Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 135847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
That was Fliss for you, wandering around, performing miracles with her mascara wand. The current one, within a couple of minutes, talking Hale into allowing her to prepare him to be filmed.
Hale was smirking at me as he followed Felicity and her big, wheelie case to his kitchen, and Zoey made her approach to them.
Pure professionalism and competency, I ignored his smirk and moved to the cameras Chuck had already set on tripods that he and Zoey would operate. I bent and looked through the lens.
As ever with Chuck, the angles were perfect.
Seriously, he should be at a network. His camerawork was stellar. His editing was sublime.
And he used to be.
But now he was an ex-con, and he’d become an ex-con because of what spiraled after he developed a dependency on oxycontin when he’d got a knee injury during a pickup game of basketball.
No production now would touch him.
Score for me. And with any luck, and a lot of work, I would take him places.
“Need you to sit so I can do light, Elz,” Chuck told me.
I left the camera and went to the couch.
We were a lean operation. Set up was mostly done. By the time Felicity had put primer and tinted moisturizer on Hale, and set it with some powder, and I’d gone in for touchups, Zoey was back with coffees for all of us, and I had no choice but to stop avoiding him as I’d been doing and move to Hale.
“A moment before we get started,” I requested.
He jutted out his chin and followed me to a corner.
I didn’t bother with pleasantries, and instead launched right in.
“I’ll go through the questions as outlined, but depending on the conversation, I might veer off slightly or ask follow-up questions. Though, this will only be on the topics that I noted on the outline. It’ll be four cameras on two, so my responses will be authentic to the conversation. In other words, we won’t need extra time here to film another reel. By Monday, we’ll have cut a rough edit for you to look at so I know you’re comfortable with the direction we’re taking. We’ll then send you the final for your approval. I’ll give you a heads up before I start marketing it for air. Is that satisfactory?”
“Sure,” he agreed.
“We can get started when you’re ready.”
“I like your dress.”
I frowned. “Although I appreciate the compliment, approval of my wardrobe wasn’t part of our deal.”
“Just wanted you to know, considering I really like your dress.”
I tried and failed in not glaring at him.
He smirked again.
If he thought suddenly being a flirt would throw me off my game, he was wrong.
“Are you ready to get started?” I pushed.
“Let’s do it.”
We settled in, and as Chuck did one final check on everything, a premonitory thrill shuddered through me.
Because this was it.
This was my make it or break it moment.
If I nailed this, it was going to put me on the map. Legitimize me. It would be news, meaning not only the interview with Hale, but so would I in conducting it. It would probably double my followers (if not more). It would turn that seven-figure deal into eight. It would mean I could hire a researcher. It could mean I could be that long-term lessee for that space close to 30 Rock. I could move out that bland furniture and make it my own. Turn the conference room into a green room.
This interview with Hale meant the sky wasn’t my limit.
I was about to enter the stratosphere.
“Ready,” Chuck called.
I looked to Hale, surprised I did so suddenly feeling deep gratitude, because, whether he liked it or not, it was him who was going to make it all happen for me.
And my breath caught when I saw his pale green gaze was resting on me, open and warm, even so far as proud.
“You’re gonna do great,” he assured in a tone that was the same as his look.
I felt those words, words my mother would never say. I felt them hit hard. Burrow deep.
Change me.
It was too kind of a gesture to throw in his face, so I sent him a smile I knew had hints of nerves.
When he caught my smile, the warmth in his gaze intensified so much, I felt it circle my heart. An odd feeling I’d never experienced in my life.
And it felt amazing.
I forced myself to look at Chuck, “Let’s roll.”
Chuck called out the marker.
I looked to the camera.
And we rolled.
It was over, and I was not relieved.
I was not jubilant.
I was tripping, and the reason why was because Hale had been surprisingly friendly and forthcoming in the interview. Sure, he established boundaries early, and I skirted them to keep him comfortable and in the mood he was in, which, if I wasn’t wrong about how warm and earnest he’d come off, was going to earn him the undying love of just about anyone with a pulse.