Mr. Fixer Upper

by Lucy Score

  Mariel took a shuddering breath. “But Mr. Russe didn’t judge. He just handed me a business card and said he had a hot meal waiting for us.”

  Understanding the rhythm of storytelling, Paige prodded gently. “How long did it take before you went to the soup kitchen?”

  Mariel smiled. “I had to make sure he was on the up and up, you see. So I used one of the library’s computers to look him up. We left for the kitchen thirty minutes later. And when my kids were having cookies for dessert, Mr. Russe brought Mrs. Russe out to introduce us to her. And my kids were never hungry again.”

  Paige led Mariel through questions about the soup kitchen and the job center. The Russes helped Mariel find a better paying job, got her enrolled in online college courses, and gave her money to help furnish her first apartment.

  “I paid them back, every dime, and started making contributions to their endeavors,” Mariel said with pride. “It wasn’t much at first, but I’m a vice president at a bank now. My two oldest are in college, and I fund a scholarship for teens who have been homeless.”

  Paige smiled and wrapped up the interview. “That’s perfect, Mariel. I’m so happy for you and your family, and I know the Russes are really going to appreciate you being here and sharing your story.”

  “Do you know that no one I work with knows my story?” Mariel cocked her head to the side. “I used to be embarrassed about my past, but now? Now it feels like something I can be proud of. I fought my way out of poverty, and now look at me.”

  “Now look at you,” Paige echoed. “You should be incredibly proud of yourself.” She reached out and squeezed Mariel’s hand. “One last question. You’ve been a big supporter of the soup kitchen and the job center. You’ve already given back to the Russes. Why are you here tonight?”

  Mariel straightened her shoulders, a single tear escaping her eye. “My family owes all that we have and all that we are to Mr. and Mrs. Russe. None of us will ever forget that. And so I am proud to give back to them in any way I can for the rest of my life.”

  “I think that’s the perfect sentiment to end on,” Paige said, clearing her throat. She nodded at Rico who gave her a wink and started tearing down.

  “Thank you so much for being willing to talk to us and for volunteering.” Paige offered Mariel her hand but the woman reached in and hugged her instead.

  “Thank you for doing this for them. I can’t think of anyone who deserves something beautiful more than those two.”

  Paige packed up her headset and gave herself a few minutes in the shadow of the craft services tent to swipe at her damp eyes. It was real people like Mariel and the Russes that made the rest of her job worthwhile. She may be dabbling in “drivel” as her mother liked to remind her, but she was also telling the stories of the brave, vulnerable, and triumphant.

  “Didn’t know you were human, princess.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Gannon’s rasp of a voice came from behind her, startling her. She took her time turning around, not wanting to give him any glimpse of weakness or humanity.

  He was much closer than she realized when she came face to chest with him. She stuck out her chin and forced a cool expression. “What are you still doing here? Shooting wrapped hours ago.”

  He reached out and swiped a tear off her cheek. Her skin burned where his thumb touched her.

  “It’s allergies,” she shrugged.

  “Whatever you say,” he told her amicably. “I’m here because I had to fix a hole in the tent, and I’m waiting for you. I wanted to talk to you—calmly and politely—about tomorrow’s call sheet.”

  “I can’t tell if you’re being a smart ass or not.”

  He crossed his massive arms in front of his chest. His stance was wide, powerful. “You may have had a point earlier,” he admitted, looking down at the toes of his boots. “A small one. Miniscule really.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Why, Gannon King, I didn’t know you were capable of listening.”

  “Let’s not get carried away here. I have a potential solution for my… concern about the main bath.”

  “I’m all ears,” she sighed, not seeing a way out of listening to him try to mess with her schedule.

  “We always shoot the bathroom because it’s big drama, lots of smashing and glass, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Why don’t we mix it up? Let’s give Clawson a GoPro or two and let them demo the bath tonight. We get the footage just in case anything ratings-worthy happens and tomorrow, to make up for not smashing my thirteenth mirror on camera, I’ll run through the back wall when we demo it to start the addition.”

  She laughed. She couldn’t help it. “You’re willingly going to run through a wall on camera?”

  “Between the studs. I was thinking about challenging Cat to see who can smash through it better. But don’t pass that on to Andy. He’ll just tattle to the insurance company. If we let Clawson do the demo tonight, we’re going to be at least an hour ahead of schedule, and we’re going to need it if we’re doing the addition. Cat and I will make up for the drama in some way tomorrow.”

  It made sense, and if Paige were completely honest, she was pretty bored with watching the Kings cart old toilets around the set. The bit had run its course.

  “Okay.” She glanced down at her watch. It was only nine. She could talk to Clawson’s crew and make the change to the call sheet. “If it will put us ahead of schedule and you promise to deliver something the audience will love, I’m all for it.”

  “Deal.” He offered her his hand, and she hesitated for a second. His grin teased her. “I don’t bite… hard.”

  Reluctantly she took his hand and shook. It was just exhaustion that had the zing of physical contact running up her arm, she told herself.

  “You look beat, princess. Why don’t you head back and get some sleep?”

