Comedy of Erinn by Celia Bonaduce Page B

book.
    Erinn snuck a peek out the window as the plane soared over the Pacific Ocean. She loved taking off from Los Angeles International Airport. North, south, east, or west—wherever you were going, the jet flew straight out over the water before heading in any specific direction.
    Starting out over the water . . . it’s like some sort of baptism.
    Her thoughts were interrupted by Jude’s voice.
    â€œI love flying over the water,” he said. “It’s like . . . you’re given a clean slate . . . ya know?”

CHAPTER 8
    E rinn held her carry-on tightly to her chest and concentrated on her breathing as the Apple Pie production crew clustered around the luggage carousel. She had made sure that her camera came through the flight all right and then turned her attention to her teammates. They grabbed and sorted the gear as if the bags were stuffed with marshmallows instead of thousands of dollars’ worth of production equipment . . . and that was the price tag without the cameras!
    â€œDon’t worry,” Carlos said. “The gear is fine. We pack the shit out of this crap before we leave town.”
    Erinn blinked. Somewhere in that sentence was reassurance, she sensed.
    As the motley crew made their way to the rental car pickup station, Erinn wondered how people who spoke of “packing the shit out of crap” could possibly be expected to turn out a cohesive narrative. And yet, here they were. Once inside the rental-car van, they rumbled along toward Hertz, the team members seamlessly split off into pairs. She was apparently with Jude. When the driver called “Hertz Gold,” Gilroi and Carlos stood up.
    â€œThat’s us.”
    They looked at Jude.
    â€œYou riding with us?” Carlos asked.
    â€œDid you sign up for Hertz Gold?” Jude asked Erinn.
    â€œI didn’t know there was such a thing as Hertz Gold,” Erinn said, trying to sound as casual as possible.
    Her teammates stared at her in disbelief.
    Averting her eyes, she caught the eyes of the driver, who look equally mystified. How could one live in the twenty-first century—their looks seemed to say—and never have heard of Hertz Gold?
    She grasped for something to say that might redeem her, but nothing came to mind. Jude turned to the other men.
    â€œThat’s cool,” he said. “We’ll see you at the hotel.”
    The men unloaded their gear, and the van doors shut. “Why didn’t you sign up for Hertz Gold, dude?” he asked. “Gilroi and Carlos kick your ass as a producer, you know that?”
    â€œWhy didn’t you sign up for it if you care that much?”
    â€œYou’re the producer . . . it’s your job.”
    â€œAnything that you don’t want to do is the producer’s job.”
    â€œThat’s right,” Jude said. “That’s the natural order of things.”
    The van lurched to a stop, the doors swung open, and Jude and Erinn got out. She knew that it was the producer’s job to keep track of all the gear, and she had heard that it was also the producer’s job to carry all the gear. Erinn hoisted all the camera gear onto her shoulders and was about to reach for her own bag when Jude intercepted it.
    â€œLet me help you with that,” he said.
    Erinn held tightly on to her load.
    â€œIt’s my job. I’ve got it,” she said.
    â€œHumor me,” he said, as he effortlessly took the two heaviest bags off her shoulder and started toward the Hertz kiosk. While they were in line, Jude got a phone call on his cell.
    â€œAw, shit. OK, thanks,” he said into the phone. “Well, we’ll see what we can do from this end. . . . Don’t be so sure . . . I think she’s up to it.”
    He winked at Erinn.
    â€œWhat?” she asked.
    â€œThat was Carlos. They weren’t able to get a free upgrade,” he said. “Now we have to see if we can get one . . . we meaning you, Ms.