Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
She lifts a reassuring hand in the air. “Trust me, boss. I’ll keep it classy.”
That’s what we’re aiming for—a classy, family-friendly competition—but it’ll be good to have a little drama in our back pocket in case our acquiring network wants to lean into the conventional reality tropes. That’s the great thing about reality programming. You can edit the footage to tell a wide variety of stories, manipulating the raw material to fit your desired end result.
It’s a little slimy, sure, but that’s the sea I swim in at the moment.
It makes me ache for my sketch comedy days with a longing that’s visceral. By the time I fetch a black coffee from the craft services tent, my gut is in knots.
Or it could be the stunned look on Caroline’s face as Eduardo whispers to her in the corner that’s turning my stomach. I feel like an asshole for causing her a single moment of pain or discomfort, but…this is my job.
It’s another reason we can’t consider becoming more than friends until all this is over.
Hell, we probably shouldn’t even be friends.
Friends don’t set up friends to fight with scary goth women on national television. As soon as we wrap for the day, I should tell Caroline that Leo’s Magical Mystery Tour of New York’s Secret Local’s-Only Hot Spots is cancelled until December Twenty-Third, when filming is finished.
But she’ll be on a train the next morning, and I’ll be on the road with Greg, driving him up to his new home in Vermont. Maybe Caroline will accept an invitation to make the drive with me, instead of hopping the train, but we’ll only have three hours in the car together before our time is through.
That won’t be nearly as much fun as a day romping around the city.
Even if Greg manages to avoid getting carsick, the way he does every time we make the journey to my vacation home in Maine, he’ll monopolize her time and attention. He likes to ride in the passenger’s seat, so he can prop his paws up on the window and hiss at the cars driving by. He takes far too much joy in terrorizing people at seventy miles per hour to stay in his bed in the backseat.
He’ll be crouched on Caroline’s lap, purring while she pets him, and I’ll be the third wheel chauffer who’s botched his chance to win the girl.
No, the tour will not be cancelled. The tour will continue as planned…right after I apologize to Caroline and beg her forgiveness for throwing her to the wolves.
She’ll forgive me?
Right?
It’s my last thought before Caroline grabs a pitcher of water from the craft table and storms across the tent toward Jenna.
seventeen
. . .
Caroline
Iwant to strangle this woman.
Literally.
As I charge across the catering tent, I have vivid fantasies involving the purple sash on her black spiderweb dress wrapped around her pale white throat.
How dare she stalk me on the dark web! What on earth does she plan to do with the information she found? Is she going to open a credit card in my name? Take out a loan? Leak news of my weird ingrown hair that had to be surgically removed to the press?
The hair thing would actually bother me. A lot. Having an ingrown hair of that size and stubbornness is embarrassing! And at the time, I’d thought I had cancer or a tumor. It was upsetting.
Upsetting and private.
That’s the part that has steam coming out of my ears. This woman, this stranger, violated my privacy without a second thought, all because she wants to win a dumb reality show.
Well, I’ll show her. I’ll show her exactly how far you get on a hospitality-themed show with that kind of behavior.
Skidding to a stop beside her table, I coo to the transportation director she’s been flirting with all day, “Excuse me, Kyle, I need a moment with Jenna. In private.”
“This should be good,” Jenna says, turning my way with grin just like the Grinch’s after he stole the roast beast. “Shoot, Goody Two-Shoes. But FYI, there’s no ‘private’ in reality show television. Whatever you have to say, you’re going to have to say it, loud and proud, for all the world to hear.” Her lips push into a patronizing pout. “Does that scare you? If so, you can run away with your tail between your legs.” Her grin returns with a wicked vengeance. “Isn’t that what your doctor thought your ingrown hair was at first? The remnants of a vestigial tail or something?”
Matching her slimy smile with a wider, brighter one of my own, I say, “I just wanted you to know that I’ll be freezing my credit as soon as I get to my laptop. To protect myself against identity theft.”
“As if I’d want your identity.” She rolls her eyes. “You’re safe, Goody, don’t worry. I have a life; I don’t need to steal a pathetic one like yours. I can’t believe you’ve never even been pulled over for speeding. Who’s that squeaky clean at thirty-four?”