Page 34 of Safe Hands

Carly hated that it was a good explanation.

Lauren lowered again, cleaner this time. Her form was fine. More than fine. She knew what she was doing, which somehow made the tension worse. If she had been useless, Carly could have dismissed the whole thing and gone home.

Instead, Lauren was competent and nervous and trying.

Carly should have left her alone.

“Your weight,” she said.

Lauren stopped. “What about it?”

“Say where it should be.”

“I was going to.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because you keep interrupting before I get there.”

The words cracked through the room.

Paige lifted the camera from the tripod and rested it against her hip. “I’m just going to say it. The current setup isn’t working.”

“Fine,” Carly said. “Show us.”

Paige turned the screen towards them and played back the footage.

Lauren smiled too brightly. Carly interrupted too quickly. Lauren became more rigid with every attempt. Carly became sharper. They kept speaking over each other.

It looked exactly like it felt. Forced.

“We are not posting that,” Carly said.

Lauren didn’t argue. She nodded once. “Right. Sorry.”

Paige shifted her weight between them. “For what it’s worth, you’re both good on camera. Just not at the same time.”

That, Carly suspected, was the most accurate thing anyone would say all evening.

“Take five,” Paige added. “I need a quick wee.”

Lauren wandered off towards the water bottles. Carly stayed where she was, staring at the blank camera screen.

It had all looked so tidy in the proposal. Practical videos, professional advice, shared audiences.

There were plenty of excuses to choose from. The gym. Beth. Samantha. Her father. Berkeley. It was a long list, and all of it was true.

It just didn’t explain why she couldn’t stop correcting Lauren.

Across the room, Lauren stood with her back turned, shoulders tight, reading the label on a bottle of water as if it might contain instructions.

Carly looked away first, even though nobody was looking back.

Some ideas worked on paper and died under the lights. That was all this was. Nobody’s fault.

She was almost certain she believed that.

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