Taya is Jayme’s friend? Her best friend? I never would’ve guessed that in a million years. Jayme is such a professional, analytical and strategic, and Taya has a reputation for being a wild child who does whatever she wants, when she wants. She’s earned her nickname of La Loca. It seems an odd pairing, but from what Jayme has said about her best friend, it seems like a close, happy friendship.

  I feel a little closer to Jayme, privy to one of her secrets, even if it's not directly from her. I understand that she has to maintain a degree of privacy, especially if their friendship is rooted in a professional client-PR relationship. But she felt safe enough with me to bring me here, and I appreciate the peek behind the curtain of her heart.

  “Found it!” she exclaims from the doorway.

  I take the offered lotion and shake it up. Dropping the waistband of the sweats below my balls, I squirt a bit of it directly to my cock. Feeling Jayme’s eyes on me as I work it into the skin, I look up to find her focusing intently on my movements. “You like watching me?”

  She offers a smile full of dirty thoughts, nodding slowly.

  I feel myself growing hard and groan . . . in pain.

  “Oh! Sorry!” she squeaks, turning around. “I’ll grab our clothes, though I think they’re beyond saving. My skirt ripped, and your shirt is completely stained. It has sandy ass prints ground into it.”

  “Just toss them,” I say.

  “Consider it done,” Jayme answers. “And there’s a shirt in the top drawer.”

  I open it to grab the shirt and find that we’re totally matching. I guess we’re flying home as Taya super fans.

  CHAPTER 16

  JAYME

  Walking around the grounds for the festival, I look for any potential issues or concerns, along with any last-minute things we could add to make it even more spectacular. We’ve gotten so much done in the weeks since our trip to LA, but it’s taken around-the-clock work by the entire team. I’ve enjoyed working side-by-side with them all, especially Carson. We’ve gotten to know each other better over spreadsheets and checklists, as well as late-night dinners and conversations.

  “What do you think about the lights in the trees? Do we need more?” I mumble, eyeing the strands of LED lights critically. They’re electronically controlled and can be programmed to switch colors with the beat of the music, dance randomly, or light sequentially.

  Spencer does the same, lifting her glasses to her forehead and then lowering them again as if she’ll see something different with and without the lenses. The experienced marketing executive has been essential in all of the planning for the festival, and I’ve been happy to work with her, especially today. “What about disco balls? They’re fun and would reflect the light.”

  “That’s brilliant!” I exclaim. “Do you think we can buy some and get them hung in time?”

  She gives me a sly look. “At this point, I just toss out Carson’s name and things get done. People here are willing to help him because he’s willing to help them.”

  It’s working. All of my hard work at repairing Carson’s reputation is having the desired effect.

  The social media around ‘Grandma Barbara’ has grown to the point that park visitors want pictures with her as much as they do Freddy Freebird. And with the video showing Carson saving the beloved Grandma Barb, the Abby Burks effect is diminishing greatly. Carson is basically considered a hero at this point who stood up to an entitled brat who was creating drama for clout.

  We just need this festival to be perfect too, and then the Americana Land reputation will be restored.

  “What else?” Carson asks.

  Spencer turns to Kyleigh in a silent ‘show ’em what you got’ move. They seem like a great team, with Kyleigh willing to jump in and get her hands dirty and Spencer willing to share her experience and mentor the young intern. Kyleigh checks her iPad, confidently rattling off the details of her list. “Stage preparation – electrical cords run and taped down, amps in position and sound checked, instrument spots marked, pyrotechnics being triple verified tonight and rechecked in the morning before the opening act. Effects – laser lights have been checked, and we’ll get on adding disco balls.” She dips her head at Spencer. “The bubble machine and fog machine are ready, and the glitter bombs are in place, though we have to trust those to work because there’s no pre-check without it looking like a glitter explosion.”

  Kyleigh pauses, her eyes flicking to Spencer, who mumbles, “Glitter is the herpes of the craft world.”

