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“Trying not to. Think fetch-playing kid, not big, ugly bird.”
She documented both, then went back to the Doyle job.
At the end of the day, she contacted Corrine Doyle.
“I’d like to talk to you about another job, maybe ask your advice, and hire you and your camera. Can we set up a meeting?”
“I’m free tomorrow morning. Since I’m going to be out anyway, I can come to you. About ten-thirty?”
“That would be perfect.”
“Why don’t you give me some broad strokes?”
“I’m working on a presentation. Ryder Sports.”
“I know Ryder.”
“I want to do some sports photos, but I don’t want to use professional models. I want real people,” she began.
By the time she got downstairs, Cleo was indeed in the kitchen. “I think I’ve got this. I hope I’ve got this. Chicken and dumplings, peas and carrots. It sounds homey. How hard could homey be?”
“Don’t ask me.” Sonya looked at the chicken in the skillet. “Itlooks sort of homey, and it’s starting to smell good. I’m going to buy you a really cute yoga outfit.”
“For making dinner?”
“No, so you can wear it, have Corrine Doyle take your picture—for my presentation. You like yoga, so you’ll look like you yoga.”
“This is for the Ryder deal? I have a yoga outfit from Ryder. I look awesome in it.”
“That makes that easy. I have to talk Trey into doing this—working out or playing ball. I need somebody who has a bike. And the intern at Doyle’s—he’s gorgeous—I want to talk him into doing one of the shots. I want different ages. At least one kid, at least one over fifty. I just want a sample. If I get the job, I’ll do more.”
“Say when, not if. Intention counts. Like I intend to make these dumplings and rock your world. Stay out of my way. Go put on some makeup.”
“He’s seen me without it.”
Cleo simply sent her a long, long look.
“Fine.”
She did what she was told, and started down again just as the doorbell bonged.
He brought flowers, pretty pink baby roses.
“Cleo gets the flowers,” he told her. “You said she was cooking.”
“Only fair,” she said as Mookie and Yoda reunited. “How about I take one of these?”
With a hand on his shoulder, she leaned in for a kiss.
“You can have all of those you want.”
“Maybe just one more, for now.” Then she waited while he hung up his coat.
Playing ball, she decided. Reaching up to field a baseball. She could see it.
She hooked her arm through his. “I have a proposition for you.”
“What sort of proposition? Personal, business, sexual, political?”
