Page 126 of The Hot Shot

“I had lunch with him. We caught up, I told him about you and the fire, and one thing led to another.”

“You’re rambling, James.”

James makes a tsking sound. “He wanted to know if you’d take over a project for him.”

“Go on.” I get up to pace.

“It’s huge, Chess. You know that old ‘Got Milk?’ campaign?”

“Sure.”

“Think something in that style, but to raise awareness for prostate cancer. They’re pulling together Hollywood’s hottest male stars for a photoshoot.”

Abruptly, I sit down again. “Why the hell is Michael giving that up? And how does he know they’ll even want me?”

“Because when a fashion photographer gets personally invited to Milan by Armani, he doesn’t say no. The ad company agreed with his suggestion to use you as a replacement, because they’ve seen the shots of Dex and Rolondo. They want something similar.” His voice becomes almost giddy. “It’s good money, Chess.”

James names a sum that makes me a little dizzy.

“Fuuuck.”

“Exactly,” he says.

“And we’d be able to work together on this?” My heart is beating harder now, an excited flutter going through me.

“Well, if you want me to.”

“Shut up. You know I would. Do you really think I don’t know it was you who put this idea in his head?”

I can almost hear him smile. “So, you’ll do it? The project starts in two weeks. They need to know as soon as possible. It should run for about a month, maybe two, depending on scheduling.”

“Where would I live?” I pace again, touching the edge of my dress then walking to the other side of the closet to brush a hand over the sleeves of Finn’s suits.

“With the money they’re paying, you could rent a place. But Michael has offered the use of his loft.”

“Michael is being generous as fuck.”

“Oh, please, Chessie. You know he’s always had a thing for you. I’m not at all surprised he asked about you.”

Halting, I stare at the wall of sneakers that is Finn’s secret pride and glory. “He’s not expecting... You told him about Finn, right?”

Finn.What will he say? I press a hand to my hot cheek and find my fingers cold.

“Yes, I told him,” James says, exasperated. “And don’t insult yourself. This is about your talent and people recognizing it.”

I’ve trained myself not to put too much hope into a good thing. Plans change, promises fall through the cracks. You stand on the curb enough times waiting for parents who forgot about yet another school function, and it’s inevitable.

But I don’t want to be ruled by my childhood. I let myself get excited. “I’m interested. Of course I am.”

“I’m so fucking excited,” James bursts out.

I grin wide, wanting to jump around. But then I catch sight of Finn’s shoes again.

My smile dies down. “Don’t say anything yet,” I tell James. “I have to talk...”

“To Finn,” James agrees, as if expecting nothing less, as if we’re already a package deal.

We are. I’m living with the man. I flex my cold fingers, shaking them to get warm.