  It seems like it’s an ongoing joke between them because they both quirk their lips at that. Kyleigh continues the read-through of her list. “Musicians – at local hotels, all confirmed and prepped. They’ll be arriving in the morning for sound check before the park opens. Food and drinks – kiosks placed and stocked. Vendors – stocked with glow and blacklight merch, commemorative T-shirts, and special edition Freddy Freebird stuffies. Did I miss anything?”

  She looks at Spencer, who smiles back proudly, and then to Carson and me.

  “I think you two make an amazing team,” Carson praises.

  Kyleigh beams, but Spencer narrows her eyes. “Carson, more than just us two have worked on this.”

  “Oh, I know this has been a huge undertaking, involving every department. And tomorrow is going to be a busy day of craziness, but I want you to know how much I appreciate you.” Carson looks from Spencer to Kyleigh. “It wouldn’t have happened without you two at the helm of this ship.”

  “I appreciate that,” Spencer says, still not assuaged, “but what I meant was you’re the captain of this ship. You’ve done a lot too, and when tomorrow goes off without a hitch and makes Americana Land the talk of the internet, you get the credit for that.” She pauses and then adds, “And you too, Jayme.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t need credit. It’s all this guy,” I correct, gesturing to Carson. This is his doing, the grand resurrection of his reputation. He’ll be the one standing on the stage tomorrow, and I’ll be behind the curtains where I belong.

  “Thank you,” Carson says quietly, obviously unaccustomed to praise and taking the compliments to heart. “That means a lot, Spencer.”

  She leans in closer, her voice hard, to add, “Don’t let the old man take credit either. You tell him, loud and proud, what you did.”

  Hmm. It seems the tension between father and son has caught the attention of more of the home office staff than I realized. I’ll need to help address that before this assignment is over because that can fester and grow, strangling the good progress we’ve made here.

  Spencer looks pointedly over Carson’s shoulder, and we instinctively turn to look. Ben Steen is walking across the Great Garden area straight toward us, with Izzy and Toni Steen flanking him.

  Carson turns fully, a bland smile on his face. “Dad. Coming to check up on me?”

  Ben’s face is equally impassive, no doubt hiding the concerns he has on the eve of an undertaking of this scope. They really are the spitting image of each other. “Just seeing how things are going. Felt like I should show my face, considering this is such a big deal and I am the CEO.”

  Carson stiffens, but I don’t think Ben notices as he scans the area, taking in the completed setup and workers moving about. Meanwhile, Izzy smiles politely. “It looks lovely, Carson. I’m sure it’ll be a great event.”

  I gotta give her props, she is doing everything she’s supposed to do—the warm smile, the supportive hand casually woven through her husband’s, the kind compliment. But it feels forced, the awkwardness between her and Carson obvious.

  “Are you kidding, Mom? It’s gonna be dope, bigger and better than Electric Forest. I can’t wait, already got my costume ready,” Toni gushes. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’ve got pasties to cover my nips . . . this time.” She smirks, barely shaking her head and making a flashing headlight motion with her hands in front of her chest.

  But that gets Ben and Carson’s attention. Simultaneously, they snap, “Toni.”

  Toni rolls her eyes. “So easy, these two. One little mention of potential nudity, and boom, they’re united in battle.” She laughs easily, and both men relax . . . a little. “Don’t worry, guys. I’ll be wearing so much blacklight body paint that no one will see an inch of bare skin. Think it’s okay if I paint Smack Here on the ass of my bootie shorts, though?”

  She tilts her head, tapping her chin as though considering it.

  “No.” I’m not sure if it was Carson or Ben who spoke because at this point, they sound remarkably alike.

  “Are you really wearing a costume?” a small voice whispers.

  Toni looks at Kyleigh and asks, “Who’re you? And yes.”

  Kyleigh looks horrified that she actually spoke, but after making a visual check-in with Spencer, she quickly says, “I’m Kyleigh, an intern working on the festival.”

