Page 9 of Fierce Love (Tucker Billionaires)

Chapter Seven

Hollyn

I ’ve met enough rich clients to recognize when I’m being wined and dined, when someone is trying to win me over for some reason, which is the impression Posey is giving me without doing any of the rich-people moves I’d typically expect.

The mom-and-pop diner she’s taken us to is in the middle of Tucker’s Town—a tourist-heavy area and likely extraordinarily expensive for rent.

But the prices in the place aren’t outrageous, and the staff doesn’t look stressed or run-down despite how busy it is in here, even at seven at night on a weekday.

It’s like she somehow found a little pocket of happiness in the almost nonexistent middle class.

If my aunt and I had ever been able to afford to eat out, this would have been the type of place we’d have gone to.

Kinsley stares around in wonder, and when she looks at me, there’s a hint of a smile on her lips. “It feels like home in here. Isn’t that weird?”

“Part of the charm,” Posey says with a wink. “It’s like magic. Everyone who walks into the place never wants to leave. It helps that the coffee is always hot and the food is always exceptional. I love eating.” She opens the menu.

I scan her figure, and I can’t help questioning her claim.

She looks like a dancer, not someone who gorges on gourmet food.

Me, on the other hand? My thin days are long gone, and for the most part, I’m not even upset about it.

I’ve escaped the ache of starvation, the need to hide my hunger so my aunt didn’t spend more money on groceries when we had other bills to pay.

And if I’ve gone a bit too far in the other direction, so what?

I’m not going to begrudge my body storing some fat in case there’s another famine.

My body and my mind both understand how unpredictable life can be.

The waitress takes our orders, and with the menus gone, Posey plants her elbows on the table and grins. “I have a good feeling about you.”

“Thank you?” I can’t help a confused answering smile.

“I’ll cut to the chase about why I wanted to meet with you.

King Alexander and the Advisory Council of Bellerive have decided they want to invest in Bellerive television productions.

As you probably know, most of what’s on TV now is foreign made.

This shift, for me, is a dream come true.

” One of her hands presses against her chest while the other tucks stray strands of hair behind her ears.

“One of those productions is being called Redesigning Home . The premise is that two interior designers compete to transform a home for a couple or family who is down on their luck—essentially a lower-income property. Each host uses the space and budget in a different way. The family picks the winning design, and then the two hosts work together to create the fairytale for that family.”

“Okay,” I say, my brain already clicking over all the various areas and families in Bellerive who would have benefitted from this concept when I was younger. “I’m not sure I understand why you’d want to meet with me about that? I don’t live here.”

“The producers really want someone who grew up here. Someone who is familiar with all aspects of Bellerive,” Posey says.

“They want someone who grew up poor,” I say, the pieces clicking at the same time the words are coming out of my mouth.

“Disadvantaged, yes,” Posey says. “The great part about the job—well, there are lots of great parts, I think—but the best part is a real work-life balance.”

“Sounds like a great opportunity for you,” I say as the waitress drops off our drinks. Kinsley elbows me, but I ignore her. I know how these shows work, and it’s not something I want any part of, even if that is what Posey is trying to offer.

“I’d like it to be a great opportunity for you , actually.” Posey picks up her latte and takes a long sip.

“I have a job.”

“I know Reyes and Cruz. It’s impressive that you’ve managed to make a career there while raising your sister, but I can’t even imagine the sacrifices you’ve had to make. They’re all commission based, right? This show is good money. Really good money, even by Bellerive standards.”

“But then what?” I ask, even as I can feel Kinsley’s eyes boring a hole into the side of my head. “In a few months when the show is done filming, I no longer have any clients in New York, and a hard job becomes an impossible one again.”

“You’d have enough clout on the island that you could easily start up here, if you wanted.”

“I don’t want to live on the island.” It’s a knee-jerk reaction, and I take a minute to examine it before deciding it is true. When I left, I never intended to come back.

The food arrives, and we eat in silence for a moment before Kinsley says, “Hollyn, would just get the job? You’re offering her the job?”

“It’s not really mine to offer,” Posey says. “We’d have to do a chemistry test in front of producers. Make sure the two of us are compatible on screen. But I wasn’t lying. I have a good feeling about this partnership. Everyone else they’ve tried to put me with has been a bust.”

“I think you should try,” Kinsley says, pushing her food around her plate with her fork. “I want you to try.”

“Even if I wanted the job,” I say, “I don’t like how these shows operate. The people, in this case, poor people, have to pay for everything—every design choice costs them money.”

“Remember when I said there were lots of great parts to this job?” Posey says, a twinkle in her eye. “The show is one hundred percent funded. From our salaries to design choices to on-set catering—it’s all taken care of. Show participants pay nothing.”

“How?” I ask.

“Government grants and rich partners is the short answer,” Posey says.

