Playing Out of Focus (Love in the Limelight #3)

Chapter 1

Pepper

There was something about Tokyo evenings that did something incredible to my spirit.

That was why settling here wasn’t at all hard.

As I sipped my green tea, my expensive silk robe dragging the floor and my spiked heels clinking against the pristine hardwood, I peered out at the rain slowly covering my huge windows overlooking the entire neon-lit city.

Suddenly, a sharp ping from my phone broke the ambient hum of the rain. It was Priscilla, my assistant.

I glanced at the clock on the wall.

8:24 PM.

Hmmm, I thought.

We didn’t have any projects scheduled, and I was all caught up with editing my runway shoots for the week, so I had no idea what she could possibly want at this hour.

"Hey, boss," her voice buzzed through the speaker.

"Hey, Cilla. What's up? Did we forget something?

" I asked, padding across the room. I walked into my studio office and plopped down into my big, plush velvet chair.

With a flick of my wrist, I nudged the mouse to wake my giant desktop computer, the dual monitors roaring to life and bathing the dark room in a crisp, white glow.

"Nope, we didn't forget a single thing. But I have some massive news that just hit our inbox. I forwarded it to your primary email," she said, her voice pitched high, completely unable to contain her excitement.

"Ooooo, you're making me excited. Let me check," I said, a grin tugging at my lips as I eagerly clicked open the mail app.

But as the inbox refreshed, my grin faltered. My eyebrows knitted together, and my face scrunched up.

Spelled out in aggressive, blocky sans-serif font in the subject line was a name I never expected to see in my inbox.

JOLT.

Jolt.

The undisputed, multi-billion-dollar king of global athletic wear and sneaker culture. The brand endorsed by Olympic gold medalists, NBA superstars, and Premier League legends.

Why on earth was Jolt headquarters emailing a high-fashion, Tokyo-based editorial photographer?

Priscilla waited patiently on the other end of the line, her held breath practically crackling through the speaker.

I clicked the email open.

FROM: Global Creative Operations – JOLT HQ (Houston, TX)

TO: Pepper Swanson Studios (Tokyo)

SUBJECT: CONFIDENTIAL: PROJECT CRASH / Creative Lead & Principal Photography

Dear Ms. Swanson,

Jolt is preparing for the highly anticipated Q4 launch of our new premium division, Jolt Noir—a luxury, high-performance athleisure line that merges elite athletic technology with avant-garde, high-fashion silhouettes.

To anchor this global launch, we are producing a flagship multimedia campaign and a short-form sports documentary film titled The Art of the Friction.

The campaign focuses on the raw, unpredictable collision between an athlete's body and the elements. We do not want traditional, sterile sports photography. We want chaos. We want texture. We want the bold, high-contrast, rule-breaking perspective you brought to Paris Fashion Week last fall.

We are formally inviting you to contract as the Principal Campaign Photographer for Jolt Noir. You will work alongside our newly appointed Creative Director and Sports Cinematographer to execute a series of high-intensity, raw-motion shoots over a two-month period.

Because our specialized high-tech motion studios and athletes are based out of our North American testing facilities, the entire production will be embedded at our corporate campus in Houston, Texas.

A full creative brief, NDA, and initial compensation structure are attached for your review.

We look forward to breaking boundaries with you.

I stared at the screen, my green tea completely forgotten.

For the last five years, my world had been hyper-curated. It was pristine white runways, models moving in predictable, stately lines, and fabrics that cost more than a Tokyo apartment.

It was beautiful.

It was glamorous.

And lately...

It was suffocating me.

My quirky, bright sense of humor and love for the unconventional were being boxed in by the rigid rules of high fashion. I had been silently starving for a change.

I wanted something raw.

Something dirty.

Something unpredictable.

Something completely outside my comfort zone.

And here it was.

Houston, Texas.

A city known for heat, humidity, grit, and massive athletic energy.

"Pepper?" Priscilla's voice finally broke the silence. "Are you still there? Tell me you're reading this. They don't want a sports photographer, Pep. They want you. They want the weird, beautiful magic you do."

A slow, thrilling shiver ran down my spine as I looked back out at the Tokyo rain.

Houston was the exact opposite of my current reality.

It was a leap into the dark.

"Cilla," I whispered, a wicked smile spreading across my face as I tapped the attached NDA file.

"Get the legal paperwork ready."

"We're going to Texas."

After disconnecting with Priscilla, I sat smiling in my plush velvet chair. What a delightful, chaotic change of events.

The very first thing I did was dial my girls. I set up a three-way FaceTime, and the screen instantly divided into a grid of absolute chaos. Mars answered immediately, her bright smile filling the screen, and Nia popped up shortly after, looking stylish as always.

"Thee Pepper Swanson... to what do we owe the honor?" Mars said playfully, leaning back against her headboard.

"Yeah, look who decided to grace us with her presence," Nia chimed in, rolling her eyes with a grin. "You know we usually only hear from you on weekends when you aren't buried under silk and models."