  Despite Kyleigh’s nerves, Toni seems delighted at the conversation with a potential new friend. “You and me, girl. We’re gonna be like this tomorrow.” She crosses her fingers, pointing them back and forth between the two of them.

  “Uh, sure. I’m escorting Jazmyn Starr around mostly, but . . .”

  “The hell you are, we are doing that now,” Toni corrects. Quieter, she whispers, “Did I hear that she’s got the kids from King’s Krossing dancing with her?”

  Kyleigh screams silently, her hands curled up by her face as she nods wildly. “I know, right! I can’t believe it! This is like my dream come true!”

  I think we just witnessed the two young women truly becoming best friends.

  “Yours and mine both, girl,” Toni agrees. “I’ve got that whole routine down, perfection from one to done.”

  Carson clears his throat, garnering everyone’s attention again. “Everything’s fine, Dad. We’ve got it all under control.”

  Spencer leans forward, breaking in before tension can possibly rise again. “Yep, as we said in our status update, we’ve got it all ready, Mr. Steen.” Her confirmation is directed solely to Carson and highlights that we were in the middle of something important when Ben walked up.

  I think Spencer is my new favorite person. Not that I’ll tell Carson . . . or Taya . . . that. Carson is the orgasm dealer, and Taya . . . is Taya.

  “Thank you, Spencer,” Carson answers firmly, dipping his chin toward her.

  Ben tries a different tact, addressing me. “Ms. Rice, I understand we have you to thank for this festival idea?”

  “Actually, it was born from a team meeting. Everyone was doing such a great job implementing the strategies I suggested that we were able to brainstorm even more innovative ideas to bring Americana Land into the Twenty-First Century.” I’m walking a fine line, wanting to highlight Carson and his teams’ strengths while reminding Ben that he might be the CEO, but Americana Land wasn’t perfect before this incident.

  Ben makes a harrumph noise, catching the slight dig. “Traditions create a foundation upon which Americana Land is built.”

  “Yes, but every foundation cracks eventually and has to brought up to current codes.” I smile gently, softening the blow by degrees. “But that’s why you brought me in. It’s exactly what I specialize in—reframing reputations and images for the now, and more importantly, for the future. I think you’d agree that it seems to be working quite well.”

  I incline my head, my eyes questioning. He can’t disagree, and we all know it. Not when the daily Find Freddy Freebird is trending, analytics show searches for the park are up by eighty percent, photo engagement is rising with every post, and presale tickets for the festival are sold out.

  “It does seem to be,” Ben allows.

  Carson grins victoriously. “Was it that hard to admit, Dad?”

  “No,” he says, looking at Carson in frustration. “I’m truly happy things are going so well.” If he stopped there, I think things would be okay, but he adds, “If only we hadn’t needed to recover from that unfortunate incident.”

  Enough of this. I swear, these two are so used to their battle of wills, of coming from opposite sides of every issue, that they don’t even recognize that they’re hurting themselves and the company.

  And I’m done with it. I’m well aware of the nuances of these difficult relationships, both personally and most definitely professionally, especially with clients. But at some point, it’s worth the pain to rip the Band-Aid off. It’s necessary to get to a place of healing.

  And that’s what Americana Land needs, as well as Ben and Carson. But it’s risky, jumping in the middle of their relationship. It has the potential to blow up in a major way, especially on the eve of an event.

  Even riskier, I have a vested interest in Carson’s feelings, and interfering in his relationship with his father is not my place. Except it is. Their relationship is key to their reputations, and that’s my responsibility.

  “Spencer, Kyleigh, could you give us a moment, please?” I tell them stiffly, knowing that this is not a conversation to be had in front of others. If I do that, Ben and Carson are both going to be defensive and likely tune me out. Not on my watch.

