Page 62 of Out of the Shadow

I push away from my desk, intent on asking Angie why she put the flowers at reception, when Kaitlyn claps her hands. “All right, listen up! We got permission from the listing broker, Poppy Mayflower, to shoot at the Open House, but we’ll need to get waivers from anyone else who gets into the frame. Let’s try to keep that to a minimum.”

Angie shifts from foot to foot, color rising to her cheeks. She addresses our director, “Do we really need to go to a Mayflower Open House? Why not choose a different place?”

Kaitlyn responds, “Because it’s a gorgeous location, right on the water, and we need to capture it on camera.”

That shuts Angie down, although I can still see her temper is close to the surface. It’ll be easy to poke the bear and get some good shots for the cameras. Too bad I’d much rather placate her. With my mouth.

You’re getting in deep, King.Shit.

Kaitlyn continues, “Let’s head over to the property and set up. Angie, ride with Shelley so she can get a jump start on your makeup on the ride over. King, your wardrobe’s in the conference room. You can change and meet us over there.” She claps again and we all go off as directed.

I change into the outfit wardrobe chose for me—navy trousers and a white button-down shirt shot through with turquoise stripes—then jump into my convertible and plug the property’s address into my GPS. No sooner do I get on to Main Street than my cell rings and Trevor’s name shows up on the screen.

Coke fiend. Trust-fund wrecker. Money-grubber. Rehab evader. My finger hesitates over the disconnect button, but for some reason, I hit accept instead. Maybe I’m still hoping he’ll redeem himself. Maybe I’m hoping he’ll prove he’s really my friend after all. “King.”

“Why haven’t you returned my call?”

“Have you thought that I’m not interested in talking?”

“I would think that you’d be more than willing to gloat about the role you stole out from under my feet with the delectable Angie. Blaine totally hooked you up. At my expense.”

I make a right-hand turn and bite down on my lip to keep from commenting on his description of Angie. Even if she is delicious. “I didn’t steal anything from you.” More like the other way around, in my book.

“Yeah, whatever. Listen, I just checked and the money’s not in my account yet. When should I expect to receive it?”

The gall of this guy. Why has it taken me so long to notice? “Listen, Trevor, and pay attention. I’m not going to give you any more money. You’ve taken enough from me over the years. You need to get your ass into rehab.”

“I didn’t ask you to give it to me, King,” he said, sounding affronted. “I asked for a little loan, like always. I’ll pay it back.”

“Like you’ve done when? Never. No. No more.” I make a left turn and see the orange and yellow balloons announcing the Open House. He’s never going to change, so I need to end this. “And while you’re at it, lose my number.” I disconnect the call, feeling like I just lost about one-hundred-seventy-five pounds of dead weight.

Seems like I agree with my father on one thing.

I slam my car door and head over to the huge van with Let’s Do It! written on the side. Angie’s sitting in the makeup chair and Shelley’s playing with her hair. I redirect my thoughts from my former friend to my co-star and take a deep breath. Get your head back in the game, King. Don’t let Trevor fuck with your life more than he already has.

I study Angie’s face while her eyes are closed. Shelley’s makeup brings out her features, sure, but I actually prefer the way she looked yesterday at her family’s house. More natural. I know better than to say something like that here, though. For one, Shelley still has to do my own makeup. “Looks good, ladies.”

Shelley smiles at me while finishing up Angie’s hair. For her part, Angie squirms in her seat when she hears my voice. Damn. I wish we were alone so she could do that on my face.

I smile at them both and head over to the sideboard to grab a roast beef sandwich. After a couple of bites, I toss the remainder in the garbage since I don’t have time to work out again later on. Unless we’re talking about a different type of workout.

Smirking, I return to the makeup chair just as Shelley finishes with Angie—who stands up and brushes right past me on her way over to the food area. I guess she feels the need to keep up the charade of hating me while she’s on set.

I shrug and sit down in front of Shelley. “Do your worst.”

She takes a big brush and tickles my cheek. “King, you only need a little bit of powder. You were born for the cameras.”

My parents would beg to differ. Mom would remind me of the Proactiv she bought for me as a teen. Dad would say, for the millionth time, that looks alone don’t take you far. Forcing those thoughts down low, I respond, “Keep on sweet-talking me like that and you’ll get a big Christmas bonus from me.”

She taps the brush on my nose. Barely ten minutes later, I’m ready for filming. Which is good because Kaitlyn just called everyone outside. I slip in next to Milo and listen as she fills us in on the plan for today’s shoot. She finishes with a reminder that Angie and I should do a running commentary for the cameras while we tour the house. Today’s not a contest, but rather some “filler” footage for the show. When everyone disperses to do their final setups inside, I approach the woman who’s taking up her own real estate in my heart. “Looks like a nice house.”

She nods. “Yeah. And being right on the ocean doesn’t hurt. Just wish this wasn’t listed by Poppy.”

“Maybe she won’t be here in person.”

Angie’s face tightens. “As if she’d miss an opportunity to rub her good fortune in my face, even if it means she has to be on the dreaded small screen.”

It strikes me that this is no casual dislike. She hates Poppy. “Has she really been that awful to you?”

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