Читать книгу Moonlight Over Seattle - Callie Endicott - Страница 12
ОглавлениеJORDAN STARED AT his sister in stunned surprise. “You did what?”
“I got a job. When I went looking for you at Nicole’s agency, it turned out they needed an office manager. So I applied and interviewed with Adam Wilding, who’s even more delicious in person than in his pictures. I start tomorrow.”
Her words were fast and nervous, her hands twisting together. Jordan hated seeing her that way. For a while she’d come out of the shell she’d forged to protect herself from the constant tension in the house between their battling parents, then a string of cheating boyfriends had damaged her newfound confidence. The latest, Ron, hadn’t been physically abusive, but he’d done his best to convince her that she was lucky to have him, and any issues between them were all her imagination.
Jordan sighed. His sister’s new job would complicate doing the articles for PostModern. He’d need to have a discussion with Nicole about her motives in hiring a relative of the journalist writing about her and the agency.
“Congratulations,” he said. “Shall we look for an apartment over the weekend, or would you rather stay at my condo while you get the lay of the land first?”
“I don’t need to do either, at least not right away. Nicole has a guesthouse over her garage, and she says I can rent it while I get used to the Seattle area and figure out where I want to live permanently. Your place only has one bedroom, so this is much better than sleeping on the couch and crowding you. I know Terri usually stays on your boat when she’s here, but this, uh...is best for me, I think.”
Jordan wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or grateful. For months he and Terri had been encouraging their baby sister to break things off with Ron. Chelsea had struggled with the idea—hardly a surprise with the less-than-blissful example of domestic life in which they’d been raised. She probably believed that was how relationships worked. Now, after one visit to Nicole George’s talent agency, she had a job that was twelve hundred miles from Ron Swanson.
Jordan decided it was something to celebrate, no matter how it had come about, or how many complications might ensue.
“Could we, um...go over to Nicole’s right now?” Chelsea asked. “That way you could see the guesthouse with me.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
In his small two-seater sports car, he noticed Chelsea gulping and turning pale.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “Does being in a car make you nervous because of the accident?”
“Not exactly.” She frowned at the dashboard. “I feel guilty, I guess. I’d just told Ron I wanted to split up. He got angry, and the next thing I knew we were broadsided.” She pushed a hand through her hair. “I don’t remember getting hit, just Ron swearing a blue streak afterward about the damage to his SUV.”
“The police told Terri that the other vehicle ran a stoplight. It had nothing to do with you or Ron’s driving.”
“I know, it’s just hard not to keep thinking about it.”
Jordan winked at her, the way he’d done when they were kids. “Come on, Cheesy, you aren’t to blame. The accident had nothing to do with you.”
She grinned at the old nickname. “I guess not. Anyway, getting the job up here feels right.”
It was harder for him to be certain of the same thing, but at least she was making decisions about her life.
* * *
CHELSEA HOPED SHE didn’t look too anxious. She’d never lived anywhere except the Los Angeles area and the thought of moving to a different city in another state was scary, though her brother lived there, too. But this was the time to do it, while she was between jobs. She was even excited to think Seattle could be a whole new start.
She had quietly given notice for her old position two weeks earlier, asking her boss to keep it confidential. Since Ron worked for the same company, she’d figured it was best to cut all ties. The day before yesterday, she had finished working out her notice so it had seemed the right moment to break up with him. As soon as she’d told him they were over, she had felt a huge conviction that she’d done the right thing, but then the accident had happened and uncertainty had flooded her again.
In retrospect, telling him while they were driving might not have been the best choice. But she’d been afraid he’d yell or make a scene and had figured no one would hear if they were in his SUV.
It might take a while before she felt as if the world wasn’t going to fall apart around her at any moment.
Jordan parked on a quiet residential street and she looked at the house, which wasn’t what she’d expected. It was built in a homey style and there were hanging baskets of flowers on the front porch. She wasn’t sure where she’d thought a supermodel would live, but it wasn’t something so...so cheery and normal.
The door opened as they came up the walk and Nicole stepped out. “Hi, Jordan. Hi, Chelsea. Let’s see if the guesthouse suits your needs.”
Following Nicole toward the garage, Chelsea sighed with relief. The way things had happened seemed almost too good to be true; deep down it had been difficult not to wonder if Nicole would change her mind about both the job and the apartment.
Exterior stairs climbed up the far side of the three-car garage into an apartment that was even nicer than Chelsea had hoped.
