Mr. Fixer Upper

by Lucy Score

  Paige decided her hands were just fine where they were and kept them over her eyes.

  “Just so you know, Felicia,” Gannon said, coming up behind Paige and sliding an arm around her shoulders. “We’re pretty serious.”

  “Well, well.” Felicia’s eyebrows winged up her forehead. “Personally, I’d like to say about friggin’ time.”

  “My sentiments exactly,” Gannon agreed.

  “I’m gonna go spread the word. You two’ll come out with us tonight right? Celebrate?”

  Gannon squeezed Paige’s shoulder. “Sure.” It came out as a croak, but hey, it was an affirmative. Felicia bee-bopped out of the room whistling “Happy Birthday.”

  “See, princess? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  WINTER

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  The house was taking shape, Gannon noted with pride as he nudged an open box of tile out of his way with the toe of his boot. It was slowly morphing from hellhole into blank canvas. Sunlight streamed through new replacement windows onto freshly sanded hardwood. The musty smell of stale air had been replaced with the fresh scents of sawdust and sweat. And progress was happening everywhere.

  The framing on the upper floors for bedrooms, sitting rooms, and bathrooms was finished, and they would have Gannon’s office and small workshop on the lower level framed in by mid-morning. Then they’d let the drywallers loose on all four floors.

  Drywall was always the turning point. They’d gutted the old plumbing, wiring, and HVAC, lugged out radiators, patched the floors that could be salvaged, and tamed the exterior. The roof was new. The landscaping was looking more like overgrown yard and less like an untouched jungle.

  The irony was that between demo and drywall, very little of the renovation process was interesting to viewers.

  Footage of his team running new electric or building HVAC ducts rarely ever made it to screen. Audiences loved demo day and seeing new walls go up to define reimagined spaces, but they had no interest in what lay within those walls. The innards, as he liked to think of them, were the meat of any project. It wouldn’t matter if you had shiny tile on your backsplash if your fifty-year-old plumbing was dumping water everywhere. But viewers generally didn’t hold his views.

  He ran his hand over the new studs that framed out his master bedroom.

  The shooting schedule that had remained fairly light was ramping up to the long days that came with the design process.

  But it was symbolic of a vision becoming reality. This was the point in the process when his crew stopped thinking he was insane and started seeing the potential.

  Potential and vision were two things he was rarely wrong on. And that’s what he saw in his relationship with Paige. He may have had to drag her into it kicking and screaming, but they worked better than either of them had anticipated. And he’d had rather high expectations there.

  He’d gotten used to waking up to her, to finding her wrapped around him or vice versa. When they were awake and working, she kept him grounded, and he pushed her to stretch. She’d stretched into the role of director and surprised no one but herself when she rocked it. She’d worked behind the camera long enough that she was able to start crafting the stories in real-time, making it easier for the editors in post-production to flesh them out.

  She’d impressed him with what she’d absorbed about the construction process and scheduled shoots with sensitivity to his crew that Gannon and the rest of his guys appreciated.

  And on their off time, they’d built a tentative personal routine, too, something he took as part and parcel of being in a relationship. They spent the dark of the night tangled up with each other, playing as hard as they worked. On their occasional days off, they’d fix a lazy brunch at his place, experimenting with simple recipes that they could handle and spend the afternoons tag-teaming projects. When Becca was out of town, which was most of the time, Gannon lent Paige a hand with whatever tasks she trusted him with.

  Her copious amount of research was being fined down and organized into a useable storyboard for the film. Her list of interview commitments was growing. And he liked being part of it all.

  He’d come home after a beer with Flynn the other night only to be accosted at the front door by a bouncing Paige. She’d landed a commitment from a highly respected women’s rights activist she’d thought was out of their league. And Gannon, with his newfound knowledge of women’s rights pioneers, recognized not only the woman’s name but also several of her more notable accomplishments.

