Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Really?
Right as I’m heading to a city located smack on the San Andreas Fault?
But of course my horoscope’s probably not talking about San Francisco’s dicey earthquake history. It’s talking about some other seismic shift, and I’ve had enough of those lately. I’m ready for stability.
I shift in the creaky, fake-leather chair outside my gate, but my legs feel restless, as though they’re itching to run away from the airport.
Or toward something.
I cross my legs and stubbornly refuse to allow so much as an idle foot waggle.
When my phone buzzes, I all but lunge for it, desperate for distraction. I don’t recognize the number, but I pick it up anyway.
“Hi, this is Miranda.”
My own greeting catches me off guard.
Where’s my usual, crisp Dr. Miranda Reed?
“Miranda! Hi! This is Alyssa Upton. We met on New Year’s Eve?”
“Oh! Hi,” I say, setting both feet on the ugly airport carpet and sitting up a bit straighter.
“I know this is out of nowhere, but is this an okay time? I’d love to run something by you.”
“Um. Sure?” I say, though I can’t imagine in what part of the multiverse Alyssa and I would have anything to discuss.
Unless it’s about Archer.
In which case I will claim that my cell phone was stolen right out my hand and disconnect, because I am not having that conversation. Not with his… whatever they are.
Still, I glance at the screen with my flight information. It’s now three hours delayed. “Sure, I’ve got some time.”
“Okay, great,” she says with the kind of warm enthusiasm that feels genuine, like I’ve just made her whole day by giving her a couple of minutes of my time.
This woman is really hard to dislike, and trust me, I’ve given it some effort.
“So, listen, at the risk of sounding stalkerish, I’ve totally been creeping on every corner of the internet and YouTube for every appearance you’ve ever done, and let me just say, Miranda—you’re fantastic.”
“Um. Thank you?”
“No, I mean it. You’re engaging, so smart but never condescending. You have a real knack for making even the most complicated concepts feel manageable. After watching you for hours, I felt like I was ready to give a TED Talk on black holes.”
Black holes aren’t exactly one of the brain busters of my area, but I can appreciate the point she’s trying to make. “Thanks. That’s really nice to hear. Especially since that particular part of my career seems to have dried up.”
“Yeah, about that,” she says. “So, I hope you don’t mind, but some of the producers you’ve worked with are in my black book, so to speak, and I got in touch. Were you aware that your university has been telling them you’re unavailable?”
Those. Assholes.
My lips part in genuine surprise. “I—no. No, I had no idea. I figured that they’d found someone to fill the science spot, because I haven’t heard about a single request.”
She makes an irritated noise. “Someone probably was hoping for their own moment in the spotlight. But they’re wasting their time. Honey, you’re a unicorn, and the people that make the decisions know it. Which is why I have to ask: Have you ever thought about doing that side of things full-time? The media thing?”
“No. Never,” I say in all honesty. “Even at my busiest, the demand for someone to talk about meteor showers or explain the latest discovery at CERN only came in a couple of times a month.”
“Right, oh my gosh, you’d be so bored if that’s all it was. But what if there was more out there… like, a lot more?”
“A lot more… interviews?” I’m not following at all.
“So, okay, this is a bad business move on my end, since I’m not officially representing you yet, and you could take this to another agent and I’d be screwed, but I happen to know a new game show, a new docuseries, and even a talk show that would all kill to have you as their host. And don’t even get me started on the opportunities that would open up if you had your own podcast. You could do the Bill Nye thing…”
“I… Wow.”
“It’s a lot, I know. And I’m so sorry to spring this on you, but Archer mentioned it to me like a month ago, but I just now got around to looking into the possibilities, and I got so excited—”
“Wait. Archer put you up to this?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, you know Archer. It was more command than request, and I only had about ten words to go on. But he seemed to think it might be something that you’d be open to at least exploring.”
“I’ve never… I’m actually pretty far along in the interview process for another academic position,” I tell her. “Could I do… both?”
I hear her take a sip of a drink, sensing that she’s considering my question seriously. “Honestly, I don’t think so. I mean, you can! You can keep doing what you’re doing, showing up whenever there’s a special harvest moon, or whatever. But the bigger gigs, the things that would make you fully a household name… those would require a lot more of your time than you’ll have if you’re a full-time professor.”