(Amber)
“Other things being equal, it is the man who shoots with his heart in his bow that hits the mark.”
—SAXTON POPE, HUNTING WITH THE BOW AND ARROW
Why I expected that the studio heads of an adventure reality production company would be anything other than walking SoCal clichés, I do not know. And yet, in my mind, they wouldn’t be quite this bad. I think it may be the cardigans. Or the porkpie hats.
Either way, Hayes Halston and Vann Newell are very Hollywood, in an up-and-comer way—confident but still hungry, desperate but still disaffected—which explains their taking the time to fly to Austin to meet me. Of course, if I were a little less disaffected myself these days, I might be delusional enough to think their trip out here meant I was special. But I’ve seen exactly how suddenly special can lose its luster, so I know that in the end, these guys won’t be any different from Smeltzer.
Except for those hats.
Even Jaxon—a full-fledged appreciator of the hipster look when done well—continues to squint at the iridescent peacock feather stuck in the band of Vann’s hat, and that’s only when he isn’t casting a judgmental look at Hayes’s puce-colored cardigan.
“Amber, we can’t tell you how much we appreciate you taking the time to meet with us. We’re hoping by the time we finish these,” Hayes says, lifting his beer up, “we can confidently say that we’ll see you in Cabo this winter. Cabo for Christmas, right? Come on, nothing beats that.”
“Definitely,” I answer, giving him a smile before taking a sip of my sparkling ginger lemonade. Jaxon and I both ordered mocktails because we’re more interested in staying sober at our business meeting than getting buddy-buddy with these guys. Hayes and Vann each—like the predictably cool out-of-towners they are—ordered Shiner Bocks.
Hayes and Vann booked rooms at a downtown boutique hotel that was once the site of a trailer park but is now home to lodgings with concrete floors and midcentury modern furniture, each accessorized with things like retro Smith Corona typewriters and Polaroid cameras. Just in case Jack Kerouac returns from the dead and needs a place to crash, I suppose. We agreed to meet for a drink at the hotel’s outdoor lounge, where a sand-lined courtyard is dotted with gas-operated lava-rock fire pits. We’ve settled ourselves around one of the fire pits, inexplicably “lit” despite it being the middle of the day.
Surrounding the pit are four leather egg chairs that are both ugly and a little awkward to sit in while hoping to appear confident and tall, especially for someone my size. Hopefully, when it’s time to extricate myself from this thing, Jaxon will sidle over here and give me a hand so I don’t look like a toddler crawling out of a playpen.
“Cabo beats what I grew up with during the holidays. Too much tinsel draped on cacti in Tucson,” Vann mutters drily.
We all give him a courtesy chuckle despite the fact that Vann has spent much of our meeting face-first in his phone. I’m more than used to the way so many of us interact with only half of our attention spans these days, but he’s worse than most.
Hayes seizes conversational control again, looking like he’s decided that after ten minutes together it’s high time we get down to business.
“So, Amber, you checked out our media kit and the links, right? Tell us what questions you have. Tell us what it will take to get you on board.”
I do have questions. Lots of them. Half of them, though, they can’t answer.
Will I regret this? Is the nonstop ache in my chest due to having a broken heart? Or is that just my soul hardening in anticipation of doing this show? Are you aware I’ve never guided anyone before? Do you care? Also, can I drink the water there? Because Montezuma’s revenge in a house crawling with cameras? No thank you. And, last, do you think Braden misses me?
Jaxon cuts in, saving me with one flap of his manager-lawyer-superhero cape.
“Today is just about Amber getting a feel for how you guys do business. If Amber’s going to relocate to another country for six weeks, she needs to know who has her back when she does.”
Hayes nods reassuringly before allowing a mischievous expression to cover his face.
“Sure, sure, of course. I get it. It sounds like maybe you’re a wild card who’s concerned about the policia, eh? Are you a rabble-rouser? An agent provocateur?”
Then he winks.
And I try not to throw up a little in my mouth.
This show is all I have on the horizon, after all, and I’ll be lucky if my pride is the only thing I lose track of over the next few months. But a few years under my belt in this business means I can play along with the best of them.
“Oh, yes,” I deadpan, then send him a sly smile. “I’m all sorts of trouble. Gotta be sure I’m covered for the mischief and mayhem I’ll inevitably leave in my wake.”
Hayes returns my smile with his own, albeit with a lot more teeth showing. If I weren’t seriously considering the possibility that my libido has taken leave of my body entirely, I’d think he was saying more with that smile than “please sign our contract.” But my man compass is all screwed up, and I wouldn’t know what to do with sexual interest if it hit me over the head. My compass guides one route these days—north through Oklahoma and Kansas, then hooks one state over and straight into southwestern Colorado. And given how depressed I’ve been since Braden left town with nothing but a quiet goodbye in my driveway, I’m not sure I’ll ever find a way to recalibrate my man compass.
“Look, Angela . . .”
