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My father and Finn.
16
HIS TYCOON ATTITUDE
Jules
They say life is full of surprises.
This is not the kind of surprise I wanted when Bridger offered me the gig I’d been craving. Judging from the way Finn’s brow furrows, he wasn’t expecting to see me either. My dad probably knew, though, but couldn’t say anything to me for confidentiality reasons.
Still, years of practice being the good girl kick in as I smile uber-professionally while Bridger talks. He knows my father, obviously, so with a laugh, he says, “Tate, of course you know Jules. What you might not know is she’s onThe Rendezvousproduction team as of”—he makes a show of looking at his watch—“three hours ago.”
Excitement flickers in my dad’s eyes briefly, then he rearranges his features into his cop face—all stoic and in control. But I’ve seen him when he’s not stoic. When he’s broken and falling to pieces. I’ve seen him on the worst days of his life. I try to erase those horrible images.
“Fantastic news,” my father says. “So glad my Julia has become so invaluable.” He means well, but it makes me feel like the kid at the table. I already feel that way with these three men. It’s hard to miss the divide in age between them and me, as well as the divide in experience.
Bridger turns to Finn, the man I didn’t think I’d see again so soon. “You must be Finn Adams. Congrats on the investment. I’m excited to see what you’re going to do at Streamer.”
Finn doesn’t even need a moment to clear his throat. He shakes Bridger’s hand and answers with, “Pleasure to meet you, too, Bridger, and I’m glad we could do this before we announce the deal tomorrow morning.” He quickly explains to me, since I’m the one in the dark, that Strong Ventures just finalized an investment in Streamer for a majority stake in the upstart streaming service. “And with the buzz the show is getting, I wanted to meet the producers so my team at Strong can talk upThe Rendezvousin the press coverage tomorrow.”
“Music to my ears,” Bridger says, rightfully proud of the show that hasn’t even launched yet. He turns to me. “And Jules is going to be part of that team. I’m sure you know Jules.”
He says it because my dad is Finn’s lawyer. So naturally, Bridger assumes my dad has mentioned me to his friend and client.
Little does he know Finn knows me in plenty of other ways.
“Nice to see you,” I say, taking his hand and shaking it as quickly as I can, refusing to think about how he likes to wrap those big hands around mine and pin me to the wall.
I swallow uncomfortably as we let go.
“I’ve been looking for an opportunity to move her over toThe Rendezvous, and there was an opening recently,” Bridger adds. “Serendipitous, isn’t it?”
Finn gives a warmisn’t that a coincidencetype of grin. But inside, I bet he’s thinking seren-fucking-dipitous indeed.
Because I am too.
I’m tempted to tug my father aside and ask why the hell he never mentioned that Finn was working on acquiring half of Streamer. He knows we pitch shows to Streamer on the reg. Alright, sure, my father’s business deals are private, bound by NDAs. But I bet that’s why he acted weird on Sunday night. Even though I hadn’t been brought onto the show yet, he must have been aware that his deal tangoed close to my work life. He’s big on ethics, as any lawyer should be, and on making sure his deals are buttoned up and done right.
This is going to be the most awkward lunch ever. As I sit, I smooth a hand over my pencil skirt, keeping my fingers busy like that, then move them to my glasses, adjusting them.
The server swings by with menus. I stare at the offerings for longer than I need to. There are only a few things I’d order anyway. But I study every item like I’m solving calculus equations.
Where do I look if not at my menu? What if I look at Finn the wrong way? What if I accidentally brush my Mary Jane pumps against his suit pants? What if I’m talking to my father and suddenly remember the way Finn spread me out on his bed and devoured me?
My cheeks will go red.
And…great. Just great. They already are.
I keep my face lowered, hoping the color drains quickly. This is so embarrassing, the way I blush so easily.
It’ll pass. It’ll pass. Itwillpass.
I stare forever at the lunchtime fare because Caesar versus chef’s salad is such a fascinating dilemma.
I keep reading as the men set down their menus and make idle chitchat about the New York Comets to fill the time. It’s funny because I know Bridger isn’t as into sports as my dad is. Bridger’s more of a theater guy. But he has mastered the art of small talk so he’s able to contribute a smart comment about the team’s shortstop or the winning streak they’re on.
I can BS my way through sports talk, too, but I don’t want to open my mouth at all.
