why you hired her.”
“One of my colleagues made the hiring decision. All I did was give Chelsea the application and take her back to his office. What was I supposed to do, tell her she couldn’t apply because she was your sister? That wouldn’t be fair.”
“Agreed, but you also offered the use of your guesthouse.”
“True, and I’d let her stay for free, but she insists on paying rent. I did it because we knew each other as kids and...” Nicole stopped. Perhaps she shouldn’t offer an opinion about Chelsea as an unhappy kid and the impression that she could use some support now.
“And?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Maybe it does.”
“Let’s just say it looks as if she’s had a rough time lately and I wanted to help out. But remember that I’m not obligated to tell you everything I think, even during the interviews for PostModern.”
“I don’t expect you to. By the way, can we start them today, instead of waiting until Monday?”
Nicole’s nerves instinctively tightened. Since the interviews hadn’t “officially” begun, anything she’d said to date should be off the record. But that was a technicality. He might not respect boundaries, so she may as well agree. And the sooner the interviews were over, the better.
She really would have to think about writing something for the blog the agency was starting. Jordan probably wouldn’t like it, but since he thought it was hypocritical for her to want privacy, she could argue the same about him. After all, he was a prominent newspaper columnist, making his living on being in the public eye.
Except...what she wrote shouldn’t be about turning the tables on Jordan. She’d have to think it over.
“How about it?” he prompted.
“Okay, we can begin the process right away, but at the moment I’m going to start my run.”
He fell in at her side as she set off down the trail. Though she would have preferred running alone, she didn’t object. They ran for an hour and he insisted on running the half mile from the park to her house. She noted that his breathing was strong, not heavy, despite their swift pace.
“What are you doing today?” Jordan asked. “Chelsea told me she’s starting at the agency this morning. Will you be showing her the ropes?”
“For a few hours, but I think it’s best if you aren’t there. It would be easier on her. This afternoon I’m attending a high school play and I’ll go again tonight to see their performance for the general public.”
“Why both?”
“To double-check my impressions.” Nicole took off the sweatband she’d put around her forehead. Taking a key from her pocket, she unlocked the door. “The audience also makes a difference, influencing the actors’ energy. The earlier performance is for their peers.”
“Then you’re going to recruit clients.”
“I want to be proactive. Stacks of inquiries come into the agency, but sometimes the most talented folks may not know it. Besides, most of the portfolios we’ve received are for models, and we’re also looking for performers.”
“Is it okay for me to attend with you?”
Nicole hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll clear it with the school. Just don’t tell anyone why I’m there. The principal knows, but I don’t want the kids getting hyper because an agent is present, and I’d rather not give them false hope.”
“That’s reasonable. What time?”
“Meet me here at twelve thirty. Also, please don’t mention the name of the school or any of the students in your article.”
“I understand.” He started walking toward the park.
As a kid Jordan had been athletic, and despite his military haircut and gangly physique, quite appealing to teenage girls. His features were still clean and defined, but no longer angular. And his body? She let out a breath, annoyed that she kept getting distracted by Jordan’s physical attributes. After all, she’d worked with equally handsome guys since they’d moved her from a child category into shoots for teen products.
As Nicole went upstairs and showered, she mused that she’d basically worked her entire life, yet Jordan seemed to think she didn’t have any right to a normal existence.
It was true that she’d entered adulthood with sizeable investments, which had only increased through the years. She was skilled at handling her funds, which meant she was quite comfortable. But money didn’t solve all problems. Being in the public eye all the time was tougher than people thought.
Her so-called fame had been the problem when she and Vince had started dating. He’d been her first serious love and was the only guy she’d gone out with who hadn’t expected her to be a polished supermodel all the time. But after a while he hadn’t been able to take the notoriety and had broken off the relationship. Her heartbreak had become fodder for the media, including months of speculation that she was pregnant...even long after it would have been obvious that she was not.
Nicole stepped out of the shower and went into her bedroom. It was nicely furnished, her money allowing her to decorate exactly the way she wanted. Yet she had no one to share it with, something she seriously doubted would change anytime soon.
She stared at a painting on the wall and wondered how many people would trade her modeling success for love. Her stellar career was partly luck...luck to be born with what the world called beauty, and luck in having parents who’d known exactly how to market her appearance. She’d also had talent, worked hard and tried to act professionally, but she knew luck was always a factor. That was true of Moonlight Ventures as well, but it still needed her hard work and judgment.
Was that something she could explain to Jordan for the articles, or would he just see it as trite and clichéd?
What if it actually was trite and clichéd?
* * *
BY THE TIME Jordan got back to the park, where he’d left his car, he was still thinking about his sister working for Moonlight Ventures. His instincts told him Nicole wasn’t out to hurt Chelsea, despite the past problems between their families, but he couldn’t help being concerned.
It was impressive how rational Nicole seemed to be about criticism and the probability that some people disliked her.
He winced, recalling what she’d said about his mother’s social media campaign against the Georges. How could Mom have behaved that way, when she was the one who’d thrown herself at Nicole’s father? Wounded pride at being rejected? Or maybe it was just the insanity of spending so many years in a destructive marriage and resenting one that wasn’t.
He’d been an unwilling, unknown witness to his mother’s folly and had never told anyone what he’d seen. What he hadn’t known was whether Nicole had learned about the incident from her parents.
Apparently not.
Jordan stuck his head under a spigot at the park picnic area and washed the sweat from his face.
