Page 110 of The Puck Stops Here
They’d been kind and understanding – more than she deserved – and immediately set about creating a fallback plan. Dedicating a chunk of the call to the many and varied ways in which she could mess with the Ice King… each idea more fanciful than the last.
And today was the day of the photoshoot. The perfect opportunity to dosomething…
But what?
As she hurried along the sidewalk to the twins’ apartment, her mind buzzed with their suggestions and then it struck her, flashing before her eyes in vivid technicolour. The same billboard she’d passed that very first day walking home with Blake – Aiden grinning with his preferred brand of tan.
To be fair to the guy, if it weren’t for a New York winter and the amount of time he spent on the ice, it could be consideredau naturel. But there were other brands… brands with shades that shouldn’t exist unless you intended to look like a pumpkin.
Nowthisshe could mess with…
And checking her watch, she pivoted to the nearest department store.
* * *
Blake hated having his photo taken.
Even his professional profile pic had been taken under duress, and did he smile? Did he fuck.
Fin, the camera guy, was setting up in the living room. Astrid was supposed to be on her way over but running late. Stella was clucking about and Aiden, he had no fucking idea where Aiden was. The guy had become a law unto himself.
Was he the only one ready for this damn thing? Ready with a headache too. Not to mention the fact that his face felt weird.Andhe smelt of a goddamn biscuit.
Why he’d listened to Stella when she’d suggested he shave, he had no idea. As for the tan, that was all Aiden’s doing –the camera loves a tan, buddy.Blake did not.
But he was determined to play ball. Do as he was told in the hope that the whole thing would be over as quickly and as painlessly as possible.
Though now Aiden was AWOL and he felt… he ran a hand over his smooth jaw and grimaced, his skin prickling with mounting unease. This wasn’t him.
Fin had taken some test shots earlier and Blake had struggled to recognise himself. Maybe he ought to change the clothing Stella had chosen too. White tee, stonewashed jeans.Sonot him.
About the only thing that was truly ‘Fury at Home’ were his bare feet. And Astrid had said she wanted this to be genuine, a true representation of their life…
So why did you listen to Stella?
Perhaps because Astrid wasn’t here to tell him otherwise, and he was so far out of his comfort zone he’d take instruction from anyone who looked like they knew what they were doing.
Why hadn’t Astrid rocked up with Fin? Was she the reason Aiden wasn’t here either? Were they both off together doing God knew what?
He clenched his jaw and fired off another text to the man himself.
‘Mr Carter?’
The voice accompanied a knock on his bedroom door, and he blinked through the darkness. ‘Yes?’
It cracked open a slit and Fin’s pixie-haired apprentice peeped in… what was her name… Betty? Betsy? Becky? ‘What is it?’
‘Fin’s asking if we’re okay to move the coffee table out of the living area?’
Did he want to move Blake out of the apartment while he was at it?
‘No problem.’
‘And can we take the?—’
‘Fin can do whatever the hell he likes so long as he gets this over with as quick as possible.’
‘Great!’ Though she sounded terrified now and he gripped his temples.