Vann drains his beer, signaling the bartender across the way to bring another round. Jaxon automatically lurches forward at Vann getting my name wrong, but I shoot him a look to stand down because I’m interested in seeing where this goes. While signing with Bona Fide may be the only option I have right now, deep down, I’m still looking for an out. I have a feeling we’re about to enjoy a good cop–bad cop show courtesy of Hayes and Vann.
“. . . Let’s not play around, OK? We know you’re an Afield Channel cast-off.”
He levels his beady eyes on mine.
“But luckily for you, rejects are our game. We reboot careers. If it isn’t yours, there are a million other chicks out there with blow-up-doll personalities and good racks that would be happy to take your place.”
Jaxon is up and out of his chair before I am, and God bless the man, his hand immediately extends my way. I take it and, despite the way my body is shaking, I rise from the chair like a queen. Jaxon’s hand stays in mine. He gives Hayes and Vann a curt nod.
“You’ve given us a lot to consider. We’ll be in touch.”
We round the corner out of the courtyard, quick-stepping in silence until we’ve made it to the lot where Jaxon’s car is parked. He moves to open the passenger door for me. I lock my eyes with his.
“No.”
He nods. “Obviously. I’ll call them tomorrow.”
I slide into the black leather seat and Jaxon shuts the door.
Sealed in silence for a moment, Braden is with me. His honest assessment of what I was getting myself into is ringing in my head—and how he was able to predict what just happened here with such eerie accuracy, I’ll never know.
“To new beginnings.”
I roll my eyes at Teagan’s cliché toast, then knock back the shot of whiskey she’s poured for me, stopping just shy of slamming the glass on the coffee table in front of me, only because my beer is sitting there and I wouldn’t want to knock that over. She mirrors my actions, both of us chasing the harsh liquor burn with a gulp of our beers.
I slump into the couch cushions and offer my deep thoughts. “New beginnings suck.”
Teagan snorts. “Yes, they do. But this one is happening just the same.” I stick my lip out in an exaggerated pout, and she sighs. “You will be fine.”
My reply is to take a long slug off my beer. This isn’t a pity party—it’s a suck-it-up-and-move-on party. With boilermakers. Because in my mind, the drink du jour of a pity party is wine, red or white, just so long as it’s from a box. But a cheap whiskey shot followed by an even cheaper beer? That is the nectar of someone who might need a goddam break, but doesn’t take any shit.
I invited Jaxon, Teagan, and Colin over to “celebrate” the end of Record Racks, knowing if I did, none of them would dare bring box wine, so I could safely avoid things devolving into a pity party. Jaxon left a few minutes ago to pick up cheap Mexican food for dinner, and Colin is due here at any moment. For now, it’s just Teagan and me.
I cut a look her way. “Have you talked to Colin lately?”
“Colin and I do not talk. You know that. This will be the first time I’ve seen him since your party when Braden was in town. Even then we didn’t talk. I mean, we . . .” She circles a hand in the air, aimlessly.
I narrow my eyes to the ceiling with a nod, but it takes me a moment to process what she just said.
“Wait. What? During the party?” I point to the couch. “Here?”
“No, not there.” Her cheeks redden. “The guest bathroom.”
I consider taking her by the shoulders and shaking the hell out of her. Not because I care if she and Colin got it on in my bathroom, but because I’m now intimately acquainted with heartbreak, and therefore, I really can’t understand why these two stay apart when they don’t have to.
Teagan points her beer bottle at me. “Don’t start. We’ve had this conversation before. Colin and me together is like going on vacation. Everyone goes on vacation and thinks they want to move to Paris when they’re there on holiday, but then they go home and they realize exactly why they can’t live in Paris. Because it’s like another world.”
“Colin lives in Harper, not Paris. It’s, like, two hours away. Not exactly another world.”
She snorts. “Don’t be so sure. I’ve seen pictures of his family. They are their own species of Texas tough. Can you picture me there? Colin taking me home to meet his family? Paris, Amber. Paris.”
I tilt my head, speaking softly. “But he makes you happy.”
“Same goes for Voodoo Doughnut. As does a day doing my work with my hands and my fingers doing what they should. A new tattoo. Panda videos. Lots of things make me happy.”
Teagan closes any further conversation by tossing a bag of Chex Mix into my lap, then busies herself by peeling the label back on her beer bottle. When I sink my hand into the bag, I think of Braden, the look on his face if he could see me now with my fingers wrapped around a handful of this additive-laden snack mix. It wouldn’t make it to my mouth, I’m guessing.
Braden has been on my mind constantly, but no more so than today. Today, he was with me nonstop, which was nice, but made the urge to call him harder to fight. Even after passing on the reality show, I still don’t know where I’ll go next or if where I end up will be a place that can include Braden. Until I know that, reaching out would merely cause us both more hurt.
Teagan and I both look toward the front door when we hear it open. Colin strides in, takes one look at the dwindling bottle of Bird Dog on the coffee table and the adjacent bucket of beers on ice, then observes Teagan and me in repose holding our beers.
