“For the most part, wherever I am, which would still be here much of the time and some of the items may allow Connor to be involved.”
“Involved how?” Jim looked less than thrilled now.
“Well, suppose there is a new craze for new mums to run three miles a day with their baby strapped to their chest, or baby massage or baby gym, anything involving being a baby, they might want me to look at that, with Connor.”
The frown on Jim's face was deep and fixed making Tasha wince as she waited for his response.
“He is not an accessory or an extension of either of us. Angie does know that she only represents you and not our son too, doesn't she?” He sounded angrily.
“I thought you'd be pleased.” Tasha spoke quietly, deliberately keeping her voice low, not wanting this to become an argument. If she was honest with herself she didn’t really think Jim would be pleased as such, but she didn’t think he’d be opposed either. “This keeps me here, at home, with you, me and Connor. You don't like the alternatives.” She pouted unsure how she was ever going to be anything beyond a wife and mother if this was as unacceptable as it appeared to be.
“I'm not too thrilled about this, never mind the alternatives. It is our responsibility to shield him from press intrusion, to stop his face being plastered across tabloids in the supermarket, but how do we do that, legitimately, if we then use him to aid our own careers or exposure.” Jim ran a hand through his hair. He knew Tasha wanted to work, accepted it, admired it, but he’d hoped having Connor would have occupied her for longer than it had. He didn’t want to be the one putting obstacles in her way and he really did have no objection to her working and building her own career and yet the idea of her and Connor being away from him was abhorrent. “But you want to do it?” He knew she was becoming restless and also acknowledged that he needed to give a little here.
“Jim, before I met you, just over a year ago, I was a young and hopeful actress, one with some talent and endless potential opportunities, opportunities you might have been involved in facilitating and then we met; you became the man I love, my fiancé, my husband, the father of my unborn baby, and now you're Connor's daddy and we have this great life together, but in all that has happened the one thing that hasn't is work. I refused to have you gift me work from day one and every other job I've got I haven't been able to fulfil due to things out of my control.” She suddenly sounded breathless, gasping slightly at the overwhelming changes to her life in such a short time. “I don't regret us, or Connor, really I don't. The thing is, I barely recognise Tasha Winters in Tasha Maybury and that's mainly okay because Tasha Winters was seriously screwed up and you've sort of straightened her out.”
“But you want to keep some of her?” He reached across and took Tasha's hand in his, gently stroking it.
“Yes, the good bits. I love being your wife and Connor's mom, but I don't want to bejusta wife and mother. I want, I need to be me too which is what dinner was about, the dress. I'm still me underneath the elasticated waists and the breastfeeding suitable tops. This probably sounds crazy and I know hormones are still raging through my body but this is not a hormonal new mommy ranting, I promise, but now I am questioning my own motives for considering the use of Connor in my work.”
“Baby, I love you and I want you to be happy, I want to make you happy. I would love for you to stay home and for it to be enough for you, but I get that it isn't. I can't tell you that I want you to pursue the full potential of your career because I want you to be my wife and Connor's mommy more, but we have to find a compromise. I can see that you and Angie are trying to do that, so tell her you’ll take it subject to specific conditions being included in the contract.”
“What conditions?” Tasha’s suspicions were immediately raised. Jim was shrewd in business and controlling in personal issues and these conditions were likely to be potentially influenced by both of these aspects. Add to that the fact that he could be very sneaky she felt her suspicion was well placed.
“First, Connor is not in the contract at all, that's not to say you won’t feature him in reports if it is suitable and appropriate, but this way we, you and I, determine what he is exposed to because I am happy for you to take him to baby gym or for a massage, but there are other things I would not allow. This gives us the say so over him and nobody else. Second, it is stipulated that your role is L.A. based, notStateside. This is a big country. Again, that's not to say you won’t be amenable to reporting from outside of L.A. but this way you stay in control. Third, you sign up for no longer than twelve weeks with an option to extend. You don't want to be tied long term and you may hate it. Finally, any celebrity type reports are subject to them not potentially creating personal or professional embarrassment or distress to you and if they're likely to, you have the option to veto them.”
Staring at him, Tasha wondered how Jim made a yes sound like such a no. She kind of understood what he was saying and why, except the final point.
“What does that mean, my embarrassment and distress?”
“Ah, I thought you looked confused.” He smiled, somehow pleased that his wife was still innocent enough not to see and understand all of the potential pitfalls of Hollywood and contracts. “Imagine an actor, maybe one who is a friend or acquaintance of yours or mine fucks up, gets caught with his pants down, has an affair, gets divorced, is getting married, whatever, and they ask for your take on it or use you to try and get a scoop. You give 'em a scoop and you are history in this town professionally, baby. And if it involves my studio or one of my productions...”
“I'm fucked personally? Is that what you're saying?” Tasha sounded tearful, confused as to how she was ever going to work successfully if every job and role might compromise her marriage.
“Not like you mean, but it causes potential problems for us if you are seen to be discussing one of my actors in a negative light when I, as the studio, may be supporting him fully and being really positive. Those are my terms, Tasha. Sorry if it seems harsh, but there they are.”
“I kind of get it,” she conceded half-heartedly because she did, kind of. “I'll call Angie in a minute, before Connor wakes up.”
“And tell her to send me a copy of the contract and I'll get legal to take a look before you sign. Call her once you've eaten some more and then we can talk about extending our family.” Jim grinned as Tasha stretched forward to kiss his lips gently and grabbed another slice of pizza.
Jim was lounging on the sofa with another bottle of beer watching Tasha looking nervous as she waited for Angie to answer her call. He’d meant everything he'd said to her; he wanted her to be happy and fulfilled professionally and personally but he wouldn't allow their home life to suffer for her work and Connor needed to be the priority, although he had no doubts that she always had their son as her priority above all else. Angie had just answered when Connor's crying sounded around them through the baby monitor.
Tasha looked at it startled until Jim looked across and smiled. “I'll go.”
He planted a kiss on Tasha's temple leaving her watching his back disappearing into the hall, a very attractive back wearing one of his favoured white linen shirts over a pair of khaki shorts.
She’d finished explaining Jim's stipulations and with a promise from Angie that she'd speak to them the following day and get back to her, Jim returned carrying Connor and frowning at a wrapped nappy.
“Angie will speak to them and let us know.” She looked down at their son who was gurgling up at her. “Hey, you're making a liar of me, baby. I told Daddy you were good for six hours and it's only been four and a half,” she told him, making him fidget as he became more animated in his reaction to her voice. Tasha and Jim laughed at him, exciting him further.
“I think his premature wake up may have been due to needing his diaper changed.”
Tasha laughed.
“What?” Jim looked down at the hygienically sealed nappy in his hand.
“Sandra and I were talking about them before, nappies.”
“Diapers,” Jim corrected. “Remember Natasha, my country, sorry, our country,” he said gesturing between himself and Connor, “our labels.”
