Page 7 of An Ex Affair

“Everyone gets their own custom calendar, boss.” I jumped to my feet. “The women wait in line and then get to posewithus. It’s not a calendar of hot firefighters. It’s a calendar of each woman with twelve different hot firefighters.”

Captain burst into a laugh that finally met his eyes. “You might just have a good idea there, Wolfe.”

“I know I fucking do.”

“Let me run it by a few people and see if we can get this up and running quickly.” At my smug grin, he held up a hand. “And if it’s a go, expect your ass is going to be spearheading the whole thing. I’d hate to see the new guy fuck up his first few months on the job.”

I swallowed hard. He didn’t come right out and say it, but we both knew whose head was on the chopping block if this idea didn’t bring in enough money. “You can count on me.”

My brain kicked into high gear the rest of our shift. I wrote down all my ideas and started forming a plan. Once Captain got back to me that my idea was approved, I’d work my ass off to make the calendar a success. Firefighting had been my whole life, and now Dad had made Blueball my permanent home. I had to make this thing work to keep my job.

I was exhausted from lack of sleep when I pulled up the long driveway to my place. My dog’s face filled the little window at the front of my home as he watched me drive up. The carriage house I was staying in was a tiny one-bedroom-one-bath shack that should have been demolished years ago. It functioned, butbarely. Beggars couldn’t be choosers though, so I was grateful to live there.

The main house was still dark, which told me Sofia was still sleeping. I’d head out later and get her some groceries, but right now, I just needed some sleep and Hayes needed to be fed.

Some people might think it weird that I stayed on my ex-mother-in-law’s property, but Sofia and I didn’t. I’d been coming home once a month for years to help her take care of the property. In many ways, Sofia had become more of a mother to me than my own mom.

Tully might not be mine any longer, but I laid claim to her mother.

CHAPTER THREE

Tully

I hitthe button on the coffee maker and stood there in a stupor while it sputtered to life. Mama was in her bathrobe, munching on a giant muffin. I noticed she ate those frequently for breakfast, even though I tried to make mention of protein being necessary. She always waved me away and took another sip of her sweet-smelling latte from Crazy Beans. I shook my head and tried to remember what day it was. I came back to Blueball five days ago. I think. It was kind of hard to keep track of the days when all I did was mope in bed and yell at the television when a promo featuring that twatapotomus came on.

“Mama?” I asked with a frown, brain finally kicking in this early in the morning. “How do you always have coffee from Crazy Beans but you’re still in a robe? Please tell me you don’t go into town in your robe.”

I shouldn’t hassle her about it. Frankly, I should be happy she went into town at all. The woman had always been introverted, but Daddy’s death had twisted something in her. I’d done most of the shopping by the time I married Colson, a taskI kept up even when I moved out of the house. She’d become essentially housebound the last few years, mostly because grocery delivery had become so easy and I paid a local woman to come by once a week and make sure she had everything she needed. I also sent Mama money every month, but other than basic house maintenance, I wasn’t sure what she did with it.

“Oh…” Mama waved her hand in the air, her usual move to brush off any comment of mine she didn’t want to answer.

I poured a cup of coffee before the pot was fully filled, dumping in a generous helping of cream and just a dusting of sugar. I may be moping and licking my wounds right now, but gaining a bunch of weight wouldn’t be helpful if I ever decided to get in front of the camera again. Hollywood was ruthless when it came to women and weight. Sitting down at the table with her, I pinned Mama with my no-nonsense look.

“What have you been doing with all the money I’ve been sending home? You haven’t bought a car. Or painted the exterior of the house. Or bought yourself some nice clothes.” I counted things off on my fingers. “I wanted you to use that money to make your life easier. Nicer.”

Mama wiped her mouth with the paper napkin with the picture of three dancing beans stamped in the corner. “I have a wonderful life, Tully. I don’t need anything nicer.”

I pointed in the general direction of the garage. “That SUV out there is almost as old as I am.”

Mama smiled. “Young as a spring chicken.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “I’m forty-two. That’s practically elderly by most people’s standards.”

“You been socializing with the wrong people, then.” Her thin lips pressed together. Mama never raised her voice, but I could see the disappointment just the same.

I opened my mouth to get back on the topic of buying her a new car, one reliable enough to make the trek to Crazy Beansand back every morning, but my phone rang. I plucked it out of my sweatpants pocket and saw that it was my agent. Finally. We’d exchanged texts these last few days, but no phone calls.

I held up a finger to Mama and answered the phone. “Joselyn.” My tone was as snotty as I felt. The woman I’d paid good money to for years had left me high and dry when my professional world fell apart. I wasn’t feeling particularly friendly.

“Got a job for you, Starling!”

A wheeze squeezed from my lungs and out my mouth. Hope, the feeling that had been crushed, lit on fire, and then swept out to sea last week, came sputtering back to life. It already sounded weird for someone to use my stage name, Tully Starling, and it had only been a week since I lost my job.

“Now, it’s not a major show or anything and it pays horrifically, but it’s something.”

And there went that hope, gutting out entirely. I propped my elbows on the kitchen table and rubbed my forehead, wishing for a hole to crawl into. Joselyn, never one to check in on me even when things were going well, carried on like she wasn’t crushing my heart.

“You’re basically a non-starter in Hollywood right now. I mean, fired in your forties.” She chuckled. “That’s a tough one. Anyway, I got a call this morning about a place that needs a celebrity face for their new fundraiser. Someone who will work for peanuts. I instantly thought of you!”

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