  They’d celebrated with pizza and wine and Cat at Nonni’s. And as they laughed around the dining room table, Gannon realized he had everything he’d ever wanted. A brainy, sexy, stubborn woman who made him want to be a better man, one his grandmother and sister adored. A home designed to be the springboard into the beginning of the rest of his life. He had a thriving business that kept him engaged and interested and a fledgling furniture venture on the side. He worked with his hands, made things that became a part of family histories.

  He had everything.

  He just needed to freaking lock that shit down.

  And besides Paige herself, there was only one other complication he could see fucking everything up.

  The season finale of Kings of Construction was airing tomorrow night, which meant a viewing party with cast, crew, and suits at some swank hotel bar. The event was casual—no cameras, no Meeghan Fucking Traxx ambushes. But there would be plenty of shoptalk and ass kissing and other bullshit. Post-production had run with the love triangle storyline, which unfortunately played great with viewers. Attention on social media had ramped up steadily as the season progressed, and Gannon was predicting it would get even worse with the finale.

  As far as he knew, Paige had been so buried in the new show and her documentary planning that she hadn’t noticed the attention.

  But there’d be no protecting her from it tomorrow when they aired the footage of Meeghan crashing the set. And that pissed him off.

  He wasn’t sure how Paige would play it. She’d managed to run this new show without too much interference from the production company that had screwed her over for entertainment. But going face-to-face with the shot callers tomorrow night felt like it was just asking for a fucking disaster.

  His first instinct was to charge in there and threaten the shit out of everyone. It seemed to have finally worked with Meeghan. But as gratifying as that would be, it would create more issues for Paige than solve. Paige needed to stand on her own two feet and flash her own two middle fingers. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be standing right behind her ready to kick ass should she ask him to.

  Gannon hoped to God she would stand up for herself and take a few swings while she was up there.

  He had to have faith, be patient. Two things that weren’t anywhere near the top of his list of strengths. He shook his head, standing in the doorway of the master bedroom. He’d taken her here for their second first time. They’d christened nearly every room in the house since then. But he had more plans for her. Bigger ones. They just had to get through tomorrow night.

  ––—

  Paige steeled herself when the car rolled up to the hotel on West 46th Street. She wiped her palms on the skinny slate gray trousers she’d decided on. She would know everyone in the room, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was wandering into a lion’s den.

  The men who had pulled her strings all season long were behind the towering glass doors, probably swilling $60 glasses of scotch at the bar and patting themselves on the back for another hit season.

  But they weren’t expecting the new Paige. And that would play to her advantage. The new Paige had made her first appearance last month at the St. James Thanksgiving, an intimate, catered affair at her mother’s house. In no uncertain terms, Paige had told both her mother and sister that she was dating Gannon and would be launching her new career as a documentary filmmaker. They were welcomed to agree or disagree with her choices because their opinions carried no weight
. Her mother had icily changed the subject, but her sister had subtly raised her wine glass to Paige.

  Paige considered tonight just another battle in the war.

  She was meeting Gannon here, a tactical choice. She wasn’t here to look like arm candy. She was here to kick ass. She hadn’t yet told the brass that she wasn’t coming back next season and why. The pay and experience from Gannon’s new show gave her enough security that she could afford to walk away from Kings of Construction rather than sticking it out another season. She was done being pushed around, and they were about to find that out.

  She stepped out onto the sidewalk and tied the belt of her wool trench tighter, warding off the December chill that was determined to settle into bones. Her red Mary Jane stilettos made a confident click as she approached the doors. The doorman, his cheeks rosy from the brisk air, let her in with a wink and a smile.

  Fortified by the friendliness of a stranger, her choice of outfit, and her own inner rage, Paige was more than ready to face the enemy.

  She strolled into the back bar, which Summit-Wingenroth had reserved, and ordered herself a bourbon. Glass in hand, she slipped out of her coat and joined the party heading straight for her crew clustered around two high-top tables near the other end of the bar.

