by Haley Travis
B-Roll to B-List
Older Man, Younger Woman Instalove Romance
By Haley Travis
Copyright 2020 Haley Travis. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted or duplicated in any form whatsoever without express written permission of the author. This book is intended for sale to adults only. This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual people or specific locations or details is completely coincidental, or intended fictitiously. All characters are over 18, no sex partners are related, all sex is consensual. This is fantasy. In the real world, everyone practices safe sex at all times. Right? Right.
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***
Check out the whole series:
A-Hole to A-List , B-Roll to B-List , C-Flat to C-Sharp
CONTENTS
Chapter One ~ Brynn
Chapter Two ~ Owen
Chapter Three ~ Brynn
Chapter Four ~ Owen
Chapter Five ~ Brynn
Chapter Six ~ Owen
Chapter Seven ~ Brynn
Chapter Eight ~ Owen
Chapter Nine ~ Brynn
Chapter Ten ~ Owen
Chapter Eleven ~ Brynn
Chapter Twelve ~ Owen
Chapter Thirteen ~ Brynn
Chapter Fourteen ~ Owen
Epilogue One ~ Brynn
Epilogue Two ~ Owen
Other Stories and About the Author
1
_____
Brynn
Jealousy was something I didn’t honestly think myself capable of. Then I saw the way my friend Jenna’s client stared at her a few weeks ago when he dropped by our lunch to give her a flash drive. The way he was so careful to make sure their fingers brushed as he handed it over had made me shiver.
I’d always dreamed of love but thought it was like winning the lottery. Most people I knew seemed to settle for someone they mostly got along with, and made the best of it.
My mother told me that she had loved my father when they first met, but seeing their bitter divorce when I was nine, I couldn’t quite believe it. Since then, I’d dreamed of finding love that would last, even though it seemed like it would be a lengthy, complicated process.
Dating, getting to know one another over small talk – it honestly felt like an ordeal. Especially since talking to men was difficult for me when it was personal. Opening up to a man felt too intimate. Frightening.
I arrived early enough for lunch with my friends at the Riverview Restaurant that I had time to write in my notebook for a few minutes before the others arrived.
A coffee was slid in front of me, making me jump slightly. “Thanks, Anna.”
She smiled, setting down three menus without even asking. By the time Corina and Jenna had arrived and ordered, I felt like I had my head on straight again.
“So,” Corina began, giving Jenna the side-eye, “Tell us more about this Andrew guy.”
“It’s crazy. We’re officially dating, completely in love, and he’s already talking about me moving in with him.”
My mouth fell open for a second. “You’re kidding.”
“No, not at all. I mean, I’m not moving for a couple of months, at least. I’m not totally crazy.”
“Just crazy in love,” Corina laughed. “I knew it when I saw the way he stared at you. It’s like the way Brynn stares into her coffee – absolute adoration.”
Jenna told us all about the big event that threw them together, and I tried not to feel jealous of my friend. But falling in love so quickly would be incredibly convenient. The thing was, would I be able to trust it?
Jenna seemed to be taking things slow, and was keeping her head on straight. I had to wonder if I’d be able to do the same if I was ever lucky enough to meet someone who replaced the constant tune in my head with a love song.
Nodding in time to the fifties classic on the old jukebox, Corina turned to me. “You haven’t mentioned work lately. How are things over there?”
The three of us all worked at different PR firms and often shared notes and ideas on our projects.
“Pretty good,” I shrugged, taking a sip of coffee. “There is an account for an older company that wants to raise their profile, but they’re so huge, and have so many product lines, it’s like...where do we even start, you know?”
Jenna nodded, staring down at her mug. “Yeah, starting is always the hardest part.”
“If they’re huge, start small,” Corina said thoughtfully, trailing her finger around the edge of her teacup. “Remember in school, Mr. Rasnovksi said to start the mind whirling on the opposite of what seems sensible?”
I laughed. “Yes. The illogical pointing out clearer paths, since we’re already thinking about something outside the box.”
“It can work,” Jenna agreed. “My boss does that sometimes.”
“Thanks,” I said, making a note in my book.
By the time I got back to the office, my mind was swimming with possibilities. Settling at my desk, I re-read the brief on Silversong Records.
They’d been pumping out classic vinyl, cassettes, and CDs for years, and were finally promoting their music online. Although they specialized in music on physical media, they were focused on getting rare music to people any way they could.
They were a bit fanatical about it. Honestly, if someone asked for an album on 8-track, they’d likely find a way.
