Page 129 of Loaded

“I’m good at guitar,” Octavia says. “Played for more than ten years.”

That’s a surprise. “And I often wish I could add some drums and percussion,” I say. “I think we can do it.”

“Fine.” Stu leans closer. “I’ll talk to publicity and marketing, but I think we can work this angle.” He frowns, staring rather rudely. “Is that considered a disability?”

I’m ready to start swinging again, but Octavia looks remarkably unruffled. “The Social Security Blue Book lists significant burn injuries as an impairment, but I’m not eligible for benefits because the location of my burns does not preclude me from manual labor, for the most part, at least with reasonable accommodations.”

“Wait, what does that mean?” Frances asks.

“I have severe photosensitivity,” Octavia says, “forexample, but sunblock and a hat could mitigate the impact.”

“Can you film a music video outside?”

“Of course,” Octavia says, “but depending on the length and sun intensity, I might need special makeup or regular reapplication of sunblock.”

Stu nods. “We can work with that.”

“I’d rather we not try to cover up her face,” I say. “It’s uniquely beautiful, and we do not want to change that.”

Octavia winces, but she doesn’t look angry. I realize what I’m seeing—she’s bracing herself for them to change their minds.

“I think we just have the one last stipulation,” Frances says. “There’s one investor who wants to meet you two and see you himself.”

Octavia’s lips compress.

“He was possibly the most excited about your song, but he would like to introduce himself. He’s put up quite a bit of capital through the Private Equity firm that’s sharing the costs with the studio, and we thought one small meeting wasn’t too much to ask.”

Octavia squares her shoulders.

I nod. “Sure. Is he here now?”

The three of them stand, and so does Adam. “We’ll invite him in.”

“Oh, wait,” Jake says. “Costuming had that question.”

“Costuming?” I frown. “Isn’t that a little premature?”

“They wanted you to give them some input on some jewelry. One of our sponsors is a pretty well-known jeweler, and we’ll be pushing their stuff in the music video and the movie.”

“Your job is so weird,” I say.

“Your job too, now.” Jake drops a box in front of me. “Both of you need to pick your favorite ring from thebox. Once you have, I can take it to them and let them know.”

“Rings?” Octavia flips the lid up.

Eight diamond rings that look like engagement rings are lying flat on black velvet inside the heavy box.

“Geez. These look really expensive,” I say. “Who’s the jeweler?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jake says. “We’re not paid to care about that stuff.”

I lean forward to look closer.

“This one for sure.” Octavia picks the wide yellow gold band, made of a delicate filigree that almost looks like lace. The large oval diamond is almost nestled against it. The combination of flat gold, hammered finishes, and the delicate shape makes it look like something they might have worn in the early nineteen hundreds, at least, to me.

It suits her.

She has a classic, elegant beauty that reminds me of Katherine Hepburn or Elizabeth Taylor—if either of them was burned, I guess. Even her curls fall in soft waves, like the women back then.

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