Page 39 of Enemies Off Camera
We stop just short of Anne’s assistant. Roger leans in close.
“This is it,” he says under his breath. “I’ll drop the hammer. Then we copter back to San Diego and start building your new storyline with Ashley. She’s in.” He winks like it’s a done deal. He’s proud of himself—relieved, honestly. Ending things with Anne is a win for him. He doesn’t like her.
He’s ranted more than once about how she “threw her dick” in his face the day she stood while he sat during a pitch. I wasn’t there, but I’ve heard it enough. Roger doesn’t respect strong women. He sees force where there’s just confidence.
But I see Anne differently. She’s tough. Strategic. She gets shit done.
Roger? He’s the real misogynist in the room.
Still—I shrug. Like I said, I’m on the fence.
“I can’t copter back. I drove up last night,” I say, leaving outwith Zara. He’d hit the roof if I told him.
“Then I’ll have Lloyd from the L.A. office drive your car back. You need to be in San Diego with me to kick off this new campaign.”
I don’t like this plan, but I don’t want to oppose it right now. I’ll wait until after the meeting.
Anne’s assistant perks up the second she spots us and walks us to the office. Inside, Anne is leaning against her massive desk, calm and composed. Zara’s already seated on the couch.
I let out a low, involuntary laugh. Now I see it.
That couch is a tactic. Last time I sat on it, I thought it was just low. But no—it’s by design. Like the armchair Roger avoids. They drop your eye level so Anne’s always physically looking down on you. It’s brilliant.
“Gentlemen,” Anne says, gesturing to the seats.
“I’ll stand,” Roger snaps, already irritated. He’s caught on to her power play.
“This won’t take long,” he says.
“We’ve been talking, and—” Anne starts at the same time.
She pauses, holding out a hand to give him the floor.
If I were Roger, I’d decline. I can see it in Anne’s eyes—she’s not desperate. She’s holding something.
“We tried to make a deal,” Roger begins, “but for the good of the organization, we’ve decided to take this campaign in a new direction.”
“You can’t,” Anne replies smoothly. “Your organization is under contract with mine. And before we go any further, Zara has something she’d like to say.”
Roger waves his hands like he’s clearing the air of something foul. “No way. I got authorization.”
Anne crosses her arms, completely unfazed. “From who?”
The pinch of skin between Roger’s eyebrows tightens. His lips press together. He doesn’t answer.
Anne pushes up from her desk—calm, controlled. She lifts her phone.
“Get George Baldwin on the line,” she tells her assistant.
Roger breaks. “Okay. We’ll do it your way—for now.”
Anne sets the phone down, unbothered. “Never mind.” She turns to Zara. “Your turn.”
Zara looks straight at me. No walls. No spin. Just clear, raw sincerity. And in that moment, she’s stunning. Pretty, yes—but not just that. Vulnerable. Real. The kind of woman I’d want to shield from vultures like Roger.
“I’m so, so sorry,” she says. “I’ll bring my full attention and professionalism to this project. And I’ll try to love football too.”
Anne glances at Roger. “That good enough for you?”
