Jane got Hal up and to the men’s bathroom before he could vomit on the carpet. By then she realized that she could get arrested for assault and possibly exiled from Elfhome, never mind not getting hired. She considered drowning Hal in the toilet. She probably would have if he hadn’t started to cry.
“I thought I could do something important here,” he sobbed. “Be someone more than some glorified gardener. A whole world to explore and I’m talking about growing flowers. Marigolds! Pansies! God, anyone can grow pansies! You could throw the seeds on the ground and they would grow. That’s how it works in nature. Seeds are meant to survive haphazard treatment.”
Jane didn’t know what to do. She paced the bathroom as Hal sat on the floor of the stall and wept.
Jane had no idea who Dmitri was when he swept into the bathroom but he had that “I am the king, this is my castle, you’re trespassing” kind of air about him.
“He had a pistol that he was waving around,” Jane said before Hal could accuse her of assault. She was fairly sure that the receptionist had ratted her out to the king and perhaps the police. Jane took out Hal’s pistol and sat it on the ledge under the bathroom’s mirror. “I didn’t recognize him.” She put the magazine beside the gun to show it wasn’t loaded anymore and then added, “There’s no bullet in the chamber. I checked.”
At the time, she was amazed that her explanation had been enough to turn Dmitri’s attention to Hal. Once she got to know the two men better, it wasn’t surprising at all.
“Why do you have a gun, Hal?” Dmitri asked in the quiet, intimidating manner that Jane would get to know well.
“Because every freaking thing on this planet wants to eat me!” Hal flailed his hand. “It’s not just the animals. I could deal with it if it was just the animals! But the plants and the trees! The trees! The trees!”
Dmitri sighed and focused on Jane. “You’re my ten o’clock interview. You’re the older sister of the little lost girl.”
Was that a question? Jane wasn’t sure. She decided to treat it as such. “Yes.”
Dmitri’s eyes narrowed. “Family is military. Father is deceased. You’ve got five younger brothers.”
“Yes,” Jane said.
“Fine,” Dmitri said. “You’re hired. Get him sober, cleaned up, and back to filming.”
“What?” both Jane and Hal said.
“You’re the new PA for his show,” Dmitri said.
“New what?” Jane had no idea what a PA was.
“Production assistant,” Dmitri said. “It means you do whatever is needed to be done to make sure the show is filmed on time for its timeslot, which is in four days.”
“Wait!” Hal cried. “What about — what’s his name? John? Jack? J-J-Jarrold?”
“Jarrold was the PA you ran over,” Dmitri said. “John is the one you set on fire yesterday.”
“Oh, well, he shouldn’t have been standing so close to me when I had a flamethrower.”
“John was twenty feet from you; he’d been warned.”
“I’m sure he’ll be up and about in no time,” Hal said. “I had a fire extinguisher ready…”
“John quit. Jarrold quit and left the planet.” Dmitri pointed at Jane. “Stop at HR and get insurance forms.”
Hired or not, Jane was still angry, although she wasn’t sure at whom. Hal for being drunk and waving around a gun? Dmitri for hiring her for a position that seemed like a glorified babysitting job? She wasn’t sure she wanted that job. She wanted to be a camera operator.
She took being hired as permission to do what she wanted to Hal Rogers. If they fired her, so be it. After getting the paperwork signed in Human Resources, she bullied Hal into taking her to his place.
He lived a few blocks away at one of the few hi-rise luxury condos in Oakland. It should have been a nice place to live as he had a sprawling penthouse apartment with big windows that showed off the city gloriously. Said windows had no drapes or blinds, just some cheap curtain rods left by the previous tenant. A small mountain of moving boxes filled most of the living room. There was a mattress thrown on the floor of the master bedroom. A second mountain of boxes filled the tiny spare bedroom. The only things unpacked were his clothes, some biology books, and his doctorate degree. He’d obviously arrived on Elfhome with high hopes and gotten lost somewhere along the way. The parts of the apartment not filled with moving boxes were littered with bachelor trash: empty food containers, dirty dishes, and empty whiskey bottles.
At that point, Jane became angry at her new coworkers. Hal was one of them — for better or worse. Why hadn’t they helped him settle into his new home? Get some curtains up, unpacked the boxes, and found him a real bed? How could you turn your back on someone who was totally and utterly alone on a new world? Who obviously was struggling?
Hal needed help but Jane didn’t have time to get his life in order while making sure the show hit its deadline. She called her older cousin, Rachel, who ran a service company for people new to Pittsburgh. It was a combination of native guide and maid service and personal chef.
“I’ll leave the place unlocked,” Jane told her cousin. She picked up Hal’s wallet and took out all his cash. “Give the apartment the works. Laundry. Trash removal. A good scrub. And he needs furniture too. Talk to your guy at Once Upon A Mattress; see if you can get him to deliver a starter set.”
“One bed, nightstand, love seat, dinette table, and a chair?”
“He has a mattress, so just the bedframe.”
Rachel gave her a price for the works. Jane counted out the necessary bills and put them in the freezer as she gave directions to the apartment. “I put the money under the ice tray. Lock up when you’re done.”
It wouldn’t solve all of Hal’s problems but it would be a step in the right direction. Jane made a list of things that the man obviously needed. A coffeemaker. Dishes. Glasses. Silverware. Some real food. How did someone end up with so many condiments in his refrigerator and nothing to use them on?
Hal came out of his bedroom in cleaner clothes and a great deal more sober. “What was your name?”
“Jane,” she said. She offered her hand like her father had taught her. “Jane Kryskill.”
“Hal Rogers.” He shook her hand, still peering at her as if through a fog. “How old are you? Sixteen?”
“Eighteen. Come on, let’s go.”
“Go? Where?”
“We have a show to film,” she said.
“I’m not sure you understand how this works,” Hal said. “I’m the show’s star. You are the show’s PA. You follow my orders. I do not follow yours.”
She stepped close to take advantage of her height and used the cold, serious voice that her mother used so well to control her brothers. “I am responsible for making sure that the show is delivered on time. You will do what I say or I will hogtie you and carry you back to the station on my shoulder. Do I make myself clear?”
He worked his mouth for a moment (later she would realize how rare it would be for him to be shocked speechless) and then meekly said, “Yes, madam.”
It turned out that setting the last PA on fire effectively had stopped all filming on the show. The show’s producer was a nervous man from Stateside with an odd accent and odder expectations. Somehow, he thought that he didn’t have to walk three steps to get a coffee but instead expected Jane to drop everything to get it for him. She disabused him of that notion within an hour. This triggered the director calling Dmitri, which resulted in the phone being handed to Jane.
“Kryskill, be nice to the man,” Dmitri said over the phone. “Your producer is on the verge of a nervous breakdown. If he wants to pull stupid power plays, go along with it as far as it doesn’t infringe on you keeping Rogers in check. You understand?”