“Boilermakers? You girls are speaking my language today.” He pours a shot and clears it, uses the bottle opener on his key chain to crack a beer, and then drops onto the couch between us. I wait until he’s midway through his second gulp of beer.
“You had sex in my bathroom.”
“Jesus!” Colin sputters through a mouthful of beer, eyes wide. He somehow manages to avoid dribbling any on himself or my couch but wipes his mouth with a shirtsleeve anyway. He sends a beseeching look Teagan’s way. “Really?”
She shrugs, a tiny smile playing across her lips and a gleam in her eye that’s all for him, one he can’t help but give in to.
Oh, man. There it is. The good stuff.
I miss that more than ever now.
After dinner, we each pour a little more whiskey into our highball glasses and proceed to laze about on the furniture, all of us stuffed with greasy Mexican food. Jaxon returns from the side yard after tossing our takeout containers into the trash.
He closes the slider door behind him, beelines into the living room, and stands in front of the coffee table, eyeing our slothful group before clapping his hands together a few times.
“All right, look alive, you lazy louts. We need to brainstorm.”
The sharp sound doesn’t particularly rouse any of us, but he does have our attention, so we all send him confused and tipsy looks. He snaps his fingers.
“Amber needs a new thing. What is it? We know her best, so let’s throw out ideas. Teagan, what should Amber do next?” He points at Teagan, who is slumped against Colin’s shoulder. “Say the first thing that comes to mind. Go!”
“Uh . . .”
“Not an answer,” Jaxon snaps. “Colin! Now you.”
Colin tips his beer bottle toward Jaxon. “Nurse. Teacher. Doctor. President of the United States. Stripper. Porn—”
Colin squeals like a little girl when I pinch the skin on his forearm, hard enough I nearly break the skin, and we exchange scowls.
“No.” Jaxon starts to pace the length of the room. “All require a college degree. Even the stripping would be better served if she at least enrolled in college.”
I watch Jaxon dizzily and realize I should have known this was coming. Jaxon is the worst drinker ever, not because he’s a mean drunk or a sloppy drunk, but because he’s the opposite. If he drinks enough, he goes straight from tipsy to hyperfocused, becoming more driven than he is even when sober—and far more difficult to keep up with.
I raise my hand slowly, waiting until Jaxon pauses pacing long enough to notice me. He sighs. “Yes, Amber.”
“Do I get a turn? You didn’t call on me, so I’m not sure. It’s my life, but maybe I’m just supposed to take orders with my blow-up-doll personality?”
He claps his hands together again. “No time for passive-aggressive bullshit, doll. Do you have an idea or not? What do you want to do?”
I can feel everyone’s focus on me, but instead of wilting under the scrutiny, the attention does what it always has. It makes me bolder.
“I want another TV show.”
“Good,” Jaxon says. “What kind of show?”
Colin pipes up. “The kind she should’ve had all along. The kind like the one she just filmed and those morons at Afield passed on.”
“But something was wrong with it,” Jaxon muses. “That’s why they passed. We have to come up with a better hook. Maybe the hunting platform isn’t enough anymore. Maybe viewers want something else.”
We all go silent, lost in our own thoughts, but my heart is beating hard enough to make my hands shake a little. I scan the room around me, taking it all in. Trey’s furniture, the mounts on the wall, the fitness supplements piled up on the kitchen counters, and even my talented friends.
Be one hundred percent of who you are.
“A lifestyle show,” I say. “My lifestyle. All of it. Hunting, working out, staying in shape, the people I know, everything.”
My eyes cross the room to Jaxon, who’s come to a halt with his back to me. He turns slowly on one heel. A smile crawls across his face.
Teagan fumbles around to drag her phone out of her pocket.
“Make it a Web-based show. Screw trying to find a channel for it. Make your own. That art collective I work with? They just started filming long-form profiles on all of their members.” She tosses her phone my way and I scroll through the site, clicking on one of the videos.
Colin cranes to look over my shoulder, eventually pointing at the screen. “These are shot on pretty basic action cams. It wouldn’t take much to get you set up to shoot your own show. You did a decent job with your solo hunt footage, so if we spend a little more time together, we can easily get you to where you need to be.”
Jaxon hums in thought for a moment. “Endorsers love it when they aren’t cluttered in with all the brand noise on TV. Maybe we’ve been too focused on cable. Maybe the new Amber Regan brand is a little more niche.” He sends me a frank look.
“It will take a while to get something like this up to full speed. You’ll need another income. We can try to pick up some new endorsements in the meantime, but that will be a long shot right now.”
Braden pries his way into my head again, complete with his regular-job-ordinary-life speech. I’d cast it off at the time because anything regular or ordinary felt like failure. Now I can see I don’t have to accept it as a failure; I could choose it as a way to have everything I ever wanted. My show, done my way. A full life. One that could include Braden, if I can show him my truth.
I give Jaxon a grin. “I started at Dollar General; I can go back to Dollar General. Lots of people have regular jobs.”