Page 27 of The Awful Truth

Grunting, he said, “Is that so?”

“Yes, in fact, I’ve got two places that would be better. One is right in London—excellent neighborhood, but a total rundown on account of the dead body found in the basement. Could be sort of a true-crime-meets-home-improvement thing. Actually, we could be starting a totally new genre of show. The best part is it’s said to be haunted, which would be a bonus, especially if the ghost started moving things around when the crew leaves at night.” He waggled his eyebrows and gave Travis an open-mouthed smile.

Travis stuck the cigar back in his mouth and shook his head. “Nah.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Let’s scrap that because I also found a grand estate home in Scotland that was abandoned twelve years ago. All the original furniture is still there. The grounds are totally overrun, which would make for an extremely satisfying transformation. And just think of how the American viewers would respond to it. A castle in the Highlands. Outlander meets Extreme Home Makeover.”

Travis narrowed his eyes and stared at Miguel for what felt like a full minute—long enough for Miguel to oscillate from thinking Travis was actually considering the idea to being terrified by his upcoming response to wanting to hop overboard and swim back to shore. Above them, the sails snapped in a gust of wind, startling Miguel. Finally, Travis made a smacking sound with his teeth. “You haven’t told him, have you?”

“What’s that?” Miguel asked, buying time to think of an answer.

“Winslow. You know…the best thing that’s ever happened to you? He doesn’t know you signed on for the show, does he?”

Miguel’s voice lowered. “Not exactly.”

He let out an obnoxiously loud laugh. “What does he think?”

He closed his eyes in an effort to shut out the shame and guilt and humiliation of this moment. “That I turned it down, but the network wants me so badly, you’re willing to consider alternate locations.”

Travis burst out laughing again while Miguel sat squirming in his seat and forcing himself not to shush the man who now owned him. When Travis stopped, he shook his head. “Well now, that’s quite the conundrum you’ve got there, Miguel.”

“Yes, it is,” he said quietly. “I’m not proud of lying to him. Not at all. In fact, I was going to turn it down. Winslow’s work is too involved for him to move. He made that clear when I first brought it up.” Involved. He wasn’t about to say important. That would imply the show wasn’t important to Miguel. “But then I spoke with Enid and she made it all sound so…easy. Like of course I can have it all—the marriage and the job thousands of miles away from my husband. It’s just a matter of hopping on a plane every weekend.”

“Yes, do that because there’s no way I’m changing the location. That mansion is perfect. In fact, when the show is over, I’m using it as a hunting lodge. With your know-how, it’s going to be one hell of an impressive place to entertain.”

A hunting lodge. A 28,000 square foot hunting lodge that would sit empty fifty weeks of the year. Not to mention the fact that it would most certainly be tacky as all hell, complete with animal heads and fish mounted to plaques. His reputation would be permanently smeared. “Oh Travis, I’m afraid I will…maybe…might have to…back out.”

“Hmph. That’s one way to play it.” Travis chewed on the end of his cigar. “What do you think I’ll do if you back out on me?”

Miguel felt sweat pool under his arms. In a weak voice, he said, “Wish me well and find someone else?”

“Not quite.”

Swallowing, he said, “You’ll sue my ass off?”

Travis gestured at Miguel with his cigar. “That sounds more like somethin’ I’d do.”

“Travis, please. I made a terrible mistake. I wasn’t thinking clearly,” he said, his words coming out faster by the second. “I was upset because Winslow had said no to me—which is not something I’m used to—and I just…snapped. It was a knee-jerk reaction. But you can’t hold me to it. I wasn’t in my right mind. I don’t even think it was legal for me to sign anything. And there are going to be a thousand people who would kill for that job. Really good ones too. Better than me. Couldn’t the showrunners just find someone else?”

“They could, but why should they have to? They already found you, and you agreed to it.”

“Travis please. I am begging you.”

“If I do this for you, I’ll have to bend over for anyone and their cousin’s dog from now on. You might enjoy that type of thing, but it’s simply not something I am willing to do.”

Miguel felt fury pound through his veins. He was especially angry about the dog comment. But he knew confronting the man was not in the cards, so he kept his voice gentle. “In that case, what are you willing to do?”

“Nothing,” he answered, blowing out a puff of smoke. “I’m willing to do exactly nothing. I won’t change the show. I won’t let you out of your contract. But I also won’t tell that husband of yours that you’re a liar, which, if you think about it, is pretty kind of me.”

Just then Oliver appeared, looking surprisingly good for someone who was out all night. But then, Miguel never looked hungover or exhausted in his twenties either. “Sorry to interrupt. Indira told me you’d like to go fishing, Mr. Bishop?”

“Yes, but hang on. I need to finish this conversation first.” He looked back at Miguel, who was smiling at him even though he was seething with rage. “Actually, I think we were done.”

Miguel stood and thanked the man even though he very much wanted to punch him in his fat throat.

Offering him a nasty smile, Travis said, “You’re not going to pout now, are you, Miguel? I can’t abide by people who pout.”

He let out a phony chuckle. “Of course not. I knew there was a good chance you wouldn’t be able to help me out, but I had to try.”