  Paige pulled her hand out of his grasp and rolled her shoulders. “I’ve got a call sheet to update and a trailer of supplies to unload.” She nodded to the street where a box truck idled.

  Gannon looked around. “Where the hell is everybody? You’re not unloading a truck yourself.”

  Paige quelled the urge to roll her eyes. “We don’t like to pull the crew off of the job to unload,” she explained. “So me and a handful of nice, muscly volunteers take care of whatever we can to keep things moving. You’ve seriously never wondered why your bathroom tile and hardwood boxes are always waiting inside every morning?”

  Gannon looked over his shoulder at the truck and frowned.

  “You ready, Beast Mode?” Flynn, a member of Gannon’s crew and Gannon’s best friend, held up his hand for a high five on the fly.

  “Let’s do it, Muscles,” Paige winked, slapping his palm. She turned back to Gannon. “Thanks for talking to me like a person and not a ‘network kiss-ass.’ Now get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”

  She left him, mouth open and staring after her, as she and Flynn stalked toward the waiting truck. They waved over a handful of volunteers who were bravely determined to stick out the night. She mentally juggled the call sheet as she hefted a box of ceramic tile. She had to run Gannon’s plan past Andy before she talked to Clawson but didn’t foresee any issues there. They were always looking for ways to get a little ahead on the schedule.

  She turned on the ramp and nearly ran smack into Gannon. He pulled the box out of her grip. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “We’re all on the same team, remember? Now be a good girl and put another box on top.”

  The volunteers worked even faster with Gannon hefting boxes of tile like they were reams of paper and unloading bulky bathroom fixtures. Paige didn’t bother hiding her eye roll. He was trying to prove a point to her that didn’t need proving. They had a small crew, and everyone pulled their weight. Just because Gannon and Cat didn’t hang out much after the cameras stopped rolling didn’t mean they weren’t working their asses off while they were on.

  “Must have impressed the boss,” Flynn sa
id to Paige, nodding in Gannon’s direction where he and two volunteers were guiding the master bathtub out of the trailer.

  “She just played Ice Queen on him,” Rico teased, coming down the ramp with toilet box. “Got it on camera, too,” he grinned.

  “That footage had better never see the light of day,” Paige said sternly. “Unless you also caught him chucking his tape measure through the tent wall like a baby.”

  “What kind of shooter would I be if I missed that? Even got a few seconds of him fixing the hole he ripped in the side.”

  Paige laughed. “I love you guys.”

  “We love you, Beast Mode.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The sun was still up when Paige dumped her laptop on the lumpy bed in her room at the Comfy Inn in Mobile, Texas. They were on their third house of the season, and their little band of misfits was really hitting their stride. They’d scored yet another gold mine of a contractor for this house, and Paige was looking forward to working with their crew.

  She flopped down in the rickety desk chair and surveyed her room. They’d checked in this morning, and Paige had lobbed her bags into the room before heading back out to the site to tackle the prep work.

  The room wasn’t awful. It could have been worse. The walls, once white, wore the yellowed cast of its storied past as a smoker’s paradise. The carpet too wore badges of honor in the form of cigarette burns. But the bathroom was clean, and there were extra pillows in the closet.

  It would do for the week.

  Paige stripped out of her jeans and t-shirt and pulled on a clean pair of capris and a tank top. She texted Cat to see if she wanted to do dinner and then pulled the bedspread back before flopping down on the mattress.

  She closed her eyes and reviewed the details about the new family. Joy, at twenty-seven with her sunny smile and dirty blond pixie cut, raised enough money through 5ks, bake sales, and silent auctions to bring an art and pet therapy program to her local nursing home after her grandfather was diagnosed with dementia. She dedicated every waking moment outside of her full-time job as a social worker to caring for her beloved Poppy.

  Poppy had played matchmaker and introduced Joy to the visiting physical therapist who volunteered at the home twice a week. Joy and Teagan were married in Poppy’s room when he fell too sick to attend their ceremony. He passed away shortly after their ceremony, leaving Joy and Teagan the home he’d built with his own two hands when he and his bride were first married. It had fallen into disrepair since his diagnosis, but the family connection made it home.

  It was a sweet, heartwarming story, and Paige was looking forward to telling it.

  Her phone signaled an incoming call, and she rolled herself up. Eddie’s name flashed across her screen.

  “What’s up, Eddie?” she asked, bypassing any pleasantries. He trusted her to do her job and only called when there was news—usually bad—to deliver.

  “Bad news, kid.”

  Restless now, Paige dragged open the sliding glass balcony door. It squealed under protest. She stepped out onto her narrow strip of outdoor living space overlooking the cracked asphalt of the parking lot. A flimsy wall that separated her balcony from the one next door provided minimal privacy. “What’s the damage?” she asked leaning on the iron railing.

  “Interiors at Home just came on board.”

  The show and the chain of home décor stores had been courting each other in the offseason. They were a major advertiser, which meant a big influx of cash and most likely some pretty spectacular demands.

  “What do they want in return for their massive piles of money?” Paige sighed into the phone.

  “Cat and Gannon now get to make a trip to the store every episode to choose pieces for the finished project.” Eddie was big on ripping the Band-Aid off.

