Beautiful Storm (San Francisco End Game #1)

CHAPTER FIVE

Amelia - Present day

I did it. I finally made it. And this time, I did it on my own. Now let’s hope I don’t mess it up.

“Everything okay?” Hayley asks when I meet her inside our regular cafe, after I finished taking a phone call out front. I keep my lips sealed for as long as possible, but when her brows furrow, I can’t stop my giddy smile.

“Brighton Productions wants me to start on Monday instead of next month. They’ve got a new project they said I’d be perfect for.”

After years of working my ass off for minimal or no pay, I’ve finally landed my dream job as a television director. Me. A director. Of real things. That I get paid for.

I’m still in shock, but I’m sure it’ll sink in once I start. Which is Monday . I’m so freaking excited, I could squeal. But I won’t because I’m in a packed cafe and I don’t like attention.

Hayley, however, squeals for me. “Gahhh. That’s amazing, Ames. I knew they wouldn’t keep you on ‘light duties’ as you called it. I’m so proud of you.” She jumps up and rushes to my side of the table, giving me a hug.

“Thank you for sending the positive vibes into the universe. It probably got me the role.”

“Positive vibes didn’t do that. You did. Have you forgotten I’ve seen your work? Those music videos you made for Preston all went viral. And the ideas you told me you were pitching to the production company? Utter perfection.”

“Thank you,” I repeat, smiling shyly. “I needed that. I’ve been nervous.”

“I noticed.” She squeezes my shoulder. “But you shouldn’t be. I’m still pissed Preston hasn’t paid you for your work. If he had, maybe you wouldn’t have put so much pressure on yourself when looking for a job. He owes you big time for his success.”

“I know. And so does he.” At least, he used to.

“Really? Because from where I’m standing, he’s reaping the benefits and riding the train toward the high life, while you’re barely making ends meet in a tiny one-bedroom apartment.”

“In fairness, my apartment may be small, but I live in one of the best areas of San Francisco. I’m close to the beach, walking track, the studios and—”

“Okay, you’re not that hard done by, but still…”

“I know what you’re trying to say, but I like that I did this on my own. And the next step is LA.”

Hayley and I have been talking about moving to LA for months now, but our plans never get further than that. Talk .

That’s about to change though, because if all goes to plan, I’ll be moving with Brighton Productions, and Hayley will be coming with me.

“Yes, you can do it alone,” Hayley continues. “And it’s great that you did. My point is that you could be sharing in his riches.” She pouts while I huff out a sigh. There goes my good mood.

“We never really talked about that. It wasn’t about the money.” I never considered the possibility that we’d lose ourselves in the process.

“It wasn’t about the money because you were married. It was a given. Actually, you’re still technically married. You could claim it.”

I burst out laughing, ignoring the looks I get from other diners. “Have I ever told you I love the way your mind works?”

“You have.”

“I’m not going to take money from Preston after walking out on our marriage.”

“He owes you. And you didn’t walk out. He forced your decision.”

“Maybe so. But I’m the one that filed the divorce paperwork. I’m the one that left. I’m just waiting for him to sign.”

Hayley falls silent. She hates the fact that Preston took advantage of my guilt, but I’m moving on.

“Don’t worry about me, Hayley. I’m going to make my own money. Lots of it.” I wink. “I don’t need his help.”

“Boss woman.” She bites back a grin but it shines through, as does her proud expression.

“Thank you. For everything. Now, it’s time to celebrate. I’m going to be a director. On Monday.”

“Yeah you are.” Hayley laughs and we keep chatting until we’ve finished our drinks, then make plans to head out to a bar. Despite the little detour in my happiness at the mention of Preston, I’m still high on life and deserve the celebration. I’ve been working my ass off for this—mostly without pay—and after several rejections, with the majority of companies refusing to look at my work because it comes without references, I finally have my shot.

And I’m going to prove that they made the right choice. I may not have taken the traditional route to this role, but I never stopped working and this is all I’ve ever wanted. They’d be hard-pressed to find someone more dedicated than I am.

It’s my time to shine. And party. It’s my time to let loose.

Within reason.

S omething wakes me the next morning, and my head pounds as my mind drifts into consciousness. “Ugh,” I groan. What the hell happened last night?

The sound starts up again, and realizing it’s coming from my bedside table, I blindly reach out to make it stop. I’ve just located the source when something or someone smacks me in the face. “ Jesus .”

