Chapter 15 Joanie
Joanie
The white sandy beach bustled with activity.
My guts churned at the sight of all the equipment: huge cameras, monitors for playback, lighting, sound equipment.
Dad had taken me to the set of his music videos a few times.
I should have been used to this setup, but it still made my anxiety overwhelming.
Some people aspired to the limelight. I’d never had those inclinations.
Sand shifted under my sandals as we headed to where the production crew gathered around a large tent pitched by the cliffs.
The sunlight was so bright it dazzled. Squawks from the seabirds rattled my skull.
I loved the coast under normal circumstances, and this beach with its clear blue water was one of the most beautiful I’d seen, but even the gentle roll of the waves grated.
The sun beat down harsh and unforgiving.
I’d worn a long skirt to cover the scar on my knee, and now the fabric was getting all tangled and bunched around my legs.
“OK?” Kieran shot me a glance. He looked laid-back and relaxed in a linen shirt and khaki shorts.
I tried to shake off my nerves and smile. “Yep.”
He leaned in close, giving me a whiff of coconut sunscreen. “Don’t worry. It won’t be long, and then we’re out of here.”
Right. I just had to grit my teeth and get through it.
Then I could get back on with writing my f-word list. It was a good distraction at least. Yesterday, I’d added more items to the list. None of it was huge, just things I’d been putting off: a photography course, a trip to Japan in cherry blossom season, dusting off my violin from the attic and joining a music group.
A young woman from the crew spotted our approach and headed toward us. She spoke in faintly accented English. “Hey! You’re here. So great to meet you both. I’m Elena, the director.”
Despite my nerves, I pasted a polite smile onto my face and shook Elena’s hand. She did a double take when she shook Kieran’s hand. “Wow. You’re taller than you look on TV.”
Kieran looked nonplussed. He was probably used to starstruck people saying the first thing that came into their head. “Am I?”
There was something about the way her gaze roved up and down over him that made my stomach twist. She thrust a script into my hand. I glanced down at the first line. Kieran Earnshaw and female player walk along beach.
“Let’s get you into wardrobe,” Elena said.
Kieran brushed sand from his shorts. “How long is this going to take?”
“It depends how much we get done today. A couple of days, hopefully.” She tilted her head to peer up at Kieran. Her eyes were bright and eager, and her voice was playful. “Don’t worry. You’re in safe hands.”
This woman had barely spared me a glance. Why would she, when she could look at Kieran Earnshaw? I couldn’t blame her. It shouldn’t have bothered me. It absolutely didn’t bother me. Kieran could hook up with the entire production crew if he wanted. What did I care?
She glanced sideways at me. “Can you lose the glasses?”
My hands flew to my face to protect my glasses. Not really. I can’t see without them. I wore contacts to play, but nobody had told me to wear contacts for the shoot. I carried spares in my handbag. Good thing.
I nodded. “If you like.”
Kieran frowned. “Why can’t she keep her glasses on?”
She eyed me up and down with a frank look. “We want to showcase you both looking . . . your best. Follow me.”
She headed toward the production tent, her sandals slapping on the sand.
Kieran shot me a sidelong glance, not bothering to lower his voice. “Keep your glasses on if you want to. Don’t let them make you feel uncomfortable.”
I dropped my voice to a whisper. “They must know what they’re talking about. I have to trust they won’t shoot me from a bad angle.”
His tone was level. “They’d never be able to find a bad angle.”
I felt suddenly hot and flustered. It had been weird between us yesterday, like something was shifting. He’d seemed genuinely hurt that I’d called out footballers for their womanizing. His denial had been so vehement, I could almost believe him.
Elena stopped at a wardrobe rail full of blue swimwear. Bikinis and swimsuits? Where were the other clothes?
“I thought we’d be wearing our football kits,” I said.
Elena’s eyes gleamed with forced enthusiasm. “The vibe is sunny beach days. Fun. Carefree. Don’t worry. It’s all very tasteful.”
I fingered the tiny scraps of material. Not just a bikini, but a high-cut thong bikini.
Seriously? This was tasteful? Elena was talking, but I couldn’t listen.
The crew bustled around us, barking orders, adjusting props, and my mind reeled.
I tried to focus on the dazzling blue of the ocean and the tang of salt in the air to ground myself. No way. This couldn’t be happening.
If I wore that bikini, I’d be giving people everything they expected of Mortimer Fox’s daughter—an airhead rich girl, loafing on a sun lounger, living a luxurious lifestyle.
I’d have to act it out on camera for the world to see.
This was the story of my life. An unwilling actress in a role that didn’t suit me.
I’d feel more comfortable in my Calverdale kit, but if I kicked up a fuss then I met people’s assumptions.
If I dared speak up, I’d be labelled pushy, demanding, and entitled.
Claire had sent me here as a representative of the club.
Now I had to walk a tightrope between standing up for myself and doing right by Calverdale.
Despite the churning in my gut, I dragged my gaze from the sea to Elena.
I rolled my shoulders back in a show of confidence I didn’t feel, but Kieran spoke before I could get the words out.
“Not a bikini.” He folded his arms across his chest. “We’re footballers, not swimsuit models. I’m not shoving my junk into Speedos.”
Elena met Kieran’s sullen gaze without flinching. “Swimwear is part of the aesthetic. It’s already been decided.”
Kieran’s brows drew together in a frown. “We’re not doing it.”
Elena’s eyes flashed to me. She wore a slight smirk. “Is this your first commercial?”
“Yes.”
