleared in five minutes."
The largest of the men gives me a cursory nod. "Yeah, yeah, sweetheart. Keep your panties on."
I stop dead. Oh, no he didn't.
"What did you just say to me?"
He turns and gives me a more thorough assessment, and this time his gaze lingers on my boobs long enough for me to imagine flaying him alive before burning his carcass.
"I said, we'll get to it when we get to it." He sneers. "Now run along and yap at someone else, short stuff."
I plaster on my sweetest smile to hide the hot anger crawling up my neck. "Oh, I see. Sorry to have bothered you. By the way, what's your name, big guy?"
His demeanor changes to one of outright lechery. "It's Tom, babe. As in Tom Cat." He links his thumbs through his belt loops in a way that screams, ME MAN. HAVE PENIS. WOMAN BE IMPRESSED NOW .
I laugh. "Well, that's just perfect." I beckon him closer and lower my voice. "So, let me tell you how this is going to go, Tom Cat . You're going to apologize to me for being a nauseating chauvinist douche, right before you get your crew to clear this stage. Then, you'll set those lighting bars in record time, because if you don't, not only are you going to be fired and blacklisted by every single theatrical producer I know, and believe me, I know a lot , I'm also going to tear off your puny, shriveled balls and use them as the centerpiece in the finale. Are you feeling me, sport?"
Tom's eyes glaze over in anger, and I have a strong feeling this guy has definite erectile issues. "Now, you listen here, missy—"
" No , Tom, you shut your Neanderthal mouth and listen to me . As far as you're concerned, this theater is the Sacred Church of the Kickass Bitch, and I am your Goddess, so you have three seconds to do exactly as you're told or face my unholy wrath. It's your choice."
He gives me a final glare before turning back to his men. "Fuck you, lady."
"Suit yourself."
I grab my walkie-talkie and give a quick order to security before walking over and addressing his men.
"Okay, gents, here's the deal. Tom is about to be thrown out of the theater in a most ungracious fashion for being a disgusting, disrespectful stain on society. So if you want to avoid joining him, here are my rules: you do what you're told, when I tell you to do it. If you don't, you're fired. If you call me anything other than 'Miss Holt', you're fired. If you behave like anything other than complete gentlemen from here on out, you're well and truly goddamn fired. Are we clear?"
Tom makes a scoffing sound and gives me a condescending look. "They're my guys, sweetcheeks. If you get rid of me, they'll follow. Have no doubt."
I look at the men calmly. "If that's the case, no problem. You're all welcome to join Tom in the unemployment line. I'll have a new crew here within the hour. The decision is yours."
Without another word, the men scurry away to do what's been asked of them.
I look at Tom in smug triumph. "Oh, wow, Tom Cat. Your
I roll my eyes. Sure. Like that's easy to do. I've spent my whole career in New York, building relationships and training crews. Here in L.A. I'm just some bossy blonde chick from Broadway.
I tap out another text.
My phone buzzes.
Even though Josh has been living with Angel in L.A. for a while now, he recently chose to go on location with her for a few months so they could pat koalas or whatever when Angel’s not filming. Talk about selfish. Just when I need him the most.
I stride across the stage, careful to avoid half-constructed set pieces and low-hanging lighting bars as I approach the group of burly men chatting and laughing near the fly ropes.
"Gentlemen, I need this stage cleared in five minutes."
The largest of the men gives me a cursory nod. "Yeah, yeah, sweetheart. Keep your panties on."
I stop dead. Oh, no he didn't.
"What did you just say to me?"
He turns and gives me a more thorough assessment, and this time his gaze lingers on my boobs long enough for me to imagine flaying him alive before burning his carcass.
"I said, we'll get to it when we get to it." He sneers. "Now run along and yap at someone else, short stuff."
I plaster on my sweetest smile to hide the hot anger crawling up my neck. "Oh, I see. Sorry to have bothered you. By the way, what's your name, big guy?"
His demeanor changes to one of outright lechery. "It's Tom, babe. As in Tom Cat." He links his thumbs through his belt loops in a way that screams, ME MAN. HAVE PENIS. WOMAN BE IMPRESSED NOW .
I laugh. "Well, that's just perfect." I beckon him closer and lower my voice. "So, let me tell you how this is going to go, Tom Cat . You're going to apologize to me for being a nauseating chauvinist douche, right before you get your crew to clear this stage. Then, you'll set those lighting bars in record time, because if you don't, not only are you going to be fired and blacklisted by every single theatrical producer I know, and believe me, I know a lot , I'm also going to tear off your puny, shriveled balls and use them as the centerpiece in the finale. Are you feeling me, sport?"
Tom's eyes glaze over in anger, and I have a strong feeling this guy has definite erectile issues. "Now, you listen here, missy—"
" No , Tom, you shut your Neanderthal mouth and listen to me . As far as you're concerned, this theater is the Sacred Church of the Kickass Bitch, and I am your Goddess, so you have three seconds to do exactly as you're told or face my unholy wrath. It's your choice."
He gives me a final glare before turning back to his men. "Fuck you, lady."
"Suit yourself."
I grab my walkie-talkie and give a quick order to security before walking over and addressing his men.
"Okay, gents, here's the deal. Tom is about to be thrown out of the theater in a most ungracious fashion for being a disgusting, disrespectful stain on society. So if you want to avoid joining him, here are my rules: you do what you're told, when I tell you to do it. If you don't, you're fired. If you call me anything other than 'Miss Holt', you're fired. If you behave like anything other than complete gentlemen from here on out, you're well and truly goddamn fired. Are we clear?"
Tom makes a scoffing sound and gives me a condescending look. "They're my guys, sweetcheeks. If you get rid of me, they'll follow. Have no doubt."
I look at the men calmly. "If that's the case, no problem. You're all welcome to join Tom in the unemployment line. I'll have a new crew here within the hour. The decision is yours."
Without another word, the men scurry away to do what's been asked of them.
I look at Tom in smug triumph. "Oh, wow, Tom Cat. Your
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