“It’s furnished, but the house isn’t?” Jordan asked, glancing around.
“The guest apartment came this way. The previous owners used it for their in-laws, but they didn’t need the furniture in their new place. Everything was nice and in good condition, so I agreed to buy it as part of the house purchase.”
Chelsea listened as she explored the pretty apartment. A bouquet of fresh flowers sat on the dresser in the bedroom, and she thought it was awfully nice of Nicole to have done that. And there was a small balcony in the back, looking onto the neighbor’s stand of evergreen trees.
“It’s perfect,” she declared, turning around. “Thank you so much. I’ll take really good care of everything.”
“I’m sure you will.” Nicole handed a key to her. “Move in whenever you like. Right now, I need to get somewhere.”
Chelsea’s fingers closed around the key as if it was a lifeline. In a way it was—a lifeline that would help her stay away from the dark memories lurking around every corner in Los Angeles.
“Look around some more,” Jordan said when they were alone. “I need to check on something.”
He hurried out the door.
Curious, Chelsea went to a front window and saw him catch up with Nicole on the front walk. He seemed to be talking very fast and she bobbed her head before hurrying toward the house. A few minutes later a sleek silver-gray car appeared, practically below Chelsea’s feet, backing down the driveway.
Jordan was still standing at the side of the drive and the vehicle stopped. He put a hand on the sedan’s roof and spoke again. Even from her vantage point Chelsea thought he looked tense and she wondered if something was wrong.
Letting the curtain drop in place, she tried to stop trembling. How could she be twenty-seven and still feel like a scared child all the time? Over the past year Terri had been saying that Ron was gaslighting her, making her believe that everything was her fault. She’d finally realized her sister was right, but it wasn’t easy to stop feeling as if she was the one who’d done something wrong.
“You okay?” Jordan asked when he returned.
“Fine.” Chelsea loved her brother, but he’d always seemed so confident and bigger than life. He and Terri had reacted differently to the tension between their parents—they’d gotten angry and fought back. She was a mouse, which was something a lion like Jordan probably couldn’t understand.
“What’s that?” he asked, gesturing to the sheet of paper she was examining.
“The bus schedule. Nicole must have printed it out for me. She offered to give me rides when her schedule isn’t too crazy, but I want to use mass transit until I get my car up here.”
“I’ll give you rides,” Jordan said firmly, but Chelsea shook her head.
“Taking the bus will give me a better feel for the city.”
“All right. This place seems move-in ready. Let’s have dinner, then pick up whatever you need to get settled.”
She followed, locking the door carefully behind them. Maybe she was just fooling herself, but moving to Seattle really did seem to be a good decision.
So far.
Tears threatened at that mental caveat. She desperately wanted to feel like a normal person again...someone who wasn’t always expecting something horrible to happen.
* * *
NICOLE DROVE TO the agency where she and Adam were having a conference call with Rachel and Logan. She hadn’t felt like dealing with Jordan’s questions about Chelsea’s employment beforehand, so she’d agreed to talk before her run the next morning. Right now he was meeting all her low expectations of reporters.
“Even bad press is still advertising,” Logan quipped when she finished explaining the situation. He was in Venice for a wedding shoot. Weddings weren’t his thing, but he’d known the groom forever and was doing it as a gift to the couple.
“Besides, we don’t want to toady to reporters,” Rachel added. “Kevin McClaskey never did.” Rachel was at her home in Southern California.
“And his agency never grew,” Nicole felt obliged to point out, troubled that her friends could be harmed by the way she dealt with Jordan. The only consolation was that they were the ones who’d urged her to do the interviews with PostModern. “I don’t want to mess this up for you guys.”
“You aren’t going to mess anything up,” Logan assured her. “Kevin wanted Moonlight Ventures to stay a mom-and-pop type of business. That’s why it didn’t grow. We can’t worry about every biased reporter out there.”
“We knew it was a risk to agree to the articles, no matter what they promised us,” Adam said. “The editor wasn’t playing straight to send someone who wasn’t impartial, but it is what is. Besides, if we object, it’ll just make us look defensive. We trust you, Nicole. Handle Masters the way your instincts say you should. Blow him off, argue, whatever feels right.”
“I agree,” Rachel added firmly. “Just be yourself.”
