Chapter 13 #2
"Dammit. You look good even when you don't try," he muttered, his voice thick with sleep haze as he extended a travel cup.
"Thank you," I said, a smirk playing on my lips as I grabbed the hot mug.
We sprinted out the front door. The blaring Texas sun hit me straight in the eyes, threatening to trigger my headache, so I quickly slid my oversized designer shades from my clutch.
Aaron walked behind at a brisk, protective pace, opening the passenger door of his truck. I slid inside, marveling at how thoughtful he was even when our morning was actively burning down around us.
He slammed my door, jogged to his side, and slid behind the wheel, tearing out of the driveway toward Jolt Headquarters.
"Dammit!" he muttered violently under his breath, his knuckles turning white against the steering wheel.
"What's wrong?" I asked, turning in my seat to look at his tense profile.
"I forgot my tablet," he growled, staring straight at the highway traffic. "My layout notes. My digital storyboards. Everything is synced to that device. I have nothing."
I could see the panic rolling off him. For a man like Aaron Fields, being stripped of control and structure was the worst feeling in the world.
I reached across the center console, wrapping my fingers firmly around his bicep.
"Don't worry," I said, injecting every ounce of confidence I possessed. "We have us. We don't need a tablet, Aaron. We are the pitch. We got this."
He took a deep breath, his jaw unlocking a fraction of an inch as he shot me a grateful, intense look.
We pulled into Jolt HQ right on time, our tires practically screeching in the executive garage. Out of pure habit, I slung my heavy camera body over my shoulder, and we sprinted through the revolving glass doors.
Flashing our temporary security badges, we pushed past the morning crowd and stepped into the express elevator. The ride to the top floor was dead silent, the air thick with high-stakes tension.
The doors dinged open. I stepped out first, my heels clicking sharply against the polished concrete as Aaron walked smoothly and tall alongside me.
We pushed open the glass doors of the boardroom, and the reality of the multi-billion-dollar corporate beast slapped us in the face.
Elena rose from her seat, greeting us brightly.
"Good morning, you two! Right on time."
Sitting around the massive marble conference table were three other high-level executives—members of Jolt's global marketing board, looking formidable in expensive corporate suits. I could feel Aaron's anxiety spiking next to me, his posture rigid as we took our seats.
Elena wasted no time.
"Let's dive right into creative alignment.
Aaron, Pepper, the board has reviewed your individual background portfolios, and we are excited.
But before we authorize the multi-million-dollar budget allocation for location scouting and locking in our tier-one athletes, we need to understand your unified creative trajectory. "
One of the older board members, an intimidating man with sharp silver hair and a piercing gaze, leaned forward, resting his elbows on the marble.
"The initial brief called for a highly stylized, high-contrast studio setting to control the lighting of the luxury fabrics.
But your preliminary notes indicate a desire to shift to a natural, outdoor environment.
Why? Explain to us why a raw public park or a downtown street setting makes fiscal sense for a premium luxury launch over a controlled, sterile sports pitch. "
The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.
Beside me, Aaron froze, his fingers tensing against the wood. Without his digital tablet or color-coded binders to rely on, his structured brain was scrambling to build an explanation from scratch.
I froze too, my heart hammering against my ribs as the silence stretched a beat too long.
We were losing them; I could see the subtle, skeptical shifts in the executives' expressions.
Thinking quick on my feet, I decided to throw the corporate rule book out the window.
"Elena, if you'll indulge us for a moment," I spoke up, my voice clear and dripping with authority. I stood up from my leather chair, slipping my camera strap off my shoulder.
"May I borrow one of your corporate laptops for a brief second?"
Aaron's dark eyes widened to the size of saucers. He had no clue where I was going with this, his chest rising and falling as he watched me.
Elena blinked, surprised, but nodded.
"Of course. Go ahead, Pepper."
I strode over to the main tech console at the head of the table, turning my back to the board. With steady fingers, I unlatched the side port of my camera, popped out the high-speed memory card, and slid it directly into the laptop's reader.
My mind raced as I navigated the digital files, bypassing a thousand runway shots until I found the raw data from the last forty-eight hours. I hit the master display button, syncing the screen directly to the massive interactive smart-wall at the front of the room.