  It was like old home week catching up with Louis and Rico. Louis just found out he was going to be a grandpa for the first time and was flashing the sonogram like it was an Oscar for cinematography. Rico had returned, relaxed and ready for a new project after two weeks bumming around Cancun’s hotel zone.

  Mel and Sam regaled Paige with behind-the-scenes stories from their respective new projects and fished for details on her love life until Cat rescued her.

  Ever fashionable in black leather leggings and a body hugging sweater in a shade of burnt orange that no other human being could pull off, Cat dragged her back to the bar for another drink.

  “Holding up?” she asked, waving her empty glass at one of the bartenders.

  “So far so good. Haven’t screamed ‘I quit’ or kicked anyone in the face yet.”

  Cat glanced down at Paige’s shoes. “Ooh, good choice.”

  Within seconds, a fresh drink was placed in front of Cat despite the fact that her drink order fell behind several others. Paige grinned. “You ever get tired of being adored by millions?” she asked.

  The flippant response she expected from her friend didn’t come. Cat looked over both shoulders and then pulled her into a corner away from the rest of the party.

  “Did you kill someone?” Paige demanded.

  “No! Where do you get these ideas?” Cat rolled her eyes.

  “With you, anything is possible.”

  “Well, let’s see if you can predict this. Gannon’s been talking about your documentary a lot, and I think you should interview me.”

  “Uh, what?” Cat was one of the highest paid new talents on the network, and with endorsement deals, she was sitting pretty.

  “When Gannon and I were in talks with the network, they offered me half of what they offered Gannon.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “I wish,” Cat confessed. “They low-balled me believing that either I’d feel so grateful just to be included that I’d accept or that Gannon wouldn’t tell me what his deal was.”

  “That is crap,” Paige hissed.

  “Yeah, well, Gannon of course went to bat for me, and we ended up with equal deals. But then they tried it again at the beginning of this season. We were offered raises, but Gannon’s was significantly higher. We threw down with the production company. Both equal, or neither one of us would do the show.”

  “Cat, I’m so sorry. That’s horrible.”

  Cat rolled her shoulders back. “I took Cindy, one of the VPs from Sumshit-Wingendick, out for drinks one night. Got her shitfaced.”

  Paige snorted at Cat’s nickname for their production company. “What did she tell you?”

  “That it wasn’t a ‘sexism’ thing. It was just that production companies know from experience that women are usually willing to work for less, so it’s standard operating procedure to low-ball them. In cases when their male counterparts don’t share their cashola info, most women don’t even know to ask for more.”

  “You’d be willing to talk about this?” Paige asked. “You could get into serious trouble with the network.”

  “More than willing. If no one talks about this garbage, it’s just going to keep happening. Just because I’ve got great tits and a vagina doesn’t mean I’m worth less money or respect.”

  “Preach, sister!” Paige gave Cat a quick hug. “I’d love it if you’d be part of it. And we can talk to a lawyer, too, beforehand to make sure you won’t get into too much trouble. One of Becca’s college roommates went to law school.”

  “Good, we can consult about Cindy, too. We stay in touch, and she left the company mid-season. She’s interested in talking to you.”

  An insider with personal knowledge of industry discrimination against women? “I could freaking kiss you right now,” Paige told Cat.

  “Yes! Lesbians!” Cat punched her fist into the air in victory. “I knew you’d get sick of my brother eventually.”

  Paige laughed even as she felt the air in the room electrify. She didn’t even bother questioning it anymore. It’s just what Gannon did when he walked into a room. “Speak of the handsome devil,” she breathed.

  They studied each other from across the room, the air thick between them.

  “I think he’s waiting for you to make a move,” Cat whispered. “He doesn’t want to force you into going public if you’re not ready.”

  He’d do that for her. It would piss him off, but he’d play pretend if that’s what he thought she wanted.

  “I guess I’d better go give him a professional, cordial greeting then.” Paige told Cat.

  Cat grinned. “I guess you’d better. Oh, and Paige?” Cat stopped her with a hand on her arm. “I’m proud of you.”

