The small speaker in the booth answered. “Take four.”
Finally, Sarah got what she needed. “There’s this hint of young African American in your voice—edgy and cute.”
I plopped down beside my art director in the edit bay. “Are my eyes puffy?” I tilted my chin so she could get a better look at the swelling.
“Semi-puffy. Really not fair, Gracie. Your eyes get that sexy almond-shape when they’re swollen.” She shook her head and returned to the edit. “Divulge your secret and I’ll cut you in on the magic eye cream we’re going to develop and market together.”
“Green tea bags pressed to my eye lids for five minutes this morning.” I stared at her. “I guess it worked in a semi-puffy way.”
“Drink this.” She passed over a large bottle of Fiji water. “You need to re-hydrate.”
Sarah’s fingers flew over the controls syncing my recorded words to moving images. “Seriously, did you cry all night?”
“On and off.” I sighed glumly. “Sorry I kept you up past three.” Unable to sleep, I had called Sarah in the middle of the night and spilled the whole sordid tale.
I nudged her shoulder. “Thanks.”
“You’ve been there for me plenty of times.”
We’d grown close this past year, and the realization made me smile.
Sarah glanced over. “What?”
I hugged her. “Just thinking about how lucky I am to have such an amazingly talented creative partner who is also my friend.”
“Back at you, doll.” Sarah switched video files to work on our other spot. She paused the playback and shortened a camera move down my leg.
I squinted at the freeze frame on the monitor. “My legs are gangly.”
“Shut up. Your legs are to die for—watch.”
Sarah cued Sunday Afternoon, the one with Bradley in all of his casual hotness, and me in my short-shorts. The spot opened on a masculine hand turning shower controls. Sarah dialed up the shower spray sound effects. Quick cuts of a great chest and abs, and long athletic thighs. It was hard to tell what manly part was Bradley and which was the Emporio Armani model.
The spot was a melange of existing footage ripped from older agency spots, intercut with the new material shot at my apartment.
Sarah had cleverly blended the two, dialing out the color to black and white and adjusting the contrast.
The spot cut to a close-up of Héros shower gel on white tiles. Water droplets sprayed the product, along with a gorgeous shot of sudsy foam running from chest—to hip—to buttock cheek.
Sarah stopped the video. “Hot enough opening?”
I sighed out loud. “Wet, clean and sexy, just like the body wash.”
She hit play and the scene shifted to my bedroom.
Sarah’s camera work captured something so startling and sensuous I caught my breath. I had always loved the morning light in my room, but these scenes were more than beautiful. They were arousing.
Sound design enhanced the spot’s intimacy. The sports channel turned down low on the TV. My fingers tapping on the keyboard of my laptop. The snap and crinkle of the Sunday Times, as Bradley turned the page. Beautiful, flirty eyes peered over the top of his newspaper.
BRADLEY’S POV: A slow camera move down my thigh.
The on-screen chemistry between Bradley and I triggered a ripple of tingles. Made me think about all the fierce sex and mind-blowing orgasms.
CLOSE-UP GRACIE’S EYES. My gaze slides over to the hot man in bed. His hand absently rubs his abs. Sarah had used one of my sneaky-cam shots. I could actually feel my attraction through the camera lens. “Great use of the amateur swish pan.”
Sarah grinned. “Wait.“
CUT TO BRADLEY’S EYES: Major steamy eye contact from Bradley, like he can’t decide whether to paddle me or fuck me.
I suddenly understood what Sarah had been talking about these past weeks. The raw attraction between Bradley and I vibrated through every monitor pixel.
FADE TO WHITE.
SUPER TAGLINE: Clean______. More______. You fill in the blanks.
A TV censor “bleep” punctuated each of the blank lines.
It was unexpected, edgy, and funny.
Sarah had done something brilliant. She had created a mnemonic sound device for Héros, as simple and memorable as the Intel Theme or Close Encounters ringtones.