Setting out a huge sheet of paper across my desk, I started doodling. What was the opposite of a huge music company with thousands of products and millions of albums?
One album.
My pen swirled around the page in circles. Larger, smaller, spirals. Maybe not the entire album, just a song or two.
Then it hit me. Forty-fives. The musical symbol of the fifties, of jukeboxes, of singles. Modern music was now run on singles. It used to be that way, long ago.
Opposite. Smaller.
Forty-fives always featured the hit, but then something similar on the other side—the B-side. The less played but often loved rare songs pulled along for the ride when the hit was released.
The world really didn’t have those anymore. But how would I tell the story to the world, and remind people of these semi-hidden, semi-hits?
“Hey, Brynn.” Emma, our office assistant, stuck her head in the door. “I just sent you an email with the updated resources list.” She leaned in, lowering her voice. “I know that Jonathon really wants to find some extra work for Owen Butler, a Teal Dot videographer, so he’s top of the list.”
“Gotcha. Thanks.”
Our boss Jonathon had a million connections that we couldn’t begin to keep track of. He was often trying to find work for people he knew or friends of friends. Any time we could hire someone from his list, we felt like we were earning points with him. But he really loved it when we used the resources from Teal Dot Media.
The second Emma left, I skimmed the email full of artists, video people, computer animators, and advertising experts. Calling up the Owen Butler portfolio, I saw that he worked freelance for several video production places, mostly shooting b-roll.
Videos and commercials usually started with footage of the host talking about their topic, then the shot would cut away to a clip of the subject matter. If they were talking about the environment, the b-roll might b
e footage of rolling hills, a snowy mountain, or a rushing river. It was filler material, almost like stock footage, but it also set the tone of the whole video.
Owen had an engaging visual style. It was very clean, but his angle choices were just a bit more dramatic. The more I watched his samples, the more I thought he’d be better suited to documentary filmmaking.
A documentary.
Instead of an ad for Silversong Records, we could do a short documentary series about music history, showing that music changes, but it will always be a part of our lives. A feel-good, wholesome, fascinating look into the intricacies of music media.
We could start with the b-side. Shining a light on the lost little brother of the hit song craze of the fifties.
Opening a new document, my fingers flew over the keyboard as I downloaded every idea and thought that crowded my mind. By the end of the day, I had a concrete proposal and outline. Sending it to Jonathon with a recommendation that we use his contact Owen Butler to shoot it, I snapped my laptop shut.
I hadn’t been at ClickPoint PR for very long, but Jonathon seemed to read all proposals and suggestions with a very open mind. He wanted the freshest ideas, and didn’t care where they came from.
Grabbing my purse, I began to stand up, then stopped. Opening the laptop again, I searched for Owen Butler. On the off chance that my idea was approved, it might be given to one of the senior people or a video production house to create the project. But since I’d likely be meeting with this guy, I should know more about him.
His profile image on his website was a caricature, but even that was pretty good looking. Finally I found a real photo on his profile on a job hunting site.
Instantly I wished that I could recall that email. There was no way I could work with a guy that looked like a cocky model. Those chiseled cheekbones and dark eyes were totally hypnotic. He was both masculine and polished, with a scruff of beard that made me need to run my hand across his cheek to test how rough it was.
He was also in his late thirties, I’d guess, so he’d never be genuinely interested in a girl like me.
For the first time ever, I crossed my fingers and hoped that Jonathon didn’t like my proposal, or at least suggested someone else to shoot it. The perfectionist in me couldn’t stand the thought of being distracted through this project. The idea of being in a room with a man like Owen was just too much.
2
_____
Owen
I hadn’t been up this early in months, and the morning light on my face felt energizing. After shooting background and b-roll footage for several companies for a while, getting Jonathon’s proposal last night was a great relief.
It figures that after sending out endless pitches, something would sneak in when I wasn’t expecting it. My entire life had been a series of mistakes and weird luck, so nothing could really surprise me anymore.
Striding into ClickPoint PR, I was escorted directly into a small boardroom. Half a minute later, I was utterly blindsided.
A petite, curvy, auburn-haired goddess walked into the room with two coffee cups in her hands. “Good morning,” she said softly, her voice as delicate as the rest of her. She seemed a bit hesitant, as I jumped up to shake her hand as soon as she’d set the mugs on the glass table.
“Good morning,” I replied. “I’m Owen.”
“I’m Brynn. How do you take your coffee?”
