Page 4 of Mister Mom

Vance

I grab my vibrating phone off the nightstand and roll over, bringing it to my ear. “Yeah?” My voice is groggy and raw from the early-morning wake-up call.

“You know jet lag isn’t a thing when you’ve only been to Oregon, don’t you?”

Jagger.

“Who do I have to pay not to hear your voice for twenty-four hours?” I sit up in my bed, the sheet falling to my waist.

“You’ve been home for weeks. Besides, I wouldn’t be so pissy. I’ve got great news.”

“What time is it?” I scrunch my eyes and rub a hand over them before glancing over to the clock on the cable box.

Does it really say eleven? Where the hell did the morning go?

“Let’s just say, McDonald’s breakfast is over.”

Like health nut Jagger has ever eaten a Big Mac.

“What’s this news you speak of?”

“I found someone interested in investing.”

I bolt up, swinging my legs over the side of my bed. “Yeah?”

Jagger’s reputation is for putting deals together that seem impossible at the outset, and he’s always been one to work fast, but this has to be a record, even for him.

“Finally up, huh? Say, ‘Thank you, Jagger, for working your magic.’” He chuckles and I hear his assistant paging him over the intercom in his office. “Give me two, Vic.”

“Give me some details. Who is it?”

“Not until you say, ‘Thank you, Jagger.’” He chuckles with amusement I’m used to by now. The man takes nothing too seriously. Actually, strike that. He’s only serious about two things—money and his career.

“Thank you, Jagger. Now can I have the details?”

“Sure thing,” his assistant, Victoria, says in the background through his office phone. “But he’s threatening to hang up if you don’t have time for him.”

“I’m talking to Vance. Hold up.”

“Tell Vance hello,” Victoria says.

“I say hello in return.” I have no idea how this turned into a game of telephone.

“You can tell her yourself when you pick me up for lunch this afternoon.” Jagger pauses.

“Lunch?”

“Yeah, get all prettied up because you owe me big time for this one. See you at one.”

The line goes dead and I place my phone on the bed, running my hands down my face.

If I wasn’t positive he did indeed work his usual magic in the two weeks since I gave him the go-ahead on my script, I’d stand him up, but the man has me by my balls and he knows it.

* * *

At one o’clock that afternoon, I drag my ass into Jagger’s office.

“Hey, Victoria.” I wave, bypassing her sparse desk. “Props on not getting too comfortable.”

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