When it was over I stared at my art director. The spot was a beautiful dance of swoon worthy glances and sensuous gestures, all played out on a gorgeous, messy bed. My mega talented art director had edited together something that went well beyond sexy. “That was foreplay, Sarah.”
“Think it will pass the erection test?” She referenced Axel’s zero to ten boner scale.
I nodded, even as I worried. “Okay, I might think it’s amazing because it’s Bradley and me, but have you shown the rough cut to anyone else?”
Sarah nodded. “Guys get hard and women get squirmy.”
The sexy-intimate moments in the spot had produced a sudden longing for Bradley, along with the usual tingling of girl parts.
Somehow, I was going to have to figure out a way to work with the man nine to five. Ignore his crystal blue gaze, turn away from that seductive grin. And never, ever think about those muscular arms that held me down as he slowly entered me.
I shuddered, unexpectedly.
Our internal dog and pony show was set for noon in DEFCON 5. Pizza from Anthony Marinello would be served before, during and after creative presentations.
Sarah and I had two concept spots to show, along with a number of street images and hashtags designed for social media. Whether any of them had a chance to go viral, we couldn’t know without testing.
That’s where Bradley came in.
Our Everyday Héros backup spot needed music. “Something minimal but heroic. Maybe an Enya-like haunting vocal?” I mused aloud.
“Hans Zimmer unplugged,” Sarah snorted.
“Don’t laugh at me, I’m feeling vulnerable.”
“Sorry. It’s just that you picked a great time to have a fight with your boyfriend who just so happens to have his hot body parts all over our best creative and he doesn’t even know it yet.” Her glare penetrated. “Call him again.”
I reached over the control panel for the phone. “Hey Peter, is Bradley back yet?”
“He should be here anytime.”
“It’s major important he gets here pronto. We’re in edit bay two.”
“Want me to pull him out of his meeting?”
“Maybe you should.” I hung up the phone. A mass of butterflies fluttered in my stomach.
Sarah pointed to a track on one of her playlists. Look to the Stars from Man of Steel. She synced part of the track to picture and it worked.
“Sexy with gravitas.” I sat back, relieved. “Plays well against the every day humor.”
“You need me to see something?” Bradley stood in the edit bay door, his demeanor all business and yet vulnerable.
My heart did a little flip-flop in my chest. We hadn’t talked or texted since our argument last night. His angry words flooded my brain. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be with me anymore.
I steeled myself and pointed to an extra chair. “Maybe you should sit down.”
He closed the door and sat between us. Everything seemed…not normal.
I swallowed. “You’ve seen me taking little snapshots around the flat.”
Bradley nodded.
“I had this idea for Héros. I wasn’t sure it would work, but Sarah loved the idea of the spot and she ripped some extra footage, we also shot a few new things and…” I hesitated, not knowing exactly how to put it.
Bradley read my face. “It worked.”
“It more than works.”
Sarah grinned. “It’s really good.”
He frowned. “And you want to use these shots of me in the spot?”
“You can’t storyboard something like this and do it justice.” Sarah insisted.
“This is not for a
ir—internal presentation only.” I reminded him.
His gaze moved to Sarah. “Let’s see it.”
She hit the play button, and when it was over, he asked to see it again.
He kept his eyes on the monitor, and his expression unreadable. We waited an eternity of seconds.
Finally, he made eye contact. “You look beautiful.”
“As do you.”
He glared. “I look naked.”
Sarah jumped in. “Those aren’t all your body parts. The suds running down your hip and ass cheek is footage ripped from an Emporio Armani spot that never aired in the U.S.”
“That’s not my ass hanging out there?”
“Cool, huh? Your ass looks just like an Armani model’s ass…” Her saucy grin faded when his gaze narrowed.
“Have you got a backup?”
My heart sank. “You hate it.”
“I don’t hate it. It’s fresh—spot on the demographics—we’ll barely be able to track all the postgame replays it will get. The fill-in-the-blanks tagline is fucking brilliant.”
Sarah beamed. “Then?”
His exhaled. “Let’s see your back up.”
Sarah hit the play button.
The V.O. I’d recorded earlier came up over a montage of images.