I startle before rolling over at the same time Hayley gasps. “Ouch. Fuck. I’m sorry. Ugh.” She covers her eyes with her hands. “My head.”

“What about my head?” I ask, rubbing the side of my forehead that just met her palm.

“I thought I was home. Wait, I am home. You’re at my place. I was trying to stop the ringing.”

Ringing? That was a phone?

Sure enough, the ringing starts again and we both collectively groan. “Make it stop,” Hayley pleads before burying her head under her pillow, drawing my attention to her bed for the first time. Well there you go. We are at her place.

When I’m finally thinking clearly, I grab my phone to silence it but freeze when I find Preston’s name.

“Preston’s calling me,” I say softly, a little shocked and a lot confused.

Hayley doesn’t answer, so I whack the pillow until she pops her head out. “What was that for?”

“It’s Preston.”

Her eyes widen before she grabs my phone to check for herself, squinting as she tries to read the screen. “ Shit . It is. Why would he be calling?”

That’s what I want to know. “Do you remember any of last night?”

“Of course I do. I wasn’t that drunk.”

“Okay, good.” I relax slightly. “I’m guessing I was, because I can’t remember a thing. Did I mention Preston?”

As I ask, I scroll through my phone looking for any calls or messages I may have made but there’s nothing. Thank God. I breathe out a sigh of relief and lie back down. “Did I do anything I shouldn’t have?”

“Not that I can remember, but there’s a couple of hours missing between us dancing and somehow getting back he—”

My phone rings again, cutting off Hayley’s words as we both peer down at the screen. Preston again .

“Jesus, he’s keen as mustard,” Hayley says, the annoyance clear in her expression, her words making me frown.

“He’s what?”

“You know… Excited. Enthusiastic. Eager to speak to you.”

“Thank you and yes, he is. But why?”

“I don’t know, and as much as I’d love to tell him to fuck off, it’s going to annoy you until you find out. You’re better off answering.”

Ugh . I hate that she’s right, but it will drive me crazy if I don’t know.

“Preston?” I answer as Hayley lies down, tucking her hands under the side of her face as she closes her eyes. “What’s up?”

“What’s up? Amelia, I spoke to your mom. You did it! You got your dream role. Congratulations.” Dammit . He’s being nice.

“Thanks, Preston. I’m really excited. Nervous but excited.”

“That’s great. Well, not the nervous part… But you know you’re talented, we all do…and…ah…it’s good. This is good.”

It doesn’t sound good. In a matter of seconds, his tone went from enthusiastic and proud to completely unsure. “Preston, is—”

“Come home. I miss you and—”

“ What ?” I sit up straight, my fight mode activated. But I don’t want to fight him. We’ve been through this before. “ You told me to leave .”

“No, I didn’t. You walked.”

“Preston, you gave me an ultimatum. Did you honestly expect me to stay after that? That’s not how marriages work.”

“You wanted a break!” His voice rises and I jump, thankful that he can’t see me.

Taking a deep breath, I calm myself before responding. “All I asked was for a little time to find out who I was, if I wasn’t your muse. I was losing myself. No, I’d already lost myself. And my mood was going to ruin us.” I don’t know why I’m telling him this again . We’ve talked about it at great length.

“I’ve tried, Amelia. I have, but I can’t do this without you.”

“Do what?” If he’d said this when I first walked away, I would have longed for him to tell me he couldn’t do life without me. Then maybe it wouldn’t have hurt so much. But I know better than that now, so when he says his next words, I’m not at all shocked.

“I can’t write. I need you. I thought you’d come back. I thought you’d figure out we belong together, doing this. And you’d come back.”

Jesus.

I close my eyes before slowly releasing a breath, and when I’m settled enough to open them again, Hayley’s in my face shaking her head as she over exaggerates mouthing the word no. Does she seriously think I’d go back?

I roll my eyes and shoo her away just as Preston pleads again, a new angle this time. “I can make all your dreams come true, Amelia. People already love our music videos. Think about how famous you’ll be when our fan base grows. It’s happening soon. I can feel it.”

“Preston.”

“No, wait. I need you to seriously think about this. Because you do not want to get left behind. You’ll regret it.”

Oh great, so we’re going through all the stages of grief right now . But in the wrong order. What’s next?

“I refuse to believe we’re over. It’s not possible. We were perfect together and you know it. You’ll be back. You’re nothing without me.”

