Page 69 of Never To Be Mine

22

HOLLIS

Ipulled into the studio lot fifteen minutes early, which was unusual for me. Normally I showed up exactly on time or fashionably late. But I’d been up since five, unable to sleep, my mind spinning with thoughts of Juno.

She hadn’t texted back.

I’d checked my phone at least a hundred times since sending that email yesterday. Nothing. Radio silence. Which probably meant she wasn’t coming. That was probably for the best.

Probably.

Juno was a massive pain in the ass. And an amazing woman.

Two things could be true. Juno was a pain in the ass that I wanted to take to bed again. Like an actual bed. I wanted to take my time exploring all those luscious curves.

I grabbed the cases of B Well Balance from my trunk and headed toward sound stage twelve. The building loomed ahead, massive and windowless, where movie magic happened behind closed doors.

Inside, I found Micah standing near a green screen that stretched across half the space. Lighting rigs hung from the ceiling, cables snaked across the floor, and a small crew milled around. That was unexpected. Camera operators, sound technicians, and people with clipboards all looked very busy.

Very professional for a basic ad shoot.

“You’re early,” Micah said, looking up from his phone.

“Yeah, well. Couldn’t sleep.” I set the cases down. “What’s all this?”

“This is your commercial.” He gestured at the setup like it was obvious. “We’re still waiting on the talent though.”

“The talent?” I felt my stomach drop. “What talent?”

“You’ll see.” He grinned, that mischievous look I’d seen countless times growing up. He was up to something.

“Micah, what’s going on?”

“Relax. Trust me on this.”

I looked around at the crew and was certain whatever he had cooking would cost more than my entire monthly operating budget. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble. I just wanted a few ideas.”

Micah walked over and clapped me on the shoulder. “One, you’re my brother and I will do anything in my power to contribute to your success. Two, I’m counting this as directing experience, which is technically true. I’m trying to land a directing gig soon and this will go in my reel.”

“Why don’t you just ask Dad?” I shrugged. “He’ll let you direct whatever you want at his studio.”

Our father, Max Blackwell, ran Blackwell Studios. He had been trying for years to get one of his kids to work with him in the industry. He would be over the moon if Micah asked for help.

“For the same reason you don’t just ask Dad for the money to fund B Well.” Micah’s expression turned serious. “We all want to blaze our own trails.”

I nodded. “True.”

“Besides,” he added, his grin returning, “this is going to be fun. When’s the last time you had fun with your business?”

I thought about that. When was the last time I’d enjoyed any of this instead of stressing about sales numbers and partnership deals and whether I was going to make it or crash and burn spectacularly?

“It’s been a while,” I admitted.

“Then let’s change that.” He gestured toward a director’s chair with my name on it. “Have a seat. We’ve got about twenty minutes before the talent arrives.”

“You keep saying talent. What the hell does that mean?”

“Trust me.”