“My hero rides into battle every day…” The scene showed our hero getting jostled as he exits a commuter train. “…flies through the sky…” A gorgeous thirty-something guy leaps into the air and slam dunks a garbage bag into a recycling bin. “He’s faster than a speeding bullet…” Attractive hero-dad arrives in time for his daughter’s soccer match.
The spot skillfully transitioned from the every day hero to sexy bedmate with a series of close-ups. An attractive male model steps into the shower. Glimpses of body wash. A flash of muscular thigh and torso. A shower door opens. Feminine hands wrap around a strong back. Our hero moves out from under the shower head and glances back.
CLOSE-UP OF HERO: Drop-dead sexy look. Shower steam fills the frame.
V.O. ASKS THE QUESTION: “How would you describe your hero?”
Bradley leaned back in his chair. “Clever, but honest, aspirational with sex appeal. Won’t get as much postgame exposure, but has interactive media potential.”
Sarah nodded. “The whole describe your hero thing.”
He rose to leave. “What do you call the first spot?
“Sunday Afternoon,” I answered.
“A page right out of my life.” He moved to the door. “I’ll need a few minutes to think about this—outside the Gracie-Sarah sphere of influence.”
I checked the time. “That’s cutting it pretty close.”
“You should have brought me in earlier.” He closed the door behind him.
Bradley’s ten minutes came and went. Then twenty.
“He’s making us sweat.” I sighed.
“You need to find him, Gracie. We need a go or no go.”
I fumed all the way to his office. Peter appeared to be on his lunch break, but the boss’s door was open. In the middle of a phone conversation, Bradley held up a finger.
Annoyed and angry, I gestured thumbs up or down.
He covered his phone. “Give me a minute.”
Finally, he ended his call.
“Well?”
“Sexy-smart. Honest. No hyperbole. You nailed it, Gracie.”
His praise eased some of the tension between us. “Sarah did an amazing job. I wasn’t sure until I saw the scenes cut together.”
Bradley nodded, his energy felt distant, guarded, and I hated the way it made me feel. Hollow inside. And guilty.
He leaned back in his ergonomic desk chair. “The spot is so intimate, I’m not sure we should share it.”
A tsunami of heat swept over my cheeks. “It’s supposed to be a visual love letter.”
”Perhaps more lust than love.” His gaze roamed up and down my charcoal gray leggings and tall boots.
“This is punishment for yesterday.” I turned away and wobbled. His fierce ogle had made my knees weak.
“Where are you going?”
I spun around. “Yes or no, Bradley?”
His angry stare matched mine. “If you can stand it, I can.”
None of us, not Bradley nor Sarah or I expected the kind of reaction Sunday Afternoon received. Axel gave it a 10.5 on the erection scale.
“As you all know, we often use ourselves, in lieu of talent, for internal creative presentations.” I had warned everyone in advance to expect some skin—most of it ripped from an old Emporio Armani spot.
And major creds to Bradley. He hung in there, even when every woman in the room gasped during the shower scene.
Derek and Mark’s most intriguing contribution was a series of Reality TV spots. Man on the street interviews, that featured a wacky portable shower and a How Sexy is this Guy? sniff test.
“Why couldn’t our Sunday Afternoon couple be one of those interviews?” Axel folded a wedge of pizza. “Blur the line between fantasy and reality.”
Derek sparked to the idea. “Gracie and I were talking about the possibility of doing tailgate interviews from the Super Bowl parking lot. Live feed to the Jumbotron inside the stadium.”
One idea spun into another until everything fit together. One of the live tailgate spots would feature the “sexy couple” and run pregame. Sunday Afternoon would air in the second quarter.
Axel paced the room. “We can roll the shower and the sniff test out at events across the country. “
“Slug Queen Festival, Roswell UFO Festival,” Mark jibbed, before turning serious. “Lollapalooza, Coachella Valley.”
Bradley leaned against a wall, hands in his pockets. “Insight is researching rock tour sponsorships. We can have event planners look into festivals as well.”