“Except I’ve never been ‘myself’ with reporters,” Nicole reminded them. “I’ve always put on a polite, distant act. That isn’t going to be easy to do around Jordan.” She didn’t add that by the time she’d left modeling, she’d viewed reporters as conscienceless vampires who didn’t care if they destroyed lives as long as they got their story. It wasn’t fair, and she believed in a free press, but she just wished they’d stay away from her.
“Don’t try to put on a polite show,” Logan advised. “The magazine editor said Masters might want to talk with all of us. I think we should be upfront with him.”
“There’s also the issue of hiring his sister.” Nicole pointed out. “Maybe I screwed up by letting Chelsea apply.”
“I don’t think so,” Adam said. “I got great reports from her former employer and have a good feeling about her. Besides, it might be some form of discrimination if we hadn’t given her a chance.”
Nicole had wondered about that as well. It didn’t seem likely, but there were a number of laws regarding employers and she was still learning.
“I don’t think she’ll operate like a spy,” Adam continued, “though Masters may think we have ulterior motives for employing his sister.”
Nicole made a face. “I already know he has questions about us giving her a job, but I doubt he trusts me regardless, so it probably doesn’t make a difference.”
“How about doing our own article?” Adam suggested.
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“We’re launching our Beneath the Surface blog before long. Why don’t you write about Jordan and the process of being interviewed? You’ve always had good suggestions for fixing advertising material, so I’m sure you could do it.”
Nicole frowned thoughtfully. Kevin McClaskey had published a quarterly trade newsletter and it had a respectable mailing list. They hoped to turn it into a magazine for the general public, but were still exploring the risks and possibilities. In the meantime, a blog seemed like a cost-effective way to gain an audience and it was something the others could work on, whether or not they were in Seattle.
It would be interesting to put the shoe on the other foot, so to speak, and turn the spotlight on a reporter. Jordan wouldn’t have to be referenced by name, though it might be pointless not to do so. Once the PostModern articles began appearing, everyone would know he was the one who’d been interviewing her.
“I’ll consider it,” she said.
* * *
AT 6:30 A.M. the next day, Nicole started for the park and found Jordan at the head of the fitness trail where they’d agreed to meet. He wore running shorts and a T-shirt that showed off his physique. Plainly he’d done more than swing in a hammock and sip piña coladas while in Fiji.
“Good morning,” she greeted him.
“Hi. As I said last night, I want to talk to you about Chelsea.”
“Is there a problem?” She began a series of stretching exercises in an attempt to appear relaxed and casual.
“It seems unusual to offer a job to someone you know nothing about.”
“Are you suggesting we’ll regret hiring her?” Nicole looked up, keeping her expression innocent.
“Not in the least. Chelsea was excellent at her last job and only left because someone she, er, needed to avoid was employed there, too.”
It fit what Nicole had suspected, that something particularly intense was going on in her new office manager’s life. Jordan obviously didn’t want to elaborate.
She nodded briskly. “Chelsea heard we needed someone and asked if she could apply. One of my partners is in town, so he interviewed her, then phoned for a reference and got a positive report. He was quite happy about hiring Chelsea, and we urgently need someone.”
Nicole didn’t think it was appropriate to offer more since Chelsea was now an employee of the agency. Adam’s only concern had been that Chelsea was overqualified and might not stay long for that reason. On the positive side, she might advance into being an agent for Moonlight Ventures; with her experience in human resources, she likely had the necessary skills. Adam had wondered if she would be able to deal with pushy or manipulative clients, but had still felt she should be given a chance.
Jordan didn’t answer immediately; he seemed to be formulating his answer. “This is an unusual situation. I’m doing a series of magazine articles about you and the agency. Those articles will give Moonlight Ventures a lot of publicity, and now my sister is working there.”
“Are you worried about your objectivity, or whether I’m trying to influence what you write?”
“Maybe both.”
“We already know you aren’t objective, so that’s your concern. And since I don’t think you trust me in any case, anything I say or do won’t make a difference.”
Surprise flashed through his eyes. “You don’t seem offended by that.”
“Why should I be? It’s far from the worst thing a reporter has suggested. Besides, as kids you always made it clear you disliked me, so you’re probably starting the interviews with a bad opinion of me, regardless.”
Now Jordan seemed completely nonplussed and she wondered if he was going to deny it. “You don’t believe I could have decided I was wrong about you?” he asked instead.
