Page 15 of Full Contact

He rested a forearm on my desk and gave me his full attention. He didn’t try to fill the silence. It gave me time to notice how good he looked across my desk and wonder what he’d look like across my breakfast table.

I looked down at my presentation. “Two pictures,” I said, turning the screen. “The Rook-Varga kiss and Varga under your cat. Guess which one the internet chose.”

He leaned forward and adjusted the screen with one finger. Close up, I saw a narrow white scar across the knuckle. I moved my coffee out of his way while he read the figures.

“That can’t be right.”

“It’s right. I checked because I didn’t believe it either.”

“You had cameras on the kiss and planned it all out.”

“Yes, from five different angles.”

“And a sleeping man beat it.”

“A sleeping man under your cat beat it. I described the numbers as deranged in an official report. Legal objected to the word.”

“What word did they want?”

“‘Notable.’”

“Cowards.” He sat back, looking pleased. “So what do you want?”

“A season of Peaches. Short episodes, maybe two a month. A crew of two to gather the media, in and out. Her regular life: dinner time, scheduled vet visits, the harness situation, and how she greets you when you come home. We want to give people the opportunity to follow her.”

“Follow her where? She lives in a condo, and she sleeps nineteen hours a day.”

“That’s the show. You take care of her. People want to see that.”

“Yesterday I sat on the floor for twenty minutes because she was in my chair,” Trier said.

“We could film that.”

“She was asleep. I wasn’t going to wake her.”

He laughed, his eyes crinkling almost shut, and for a moment I could see his upper teeth and the crooked edge of his smile. I was grinning back at him when I remembered I was supposed to be explaining the proposal.

“Who would come into my home?”

“Two crew members. Camera and sound. I pick them and you approve my picks.”

“How long would they stay?”

“Ninety minutes, hard stop. Shorter if she’s done sooner.”

“She’ll be done sooner.”

“Then we get what we get,” I said.

“What happens when she won’t do something?”

“Nothing. She’s not required to do anything. If she’s tired, we stop. If she’s hiding, we leave.”

“And if I hate something?”

“You veto it. Filming or footage, either end. Nothing posts that you haven’t seen.”

Trier considered it all. I could usually read a decision arriving before anyone announced it. He glanced at the screen, then back at me, and I waited.