Page 5 of Body Check

My lids fall shut, and I rock back on my heels as though experiencing the blow of my failed marriage all over again.

Where’s Ben & Jerry when you need them?

“I won’t lie,” Steven says, “your rocky relationship with Jackson Carter only makes this all the more interesting. But your divorce isn’t why I flew out to Boston, Holly.” When I look his way, he plants his hand down on the spreadsheets he laid out earlier in our meeting. “The teams love you and your company, and if you ever opened Carter Photography to franchises outside of the Northeast, you’d be swamped with offers. So, we’re bringing L.A. and Sports 24/7 to you here in Beantown.”

I swallow, my mouth feeling parched like I’ve skipped the liquids and have gone straight for sawdust. “Only tourists call Boston Beantown.”

“Right.” He raps his knuckles on the desk, once, twice. “Whaddaya say? You agree to be the director of photography behindGetting Puckedand we’ll supply any additional staff you need to make this happen—their wages on us. We need your eye for storytelling—the way you instinctively know where the camera needs to be—and the guys feel comfortable with you.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to say that the guys are comfortable because they’ve known me as Jackson’s wife for far longer than they’ve known me as the ex. At the end of the day, though, if there’s anyone who can convince them to open up their lives on TV, it’s me.

“Did the board sign off on production already?” I ask, moving to the floor-to-ceiling glass window that overlooks Arlington Street and Boston Common. If I stare hard enough through the clusters of trees, I can spot tourists meandering through the park.

Behind me, Steven grunts his affirmation. “Already done. Contracts have been signed for months now—we were only waiting till the beginning of preseason to start. Other shows film training during the summer but we want in on the real action. That’s priority, and you’re the missing puzzle piece to the master plan.”

Preseason begins in less than three weeks, which means Sports 24/7 sure waited a long time before approaching me. With a timeline like theirs, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that, despite the silver-tongued bullshit being spewed, Carter Photography was not their first choice. Might not have been their second or third either.

I’m the farthest thing from a rocket scientist.

Unfortunately for Mr. Steven Fairfax, however, I’m no pushover. I learned from the best—my grandmother who raised my brother and me, all while owning and solely operating a corner store after my granddaddy died. Once, she even pulled a gun on a man who dared robherstore. She fired, too. Caught him right in the ass as he was fleeing the scene.

Crazy woman ruled with an iron fist until her death this year, and I like to think that some of that bullheadedness trickled down to me.

In droves.

I rest my backside against the windowpane and stare at the gussied-up L.A. businessman seated at my desk. Unlike him, I don’t bother beating around the bush. “Let’s talk pay.”

Steven’s brows shoot up at my boldness. It takes him a second to recover, but then he’s leaning forward to riffle through his papers. He slips one sheet from the rest and slides it across the desk with the tip of one finger. “I think you’ll be pleased with the number we’ve come up with for you.”

I kill the immediate eagerness in my chest.Don’t let him read you like that.Until recently, my emotions were as transparent as the swirling winds just before a hurricane. I hid nothing. I lived my life in unedited freedom, always convinced that every person I met was just another friendship waiting to be started.

Learning the truth about my parents in my grandmother’s will changed all that.

But only the living can adjust to what secrets the dead reveal. Timethatparticular revelation with my divorce, and is it any wonder why my heart went on lockdown?

I approach the desk and quickly scan the contract. My jaw hardens when I spot the number that’s highlighted and bolded. Underlined twice, too, just in case I couldn’t see it otherwise. There could be unicorn stickers on that sheet and it still wouldn’t impress me.

It’s just like a ten-inch dick to be all show and no delivery.

Steven mistakes my silence for shock. “Exciting, I know. That’s a healthy price for four months of work,” Steven murmurs like we’re in on our own little secret. “And, of course, all of your expenses will be compensated for by the network. Travel, accommodations, dining. We pay the bestforthe best.”

“Double it and I’ll sign the contract today.”

“What?”

I meet his gaze without flinching. “You said that the contracts with the Blades were signed months ago. And yet, you’re here just three weeks before preseason starts. The first game is on September fifteenth. A network like yours wouldn’t show up so close to deadline unless you were in a tough spot.” Knuckles planted on the desk, I try to look more intimidating than my five-foot-one frame will ever be. “I can read between the lines, Steven. You tried to hire other companies first. For whatever reason, they turned you down. And so here you are.”

His Adam’s apple dodges down his throat. “And so here I am,” he rasps, the rapid blinking resuming once again.

He’s out of luck—there’s no way I’m offering my eye drops now.

Sorry, not sorry, buddy.

“You’re out of options and signing this contract puts me in an unfavorable position.” Let’s face it, spending hours upon hours in Jackson’s company will send me into diabetic shock. I’ll be lucky if I don’t drive good ol’ Moose Tracks into early extinction. “Here’s how this is going to work. Double it, or Carter Photography is off the table and you’re back to square one.”

Checkmate.

As I wait for Steven Fairfax to answer, I make a point to keep my expression neutral.

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