Page 83 of Sycamore Circle

He frowned. “You know it’s tight, right?” He was pretty sure he was going to look like a snake or something coming out of its skin if he tried to take off that shirt.

“You’ll be fine.” Winter smiled. “I promise, you look great.”

“I’ll help you out,” Adele murmured. “I’ll cut a slit in the back if you need.”

He held up his hand and gave her a high five. “Thanks.”

And so it continued. He pulled off the too-tight shirt while Winter took pictures. He changed clothes a dozen more times, and suffered through getting sprayed with water, oil, and sand.

Hair people restyled his hair and a makeup person put some concealer wherever there was a dark spot on his face. Another three hours later, he was finished. He wiped down his face and eventually put back on his regular clothes.

“Thanks, Bo,” Winter said when he was about to leave. “Everything turned out great. I know everyone is going to be pleased.”

“I appreciate you calling me.”

“You say that every time.”

“It’s always true.” None of them knew that every time he only kept a third of his $3,000 paycheck and sent the rest to his mother. This money helped her do all the extra things she’d never been able to do or get when she’d been raising four kids. Janie once told him about a time Ma had gone out and bought herself a new couch with a check he’d sent her. Another time, she went on a river cruise. Bo would put up with a lot of tight shirts and oil to be able to give her that.

“See you in six months,” Adele called out.

He gave her a salute as he headed out to his truck. Then stopped short when he saw calls from both Mason and Joy. Punching in her number, he held it to his ear.

“Joy?”

“Hey, Bo.”

“Everything good?”

“Yes. But, um, would you mind coming over here tonight? That is, if you don’t have other plans?”

“I don’t mind at all. Listen, honey... I just got done with something. Let me check in with Mason and then I’ll call you back.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Pulling out of the parking lot, he rang Mason.

“Hey. Are you free yet?”

“Yeah.” No one besides Lincoln knew that he did this modeling gig on the side. “Why?”

“I think you need to come on over to the house. Grafton’s girl showed up, she’s flirting with half the guys, and Grafton is about to lose it.”

“You can’t deal with it?” His legs were still covered with oil and bits of sand.

“I can give it a try, but he don’t listen to anyone but you or Lincoln.”

“Fine. I’ll be there in twenty.” Disconnecting, he thought about how he was going to let Joy know what was going on. Since there really wasn’t any way to let her know—besides tell her the God’s honest truth, he called her again.

“Bo?”

“Hey. Joy, sweetheart, I’m sorry but there’s a problem with one of the guys. I’ve got to go calm him down.”

“Oh.” He could practically hear her inject a false note of happiness in her voice. “Well, um, thanks for letting me know.”

“What’s going on? Did you get another letter after all?”

“No.”

---