Nicole made a noncommittal gesture. “I haven’t seen any evidence to think so. You didn’t really know me when we were kids, but still disliked me. And from what I’ve picked up from my folks, our mothers still don’t get along. I never knew what happened that broke up their friendship, but it must have been bad. I doubt your mother has ever said anything positive about me or my family since then. Years ago she even conducted a brief, but vicious, social media campaign against us.”
Jordan looked appalled. “Mom?”
“Oh, yes. Apparently a few of her comments were rather libelous. She deleted everything after my dad’s lawyer mentioned a lawsuit might be in the offing.”
“I’m sorry, I had no idea.”
Nicole smiled wryly. “I was frantically busy with my college classes and work, so I mostly heard about it secondhand. It helped that social media was pretty new then. That aside, I don’t expect everyone to think I’m perfect, especially since I’m not. Everyone has different tastes, and personalities sometimes clash. That’s life. So, do you genuinely think I’m trying to manipulate you by giving Chelsea a job?”
“I’m still not clear about why you hired her.”
“One of my colleagues made the hiring decision. All I did was give Chelsea the application and take her back to his office. What was I supposed to do, tell her she couldn’t apply because she was your sister? That wouldn’t be fair.”
“Agreed, but you also offered the use of your guesthouse.”
“True, and I’d let her stay for free, but she insists on paying rent. I did it because we knew each other as kids and...” Nicole stopped. Perhaps she shouldn’t offer an opinion about Chelsea as an unhappy kid and the impression that she could use some support now.
“And?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Maybe it does.”
“Let’s just say it looks as if she’s had a rough time lately and I wanted to help out. But remember that I’m not obligated to tell you everything I think, even during the interviews for PostModern.”
“I don’t expect you to. By the way, can we start them today, instead of waiting until Monday?”
Nicole’s nerves instinctively tightened. Since the interviews hadn’t “officially” begun, anything she’d said to date should be off the record. But that was a technicality. He might not respect boundaries, so she may as well agree. And the sooner the interviews were over, the better.
She really would have to think about writing something for the blog the agency was starting. Jordan probably wouldn’t like it, but since he thought it was hypocritical for her to want privacy, she could argue the same about him. After all, he was a prominent newspaper columnist, making his living on being in the public eye.
Except...what she wrote shouldn’t be about turning the tables on Jordan. She’d have to think it over.
“How about it?” he prompted.
“Okay, we can begin the process right away, but at the moment I’m going to start my run.”
He fell in at her side as she set off down the trail. Though she would have preferred running alone, she didn’t object. They ran for an hour and he insisted on running the half mile from the park to her house. She noted that his breathing was strong, not heavy, despite their swift pace.
“What are you doing today?” Jordan asked. “Chelsea told me she’s starting at the agency this morning. Will you be showing her the ropes?”
“For a few hours, but I think it’s best if you aren’t there. It would be easier on her. This afternoon I’m attending a high school play and I’ll go again tonight to see their performance for the general public.”
“Why both?”
“To double-check my impressions.” Nicole took off the sweatband she’d put around her forehead. Taking a key from her pocket, she unlocked the door. “The audience also makes a difference, influencing the actors’ energy. The earlier performance is for their peers.”
“Then you’re going to recruit clients.”
“I want to be proactive. Stacks of inquiries come into the agency, but sometimes the most talented folks may not know it. Besides, most of the portfolios we’ve received are for models, and we’re also looking for performers.”
“Is it okay for me to attend with you?”
Nicole hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll clear it with the school. Just don’t tell anyone why I’m there. The principal knows, but I don’t want the kids getting hyper because an agent is present, and I’d rather not give them false hope.”
“That’s reasonable. What time?”
“Meet me here at twelve thirty. Also, please don’t mention the name of the school or any of the students in your article.”
“I understand.” He started walking toward the park.
As a kid Jordan had been athletic, and despite his military haircut and gangly physique, quite appealing to teenage girls. His features were still clean and defined, but no longer angular. And his body? She let out a breath, annoyed that she kept getting distracted by Jordan’s physical attributes. After all, she’d worked with equally handsome guys since they’d moved her from a child category into shoots for teen products.
As Nicole went upstairs and showered, she mused that she’d basically worked her entire life, yet Jordan seemed to think she didn’t have any right to a normal existence.
It was true that she’d entered adulthood with sizeable investments, which had only increased through the years. She was skilled at handling her funds, which meant she was quite comfortable. But money didn’t solve all problems. Being in the public eye all the time was tougher than people thought.
