To answer him, I told the biggest lie I’d ever uttered in my life, and we could just say there were a fair few that tested the limits of such modifiers as “little.”
This one was flat-out propaganda.
“Yes, I’m great,” I replied, and with two sets of male eyes on me, I resumed my seat.
“Cool,” Judge said quietly. And then he said, “The ideas you sent were great, but gotta warn you, you’re not gonna like my feedback.”
Fabulous.
He kept going.
“The thing is, the power of the message is both of them delivering it together, rather than footage of them hiking different trails solo and having jumps between them as they share it. This isn’t just about nature. It’s about doing stuff with your friends. Rallying them, getting outside and being active. I know it’s tough for you to have to put them together, but it’s the way to go. And I can guarantee you, no shade on what you did, it was good work, but Duncan is gonna nix your idea, and from how he was talking, I think Tom would too.”
“You’re right,” I sniffed. “Wishful thinking.”
Judge nodded. “Though, maybe as they talk, we can have them jump to different trails. I’ve made a budget I think will fly, definitely it’ll be covered by what the campaign brings in without the percentage of expense versus net gain being screwed. The season isn’t right for easy travel right now, there’ll be snow in Colorado, Utah, anywhere else with picturesque trails that are close, and they, like you, probably want this done and behind them. But we can do Arizona, some spots in New Mexico might be good, and definitely California. I’m sending the budget I mocked up to you now.”
My laptop chimed with a new mail.
I pulled it up.
It was his budget.
From there, Judge kept talking, eating, sipping his beer, stroking his dog, getting up to grab slices of pizza, and except for the sustenance part, it was all about work.
Only about the project.
And I learned something else I didn’t like (but I did).
He was astute, savvy, creative, reasonable, responsive, knowledgeable and passionate.
It hadn’t occurred to me there was a reason Duncan picked Judge to run the only charity program River Rain Outdoor Stores put their brand on.
But there was.
I’d dealt with more than my fair share of people working in non-profits.
Judge was better than half of them and could easily compete with all the rest. Even the executive directors of nationwide programs.
I didn’t know if Duncan understood what he had in Judge.
But regrettably, I did.
In an hour and a half, we had a rough script, general blocking, a tweaked budget, a draft travel itinerary and shooting schedule, and Judge’s stuff was packed in his backpack, his quiet, sweet dog was on his lead, his cooler in hand, and I was trailing them to the door.
He turned at it and said, “Email me when you can meet on Sunday to scout locations.”
Excuse me, what?
“Sorry?” I asked.
“We’re gonna need to hike the trails and decide locations. I’ll do the research into what might be viable for LA and New Mexico, if Duncan signs off on this budget. But when we present to them, I want to have something visual to show them.”
A flutter of panic trembled around my heart.
“Can you not do that yourself?” I requested.
“Chloe, that’s gotta be you,” he denied. “I can do the scripting, budgeting, projecting and messaging, but the visual shit is not my thing.”
That made sense.
However.
“Okay, then I can go alone.”
“Who’s going to film you?”
Film me?
“I—”
He interrupted me before I even began.
“Right, get over it,” he ordered. “It’s not a big thing. We gave it a go. It was promising. You don’t wanna go there. I’m down with that. I got a program to run and a world-class athlete has hitched his wagon to it. We’ve never had this huge of an opportunity. I’m not gonna fuck it up. It’s your family’s name and face, you’re not gonna fuck it up. What happened, happened. It lasted a minute. Now it’s done. We both can be professional, do our parts, together and separate, and get it done right. I’ll email my address. Meet me at eleven at my place on Sunday. We’ll do the hike, scout some spots, take some footage, and then I’ll build the presentation for Tom and Duncan to sign off on. You in with that?”
It’s not a big thing.
You don’t want to go there. I’m down with that.
What happened, happened… It’s done.
“Chloe?”
I jerked myself out of my head.
“Yes. Fine. Eleven. Email your address.”
“Come prepared to hike,” he pushed. “We’re not going to hit a spot that looks dangerous or difficult, but we’ll be out in nature and the sun. And it could be chilly.”
“I’ve hiked before, Judge,” I stated coolly.
“Right. Okay, we’re good then.” He tipped up his chin. “Thanks for the pizza. Later.” With that, and before I could even stretch out a hand to give Zeke a goodbye pat, or say a word of farewell to his dad, Judge shook the lead, made a kiss noise, and murmured, “C’mon, buddy.”