  Spencer gathers Kyleigh and leads her away, while Izzy apparently senses an impending ‘business conversation’ and leads Toni away too. Just the three of us now. I turn on them, prepared to put them on blast. “That was . . . unprofessional at best, and damaging to the reputations I’m working my ass off to save for certain,” I begin, holding up a hand when they both open their mouths. “Uh-uh. Not now, not until I’ve said my piece. Ben, Carson, both of you need to stow this dick measuring contest you’ve got going on. Especially here, in the middle of the park. Your interpersonal issues are hurting your company, your family, and yourselves.”

  “I . . .” Carson starts, but I shake my head.

  “No, you’ve both had your chance. It’s mine turn now. I’ll start here, in the park. You both need to recognize the basics. Americana Land was a dying park stuck in the eighties, dependent on seniors and families for a falling profit margin and out of touch with the disposable income of a huge segment of the population, which it desperately needed. Moving into the future, using the resources and ideas of staff to be more relevant, innovative, and profitable will be key. It’s going to hurt.” I count out one on my finger, then add a second. “It’s going to be awkward, and it’s going to require the two of you to work together.” Holding up my three fingers, I focus on Carson. “I’m here to fix your professional stuff, but if it requires fixing your personal relationship, I’ll do my best, though I’m not a therapist.”

  “Excuse me?” Ben sneers, clearly not used to being spoken to quite so bluntly.

  “Jayme.” Carson’s tone is cold and flat, and he’s obviously not ready to listen either.

  I need to work on him first. I hate that I even think this, but I know him better and can get past his shields more easily. It’s using what he’s shared with me in confidence against him, but for his own good. I start off by giving him a look, hoping he understands. This is for you.

  To Ben, I say, “You called me here. What did you expect to happen when I came? Did you think I was going to tell Carson that he’d messed up his reputation and that Americana Land’s beyond repair?” He tries to answer, but I keep rolling. “I don’t think so. I think you truly wanted me to help. Which I’m doing, but be aware that the biggest change that’s happened since my arrival is Carson doing what his gut says without worrying whether you’re going to approve of it. Or be proud of him.”

  Carson’s jaw is clenched so hard I can hear his teeth grind. He’s furious with me. I’m overstepping, but this is part of what I do. It’s not always about the façade, not when I can repair the foundation, as Ben called it. And I think Carson and his dad are closer to a better relationship than they think.

  “Ben, what your son wants is to show you that he’s got the goods. And guess what? He does. But you two butt heads so much, you might as well be goats playing King of the Mountain.”

  I throw my hands up, but I’m not done. I’ve barely started. “Frankly, the best thing you two could do for the company is sit down and learn to talk to each other, not snip and snipe, undercutting each other at every turn. Because your employees, your executives? Every time you two go off like this, they lose faith in you. But more importantly, you two need to talk as a family. As father and son. Because I can see and hear the love you two have for each other. You just both suck balls at communicating it.”

  At some point, Izzy and Toni have come back with popsicles, and Ben looks around helplessly, hoping for support. But his wife is no shelter this time, glaring at him as if to say you fucked it up. Now do something about it.

  Finally, Ben clears his throat. “Carson,” he says slowly, as if unknotting a particularly hard lump in his throat, “I am proud of you. I always have been.”

  He makes the compliment sound as if it should be obvious. It’s definitely not. But it’s a step in the right direction.

  Carson’s shoulders are stiff, his back straight. “Thank you.”

  You ever see someone who’s obviously having the worst day of their life, like they’re crying ugly, snotty tears, folded in on themselves, disheveled and out of sorts, but when you ask them how they’re doing, they say ‘fine’ in that flat, auto-tone of an expected, but entirely untrue, answer? That’s the vibe of Carson’s ‘thank you’.

  I twitch my hand, barely brushing my pinkie against his in a subtle show of support. He takes a big breath, his lips pressed together, but finally adds, “You’ve built something special here at Americana Land, kept it going through difficult times. Including this one. I hope we can work together as we move toward a better future.”

  Okay, still robotic as hell and sounding like a couple of fake-ass politicians reaching across the aisle temporarily because of some national emergency, but it’s a start, some acknowledgement of the other from them both.