Chapter 12
HOLLIS
Toby practically vibrated in his seat as Micah told some story about a disastrous location shoot in Australia.
The kid’s eyes were huge, like Micah was handing down wisdom from Mount Olympus instead of just talking about how they’d almost lost a camera to a croc.
I ate my salmon, letting my brother take the spotlight at our corner table.
“That’s insane,” Toby breathed. “How did you even recover from that?”
Micah shrugged, taking a sip of his beer. “You improvise. That’s half of filmmaking, dealing with shit going sideways and making it work anyway.”
I’d heard this story at least three times. It was fun the first time. Australia. Crocodiles. A director who threatened to quit.
Toby was eating it up. He wanted to get into the movie business like Micah, so I couldn’t blame the kid for being excited.
“You work with Hollis,” Micah said, gesturing at me with his bottle. “You must know all about improvising, getting footage on the fly.”
“Yeah, but it’s different,” Toby said. “I mean, no offense, Hollis, but social media content isn’t the same as actual filmmaking.”
I shrugged. “You have to follow your dreams. But for the record, what you do takes skill, too, and you’re already getting paid better than most people in the movie business. So you’re doing alright.”
“I know,” Toby said, leaning toward Micah like I wasn’t even there.
Hmm, maybe I should be offended.
“I want to do what you do,” Toby continued. “Narrative work. Features. Maybe TV. Something with substance.”
Micah nodded thoughtfully. “It’s a tough industry to break into. Lots of people want in, not many spots available.”
“I know, I know. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes. Start at the bottom, work my way up.”
“You have a reel?”
“Yeah.” Toby pulled out his phone immediately, already queuing up his work. “It’s mostly shorter stuff, but I think it shows my range.”
I took another bite of the salmon, trying not to feel like the third wheel at my own dinner.
I’d invited Micah to join us because I thought it would be fun.
A chance to catch up with my brother before I headed to New York.
Instead, I sat there watching Toby audition for a job with my younger brother.
Micah watched the reel on Toby’s phone. When it finished, he nodded slowly.
“You’ve got an eye,” he said. “The framing is good. Good transitions.”
Toby looked like he might pass out from happiness. “Really?”
“Really. You need more experience, obviously. And you’d be starting at the bottom. PA work, probably. Long hours, shit pay, lots of grunt work.”
“I don’t care. I’ll do it.”
Micah glanced at me, and I could see the question in his eyes. I gave him a small nod.
“Tell you what,” Micah said. “If you’re serious about this, I can help you get your foot in the door. I know some people. Can’t promise anything beyond an introduction, but it’s a start.”
Toby’s face lit up bright enough to land a 747 on his fucking forehead. “Are you kidding? That would be amazing. Thank you so much.”
I cleared my throat. “Stick with me at least through this Young at Heart business,” I said, keeping my tone casual even though I felt weirdly territorial about the whole thing.
“See this partnership through, get me to that million-order mark. After that, I’ll happily help you with whatever connections you need. Our whole family will.”
Toby looked a little stunned. I saw genuine gratitude in his expression. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. You’ve been good to me, Toby.
I’m not going to leave you hanging.” I speared a piece of broccoli.
“But I need you focused on B Well right now. This PriceCo meeting could change everything. If we nail it, we’re talking about distribution in every one of their stores nationwide. That’s huge.”
“I know, I know. I’m focused. I promise.” Toby nodded enthusiastically. “I won’t let you down.”
“Good.” I took a bite, chewing slowly. I barely tasted the balsamic glaze on the broccoli. My mind was already in New York, running through the presentation for the hundredth time.
Micah leaned back in his chair, studying me. “So this partnership with Young at Heart. How’s that going?”
“So far, so good,” I said, nodding. “The video we put out got a great response. Both companies came out looking better. It’s getting a lot of engagement.”
Micah looked me in the eye. “Have you really moved past your differences? She didn’t pull any punches when you first met. I can’t imagine she’s suddenly a huge fan of yours.”
I thought about Juno in that blue blouse, the way she’d smiled for the camera while quietly insulting me between takes. The way her eyes flashed when she was annoyed, which seemed to be most of the time I was around.
“We’re working on it,” I said carefully.
Micah raised an eyebrow. “That’s diplomatic.”
“She’s…” I searched for the right word. “Challenging.”
“Challenging how?”
“Some people are impressed by our last name, but she doesn’t give a fuck who we are.” I chuckled. “If anything, it pisses her off. She’s convinced I’m some trust fund baby playing entrepreneur. That I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Well, you are a trust fund baby,” he said. “We both are. And you’re an entrepreneur.”
“But I’m not playing. This company means a lot to me. I’m building something here.”
“I’ve seen how hard you’ve worked on this.” Micah looked at Toby. “Believe it or not, Hollis used to be fun before he spent fourteen hours a day working on all this wellness stuff.”
Toby grinned around a mouthful of burger.
“Hey, don’t laugh,” I told him, laughing as I shook my head. “I’m still fun.”
“I know,” Micah said. “Just busting your chops. I’m busy as shit these days too.”
“I’ve put in the work, Micah. I’m not just slapping my name on a product someone else created. This is mine. You’ve tasted my stuff. I’m not cosplaying.”