Denial then. Oh, and anger. What in the—

“Give me the phone.” Hayley stands in front of me, arms crossed over her chest, her expression positively raging. “Actually, fuck that. I’m going over there. Tell the asshole I’m on my way.”

She stalks toward the door, her hair still messed from last night, her makeup smudged all over her face, and it warms my heart.

“Preston. I’m not coming back. Ever. Find someone else to use.” I hang up before jumping to my feet and rushing over to Hayley, wrapping her in a hug as she unlocks the door. “You beautiful soul, you.” I giggle. “Thank you. I appreciate you having my back.”

She turns around, her smile proud. “You did good. But I wish you’d let me go.”

“Why?”

“Because that guy deserves a good slap across the face, and I really wanted to be the one to do it. Unless you want to, of course.”

“Thank you.” I laugh again. “But I have a feeling his life isn’t going to be all sunshine and rainbows, and that’s enough for me. Though I do hate that he was talking to my mom.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.” Hayley waves me off.

“Why?”

“I’m pretty sure your mom called everyone she knows. She’s excited for you.”

My nose scrunches when a little rope knots itself around my heart, giving it a tug. Dammit . I asked her to stop doing that. It’s been a week since I mentioned it, so I figured she’d listened.But if she hasn’t, that will mean she called—

My phone rings right on cue and I groan, dropping it to the counter beside me.

“She didn’t .” Hayley groans on my behalf.

“She did, and I can’t handle that right now.”

I walk away as the name Damien flashes across my screen and an image of his smiling face flashes across my mind. “I’m taking a shower,” I say, refusing to speak to the man otherwise known as my dad. I’ve reached my quota of dealing with estranged men from my past. I’m done.

I spend Sunday watching my music videos on repeat, hoping to remind myself of what I’m capable of. To acknowledge what my new bosses saw in me.

My plan was to build myself up so I could walk—no, stride—into my new workplace with the confidence to blow them away. And by Sunday night, I’m good.

But come Monday, my confidence is shot and I find myself rushing around—despite being early— and working myself into a sweaty mess.

“Excuse me,” someone calls out as I walk past reception, pulling me to a halt. Apparently I’ve also become a rude person.

“God, I’m sorry.” I stop, spinning around to walk back to her. “I’m Amelia. I just—”

“You’re our new director,” she says with a beaming grin. “We’re so happy to have you here. I loved your music video for ‘Is This All Life Is.’ I’ve played it a hundred times.”

My chest tightens with emotions as some of the tension leaves my body.

“Thank you,”—my eyes flash to her name badge—“Jennifer. Any gossip I need to know before I walk through those very expensive and very official-looking doors?” I’m not kidding; the doors look like they’re made out of pure mahogany with solid gold trim.

Jennifer laughs. “So much. I could talk for hours. But don’t let the doors fool you. It’s a front. It’s what they want you to see. At the end of the day, it’s just wood.” She lifts her shoulder in a half shrug and I instantly like her.

“Thanks. I needed that.”

“You’ve got this.” Her smile widens. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You’re talented.” She glares at something over my shoulder, and I’m about to question her when we’re interrupted by a grumpy-looking man in a well-pressed business suit who does not look in the mood for gossip. “I’ll buzz you in,” Jennifer tells me with a subtle eye roll. “Let’s talk later.”

I nod as I walk through the doors and into the elevator, hoping the man isn’t coming inside. But no such luck. He follows me in, standing dead center, his presence filling the small space.

“Can you please press for level eight?” I ask instead of trying to reach around him.

“It’s already done,” he replies tersely, and… Great . He’s going to my floor.

“Thank you.” I smile politely but he’s not looking my way. Nothing like an intimidating figure to increase my nerves on day one.

When the doors open on level eight, I follow the man through the halls, both of us walking through the glass door to the conference room. He sits down next to the head of the table, while I take a seat across from him, keeping my smile locked in place when he gruffly looks my way.

“Tom and Jim will be here shortly,” a woman I don’t know tells us as she pops her head into the fishbowl. “Can I get either of you something to drink?”

“Yes,” the suit guy says, his eyes now set on his phone. “I’ll take a cold-pressed drip coffee, strong, with a dash of caramel. A dash,” he repeats and I internally wince at his tone.

The woman doesn’t even frown before turning to me. “Is water okay?” I ask, noting the smallest hint of a smile.

