Chapter 15
The next day the French doors at the studio open out onto a bright blue sky, birds chirping and the city bustling. It’s a
perfect backdrop to contrast the miserable luck we’re having inside interviewing videographers.
“I don’t know, Maya, did you see the guy’s face when we mentioned it was for an Exquisite Interiors TV audition?”
She bites a lip. “I know. I’m not sure where he got the idea we were planning a bar mitzvah.”
I try to smile, but I know I look like I’m cracking instead. We’re both figuring this out as we go.
Maya laughs. “You all right there?”
“I’m just doing anything to stop myself from crying at this point.”
We’d lined up five interviews for this morning, and we only have one candidate left. Our first no-showed, and when we called
to check in, he sent us right to voicemail. He was struck from the list.
“I mean the second guy could’ve been ok... ,” Maya says.
“Until the whole part about having severe asthma that would prevent him from being able to safely shoot on-site while we work.”
I flopped back into the sofa. “Even after the floors are done, he’s a no-go on wet paint and would only be available for the
finished product.”
Maya shrugs. “I did tell him what the gig was when we scheduled.”
“Maybe he’s not an Exquisite Interiors kind of guy,” I said. “If he’d watched a single program, he would have known off the
bat.”
I rub my temples before asking, “So the third one?”
“I’m not sure. She said she was running late, so I offered an afternoon time. She promised to call back.” Her voice rises
in optimism at the end.
I stand and begin pacing. “That was three hours ago. Sure, there might’ve been some crazy emergency, but otherwise, that’s
unreliable—and unprofessional.”
“Our last guy should be here in ten,” Maya says.
“He’s the college student?”
Maya pulls up her phone and pecks at it with her pointer finger. “Yeahhh.”
“That was a whole lot of sound for very little information,” I say.
She puffs out a breath and smooths a hand down her pink button-down. “He says he just uses an iPhone.” Maya hands me her phone.
“From his socials his videos look amazing. I wouldn’t have guessed they were done on a phone.”
I have to agree. It looks like a clip from an Apple commercial where they showcase the camera tech. Immediately I feel terribly
old not to have the same grasp on my own phone that sits in my pocket all day.
“It’s worth a try,” I say. “It does look really good.”
“Plus, Coco said it doesn’t have to be professional quality or anything. What they really need is an idea of your personality,
your design sense, and the types of jobsites they could showcase.”
“I guess it’s not like we’d be producing the show ourselves,” I say. “But it feels like slacking to turn in something less
than perfect.”
“Relax,” Maya says. “We’ll make a great tape.”
“It’s my competitive side.” I say it out of the side of my mouth, but it’s far from a secret around here.
Maya laughs. “It’ll turn out all right. Plus, if we sit on this and wait for perfection, we might miss out completely.”
I decide to believe her for now and check the time. “I wonder how Fitz is doing with the rot inspection at the Daniel House.”
“I don’t even want to know the extent.” Maya shudders, then wanders over to the open door. “If this last interview is in any
way decent, we have to give him the job.”
“I know,” I said. “There’s just something about the iPhone deal that feels risky.”
“But we have to move quickly on this,” Maya says. “If we look good and get in there first, we have a better chance at success.”
I’m about to open my mouth to tell her I want to put our best foot forward, how I’ve grown rather attached to this idea of
a show of our own in the last few days, how this tape should be as dang close to excellence as we might possibly be able to
get it, when our candidate walks up.
Maya turns to him. “Hi, you must be Collin?” She reaches out a hand.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, shaking her hand.
“Come on in, Collin,” I say, standing to greet him and showing him to his chair.
He has shoulder-length dirty-blond hair and is wearing a black suit that’s about two sizes too big. His shirt underneath looks
new but is wrinkled, likely fresh out of a package. A pocket of fondness forms in my heart for him; he’s doing his best. Thanks
to my own starched-and-pressed upbringing, I appreciate a few wrinkles here and there.