  “You know something, Cat? I’m proud of me, too. Also, I love the crap out of you.” She gave Cat a smacking kiss on her cheek and made the long walk across the bar to where Gannon waited for his beer, hands in the pockets of his very sexy leather jacket.

  He didn’t say anything when she stopped in front of him, but his eyes were far from quiet. She hadn’t seen him since this morning, yet it felt like longer. She’d missed him, and she very well could have missed out on him.

  If she’d learned anything this year, it was that Gannon was worth more than a job.

  She stepped between his feet, looping her hands behind his neck and kissing him softly.

  “Get a room,” Felicia snorted good-naturedly.

  Whistles sounded around them.

  “Guess we know how the season ends,” someone quipped.

  Paige grinned up at Gannon. He settled his hands on her hips. “Hi, princess.”

  “Hi, Gannon.”

  “There you two are!” One of the suits that sat in on the pre-season meetings bustled over, giving Gannon a hearty handshake. The man had stood next to her at the bar when she’d ordered a drink, but she’d been invisible until Gannon had laid lips on her.

  Reading her like a book, Gannon squeezed her shoulder. “Good to see you, Raymond.”

  “Let’s find that pretty sister of yours, and I’ll buy my two stars a drink,” Raymond suggested, patting the tiny beads of sweat off his forehead with a cocktail napkin.

  “Paige!” Andy, casual as always in jeans and a flannel, wandered up.

  “Andy! It’s so good to see you.” Paige slipped out of Gannon’s grip for a hug. She’d grown quite fond of Andy over the season, and ‘fond of’ had ratcheted up to indebted thanks to him giving her that out on the last day of filming.

  “Do you have a minute?” he asked.

  Paige glanced over her shoulder at Gannon who was being dragged away by Raymond. He rolled his eyes at her and shrugged.

  “Sure,” she told Andy.

  He guided
her into the same corner Cat had, and Paige wondered what sort of confession she’d hear now.

  “I’m glad to see you two patched things up,” Andy said, tilting his beer in Gannon’s direction.

  “Me, too,” Paige agreed. She might be acknowledging the relationship, but she certainly wasn’t ready to start spilling details.

  “I heard you’re doing a great job directing his new show,” Andy continued, no more interested in hearing personal details than she was in spilling them.

  “It’s going well. I’m enjoying it.”

  He took a breath. “So, I’m leaving the show. I’ll be directing Drake Mackenrowe’s new series starting this spring.”

  “Wow, congratulations. Drake’s a great guy. I’m sure you’ll enjoy working with him.”

  Andy nodded. “Thanks. Moving up the food chain, so to speak. Anyway, I gave them your name. For director for Kings.”

  Paige blinked. “You did?”

  “We both know it should have been yours this season. But they’ve got plans for me and needed to season me up a bit. Anyway, I gave them your name, but…”

  “But they weren’t really interested,” she guessed.

  “I think they’re more interested in continuing your onscreen story line. That’s my guess. Ratings were huge this season. But yeah, they kind of gave me the pat on the head and shoved the suggestion under the rug.”

  “Well, thanks for letting me know. And thanks for putting in a good word for me.”

  Andy looked at her. “For what it’s worth, it should be you.”

  “Yeah, it should be,” Paige agreed.

  ––—

  They all crowded around the bar as the Kings of Construction theme song spilled forth from the TVs mounted over the bar. Paige hadn’t watched any of the shows this season personally. She couldn’t stomach the idea of watching herself on screen in some storyline constructed by editors under instructions to build salacious storylines.

  Instead, she’d made Becca watch each episode and give her the play-by-play.

  Tonight would be the first episode she watched. And it was going to suck. Watching Meeghan strut out on set and lay those duck billed lips on Gannon like he was her property? Paige could think of several things she’d rather be doing right now. The list included getting a root canal and pap smear or having lunch at “the club” with her painfully conservative, half-deaf great-aunt Wilda who complained about the ‘disgraceful service’ at full volume.