“Of course. I’ll be back with both.”

She walks away and within a minute, the room fills and my new bosses arrive, taking a seat before they’ve said hello. Suit Guy nods and smiles, and they have some kind of silent exchange before one of the executives, Tom, clears his throat and launches into the meeting.

“We met with a couple of the big networks last week, and Susie’s put together a filming schedule to ensure we meet our deadlines.” The woman from before rushes in and places some documents down in front of each of us as another woman follows her in with a tray of drinks.

Tom ignores them both as he continues on. “Jake, we’ve got you on the Hallawell Project, and Amelia…” He trails off when his business partner, Jim, gets his attention. “I almost forgot. Everyone, this is Amelia. She’s starting with us today. Can you all say hi?”

I smile as a collection of greetings comes my way, and Tom nods with a warm grin, easing more of my tension.

“We are very excited to have you on the team, Amelia,” he adds, making my smile widen, forcing me to work hard not to let my giddiness show. I’m a professional. I need to stay professional.

“Tom isn’t wrong,” Jim says, smiling back at me. “Amelia’s work on the Chasing Lies music videos is phenomenal, and if you haven’t viewed them, I suggest you rectify that immediately. Susie can send you a link.”

“Oh my God. Thank you,” I blurt out, ignoring the discomfort in my chest at the mention of my ex’s band. “I can’t wait to start. I’m ready to get my hands dirty.” I smile brightly and internally cringe. What was that? So much for not letting the enthusiasm show. But how is this real? Yes, it’s what I’ve been working toward since I was a teenager, but I honestly didn’t expect it so soon.

Jim smiles again, and a little part of me wonders if that’s a good or bad thing. I thought production executives were supposed to be scary. “I’m not going to lie,” he says—and here it is, I think — “as everyone here will tell you, some of our shows are bigger than others, and they may not be what you were expecting, but I can promise we have big plans for you. And first up is Project Storm .”

“ Project Storm ?” I ask, trying to remember all the projects I’ve been reading about since they offered me the job. I’m ninety- nine percent sure that Storm wasn’t listed in the bible they gave me. I would have remembered that because, like now, it would have made me think of Luke and his damn football team. “It wasn’t on the—”

“Are you kidding me?” Suit man stands as he cuts me off, his hands on his hips in anger. “I’ve been working my ass off here and you give the newbie Project Storm ? You give Project Storm to a girl?”

What?

“Sit down, Jake,” Jim demands. “There’s a time and a place for this discussion and this isn’t it.”

Jake sits but his expression doesn’t waver. Meanwhile, rather than take offense over something I’ve been fighting all my life, I ignore his sexism as my brain focuses on what's more important than some asshole's opinion of me… What the hell is Project Storm?

“Amelia will be heading up Project Storm because that’s who we want,” Tom says with pursed lips. “Her style is more suited to the fast pace of the show.”

“What show?” I blurt out and then grimace. “Sorry. It just wasn’t—”

“Ah, yes. It wasn’t in your bible. It’s a high-profile show that we’ve been keeping to ourselves. We’ve been granted access to the San Francisco Storm football franchise. Full access. And that means all the players, all the staff, and all that goes along with it.”

“Wow. That’s incredible,” I say out loud, but inside I’m screaming, “God-fucking-dammit .” Hayley is going to have a field day with this information. “And what’s the angle?” I force a smile, while mentally banging my head against a wall.

What was I thinking sleeping with Luke? I don’t even like him. I spent the better part of my childhood and teen years wishing he would disappear, and then I go and sleep with him. And now, in a sick twisted turn of events, I’m going to be working with him. I’ll repeat… Goddammit.

Oblivious to my inner spiral, the creative director of the company, Patrick, launches into a speech about their early concept, and when he’s done, his eyes lock on mine. “We’re excited for your ideas once you’ve had a chance to process everything. This project could get us the exposure we need to break into the next level.”

“I’m curious…” I hesitate before asking the first question that comes to mind. “Are the players all aware and happy about the full access you’re planning?” Because I anticipate we’ll have some push back from the team.

“Of course,” Patrick says, though I can tell he’s not so sure. “Why wouldn’t they?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because not everyone wants to be on TV.”

Jake laughs out loud before shaking his head and turning to Tom. “This is what I mean. She’s the wrong person for this job. The guys will love the exposure. Trust me.”