“So, Collin, we were just looking at your social media accounts, and we’re astounded that you film only on a phone,” I say. “Tell us more about that.”
Collin launches into a detailed analysis of cell phone technology that I suspect neither Maya nor I grasp completely, despite
our smiling and nodding along keenly.
“And I mentioned it when we spoke on the phone, but we’re looking at putting together an audition reel for Exquisite Interiors
TV. Do you think that’s something you could manage?” Maya asks.
Collin nods. “Oh, absolutely. I’m a marine biology student at the college, and I shot a sick trailer for the program with
all the underwater tech. Here.” He pulls out his phone and scrolls to the video.
We watch, impressed. I’m no video expert, but if Collin could make a tape of our work look this professional, it would be
something I’d be proud to submit.
“Wow, it’s great,” I say.
“The professor said a ton of people tried to sign up for the class after that, but it was full in a couple minutes. I’ve got
other departments asking me to do the same for them.”
“It’s a testament to the changing times,” I say. “Collin, I think we’ve seen what we need to. Can we call you in a bit?”
“Definitely,” Collin says.
We stand and walk him to the door, and only once I’m sure he’s out of earshot do I turn to Maya. “We have to hire him.”
“I’m glad you said it first.” Maya squeaks in excitement. “I think he could really knock it out of the park.”
“What’s his rate?”
“Half that of the bar mitzvah guy,” Maya says.
“Like it’s meant to be! Feel free to call him and get the ball rolling. I’m all in,” I say. “Then, lunch?”
Just as I catch the scent of fried seafood drifting down King Street and into the studio, my phone rattles to life on my desk. It lights up with the photo I have saved for Fitz, the two of us at the taco shack on Folly Beach with his partner, Henry, pulling a face above us.
“Actually,” I say, “here’s Fitz. Let’s find out the damage.”
I pick up the phone and click the button to talk.
“Magnolia Junior, can you talk?” Fitz is the only one who gets away with calling me by my given name and only because he never
forgets to include the junior .
“Talk to me, Magnus,” I say. The exception to the rule must go both ways.
“Actually, I’m switching you to FaceTime,” Fitz says.
I tap to accept and Fitz hops onto the screen in an emerald-green-and-white gingham shirt rolled up to the elbows.
“You’re looking especially dapper today,” I say with a grin.
“I always dress up when I’m expecting bad news.” The rustle of work happening across the old wood of the Daniel House floats
from the phone as Fitz makes his way through. “It softens the blow.”
I groan and slip into my desk chair, pushing a stack of papers aside.
“So Sam noticed rot over here in the area back behind where the sink was, but the guys here today say we need to replace some
of the floor joists underneath. There’s also a second area of rot where the old dishwasher was—surprise, surprise—which Sam
didn’t catch.”
“Right where we had our samples stacked.”
“It’s no fault of Sam’s,” Fitz says. “But we might need to consider tiling in here. I’ll let you make the final choice—seeing
as you’re the boss and all.” He waggles his brow.
I grin. “Thanks for playing the game, but let’s be real: I trust your eyes to be as good as my own. If you’re seeing too much area in new wood, we’ll start talking tile.”
“I think it’s for the best, even if it’s not the board’s first choice.” Fitz is cast into sunlight as he steps outside and
away from the loud sanding machines.
“Let’s have some gorgeous options ready for them to consider when we break the news. Make it a bit more palatable.”
“I’ve already got ideas in mind,” Fitz says.
“Send them on over. And hey, I’m thinking about fried seafood for lunch.”
“Fleet Landing?” Maya calls over.
“I’ll meet y’all there,” Fitz says.
The screen goes dark, and I tuck the phone into my bag. I save the edits to the portfolio I’d been tinkering with and shut
down my laptop. “Ready whenever you are.”
A few minutes later, we step out onto the streets and blend into the crowds of sunburned tourists. We walk toward the sound
of seagulls at the edge of the water, along the palmetto tree–lined streets, until the smell of fried shrimp beckons us to
our destination.