Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 106001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Jules squares her shoulders. “As a matter of fact, we happen to know someone who’s very keen on having his own show.”
“Do tell,” Ellie says.
“Dominic Rivera,” I say.
Ellie’s big eyes widen. “I like where this is going. Tell me more.”
“We have a meeting with him after this. He’ll be perfect for the role.”
A week later, I head to another meeting. One I’ve been seeking for a long, long time. I go to lunch with David Fontaine, eager to learn what’s on his mind at last.
Over iced tea, he says, “So, I’ve been thinking about your idea about the humor columns.” Ah, I’d been hoping he’d marinate on that after the gallery. Maybe this is why he arranged this meeting the day he called me. He keeps going, saying, “But it’s not just supposed to be funny. There’s a love story.”
“There always should be a love story.”
Then he tells me his idea, finishing with, “What do you think?”
He wouldn’t want me to blow smoke. So I point out a few small holes, and he nods thoughtfully. Then I say, “But that’s easy. I can sell it on a concept if you want to work together.”
He’s quiet for a few seconds, then he scratches his jaw. “I heard you left Lucky 21 because of…love?”
Not because of a blowout. Not a meltdown. I appreciate the word choice, and the distinction. “You heard right,” I say, but I don’t add any details. The industry trade mags reported the basics for a hot minute, then moved on. I’m not a star. I’m just a producer. Ultimately, a consensual relationship between two adults isn’t that newsworthy.
“Love can be vexing. Didn’t I tell you that at the exhibit?” David asks rhetorically and wags a finger at me, like he’s admonishing me as a father would do. But he doesn’t seem pissed or annoyed.
He also still hasn’t said yes to us working together.
“You did. You’re not wrong. But it can also be the reason you get up in the morning,” I reply.
“I won’t argue with you there.” He stares at the ceiling then looks back at me, his expression suddenly intense. “I like the concept. And interestingly enough, I agreed to meet with you to tell you I’d consider working with you under one condition.”
I’m damn curious what that could be. “What’s the condition?”
David smiles slyly. “I was going to tell you I’d work with you if you were solo. So, yes, Bridger, I’d like to work with you on the show.”
“Let’s do it,” I say, excited to have nabbed him, and excited too, I suppose, to know why he was elusive for so long.
David’s eyes twinkle and he continues. “Good. Let’s just say I like to work with honest men,” he says.
Let’s just say I get it.
I lift my iced tea and clink it to his, finally understanding why he didn’t take my calls for so long. I was never going to win him before. I was radioactive by association.
Guess the starting over has been worth it already in so many ways.
As I hit the third mile on my morning run the next Monday, the sound of wheels whooshing faster comes from behind me.
Her voice comes next. “Hey, runner.”
“Hey, rider,” I say as Harlow slows her pace on the silver bike, pedaling alongside me on the East River Greenway.
“Fancy meeting you here,” she says.
“What a coincidence.”
“Exactly. Nothing planned at all.”
I keep running as she rides slowly, her brow knitting like she’s deep in thought. “I was thinking about this coming weekend. When your mom comes to town.”
“Yeah?” I’m not dreading Sardi’s like I have in the past. I’ll go with Harlow, and it’ll be fine. Not my first choice, but it’s only one night. “I already said yes. I’m not worried anymore.”
“I know. But why should you go at all? It’s a party she’s throwing for her friends. Let’s take her to lunch instead. Just you and me. Then I’ll spend the afternoon with her, shopping.”
“You’d take my mom shopping?” I want to make sure I’ve heard that right.
Laughing, Harlow rolls her eyes. “You say that like it surprises you. I like to shop—especially for you—and you’ve told me that Mama James does too. This way I can spend time with her. And you can—I don’t know—go brood in a library or something. Write dark poetry. Scowl,” she tosses back at me.
She loves to knock me down a peg or two. And I love to let her. “That sounds fantastic,” I say, and a lot better than a party.
Lunch is the middle of the day. She usually only drinks at night and with friends.
Yes, Harlow’s plan sounds like a way for me to enjoy time with my family. That’s a gift. One I’ve been seeking my whole life.
But one I couldn’t find until now.
On Friday, I head into the elevator at the Lipstick Building to meet with Webflix executives about Ellie’s new show when someone calls out, “Hold the door, please,” in a charming British accent.