27. Jameson
Chapter twenty-seven
Jameson
I turn the corner from the hallway, trying to hide my confusion and failing miserably as I have to force myself to unclench my jaw and focus on the words coming at me.
“What did Jon want, dear?” Mom asks.
“Uhm. There is a time-sensitive commercial deal he wanted to get in front of me.” I take a deep breath, moving to sit back down next to Bryn. I don’t think she is behind this. We’ve come a long way in the trust department in such a short amount of time, though I do know how important this campaign is to her. That fact is the little worm that just keeps niggling the back of my brain. The only reason I can’t fully say I trust she isn’t behind this.
“Oh, well, that’s a good sign. I know you’ve been feeling a bit down about your future sponsorship prospects. I told you it would all turn around.”
“Who’s it with?” asks Lila.
“Uhm.” I consider telling them all right then and there, just so I can better gauge Bryn’s face, but it doesn’t feel right. “A restaurant chain.”
I watch Bryn’s face intently as I announce it, but there’s nothing suspicious about her tilted head and slightly raised eyebrows. She seems genuinely interested.
“Actually, I’ve really been hoping to show Bryn the backyard. Do you all mind if we head outside for a bit before dessert?” I ask.
There are nods and sures from the table, and I unconsciously grab Bryn’s hand as she stands from the table. I consider dropping it, but I somehow need her reassuring touch even when it’s her I need the reassurance from. Fuck, I hate this. I hate that Alexis is still making me question myself. I hate that if this were happening four years ago, I would’ve given Bryn the benefit of the doubt.
I lead her to my parents’ porch swing, sitting down before dropping her hand.
“It’s Hungry Guy.”
She has a blank look on her face as she asks me, “What’s Hungry Guy?”
“The commercial deal. It’s with Hungry Guy.” The color starts to drain from her slack face as I continue, “And, based on the details Jon provided during the call, it’s your campaign. The one that’s so important for you for the promotion.”
She’s still just staring at me, and I’m starting to feel like she didn’t know about this at all.
“The ‘online ordering system’ one?” she asks.
“Yup.”
She rubs her temples, her breathing picking up. “What the actual hell?”
“Look, I’m sorry, but I have to ask: Did you know about this?” She’s back to staring at me with a blank expression, so I continue, “Because they came in with a really low offer. And it’s not that I wouldn’t want to help you out, but I just… I would’ve wanted to talk about it before you—” I cut off as she stands, a look of pure fury on her face.
“Goddamn Kyle.”
“What?” I ask, feeling even more confused than I did before.
“It had to be Kyle.” She’s pacing the porch in front of me now, two steps one direction, two steps back.
“So you didn’t know?” I ask. “I recognize I’m likely not focused on the correct portion of this conversation, but I could just really use your confirmation on this.”
She sits down heavily next to me, her hand finding mine. “I’m sorry, Jameson. I jumped right into focusing on me and what this means for my job.” She looks me square in the eye. “No, I did not know until this very conversation.”
“Right,” I say. “I want to believe you. I do believe you. But I also have put my trust in the wrong person before, so this feels…scary.”
She sighs. “I understand, Jameson. I guess the silver lining is that I can say, without a doubt, that this is actually going to completely derail my promotion plans.” Her eyes are scanning the ground in front of her, clearly trying to solve a problem I haven’t even begun to understand yet.
“What do you mean? You bringing in a professional golfer to the campaign can only help you, right?”
She scoffs. “You’d think. Unfortunately, no. Hungry Guy had a problem a few years ago with a campaign director sleeping with one of the actresses and getting her crazy-good terms on the agreements. Ever since then, they’ve had a strict policy about fraternizing with our large-dollar contracts. If you take the deal, I’ll have to report our relationship to HR and will be replaced on the team.”
“Well, shit.” It’s not the most eloquent, but it’s all I can think to say. She’s been working so hard on this. “I’m sorry I even had a little bit of doubt.”
“It’s not your fault, Jameson. I understand why you would ask. It’s not like you knew that this would all but guarantee Kyle getting the promotion.”
“What if I just say no? Turn down the offer?” I ask, back on Team Bryn.
“No—”
“I don’t need the money,” I cut in. “Sponsorships at this point are just a way for me to feel like I’m back on top again. That people believe in me.”
Her lip quirks up at the side, a sad smile that I can’t help but lean over and kiss lightly.
“I don’t think that will work,” she says once I pull away.
“Why not?”
“Clearly, someone—who am I kidding?—clearly, Kyle knows about us. You’re an amazing golfer, and you’re going to be highly sought after again very soon, but—and please don’t take this wrong—it’s too much of a coincidence for this to just be about you.”
If I ever meet Kyle, I’m going to break his fucking nose. “So Kyle is a douche who happens to know about us and made a play to get you kicked off the project. Luckily, he underestimated how much I care about you. I would gladly give up a quarter million dollars for you to get this promotion.”
Her nose crinkles in displeasure. “That’s all they offered you? Don’t you normally get, like…twice that much?”
I shrug. “I said it was a lowball offer. I truly am happy to give it up.”
She leans her head on my shoulder, and I wrap my arm around her. “Unfortunately, I don’t think that will help my case. If you don’t do it, then I’m the person who wasn’t willing to put the company ahead of herself. The one who convinced her boyfriend not to do a campaign—for a steal, might I add—all so she could stay on the team. That won’t look good when considering who to give a promotion to either.”
“Well…fuck,” I say, pulling her more closely into my side.
“Yeah, you’re telling me.”
I slowly stroke my finger up and down her arm. “I can take a couple of days, do you want me to wait? See if you can figure something out?”
“Maybe? I don’t know,” she says, her voice trembling. “Actually”—she sits up abruptly—“I might have a plan.”