Her so-called fame had been the problem when she and Vince had started dating. He’d been her first serious love and was the only guy she’d gone out with who hadn’t expected her to be a polished supermodel all the time. But after a while he hadn’t been able to take the notoriety and had broken off the relationship. Her heartbreak had become fodder for the media, including months of speculation that she was pregnant...even long after it would have been obvious that she was not.
Nicole stepped out of the shower and went into her bedroom. It was nicely furnished, her money allowing her to decorate exactly the way she wanted. Yet she had no one to share it with, something she seriously doubted would change anytime soon.
She stared at a painting on the wall and wondered how many people would trade her modeling success for love. Her stellar career was partly luck...luck to be born with what the world called beauty, and luck in having parents who’d known exactly how to market her appearance. She’d also had talent, worked hard and tried to act professionally, but she knew luck was always a factor. That was true of Moonlight Ventures as well, but it still needed her hard work and judgment.
Was that something she could explain to Jordan for the articles, or would he just see it as trite and clichéd?
What if it actually was trite and clichéd?
* * *
BY THE TIME Jordan got back to the park, where he’d left his car, he was still thinking about his sister working for Moonlight Ventures. His instincts told him Nicole wasn’t out to hurt Chelsea, despite the past problems between their families, but he couldn’t help being concerned.
It was impressive how rational Nicole seemed to be about criticism and the probability that some people disliked her.
He winced, recalling what she’d said about his mother’s social media campaign against the Georges. How could Mom have behaved that way, when she was the one who’d thrown herself at Nicole’s father? Wounded pride at being rejected? Or maybe it was just the insanity of spending so many years in a destructive marriage and resenting one that wasn’t.
He’d been an unwilling, unknown witness to his mother’s folly and had never told anyone what he’d seen. What he hadn’t known was whether Nicole had learned about the incident from her parents.
Apparently not.
Jordan stuck his head under a spigot at the park picnic area and washed the sweat from his face. The water was cold and helped clear his mind.
After getting home the night before he’d called Terri and told her about the latest development. She’d decided to immediately leave for Seattle in Chelsea’s car with a load of her things—they both wanted to ensure their sister’s ties with Ron were well and truly cut. Terri might be tough and negative a lot of the time, but deep down she was fierce about the people she loved.
Back at his condo, he phoned Syd and explained the newest wrinkle in the situation. She felt it would give an added human interest twist, provided he was transparent about the circumstances.
“Our readers know life is messy. They’ll be interested to see how you handle it,” she told him.
“These articles aren’t about me,” he objected.
“Maybe they will be, partly at least. It’s an intriguing angle.”
Jordan hung up, ready to pound the wall. Was it possible that Syd was trying to maneuver him into writing a regular piece for her magazine? Before she’d become the editor, PostModern had asked him to do a monthly column, but he was happy with the way things were. While he might write a book someday, in the meantime he had the footloose and fancy-free life he’d always wanted.
* * *
AT TWELVE THIRTY SHARP, Jordan knocked on Nicole’s door. “Shall we drive together?” he asked.
“Sure. That way we’ll look like parents showing up to cheer on their kids. It should elevate the anonymity level.”
“You don’t want anyone recognizing you?”
“That’s why I plan to slip in as the play starts. It cuts down on the potential. Plus, I have these.”
She pulled out a pair of studious glasses and put them on. They changed the look of her face, especially since he’d never seen her wear anything other than sunglasses.
“Do you actually need your vision corrected?” he asked.
“No, but I’ve had these for years. They’re good for misdirection.”
Without makeup and in an oversized shirt, it was possible she wouldn’t be recognized, though no one would mistake her for anything except an extremely beautiful woman.
“Will I pass?” she asked.
“I suppose. You really think we’ll look like parents?”
“They can’t see how we really feel about marriage and each other.”
“I’ve been upfront about my disinterest in becoming a husband. So you feel the same way?”
She grinned. “I definitely don’t want to become anyone’s husband.”
He groaned. “Come on. Do you always misdirect?”
“Is this for the article?”
“I don’t know. Everything’s a possibility. Plenty of speculation has gone on about your decision to leave modeling. A husband and kids were large question marks.”
“Well, I’m not interested in getting married,” she answered in what seemed to be a deliberately light tone. “The advantage of having a dog instead of a husband is that they don’t think something is wrong if you aren’t wearing makeup.”
Jordan was sure there was something deeper being hinted at, but doubted she’d say more at the moment.
