Page 38 of Camera Shy

I prop the phone up against the pitcher of orange juice I have in the middle of the dining table. Holding up one finger, I ask, “Can we just dream big for a moment? Manifest.”

She blows out a breath. “Fine.”

“You’re the star of this pilot—”

“One of the stars. It’s an ensemble cast—”

“Palmer, work with me, here.”

“Fine. I’m the star of this pilot.”

“Good. And what happens when the pilot gets picked up?”

She slumps her shoulders and her slinky tank top falls off her shoulder. I can see her nipples clear as day through her thin top. Palmer has the kind of small, perky breasts that don’t need to be contained at all times with sturdy bras with underwire. “I don’t know…”

“Yes, you do. It’s okay.” I give her a reassuring nod.

“Okay, my career picks up.”

“And?” I tuck my knee to my chest and rest my chin on top of it, giving her a lunatic smile.

“I get a steady paycheck.”

I nod enthusiastically. “And?”

“And I can pay back my debt, get a better agent, get more jobs, maybe a movie deal, maybe walk the red carpet one day.”

“There you go!” I clap my hands together. “Honey, you can do this. You are beautiful and talented. I want this for you as much as you do. This will happen. This pilot will get picked up. You’re going to do big things, best friend.”

Palmer immediately tears up. She’s been crying nonstop lately. You would’ve thought she was the one who was dumped. Every time we’ve talked in the past week since she drove off to Albuquerque, she’s been an emotional wreck. She’s just probably in her actor mindset. She’s playing a single mother, living on the streets, who is trying her best to kick a heroin habit. If that’s not emotionally taxing and dramatic, I don’t know what it is. She’s embracing her role. Palmer is a truly phenomenal actress. If success in the industry was based on talent alone, she’d be famous. Unfortunately, the reality is that luck’s been a bitch to her. Her entire career is filled with near misses and almost opportunities.

“You’re a better friend than me,” she says in a hushed whisper. “A much better friend.”

“Palmer,” I grumble, rolling my eyes. “It’s just a car. It’s fine—but hey, I have to go. It’s Mason on the other line.” As much as I’d like to ignore that asshole’s call, we need to chat business today.

Palmer’s face twists. “Fuck Mason,” she says.

“Yep, well, someone is, that’s for sure. Okay, honey, bye. Talk soon.” I reluctantly press end call and answer on my screen. “Mason,” I say, my tone dropping to the icy depths.

“Hey, Avery. Can I start with—”

“No, you may not. I looked over the Legacy Resorts reports and I have a few ideas for a proposal, but I need to understand what kind of organic leads are coming to their site. Have they shared that with you yet?”

“Not quite.”

“Once I have that data, I’ll be able to proceed. Email me when you have it.”

He sighs into the phone.

Sigh all you want, jerk. This is strictly business.

“They want a live pitch.”

“I would assume so if they are willing to pay in the millions. Are you concerned about my pitch?” I’ve handled client meetings since the establishment of our business. I don’t care how much money is in a potential client’s suit pockets. I’m not intimidated. I’m confident in what I do.

“No, I’m not concerned but…”

“But what?”

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