Page 79 of Mr. Fixer Upper
“Of course I do. I don’t love it, but it’s yours. You read my journal articles,” her sister pointed out.
“And I don’t love them, but they’re yours.” Paige tilted her wine glass in Lisa’s direction in a silent toast.
“I can’t believe both my daughters waste their time on that show.” Leslie shook her head in disappointment.
“We read your books,” Paige and Lisa said in unison.
“Well, of course you do,” Leslie sniffed.
Once the subject changed to Leslie’s new book that she was working on, Paige breathed easier. She was used to being a target for her own work. The criticism usually didn’t do any lasting damage. But with that area of her life as sensitive as an open wound now, she didn’t think she could survive too many hits tonight.
And if her mother caught even a whiff of her dejection, Leslie would have her scheduled for six grad school interviews by noon tomorrow.
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By the time dessert was over, all sniping was brushed under the rug as Lisa spoke in broad terms about a paper on epileptic seizures she was researching for a medical journal. Paige did her best to grill her about Malia’s cancer trial but got the patent and expected answer citing HIPAA and patient confidentiality.
They went their separate ways at a respectable nine o’clock. Leslie upstairs to her study to transcribe her case notes, and Lisa home to grab a few hours of sleep before her early morning shift at the hospital.
Paige stood on the sidewalk outside her mother’s lovely home, debating what she wanted to do. Finding there was nothing, absolutely nothing, she headed east toward the metro station. Her phone rang in her bag, saving her from the monotonous six-block walk to the Great River Train Station.
The picture of Cat mugging for the camera glowed on her screen. Paige debated for a second. She’d been avoiding Cat since shooting wrapped, mainly because she didn’t want to put Cat in an awkward position with her brother… and also so Paige could pretend that Gannon didn’t exist.
It was petty and stupid. She sighed. “Hey, Cat. What’s up?” she asked in what she hoped was an upbeat tone.
“You sound terrible. Where are you?” Cat demanded.
“I just had dinner with my mother and sister in Great River.”
“Well that explains the sounding terrible,” Cat joked. She was aware of and fascinated by Paige’s family dynamics. In the King household, everyone yelled at everyone else and then sat down for a meal. That was their normal.
“You’re not calling on behalf of He Who Better Not Be Named, are you?” Paige asked.
Cat snorted. “I know better than to stick my nose in my brother’s love life,” she promised. “Now yours on the other hand…”
“Ha. Ha. How’s your off-season? What are you up to?”
“So we’re just going to pretend that you and my brother didn’t have a steaming hot affair before some asshat at the network sent that shithead inflatable doll on set to make you look like an idiot?”
“Pretty much, yeah,” Paige sighed.
“Okay. Just checking. So I landed this women’s work wear endorsement deal—super cute flannels, jeans that won’t show your crack or rip if you actually move in them, tank tops that don’t ride up to your armpits. My parents were in town visiting for the week. They flew back to Florida wondering what the hell is wrong with their son who’s basically locked himself in his workshop and refuses to come out unless it’s for beer or red meat. How about you?”
“I just had dinner with my mother and sister who think I’m a disappointment in the family because of my job in reality television. A job I can’t go back to after being puppeteered into said scorching hot affair based on lies for a network that made it its goal this season to humiliate me for the sake of ratings at every turn. So now, my only option is to start looking outside the network, which means I’m probably going to end up as a PA on some vapid, disgusting dating show.”
“Oh, so everything’s normal then?” Cat said blandly.
“Pretty much.”
“Then this will just make your day,” Cat announced. “Invites for the network’s real estate hottie guy’s party just went out. You, Gannon, and Meeghan are on the guest list.”
Paige wanted to throw up her tuna steak. “Guess who out of that cozy threesome isn’t freaking going?”
“Guess who isn’t going to have a choice? Rumor has it you are going to be ‘compelled’ to attend.”
“What are they going to do? Fire me?”Great. Then she really would have zero options.
“Probably. Or maybe they’ll threaten to get rid of the rest of the production crew if you don’t play ball.”
