Page 81 of Never To Be Mine

“Or you could call in sick and just stay in bed with me for the rest of the day.”

I looked at him. “Tempting, but I can’t. But maybe I can see you later.”

“I’m holding you to it.”

26

HOLLIS

Ipulled up to Micah’s place in Malibu just after noon, parking in the circular driveway behind his Range Rover. The house was ridiculous, all glass and modern architecture perched right on the beach. If you jumped off his balcony, you’d land on the sand.

Micah answered the door before I even knocked, grinning like he had a secret. “Perfect timing. I just finished rendering the last version of your promo.”

“How many versions are there?” I asked, following him through the house.

“You’ll see.”

The home theater was exactly what you’d expect from someone in the industry, with a massive projector screen and tiered reclining seats that I knew from personal experience were heated with massagers. The surround sound setup made commercial theaters look amateur. A vintage popcorn machine sat in the corner, the smell of fresh butter filling the air.

“Want some?” Micah gestured to the machine.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Suit yourself.” He grabbed a bag for himself and settled into one of the middle seats. I took the one next to him, feeling that familiar mix of excitement and nerves. This commercial could change everything for B Well. Or it could fall flat. I trusted Micah, but I’d never actually seen his directorial work before.

“So,” he said, pulling up something on his tablet that controlled the whole system. “I have a few different options. They’re rough cuts, but I wanted to run them all by you and see which one you like best.”

“Rough is fine. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The lights dimmed automatically, and the screen came to life.

The first clip opened on Jack Montana standing against what looked like a mountain backdrop. Green screen magic. He looked exactly like you’d expect an action star to look: masculine, confident, trustworthy. The lighting made his features stand out, all strong jaw and knowing smile. He lifted a bottle of B Well Balance, took a drink, and delivered his line with perfect timing.

“When you push your body to the limit, you need fuel that works as hard as you do. B Well Balance—real ingredients, real results.”

The clip ended with the B Well logo and a call to action to visit the website.

I sat back, impressed. “Yeah, that looks great.”

“Good.” Micah was already queuing up the next one. “Now this one.”

The screen lit up again, and this time it was Jack and me together. The backdrop had changed to what looked like a gym, with weights visible in the background. I immediately hated it. We looked like gym bros. That was not the vibe I wanted associated with my drink. Jack and I stood side by side, both of us holding bottles. We looked like we could bench press a car. The green screen work made it seamless. I couldn’t even tell where the digital background began.

Jack delivered a similar line, but this time I jumped in with a response about the product’s benefits. We looked like two guys just talking about something we both believed in. And it was an easy leap to assume drinking the smoothie would give you biceps that could crack walnuts.

The clip ended the same way—logo, website, done.

“Yeah, that also looks great,” I said. “You really know what you’re doing.”

“Thanks.” Micah paused, his finger hovering over the tablet. “You don’t seem thrilled.”

“I like the first one,” I said carefully. “I’m just not sure I want this marketed as a bodybuilder thing. I want it for everyone.”

He nodded. “Thought so, which is why I’ve got another one for you to check out.”

“Play it. These are good.”

“Now, this next one is a little different.”