“Your editor mentioned wanting pictures for the articles,” she continued. “But I hope it isn’t necessary to include one of me dressed this way. Going incognita is the best way to give these kids a fair shot.”
“I understand.”
Nicole walked to her car, parked in the driveway, and Jordan knew it made sense for her to drive since she’d probably visited the school already. They arrived a few minutes before 1:00 p.m. and she led the way to the auditorium, arriving as the curtain on the stage was going up.
Throughout the performance, she watched attentively, occasionally checking the program, though without making any notes. Presumably she wasn’t seeing anyone she felt was promising. Jordan had to give her credit for appearing conscientious. His own attention kept wandering, unfortunately drawn by the scent Nicole wore, the line of her cheek, and the way her slight movements made him aware of the curves that had so often been displayed in a bikini or lingerie.
Perhaps that was the problem. Pictures were just pictures. But now she was here in the flesh and even though those curves were completely covered by a casual shirt, he’d seen enough photos of her in scanty clothes to know what lay beneath.
Shifting in his seat, he told himself the whole thing was basic human chemistry and could be overcome by rational thought.
Toward the end of the last scene, she stood and gestured for him to follow. They slipped out of the auditorium and walked briskly to the car. With the way they’d arrived and departed, he thought it was unlikely anyone would have noticed Nicole, even if she hadn’t been in disguise.
“At least you don’t have to attend tonight,” he commented as she drove from the parking lot.
“Excuse me?” She cast a surprised glance in his direction.
“There wasn’t much for a talent agent to explore.”
“Did we see the same performance?” she asked incredulously.
“What are you talking about?”
“For one, the kid who sang a song in the third act. Her role was too small to see if she has any acting ability, but her singing was excellent.”
Jordan frowned, remembering the short girl with stringy hair who had sung a few lines before getting interrupted by other onstage action.
“That kid isn’t exactly a star in the making.”
“Is that based on your prejudice against girls who aren’t your idea of sex goddesses, or because you think the agency can’t be interested in people who don’t fit the world’s limited concept of beauty?”
Whatever else Nicole might be, she was sharp enough to analyze his response and require him to define his intent.
He shifted in his seat. “If anything, I figured Moonlight Ventures would only be interested in clients they can develop as supermodels or into major acting stars.”
“Actors and models don’t have to fit a particular idea of good looks and I’m not interested in stereotypes.”
He shook his head, bemused by Nicole’s relentless logic. “Okay,” he said, deciding not to pursue the subject further, “the girl has a good voice. Is that all you got out of it?”
“The play itself was authored by one of the seniors.”
“It was?” Jordan had thought the show was well-written, despite the often excruciating performances.
“Yes. According to the principal he’s been a rebellious screw-up and had to write the play to get enough credit to graduate. I thought it was good and we may be interested in writers. Adam is exploring development of a literary division in the agency. I don’t know if that will work, but other agencies have done it and he’s been making editorial contacts. If anyone can pull it off, he can. At the very least we could refer the play’s author to one of our connections.”
“Isn’t it unusual for a talent agency to divide its focus?”
Nicole waved her hand. “Right now, maybe, since I’m still the only one working full-time. But once all of us are on board, it might make sense to diversify. We have varied interests and know there’s a wealth of talent in the Seattle area. Eventually we’ll hire other agents as well. The kid who wrote that play may have the ability to go all the way. Talent often emerges young. Walter Farley wrote his first Black Stallion book in junior high school, and there are a number of other authors who also began early. Adam is bugged by the idea that there could be a great author out there who might never realize their own potential.”
“Why is that Wilding’s special area of interest?”
“His mother is a writer, though she’s never tried to get published.”
Jordan hadn’t thought that much about Nicole’s partners. The focus of the articles was supposed to be on her as a supermodel changing her life. If he could schedule conversations with Nicole’s partners, it would mostly be for getting information that was related to her.
“So the agency might get a writing client for a potential literary division, and perhaps a singer. But do you need to go back again just to listen to amateurs reciting good lines?”
“I like to give them a second chance. It’s hard to perform at your best in front of fellow students. But if it’s too tedious for you, feel free not to attend this evening. After all, you’ve seen what I’m doing there and it isn’t world-shattering.”
“I’m going,” Jordan asserted, stung by her “tedious” remark.
One thing was clear, the assignment was turning out to be very different from what he’d anticipated.