"Not true!" I scoffed dramatically. I stood up from my desk and grabbed my phone, walking into my massive walk-in closet. The camera panned over a plethora of different styles—racks of neon faux-fur, structured monochromatic blazers, and avant-garde pieces that defied gravity.

"Anywho, ladies," I said gleefully, leaning against a display case of vintage sunglasses. "I have some stellar news that I think you bitches would love to hear." I drew out the words, intentionally letting the silence hang to make them sweat.

"Well, what the hell is it?" Nia demanded, leaning closer to her screen.

"Spill it, whore!" Mars laughed.

"Welllll..." I smirked, my heart racing with excitement. "It just so happens I have been chosen by Jolt HQ to lead the principal photography for their massive new luxury launch, Jolt Noir. It's a two-month contract...in Houston!"

The collective screams that erupted from the screen nearly blew out my phone speaker. I pulled the device away from my ear, laughing hysterically as a huge, radiant smile spread across my face.

I loved my girls with my whole heart. Being based in Tokyo meant a brutal time difference, so getting to be back in the States with them for two whole months meant we'd finally have real, uninterrupted time together.

With Mars now married to star quarterback Jalen Carter and Nia dating Mars's brother, Cal, our longtime friend, coordinating schedules had become nearly impossible.

"Oh, Pepper, this is amazing news! Congratulations! We are so incredibly proud of you!" Mars beamed, her eyes sparkling with genuine excitement.

"When do you get here?" Nia asked, always the one to get straight to the point.

"I'm flying out tomorrow and should land Saturday morning. That'll give me the weekend to settle in before my first creative meeting on Monday."

"Oh, it's on," Nia declared, an unmistakable mischievous glint flashing across her face. "We're celebrating."

"Celebrating indeed," I replied with an evil little laugh.

"Oh goodness," Mars sighed dramatically, shaking her head at the two of us.

Mars used to be the biggest homebody out of all four of us. Now, thanks to being married to one of the biggest names in professional football, she somehow ended up in the spotlight more than the rest of us combined.

"I'll text you guys my flight information once I land," I said, tossing a curl over my shoulder. "Now...are you bitches picking me up, or do I need to hire a driver?"

"We'll be there," they answered almost perfectly in sync.

"Your mom is going to lose it," Nia said softly. "I know she misses you like crazy."

"I know." My smile softened. "I'm calling her next. Then I'll call you guys tomorrow before I leave. I love you both. I seriously can't wait to see my girls."

After we hung up, I placed my phone on the marble island in my closet and simply stood there, letting the silence settle around me.

We'd been inseparable since we were twelve.

Mars.

Nia.

Stormy.

Me.

The four of us were absolute chaos growing up, constantly finding ourselves in the middle of some ridiculous adventure or harmless trouble. We were loud, fearless, and completely convinced the world revolved around us.

Honestly...it kind of did.

Life had taken us in different directions, but somehow we'd never drifted apart.

Mars found love.

Nia found love.

Stormy was building an incredible event planning empire.

And I'd found myself halfway across the world.

I missed them more than I ever admitted out loud.

Taking a deep breath, I picked my phone back up and dialed my mom.

She answered on the second ring.

The moment I told her about Jolt Noir, she burst into tears.

Happy tears.

Which, naturally, made me cry too.

Leaving Houston years ago to chase a career in Tokyo had been the biggest leap of faith I'd ever taken.

I'd left behind everything familiar for a dream that wasn't guaranteed.

Somehow...

It had worked.

I'd built a name for myself photographing couture collections, runway shows, luxury editorials, and global fashion campaigns. My work had appeared in magazines I'd once dreamed of buying off bookstore shelves.

This industry wasn't for the weak.

But neither was I.

I was built for impossible deadlines, eighteen-hour shoot days, and the relentless pace of Fashion Week.

As I ended the call with my mom, I looked around at the designer gowns hanging neatly throughout my closet before my eyes drifted toward the dozens of cameras lining the custom shelves of my studio.

A quiet truth settled deep in my chest.

Something inside me missed the photographer I used to be.

It wasn't something I admitted to anyone.

Not even Priscilla.

Even with a calendar booked months in advance, I'd still disappear into Tokyo on my days off wearing an oversized hoodie and a baseball cap pulled low over my curls. I'd leave the expensive commercial equipment at home and grab one of my old film cameras instead.

No clients.

No assistants.

No deadlines.

Just me.

I'd wander the city photographing ordinary moments.

An elderly couple sharing an umbrella.

A businessman asleep on the subway.

Rain collecting in the grooves of a crosswalk.

Children chasing pigeons through a park.

No styling.

No art direction.

No expectations.

Just life happening exactly as it was.

Those were the photographs that reminded me why I'd fallen in love with photography in the first place.

High fashion had given me prestige.

But somewhere along the way...

It had stolen a little of my freedom.

I had no idea what waited for me in Houston.

I didn't know the team.

I didn't know the creative director.

I didn't know the athletes I'd be working with.

What I did know was this.

This Jolt Noir campaign was going to be sweaty, unpredictable, and raw. It was exactly the creative reset my soul was begging for.

I couldn't wait.