She trailed a finger in an outline from my head to my waist. “Look at you. Look at this incredible figure. You should be proud of your body, not shy. We’re giving you an opportunity. Only a fool would pass up this kind of exposure.”
The idea rankled me. This wasn’t about shyness.
Yes, I was shy a lot of the time, and awkward, but I had no issue with the way my body looked.
I’d happily wear a bikini at the pool. But this was different.
Female athletes were endlessly objectified in the media.
The papers focused on what we looked like, what we wore, how we styled our hair, who we were dating. It all just detracted from the game.
Still, Elena was right. The exposure would be a supercharge to my platform.
None of this made me feel comfortable, but it was a stepping stone.
Maybe I’d get better endorsements because of this.
I had to consider my future. The reality was I didn’t make enough money to retire on. At some point, I’d need another job.
I wanted to make my own way in the world, not rely on the fact I was Mortimer Fox’s daughter. Plus, if I kicked up a fuss, I risked making Claire disgruntled, and no one liked a disgruntled Claire. I had to get on with it, even if the idea made my hands clammy.
I cleared my throat. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
Kieran’s head snapped to mine. “What?”
“I’ll wear it.”
Kieran flicked Elena a glance. “Give us a minute.” He took me by the elbow and pulled me along the sand, out of earshot.
He lowered his voice. “What are you doing? You don’t want to wear that thing.”
“It’s fine. Elena’s right. I need to think about my brand. This is about visibility for the women’s game.”
“Your brand is football. It isn’t walking around with your ass out feeling uncomfortable. You don’t want to do that.”
Irritation shot up my spine. “How do you know what makes me comfortable? You don’t think I’d look good in a bikini?”
He measured me with a cool stare. “I think you’d look fucking incredible. That’s beside the point.”
Heat stroked my face. What did he want from me? This was a weird decision for me to have to make. He didn’t need to make it more difficult. “We’re not all Premier League stars, Kieran. I don’t get to pick and choose my endorsements, but I have to start somewhere.”
“Your dad is loaded. You don’t need to do this.”
“Yes. My dad is rich. I’m not.”
“Is this how you want people to see you? A woman in a bikini? Wouldn’t you rather be known for being a talented footballer?”
Rage snapped inside me. Stay calm. Don’t draw attention to yourself. It was no use. Anger overwhelmed me. I threw my arms in the air. “No one is going to remember me as a great footballer. I haven’t stepped on a pitch for nine months. I don’t know if I ever will again.”
Tears pressed at my eyes, and I turned my face toward the horizon so he wouldn’t see how upset this was making me.
His voice was gentle. “Of course you’ll play again, and you’ll be great. Please don’t rush into a decision over this. Let’s ask for some time to think about it.”
I did everything I could to hold my tears in check. “I don’t want to get into trouble with Claire.”
“You won’t. I promise. Let me have a word with them. There might be a compromise.”
I swiped at my cheeks and turned back to him. “I don’t want to be difficult.”
“Speaking up for what you want isn’t being difficult.” His hand hovered around my shoulder, but he drew it back when my eyes met his. “Let me be difficult on your behalf. I’m good at that.”
I lifted my glasses and pressed at my eyes, stemming the tears. This was embarrassing. It was all the buildup and stress of being here. I’d never wanted to do this in the first place. “Fine. Talk to them if you think it will make any difference.”
We walked back to where Elena stood tapping her foot impatiently against the sand.
“We need time to think about the wardrobe choice,” Kieran said.
Elena let out an audible sigh. “There is no time. This is going to cause a problem.”
Kieran’s lips thinned with displeasure. “Your problem. Not ours.”
Elena tapped her pen aggressively against her clipboard. “It’s been signed off by people higher up the chain.”
Kieran’s voice took on an arrogant edge. His face was mean and stony. It was a glimpse of the grittiness he was famed for on the pitch. “No one signed it off with us. Give us the day to mull it over. We’ll be back tomorrow.”
I wasn’t even named in the script. For them, I was just an interchangeable female body.
They could find someone else and send me home.
I didn’t care about inconveniencing Fizzz, but I cared about not living up to everyone’s terrible assumptions about me, and also I didn’t want to irritate Claire.
We were going to be in so much trouble with the club if we didn’t do this commercial.
Elena transferred her gaze to me. “This isn’t a big deal. You’re going to look great.”
Adrenaline crashed through me like the waves on the shore.
I could back down like I always did or I could make a stand.
I glanced at Kieran. He stood, tall and imposing, with a hint of contempt under his level stare.
Kieran Earnshaw didn’t do what was expected of him.
He was wild like the waves. Nobody could force him into a role.
Kieran’s eyes locked with mine and something in his stern expression softened.
He inclined his head in a supportive nod.
He’d back me. This wasn’t something I had to do alone.
It terrified me, but the anxiety would pass.
I drank in Kieran’s strength and it emboldened me to roll my shoulders back and stand up straight.
“I need time to think about it.” I fought to keep my voice firm and level. “If we have a problem, you can . . . talk to my agent.”
Kieran’s lip twitched. A rush of heat climbed my neck. Where had that come from? I didn’t even have an agent. I resisted every urge to throw my hands over my mouth. It was too late to take it back. I’d said it.
“This is all significantly delaying the schedule.” Elena wore an overbright smile even though I got the sense she would happily drown us both in the sea.
Kieran’s hand clamped possessively over mine. I let him pull me over the sand. Mostly because I was too astonished that he was holding my hand.
“You can’t just walk off,” Elena cried.
“We’ll see you tomorrow. You heard the woman, if you have a problem, speak to our agents,” he called over his shoulder.