Rachel greeted her at the door. “Adam and Logan are already here. Hope you’re hungry.”
“I’m starved. I know you said not to bring anything, but I ordered a super-sized pizza to be delivered.”
Rachel staggered backward and clasped a hand over her heart. “Pizza? That’s treason.” She laughed.
“Just call me Benedict Pepperoni.”
“You never gain weight, anyhow. But what about the healthy glow that fruits and vegetables are supposed to provide? ‘The camera can tell you eat crap,’” she said haughtily, quoting one of the fussier photographers they’d worked with.
Nicole shook her head. “I’ve only got a few more jobs left, so I’m not worried about it.”
“Then you’re serious about quitting.”
“If I’m going to make a change, I have to actually do it.”
Rachel whistled. “The press will claim it’s a play for more money.”
“They’ll print whatever they want, no matter what I tell them.” Nicole knew she sounded cynical, but didn’t care. She’d run out of patience with reporters a long time ago. When they didn’t get the story they wanted, some of them just invented one they liked better.
“Don’t I know it,” Rachel muttered.
Nicole squeezed her arm in sympathy. Rachel had started in the modeling business in her early teens and become a star, only to have her career end after a terrible accident on a modeling set. The scars left from it weren’t disfiguring, but they were enough to put her out of demand by advertisers who generally preferred their own version of flawless. Now she handled makeup on shoots and seemed happy enough, but once in a while the so-called journalists dug the story out again, usually when there was a scandal surrounding her ex-husband.
“How do your parents feel about your plans?”
Nicole rolled her eyes. “I haven’t told them. They think I’m taking a vacation to find a husband.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. I tried to soften the news by saying I wanted a normal life. But I made a mistake in talking about it at my older sister Emily’s wedding in Montana.”
“At least you enjoyed meeting Emily’s husband and his family.”
“Very much. Trent is a good guy and the whole thing was beautiful and romantic. Em positively glowed. Anyhow, Mom and Dad assumed that’s what I wanted when I talked about having a more normal life. I didn’t tell them I’d been turning down contracts before that. They feel if I must get married, it’s easier to find someone suitable while I’m working. And by ‘suitable,’ they mean a husband who won’t interfere with my career.”
“I suppose you could have chosen a better moment than the wedding to make your announcement. Especially since you’d just broken things off with Paulo.”
“That’s for sure.” With a not-so-humorous laugh, Nicole followed Rachel out to the balcony where Logan and Adam were kicking back in chaises.
“Nicole just confirmed she’s taking an extremely long vacation from modeling,” Rachel announced.
“I have only two more contracts left to fulfill.”
Logan sat forward, his eyes intent. “That makes my announcement even more interesting.” There was a pause while he waited for everyone to focus on him. “I’ve been putting out feelers and got a call yesterday—Moonlight Ventures in the Seattle area is going up for sale. Kevin McClaskey will give us first crack at buying the agency.”
Nicole caught her breath. They’d talked about finding a small talent agency to purchase and develop. All of them had benefited from people who’d helped them and they wanted to do the same for others.
And Moonlight Ventures? The agency had a great reputation. They were especially familiar with it because Kevin had once managed Rachel’s career, and Logan had worked with the McClaskeys several times while arranging photo shoots. Moonlight Ventures was small since Kevin and his late wife had wanted to keep it that way, but with four of them, they could expand.
“Is it in the same building?” Rachel asked.
“Yep and the building goes with the purchase. There are solid renters in the space the agency doesn’t use, so that will provide some maintenance income.”
“But increases the price.”
“Not outrageously, and I think it’s worth the investment. But there’s a wrinkle,” Logan said. “With the loss of his wife last year, Kevin has decided he wants to sell almost immediately and retire.” He looked at Nicole intently. “You’re the only one who’d be free to run it until the rest of us can join you.”
Nerves sent Nicole’s stomach roiling. It was one thing to talk of buying a talent agency and working on it together, and another to know everything would depend on her, at least temporarily. Sure, she’d researched and knew the job in theory, but there was a gap between knowledge and reality.
“What do you think?” Adam asked. “Could you grab the ball and run with it until we can get up there?”
Nicole took a deep breath and nodded. She’d always thought she loved a challenge; now she would find out if she’d been lying to herself.
NICOLE GLARED AT her living room wall and let out a shriek of frustration.
Toby, a young beagle recently adopted from a rescue center, yipped in concern. Since the front door stood open to let in fresh air, she’d tied his long leash to one of the few chairs in the room.
“Don’t worry, boy,” she said soothingly.
But she made a face at the wall that still glowed green through the two coats of paint. She couldn’t understand why the brilliant shade hadn’t been eradicated by now.
“Is everything all right?” a voice called. A man stood at the open door. He wore faded jeans and a sweatshirt with Harvard printed on the front. A scruffy beard and mustache covered the lower half of his face. Harvard Guy, she mentally tagged him.
“What do you mean?”
Toby trotted over to lean against her leg, straining at the leash. He’d already grown quite attached and affectionate and even let out a small growl of warning.
“I heard someone yelling,” said the man, “but maybe it was somebody else.”
Nicole winced. “It was me, releasing my frustration. I didn’t know anyone else was around.”
The concern faded from Harvard Guy’s face. He seemed vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place him at the moment.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing serious, but I’ve painted twice and can still see the original green.”
“Oh.” He gazed at the wall. “That’s strange. A primer usually takes care of color bleed-through.”
“Primer?”
His eyes widened and Nicole got the impression he thought she was dense. “Yeah. It’s a special first coat used as a sealant.”
“I’m using what the clerk at the store recommended.” She gestured to a stack of paint cans.
Harvard Guy went over and picked up one of the cans and studied it. “Some paint has primer included, but not this one.”
Nicole sighed. Maybe the clerk had assumed she already knew about primer. He had been busy, with a long line of customers.
“I didn’t know—I’ve never tried this before.”