In The Pursuit of Success

Opportunities & Obviousness

I'M HORRIBLE

Sorry for keeping you guys waiting. D:

I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Dedicating this to Tasha (GreenRules95) - cause you're awesome and you inspired me to keep pushing on with this story.

_______________________________________

"You sure this is where you're supposed to meet with her?" Trish asks, grabbing Dez's phone to check the address he had entered on his GPS app. The app had been faulty lately, leading them astray more often than not. This resulted in them asking the locals for proper directions.

"Look around – there are Zalien props everywhere. It's gotta be the place." He snatches his phone from her grasp, double-checking the text he had received from Ms. Scotts – just to be sure. Trish gives him a bit of a scowl as he does so, but says nothing about it. "Yup! This is the place." He nods, pointing up at the number on the nearest building.

"Then why isn't she here? You think she forgot about the meeting?" Trish anxiously looks about. Set workers scurry about them, hauling along a multitude of props. Zalien eggs, buckets of goo – the works.

"Trish, I'm the one she's meeting with – why are you so nervous?" He pockets his cell, then gently brushes her hair out of her face. Well, as gently as he possibly could, anyway. Unfortunately, a couple of his fingers get caught in some tangles.

"Dez…Please get your hand out of my hair," she asks him calmly, trying her best to refrain from shouting. Can't put him in a sour mood before an important meeting, after all.

"Hold on, hold on – I got this," he reassures her as he struggles in an attempt to pull himself free.

"Ow! Dez, quit tugging so hard!" she cries, backhanding him lightly to chest.

"I'm not! You keep moving around. Hold still," he orders her. Trish, reluctantly, does as told and he manages to free a single extremity from the capture of her curls. "There we go – now we're getting somewhere." Trish groans, her impatience wearing thin.

"Is this a bad time?" a new voice calls out to them. The duo turns their attention to the third party, Trish wincing a little as she does so. The movement had caused a stronger pull at her roots. Standing before them is a rather tall woman, donning the classic director scarf and beret combo. None other than Ridda Scotts.

"Ms. Scotts!" Dez exclaims, holding out his free hand to shake hers. The Zaliens director takes it cheerfully, shaking it. "It's an honor to meet you. We're huge fans of your work!"

"Thank you and…You two seem to be a bit preoccupied at the moment; would you like to do this later?" Ridda smiles, amused by the scene before her.

"No, it's fine! One sec…" Dez forcibly yanks his hand out of Trish's hair, taking a few broken strands with him.

"HOLY SH-!" Trish cries out, then bites down on her lip to prevent herself from going any further in the presence of the famous director. "Sh-itake mushrooms?"

"Are you alright, miss?" Ridda asks her, trying her best to hold in her laugh.

"Y-yeah. Thank you, Ms. Scotts," the curly-haired girl responds, rubbing her head. Dez puts a hand on her shoulder and leans in to whisper to her.

"Sorry, babe." He smiles at her, apologetically. Trish gives him a mirthless smile in response, her eyes showcasing her discontent with him.

"I'll get you for that later," she chimes, continuing to grin menacingly at the redhead. Dez scoots away from her in alarm. They turn towards Ridda, who had pulled out her phone and seemed to be typing notes.