Page 32 of Mister Mom

Jagger starts in on me as soon as I close the door behind us. “Hey. Glad you’re here early. We have ten minutes to prepare you. What are you wearing?” He looks me up and down. I follow his vision to my t-shirt and jeans.

“It’s a conference call,” I argue.

“A video conference call.” He blows out a breath, straightens his tie and looks down at Payne. “Hey, buddy, you must be Payne.”

Again, the kid clings harder to my hand and uses me as a shield.

“He’s not up for talking this morning.”

Jagger’s eyes dart from him to me and back again, then he shakes his head.

I walk over to the couch. “Can you stay here while I’m on this call?” I ask Payne.

He nods.

“Here’s my phone, there are five games for you to play.” I silence it and hand it over to him.

He gives me a huge smile and starts playing immediately.

“Told you,” Jagger brags and I sit down at the table, realizing there’s already a camera set up on the opposite end. “I talked to Hannah this morning. We’re all set. She couldn’t be more thrilled to hear that Layla accepted.”

Guess I underestimated Jagger. He may actually understand kids. I downloaded five games. Ten dollars is a small price to pay for me to have a conference call in silence. He isn’t even antsy when Victoria sneaks in to tell him she has something cool to show him—he just follows her out, barely taking his eyes off the screen.

A half hour later Jagger is clicking out of the conference call and I’m breathing a sigh of relief. Hannah seems like a decent woman and she’s really enthusiastic over the project. Seems we’re heading in the right direction.

“We’re set, man,” Jagger says and pushes away from the boardroom table and walks over to his desk. “All the paperwork should be done tonight. Now, you need to find the rest of your team. I can set up some interviews for you if you need me to.” Jagger has faults, but at his job, he is a lean, mean, efficient machine. Crossing T’s and dotting I’s are the least of what he does to be perfect in his job.

I run my hands down my pants. “I’m nervous.”

“Why? This is what you’ve always wanted.”

I wonder if fear is even a word in Jagger’s dictionary.

“Yeah, I want it, but fuck.” I push my hand through my hair. “I’m not good with failure.”

He waves me off. “You’re not going to fail. This is a killer script. Do you really think I’d attach my name to a shitty project?” His egotistical smirk crosses his lips and I can’t help but smile. “Calm down and enjoy the ride, but I do want to warn you of one thing.” He glances out the window of his office, and then sets his determined gaze back on me. “Do not get involved with Layla Andrews.”

I relax back in my seat, resting my ankle on my knee. “Obviously, why would I?”

He points at me. “That look on your face when her name comes up in conversation. You had it yesterday and you have it today.”

“There’s no look.” I chuckle from the sheer ridiculousness of this conversation.

“Yes, there is. You’d have to be fucking blind not to see it. You had that same look with Gwen Sinclair last year. Remember how that turned out?” He raises his perfectly manscaped eyebrows. Someone needs to tell him that real men don’t need to get buffed and waxed at a salon, even if they bang the aesthetician on occasion.

“Why do you have to bring that shit up?”

“Because it’s the point to me telling you what to do. Hands off the actresses.”

“I wasn’t the fucking scriptwriter, not to mention you know there’s a helluva lot more to that story.”

He nods, sporting those sympathetic eyes I fled from months prior. “I know that. Why do you think I don’t fuck them? They’re always drama.” He pauses briefly. “You just need to remember that it never does anyone any good to fuck where you eat.”

“The waitress at the taco place?” I shoot him a look suggesting he’s full of it.

“Okay, okay. Figuratively, not literally. Now, I have emails to respond to, so go be a babysitter and don’t let the little mommy seduce you.” He straightens in his chair, turning in the direction of his computer.

“Well then, don’t let me hold you up.” I stand and walk over to the door.

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