When Jared from Media, took a call on the live feed idea, we all held our breath. “We want to know if we can live feed a few tailgate party spots to the big screen in the stadium. We’re looking at pregame.” He ended the call. “They’ll get back to us by the end of the day.”
Discussion moved to social media. “Hashtag fill in the blanks.” I mused aloud.
“Hashtag Héros Shower Scene—Outtakes too hot to air.” Sarah offered. When everyone stared, including Bradley, she grinned. “Maybe there’s an unauthorized version on YouTube?”
“I can already hear the thunderclap on Twitter.” Axel rubbed his hands together.
With a mountain of work ahead of us, the meeting began to break up. Axel asked Bradley and I to stay behind.
Derek dipped in close on his way out the door. “You’re so fucking good, Taylor-Scott.”
“The portable shower is brilliant.” I smiled. “I’m glad we get to work together.”
Once we were alone, Axel chewed on a breadstick. “The client is going to want to use you two in the spot.”
I shook my head. “I’m pretty sure they’re not going to cast a mixed race couple.”
“And what if they do?” Axel folded his arms over his chest.
I expected a grimace from Bradley. Instead, he looked thoughtful. “Gallop’s latest poll shows an eighty-seven percent approval rating of black-white marriage.”
My eyes nearly popped out of my head. “I figured you of all people would want to cast this spot with actors.”
“That’s just it.” Axel’s gaze swept between us. “They’re actors. You two are fucking primal. How are we going to cast that?”
“I’ll do the tailgate party spot for presentation. But if we win this business we’re casting…” I retreated from the room, “…actors.”
Sarah and I spent the afternoon with Derek and Mark brainstorming ideas for the tailgate party spots. We were going into the pitch of our lives with one idea executed on a huge multi-level scale—from the edgy sexy Sunday Afternoon to the fresh outrageous humor of the tailgate party interviews.
By late in the evening, everything began to fall into place. Corey Allen, an acquaintance of Mark’s and a talented imp
rov actor, would conduct the tailgate party interviews. He even dropped by the agency for a quick preproduction meeting.
We settled on the product scent test for Bradley and I and saved the portable shower sniff test for a character actor.
“I’ve got just the guy,“ Corey enthused. “An old Groundling Theater buddy. Balding. Does a great nebbishy single guy. We cast a line-up of fabulous babes—fucking hilarious.”
While Corey dialed his friend’s number, Sarah went over the schedule. “We’ve secured a location. A parking lot two blocks from here. The rush permits are costing a fortune, but we’ll have them by tomorrow. That gives us two days to cast, prop and dress the set. We shoot Friday.”
I pictured Derek and Sarah working all weekend to get everything ready for the client presentation. I shook my head. “I’m flying out of here Thursday evening.”
They all stared at me.
“Mother’s premiere—the Tarantino film?”
“Quentin Tarantino?” Corey asked.
“My mother has a supporting role in his new film,” I explained. “It’s her big comeback. I kinda have to be there.”
Sarah didn’t seem worried. “We’ve got the location for three days. We dress and prop tomorrow afternoon—you can help, Gracie. We shoot Thursday, anyone have a problem with that?”
“Thursday is actually better for me, we can shoot a long day.” Corey offered.
“We keep the camera angles tight.” Mark thought out loud. “A couple of cars and pickup trucks, some out of focus extras. Add a barbecue grill, a few coolers—rig the shower and we’re good to go.”
Sarah rolled her eyes.
Corey smiled at her. “Seriously, how hard can it be to dress a parking lot?”
Derek looked up from a stack of head sheets. “No worries, Gracie. We’ll shoot you and Bradley first.”
THIRTY-TWO
“YOU’RE MAKING A TV commercial tomorrow?”
I nodded absently, completely not present for Hannah, who was actually making an effort to be conversational.
Noodles on 19th just wasn’t the same without him.
Hannah eyed me suspiciously as she suctioned up a noodle. “Are you and Bradley going to break up?”
The Do It List (The Do It List #1) Page 28