“Black, thanks.” I sat down, and was pleased that she sat beside me. Then it clicked. “You’re the one who had the idea to do a documentary on forty-fives.”
“Yes.”
Her soft smile was absolutely adorable, but she was looking at me very oddly. She was clearly in her early twenties, and seemed like the quiet, thoughtful type. Perhaps she was nervous around strange men, or new coworkers. Or maybe I should stop staring at her like I wanted to devour her.
Jonathon came striding into the room, nearly shaking my hand clean off. “Owen,” he chuckled, plunking himself in the chair on my other side, “Great to see you again.”
His hair was graying a bit more at the temples and thinning above his forehead, but he still reminded me a bit of my father in his younger days. They were old university friends, and stayed in close touch for years. Then my dad became unwell, retiring to a home in Florida where he could shuffle along the beach under close supervision, not needing to know what year it was anymore.
Luckily, Jonathon still hired people from Teal Dot as often as possible. Partly out of respect for my dad, and my brother Joe who took over his media company.
“Great to see you, too. Your agency seems to be doing well.”
“We are,” he said, nodding to Brynn, “Because we keep hiring ferocious little go-getters like this one.”
The soft flush across her cheeks from the praise made my hand twitch, wanting to reach out and hold hers. I’d never been so instantly attracted to a woman in my life.
“Here’s the deal,” Jonathon said, turning to face the two of us. “Silversong Records is a dinosaur. They’re old-fashioned, and they like it that way. They’re not growing, but they want to maintain a steady income flow. I think Brynn’s idea to do a series of short documentaries about the history of music, and the record manufacturing process, is brilliant.”
I turned to flash her a huge grin. “I think it’s a great idea, too.”
She nodded, murmuring, “Thanks.”
“The budget is tiny,” Jonathon continued, “but the client loves the idea. Since Brynn knows the account, and happens to be an old music buff, she’ll do the research, organize the content, and write the script. Owen, you’ll work with her to figure out what needs to be shot, and how to do everything as cheaply as reasonably possible.”
His fingers drummed on the table as he smiled to himself. “This was my first client many years ago, so I don’t need to make a fortune on them anymore. This project is more about...”
“Nostalgia,” Brynn said softly. “That’s why people buy old records. They’re channeling their first music purchases, like you’re channeling the excitement of your first client.”
Jonathon snapped his head around, turning to me. “Sharp as a tack, this one. She’s in total control of the project. Once you have the first one done, you can plan a series. Monica and Alice are already double-checking our database of oldies radio stations, blogs, and contacts – anyone who might share this little movie through their channels.”
“Will it just be online?” I asked.
He grinned. “Mostly, but I know some people at a couple of film festivals that are always looking for interesting shorts.”
Jonathon stood up, shaking my hand again. “Email me if you need to, but Brynn should be able to answer all of your questions. She’s officially in charge.”
He left, closing the door behind him. Sipping my coffee, I looked around the cream and brown room, before my gaze fell back to Brynn. She definitely looked nervous.
“Well, thanks for the gig,” I smiled. “This sounds like more fun than work. You’re into old music?”
“Yes.” Her eyes seemed to dart around looking for something to stare at besides me. “I’ve always thought that fifties and sixties music had more soul. People had to fight a lot more to get a record made back then.”
“When records were all people had,” I said.
“And radio,” she said quickly.
“True, but they were only playing records, weren’t they?”
She nodded, her soft auburn hair waving slightly around her face. “Good point. The only other place to hear music was dance halls, really.”
I took another sip of coffee, not able to tear my eyes from her. Not only was she beautiful, she was ridiculously cute. “Is that where the project should start? How the people got their music, how vinyl records changed the world?”
“Good idea,” she said. “I’m sorry – I forgot my notebook. Let me run to my desk.”
“Wait.” I didn’t want to get to know her in this corporate environment. I’d never
been comfortable in offices and wanted to really be myself around Brynn to see if we clicked. “Is there somewhere else we could go to work? Anywhere interesting?”
Her bright blue eyes lit up. “Yes. And it’s perfect for both research and brunch.”
I would follow this gorgeous woman anywhere, but especially to a place that made her grin like that. “Let’s go.”
3
_____
Brynn
When we walked into Riverview Restaurant, Owen smiled widely, those big brown eyes making something inside me melt. “Brynn, this is perfect.”
I headed to my usual large booth, but he steered us to the much smaller booth in the corner. “We can watch the door and the jukebox from here,” he said, sliding in close beside me.
