Jennifer showed me through the building, introducing me to my new workers, the guys renovating the building, the specialized staff, and the camera crew. It was a dizzying display of professional efficiency.
To my surprise, there was also a director.
"This is Mr. Holmes," Jennifer said, introducing me to a bald man with a prominent skull tattoo visible on his head. He had subtle face tattoos marking his temples and jawline.
He was wearing a sharp, expensive suit, but I could tell his entire body was tatted beneath the fabric. He looked like the pornography version of a successful, intimidating record label executive—a porn Birdman.
I didn't like him immediately. His smile was forced, calculating, and cold.
"Mr. Hart. It's a pleasure to finally meet you," he said, extending his hand, a gesture of assumed authority.
