Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Truth was, there were no golden keys. Talent, hard work, and of course good looks could help, but so much of it was luck. Luck and pure hustle. These last two had been the magic ingredients that had worked for Jay’s career.
This time, he decided, he would try to enjoy himself for once, and not feel as though he had to put up walls or be too careful about what he said. Erin looked so cute with her reporter’s notebook, her phone set to record, and her dog, but as she met his gaze, her smile was a little cooler than it had been. It must be her professional smile. Interesting.
She cleared her throat. “I’m sure my first question will come as no surprise to you. We always ask everybody, what made you choose Carmel-by-the-Sea?”
If there’d been any residual worry that Erin might ask hard-hitting questions, it melted away. He gave her his professional smile and then launched into a well-rehearsed response.
“This is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been. I love the beach and the relaxed atmosphere here. LA can get intense, so to be able to retreat to somewhere peaceful with a slower pace of life is amazing. And then this house came up and I fell in love with it right away. Love at first sight, as they say. Plus, I’ve got a few clients in the area. A lot of people in my business find themselves up here, so I can fly between LA and here in my PJ.”
Erin shot him a teasing look. “Your pajamas?”
“My private jet.”
“Right. Cool,” she said a little sarcastically.
Jay grinned. Her brothers owned or flew in private jets all the time, so she knew exactly what he meant by PJ. But she was having fun messing with him, and it was kind of hot to be teased. Usually, women were impressed by his jet. Not Erin. It was refreshing.
He realized then that she hadn’t taken a single note. Clearly this was territory as familiar to her as it was to him.
Then she said, “I’ve known you for a long time, but I always do some background reading on my subjects before I interview them. Do you know what struck me? In none of your interviews do you say where you got your education.”
He paused, weighing his options. He tended to overshare, but it was only ever about things he was happy for the world to know. There was a big part of him that he kept closed off from public scrutiny. Still, this was Erin and he wanted her to get a good interview. Maybe he could give her a little more than he’d usually give a reporter. Maybe it would also do him good to start talking about this stuff.
He took a breath. “I went to the school of hard knocks.”
She chuckled a little. “Sure, I get that, but did you get a degree from Harvard Business School or—”
Before she listed every Ivy League school he could have gone to and didn’t, he blurted, “I didn’t finish high school.”
Silence filled the room. He must have shocked her—heck, he’d shocked himself. He’d never told anyone that, let alone someone interviewing him. But as he met Erin’s gaze, he saw that she wasn’t shocked, merely interested in him.
“Really?” she asked. “I never knew that.”
He shrugged. “It’s not something I’m proud of.” And yet saying it out loud, to Erin, made him feel lighter, freer, not ashamed. It was like a heavy burden was finally being lifted from his shoulders. And then he seemed to fall back in time. “I grew up in Los Angeles,” he said. “LA is a city that is all about fantasy. It’s Hollywood with its movie stars and fancy shops along Rodeo Drive. But then there’s the side of the city that I grew up in. With its prostitutes and pimps and drug addicts and lowlifes. I never knew who my father was.” He could almost smell the stale booze and pot smoke. “My mom never should have had a kid. She was wasted most of the time on booze and drugs and, well, she got by as best she could.”
He realized he’d been staring out the window, talking without really thinking. The words were just sliding out of him, as though they’d been waiting years and years for the seams he’d stitched up so tightly to burst open.
He glanced at Erin. Again, she didn’t look shocked. She was simply nodding as though she understood him. If she was figuring out that his mother turned tricks to make enough money to buy drugs and keep a roach-infested roof over their heads, she was getting the right idea. And yet, he didn’t read pity in her eyes, because that would have stopped him dead in his tracks. Instead, he saw something like interest, and maybe a kindling respect? It felt good, but then he caught himself.