“Why not?” He turns to look at me.
“I won’t work for you, but”—I hold up my hand, smiling—“I’ll work with you.”
He just stares at me. “I want MFG Production to have its own division.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “I have ideas on shows that we could do from the winter classic to off-season training with the guys. I want to have my own team and run it my way.”
“Are those your terms?”
“Those are the big terms.” I fold my arms over my chest, mimicking his stance. “I’m sure I’ll think of other things.”
“I’m sure you will.” He smirks. “Accepted. You start Monday.” He turns to walk out but then stops. “Proud of you, Franny.” My feet move toward him, and he opens his arms. I put my face in his chest as he wraps his arms around me. “I still want to sue those motherfuckers,” he mumbles in my hair, making me laugh away the tears.
“Well, how about we don’t sue them and instead make their shows tank and then wait until their stocks fall low and buy them?” I suggest as I step away from him, and he roars with laughter.
“That’s my girl,” he says, putting his hand on my cheek.
“Why does it feel like you guys are Doctor Evil?” Wilson says from behind me. My father and I share a look, but neither of us says anything because Wilson’s phone rings.
“Maybe you’re getting fired also,” my father says. “Then I can snap you up for New York.” I roll my lips as Wilson shakes his head and looks down at the phone.
“Hello?” he answers. “I can be there in ten minutes,” he says to whoever is on the phone and then hangs up. “The team that is sweeping the house is done.” He looks over at my father.
“Sweeping the house?” I ask him, confused.
“Looking for bugs and cameras,” my father informs me. “Did they tell you if they found something?”
Wilson shakes his head. “I’m assuming it’s why they want to see me.” He puts his phone in his pocket.
“Do I need my purse?” I ask, and he shakes his head, so we all walk out together.
“Call me after,” my father says, getting into his SUV.
Wilson opens the car door for me, and when I get in, he leans in and kisses my lips. “We have to table this conversation,” he says, coming back for another kiss. “FYI.” He closes the door, and I watch him walk around the car and get in.
“I don’t understand what conversation needs to be tabled,” I tell him as he starts the car, and I turn to him.
“One.” He looks over his shoulder as he backs out of my driveway. “You didn’t tell me about work.” He holds up his hand and then puts the car in drive. “And two, you didn’t tell me about your job.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “One and two are the same thing.” I lean over and kiss his cheek. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
“It is a big deal.” He grabs my hand and holds it on his lap as he makes his way to his house. He parks his car, then turns to me. “I want to know when you have a shitty day or a good day.”
I can’t help but smile at him because, to be honest, no one has ever really asked about my day. Sure, my mother and father when I was in school, but it’s just how are you doing? “Fine.” I put my hand on his cheek. “Duly noted.” I kiss his lips. “I had a shitty day at work and quit my job.” I look into his eyes and smile. “But then I got another job that is even better.”
“You’re crazy.” He kisses my lips. “Did I mention that?”
“Oh, baby …” I wink at him. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” I reach for the door and get out. I wait for him in front of the car, and he reaches for my hand. “Now let’s go find out if your ex-girlfriend booby-trapped your house.”
“Can we not call her my ex-girlfriend?” he says under his breath as he opens the front door of his house. “Or better yet, let's not call her anything.”
I’m about to answer him when a guy and a woman start coming down the stairs. “You’re here,” the man says and smiles at me. “I’m Damon, and this is Louise.”
“Nice to meet you.” I nod politely at them.
“Come with me.” He motions with his head toward Wilson, who never releases my hand as he walks toward the living room area. But instead of going to the living room, the man turns to the kitchen. “This is what we found.” He points at another frame similar to what I found in the living room.
“One frame?” Wilson says, picking the frame up.