He nodded. “I know that. Does she?”
“I’m trying to show her. But she’s so sure she’s right about me that she won’t even consider she might be wrong. Pain in my ass. That’s what she is.”
Toby, who’d been quietly demolishing his food, finally spoke up. “She’s hot though, right?”
I shot him a look. “So is hell, Toby. And what does that have to do with anything?”
“Just mentioning it.” He grinned around a mouthful of fries. “Because the comments on the interview video seem to think you two have a thing going on.”
“Because the internet is filled with horny losers. A mildly attractive woman smiles at them and they’re already planning their wedding.
” I sighed and shook my head. “Trust me, that’s a dangerous woman.
She’s vetting me throughout this whole process, to see if my company is a good fit for future projects with Young at Heart.
I’m not trying to ruin that by sleeping with her. ”
Micah nodded, impressed. “Keep your eye on the prize. If you can get PriceCo on board, you’re set. That’s the kind of deal that takes you from ‘promising startup’ to ‘legitimate business.’ That’s what you want, right?”
“That’s exactly what I want. That’s why I started B Well in the first place, to build something on my own and help some people along the way.” I stabbed another piece of salmon. “I’m not going to let Juno distract me.”
No matter how hot she is.
“If there’s anything I can do to help, just ask,” Micah said. “I mean it. You’re my brother. I want to see you succeed.”
That meant a lot. My whole family was supportive, but it was good to hear it.
We wrapped up dinner and I headed home. Later that night, I scrolled through my Instagram feed, my thumb moving on autopilot while my brain was still half in that conversation with Micah.
I’d been thinking about posting something.
Maybe a behind-the-scenes shot from the interview or a teaser about the PriceCo meeting.
A tagged photo caught my eye.
Someone had snapped a picture of me at dinner. I zoomed in. The angle suggested they’d been sitting a few tables away, probably got the shot when I wasn’t paying attention.
“That’s crazy,” I muttered to the empty room.
But what was crazier were the comments.
“See? He actually eats what he preaches. That’s how you know he’s legit.”
“Salmon and veggies. My man practices what he sells.”
“This is why I trust B Well. Hollis doesn’t just talk the talk, he walks the walk.”
“That’s how he gets those abs so chiseled. Drool.”
I read through a dozen more variations on the same theme. People were analyzing my dinner like it was evidence in a court case. Examining what was on my plate to determine whether I was authentic or full of shit.
“Fuck,” I murmured, feeling a wave of relief. And dread.
I set my phone down and rubbed my face. It was a double-edged sword of being in the wellness space.
Everything I ate and drank and even how I looked became part of my brand whether I wanted it to or not.
I couldn’t grab a street dog without someone questioning my credibility.
Couldn’t have a beer without commentary about empty calories.
Not that I particularly wanted a street dog. I genuinely liked eating healthy. Drinking? Well, a man should be allowed a few pleasures in life. But it would be nice to have some privacy.
I picked up my phone again and opened my messages. I needed to send Juno the flight details. I had told her assistant not to make travel arrangements.
I typed: Flight leaves at 9 tomorrow morning.
Then I deleted it. Too abrupt. Made it sound like an order.
I tried again: Hey, just wanted to confirm—our flight tomorrow is at 9 a.m. Let me know if that works for you.
Delete. Too casual. Too familiar.
Third attempt: Sending you address for the hangar. Plane leaves at 9 a.m. See you then.
I stared at it. That was better. Friendly but professional.
But why did I care so much about the tone of a simple text?
I knew why. Because part of me was actually looking forward to this trip. Which was insane, considering she’d made it abundantly clear she could barely stand to be in the same room with me.
But she was a firecracker. She didn’t hold back.
Didn’t soften her opinions to spare my feelings.
When she looked at me, she didn’t see Hollis Blackwell, son of famous parents, guy with a million Instagram followers.
She just saw a guy she thought was full of shit, and she had no problem telling me exactly that.
I smiled. It was refreshing. Annoying as hell but refreshing. Juno was a lot of things, but she wasn’t fake.
And then there were those curves. The way her hips swayed when she walked in those heels. During the interview, I’d forced myself to keep my eyes on her face and not let them wander to places that would definitely earn me a slap.
I shifted on my couch, feeling my body respond to the memory.
“Stop it,” I said out loud.
I was so close to my goal. The last thing I needed was to complicate things by thinking about Juno Young in ways that were very unprofessional.
This meeting with PriceCo could change everything. If we landed this deal, I could hit that million-order target. Then Young at Hear would let me use one of their bottling plants. I would be able to meet the demand that had been building for my drinks.
I couldn’t fuck it up by letting my dick make decisions.
My phone buzzed in my hand. I looked down at her reply.
Confirmed. I’ll be there.
That was it. No pleasantries. I felt weirdly disappointed.
I tossed my phone onto the coffee table and stood up, walking to the windows that overlooked the beach. Tomorrow would be a test. Could I keep my head in the game? Juno was only a distraction if I allowed her to be.
I needed to focus on the brand. Ignore the comments about chemistry that I’d told myself were just people reading too much into a staged interaction.
Focus on the goal.
Everything else was just noise.
Even if that noise started to sound an awful lot like my own thoughts betraying me.