  Paige slapped a hand down on the railing, making it rattle. Judging its instability, she took a step back from it and paced. “Are you kidding me, Eddie? Are they trying to strangle every ounce of sincerity out of the show? Viewers love how real Gannon and Cat are. This is going to make them look phony.”

  “I know. I know. But it was the keystone of the contract.”

  “That’s bullshit, Eddie. Can’t you change their minds? Gannon’s going to go nuclear over this, and I don’t blame him. It’s a stupid idea.”

  “At this point there’s nothing we can do. The deal is done.”

  Paige shoved a hand through her hair, scraping it away from her face. “I don’t like that these decisions are being made without at least consulting the Kings. It’s their show. They are the show.”

  Eddie heaved the world-weary sigh of a man too long in the business. “I hear what you’re saying, kid. I really do. But…”

  “Yeah, yeah. There’s nothing we can do,” she finished for him.

  “When does this go into effect?”

  “This shoot. There’s a store about a hundred miles from the shoot.”

  Paige swore under her breath. “How much time per episode?”

  “Three minutes, and the pieces shown in the store have to be used in the reveal.”

  “Who’s breaking the news? You or me?”

  Eddie’s pause told her everything she needed to know. “Great. Awesome.”

  “So, how’s everything else?” Eddie asked cheerfully.

  ––—

  Gannon stayed where he was leaning against the paint chipped railing of his balcony. He hadn’t realized Paige was right next door until he heard her husky voice getting pissed about something on the phone with the show’s executive producer. He could have felt guilty about eavesdropping, but since Paige interested him and he’d heard his name, he felt justified in listening.

  She hung up with Eddie, and he heard the squeal of her door as she slammed it behind her.

  It was further confirmation that Princess Paige wasn’t the “yes man” he had assumed she was. He never expected her to fight on his behalf, and listening to her dish it out to Eddie told him it wasn’t the first time she’d stood up for him and Cat.

  Shit.

  He hated being wrong.

  He’d written her off from the very first day of shooting last season when she’d coolly told him he needed to be respectful of the network’s timetable.

  A network shill, he’d labeled her then, he remembered. But that didn’t stop him from noticing her mile-long legs when she wore shorts to the sets in the dead heat of the summer. Or her full, usually unpainted lips that parted just before she laughed at something her crew or he said.

  He’d gotten an eyeful of the body that was typically hidden by her usual jeans and t-shirt uniform last season when she’d had to borrow someone’s gym clothes mid-shoot. She wore her rich chocolate hair in a sexy short cut that allowed her to plow her hands through the layers when she was frustrated or tie it back in a stub when she was doing the heavy lifting.

  Yeah, she was attractive enough that he’d frozen her out from the get-go. He’d fallen for a pretty package before and paid a steep price for it. He’d met Paige shortly after his self-imposed celibacy to get his damn head back on straight. And maybe, just maybe, he’d been unfair to put Paige St. James in the same category as his past mistake.

  Anyone could see that she was strong, smart, and completely unflappable. It was the cool attitude that had thrown him though he hadn’t been exactly friendly to her either. Yet when she thought she was alone, she showed her human side with an unexpected empathy for the people they were generally exploiting on camera.

  Snippets of conversations, insults he’d thrown in bad moods, accusations he’d made in jest came back to him now. She’d never bothered correcting him or defending herself, never commiserating with him that she too thought the network was a bunch of greedy assholes.

  He didn’t like being wrong.

  Gannon grabbed two beers out of his minifridge. He wouldn’t apologize. After all, she had never defended herself or trusted him with her opinion. It made him wonder if she ever confided in Cat. Those two were
thick as thieves.

  Before he could change his mind, he grabbed his key card and went next door to be neighborly.

  She opened the door with hardly a trace of the anger Gannon knew she was feeling. But the telltale signs were there in the clench of her jaw, the flash in her eyes.

  “Here,” he said, holding out a beer.

  She looked down at it and then up again at him.

  He wiggled the bottle, and when she took it, he brushed past her into her room.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  He ignored her question. “How do you do it?”

  She followed him but left the door open. “Do what?” she asked, frowning.

  “Keep all that anger locked up like that?” he asked, sinking down on the yellow paisley couch next to the cloudy balcony doors.

  “Come on in. Have a seat,” she muttered and took a swig of beer.

  “I like seeing you pissed off. Makes me think you care.”

  She gave him a long cool look. “Want to get to the point? I’ve got a lot of work to do tonight.”

  “First tell me how you keep it all inside. Don’t you ever feel like you’re gonna blow?”

  “I’ve had years of practice dealing with frustrating people,” she said with ice in her tone.

  “I wouldn’t know any of them, would I?”

  Paige arched a sexy eyebrow at him. “You may have met one or two of them.” The show of amusement evaporated quickly, and she retreated behind her walls, taking another long pull on the beer.

  “So what can I do for you, Gannon?”

  “I was studying my call sheet—”

  “Don’t be a smart ass,” she interrupted.

  “Do you want to know what I’m doing here or not?” he asked.

  She held up her hands in surrender. “Please, continue.”

  “I was studying my call sheet when I realized I don’t know you very well.”