“I’ve also been told that Interflix is interested in possibly picking the show up for their streaming service, which would obviously be huge for Bellerive, and for us, personally.

” Posey sets down her fork and takes a sip of her latte before giving me a sly smile.

“Reyes and Cruz would be lucky to have you back, if you wanted to return. Rich people want famous people. They love the power of having a famous person working for them.”

She’s not wrong. A few of my colleagues are famous in certain design circles, and they never lack for wealthy clients.

But the opportunity she’s dropping in my lap still feels like a huge risk.

Right now, my life with Kinsley works in New York.

I’d never say that it works well , but we’re not drowning in debt, unable to eat.

Kinsley hasn’t been forced to get a job just to help us keep our heads above water.

I’ve committed myself to working unsustainable hours so she doesn’t have the upbringing I did.

If the producers like me, if the show is picked up, if it somehow catches on in America… if, if, if… and if not, then I could be giving up the stable life we’ve built to chase something I don’t even want.

But I can tell from the energy vibrating off Kinsley beside me that she wants this chance.

I don’t know if it’s the island calling to her or the carrot of a work-life balance that doesn’t exist for me right now, but she’s probably literally biting her tongue to keep from begging me to take a chance.

She doesn’t understand what’s on the other side of risks that don’t pay off or pay off in ways you never anticipated and definitely didn’t want.

“How long?” I ask, swirling the last bite of my food around on my plate. “How long is filming?”

“Three to six months. We’re guaranteed six shows, but they’ll stretch it to twelve if the first few episodes test well with audiences.”

For the first time, I turn my attention to Kinsley. “You’ll be away from your friends. For months . You’ll have to attend high school here. You won’t know anyone.”

“I don’t care,” Kinsley says in a rush.

“We’ll have to move apartments. I can’t afford to pay rent here and there.”

“You could probably negotiate that into a contract,” Posey says. “They haven’t been able to find anyone. You’ve got the upper hand, if they like you.”

“Right,” I say, trying to digest that information. Power, any kind of power, isn’t something I’m used to holding. Normally, I’m grateful for whatever comes my way, not demanding more. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Hope shines out of Kinsley’s eyes, and I feel a twinge of guilt that leaving everything behind is preferable to returning to our life in New York.

“All you ever tell me is that ‘we can’t, we can’t, we can’t.’ But maybe we can here. Even if it’s just for a little while,” Kinsley says, a hint of pleading in her voice.

Her argument hits me right in the heart.

While I haven’t given her the upbringing I had—financial instability, absentee parents in and out of jail—I’m suddenly uncertain about whether I’ve given her something better.

We can’t is a phrase I say far too often, and most of the time, what I actually mean is that she can’t.

That I don’t have the time to spend with her, to get her to the activities she’d like to do, the events she wants to attend.

As a kid, what I wanted more than anything was money.

Money seemed like the key to happiness. Maybe that was a false desire because even though I have some money now, it never feels like enough.

I don’t even know what enough is. But in my pursuit of it, it’s becoming crystal clear that the one thing Kinsley would do anything for is my time.

“Okay,” I say to Posey. “I’ll audition or whatever it’s called. When?”

“No time like the present,” Posey says. She grabs her phone off the table, and her fingers fly across the screen. “I’ve got two out of three producers who can meet in thirty minutes.”

“Thirty minutes?” I pick up my phone and I text one of my aunt’s best friends, Shannon. At the funeral, she offered to help out in any way she could, and she lives only a few blocks from my aunt’s apartment building. “I’ll have to drop Kinsley off first.”

“Drop me off?” Kinsley says, a touch of panic in her voice.

“At Shannon’s,” I say as the answering text comes through agreeing to keep Kinsley for a few hours. “Aunt Verna’s best friend. You met her at the funeral home. I’ve known her since I was a little kid. She’s good. I promise.”

“I want to stay with you,” Kinsley says.

“I need the space to concentrate,” I say, glancing at Posey, who is now talking quietly on the phone across from us.

The reality is that I’m worried I’ll be pressured into saying yes on the spot if they offer the job and Kinsley is there.

I need to be sure that this job, this opportunity in Bellerive, is the best one for her but also for us.

There are things on this island, people, I’d rather not face. Staying here might solve one problem, but it could create a whole host of others.

“You’ll come get me right after?” Kinsley says.

“Right after,” I say.

“We’re all set,” Posey says. “I can’t get the one producer to answer, but we’ll record the chemistry test for later viewing. Two out of three will work.” Posey slides out of the booth. “How’d you get here?”

“Public transit,” I say.

“I’ll drive,” Posey says. “Come with me. I can take you wherever you want to go.”

I just hope I end up wanting to go where both Kinsley and Posey so badly want me to end up. When faced with a sure thing or a risk, I’ve rarely been one to take the leap into the unknown.