The Life She Wants. Jo McNally
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Lake was beginning to come to life. People were strolling the sidewalks and coming in for their Sunday morning coffee. Shane looked back to Mel, his blue eyes solemn.
“Tori got famous overnight, and her family wasn’t ready. They hired some local attorney to manage her career, and the woman knew nothing about sports. Tori’s contract with Winthrop Athletic is a joke. She should be sponsored by a much bigger name and making a lot more money.” Shane shook his head. “When Gary came along and offered to take over her career by becoming her golf coach, her parents jumped at the chance to hand off responsibility. But he can’t control her behavior, and it’s really not his job to do that. Tori’s laser-focused on the course, but then she’ll act out like a two-year-old over something like what to wear to a public event.”
Mel thought about the outfit Tori had worn to the gala last night. “She’s trying to figure out who she is and how to assert herself so she doesn’t get lost.”
Trust me, Mellie, I know a lot more about this business than you, and if you’ll just stop fighting me and do what I say, you’ll be famous. Isn’t that what you want?
Tori was tougher than she’d been at that age. The girl was fighting to maintain some kind of control over what her life should look like. Mel had handed over control early on in her modeling career, trusting the adults around her. If she’d maintained her childhood friends—stayed in touch, hung out with them to talk about boys and makeup and music—maybe she wouldn’t have been so insecure and easy to manipulate.
Shane scrubbed his face once more, then ran his fingers through that ginger hair until it was standing on end.
“Tori’s a good kid,” he said. “I want to do the right thing by her, and not just because it’s my job.” He tapped his finger against his coffee cup, drumming to some unknown beat in his head. “You say she’s trying not to get lost, but I’m the one who’s lost. I’m used to working with guys who are at least old enough to have graduated high school. I can cuss at them and boss ’em around and bust their balls, and we all laugh it off. If they don’t like my decisions, they tell me to go screw myself, we argue and we settle it. Out in the open. No mystery involved. I can handle that. But I have no idea how to handle a young girl dressing like a hooker in some sort of protest against me for some unknown reason. I’m not a damned mind reader, you know?”
Mel didn’t respond. Shane Brannigan was a talent agent, and she shouldn’t trust a word out of his mouth. But she couldn’t help but believe him when he said he was lost. Clueless was more like it. Not intentionally so, but the effects on Tori were the same.
“So what does Mrs. Winthrop think you hired me for?”
“Damned if I know. Mentor? Stylist? Chaperone?” He sat back in his chair and his gaze sharpened on her. “You complained yesterday that Tori didn’t have a chaperone. Would you be interested in doing that for the next few weeks? She’ll be back on the tour by mid-July, in time to pick up most of the majors. I can put you on the payroll...” He glanced at her baggy sweater and ball cap, his mouth quirking up into a grin. “And it looks like you’ve fallen on hard times, so...?”
He was a real comedian this morning. Of course, compared to her, he looked like he was ready for a GQ cover shoot in his pressed trousers and blue linen shirt. It was barely 8:00 a.m. On a Sunday.
“You’re one of those annoying morning people, aren’t you?”
Shane’s smile deepened, causing her heart to stutter again. “Guilty as charged. I don’t like wasting daylight. Interested in the job?”
She stared at her plate. If she worked for Shane, she’d have to answer to him. Tori needed a chaperone, but even more important, she needed a friend in Gallant Lake. Someone who had her back. No one had ever stepped up to do that for Mel when she was sixteen. They’d all just looked the other way and collected their paychecks. Mel wasn’t going to let that happen to Tori.
“No.” There was a flash of surprise in his eyes. “I won’t work for you as her chaperone. I’ll do it for free.”
“For free? That’s not a very good business plan, Mellie...uh... Mel.” His brows knit together, as if she’d just presented him with a puzzle to solve. She had a feeling he didn’t like puzzles much.
“Look, that girl needs a friend while she’s here. Someone she can relax with, have fun with, talk to. I’ll be that person, but not on your payroll. Not on your time clock.” She stood, emphasizing her point one last time before walking away.
“I don’t charge for friendship.”
“SO LET ME get this straight.” Luis set his coffee mug on the table and leaned back in the chair, staring out the window of the Gallant Brew as he put his thoughts together. The Tuesday morning sidewalks were quiet. “Someone just offered to pay you to mentor a girl who reminds you of yourself. And you decided to do it for free.” He shook his head. “That’s not a great career move, chica.”
“I’m not looking for a new job.”
“Aren’t you, though?”
She didn’t answer. Her bank balance was uncomfortably low. Nearly all the proceeds from selling the Miami condo had been poured into Luis’s business for the new collection, leaving her just enough to make a fresh start somewhere. She was confident the investment would pay off, but that was an investment, not a job. She loved working on designs with Luis, but did she really want to go back into a world that had already chewed her up and spit her out once?
“I couldn’t be more proud to be your business partner, Luis.”
His broad shoulders shook with laughter. “Such a nice, safe answer, Mel. But you’re too talented to be just an investor. You’re a natural at design and accessorizing. I could use you on the team full-time.”
“You mean the team that works in the fashion district? In Manhattan?” Mel suppressed the tremor that went through her, but just barely. “I don’t think that’ll happen.”
He frowned at her. “I thought Gallant Lake was temporary?”
Mel shrugged, looking around the café and nodding at Nora, who’d just walked in from the back. “I don’t know what my next move will be, but I don’t think it will be to the fashion district.”
Luis stared at her in silence. He was the one person who knew everything. When they’d first met four years ago, he’d been an associate at a major European design house. He’d contributed several pieces to the collection she’d be modeling, and he was hyper-anxious, micromanaging every aspect of the shoot. The photographer had a fit over Luis’s constant “advice” and Mel ended up in the unlikely role of peacemaker between Luis and Nelson.
Even more unlikely, she and Luis became fast friends. She liked his creative process and his sense of humor. She even liked the way he obsessed over his work. It made her wish she had something in her life that mattered that much.
Luis somehow saw through the Mellie Low veneer and saw the real her. He also saw the booze and pills and recognized the danger she was in. He made it his quest to save her, even when she rebuffed every effort. When she finally hit her lowest point, though, it was Luis she’d called. He’d held her for hours without a word of judgment the day she’d come apart two years ago. He’d checked her into rehab and made sure no one else ever had a clue. She owed him her life. But in her heart, she knew she couldn’t go back into the dog-eat-dog fashion world without putting all that hard work at risk. Not even for Luis.
“Darling,” Luis said. “They have these crazy new things called computers, and you can communicate from anywhere. Even Gallant Lake.”
“Design doesn’t happen in a vacuum. As you said, it’s a team thing. And the team is in the city.” She took another sip of coffee.