Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 95609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Except it doesn’t feel that way.
“Come on,” Harper says. “I swiped a bottle of wine from CeCe’s. It’s been in my tote bag most of the night.”
“You did what?” I ask.
Harper grins. “Well, I was going to swipe another bottle, but CeCe caught me and told me I was an idiot and gave me this one instead. It’s old. Should we drink wine from 1947?”
“Yes.” My best friend mostly drinks beer. I happen to absolutely trust CeCe to give up the good stuff. She can be intimidating, but she genuinely enjoys sharing the things she loves with people she doesn’t want to murder. That bottle of wine is practically a declaration of love. “We are definitely drinking that wine.”
It will be the perfect end to a glorious evening.
I sit on my fire escape, watching the night ease toward morning, talking to my friend, drinking wretchedly expensive wine. And wondering what Luca is doing.
Chapter Four
I walk into work Monday afternoon having spent the majority of the day sleeping in to get used to the schedule I’ll have to follow the next few weeks. There are a lot of night shoots on a show like this, and the first shoot here on set is one of them. They’ve already done all the getting-to-know-you shots. Those had been done in more formal studios before the cast was required to be in the city.
There’s a reason most reality dating shows don’t take place in New York City. They find mansions in California where they have tons of room to film, but for some reason they think this one can work.
“Can I see your ID?” The security guard’s question reminds me I’m here for a reason.
I stand in the studio space. From what I understand the contestants will be staying in a gorgeous Gilded Age mansion, one of the few left that hasn’t been broken up and redone as apartments. There are still a few left standing, and this one has a place in my heart. I hadn’t recognized the address, though I suspect Harper would have if I’d told her.
Once my two best friends and I had stood in that mansion when we visited it on a class trip. We’d snuck away and promised to always stick together.
Maybe it won’t be so bad since I’m here and I know they are, too. Somewhere in the city we live in, Ivy is getting a taco and Harper is installing drywall. Not really since they’re both probably getting ready to end their workdays, but you get the point. This place tied us together once, and even though they can’t be here with me, I feel better.
It’s not like I’m going into a battle.
I’m going into work, and everything will be fine. It’s six weeks of my life. That’s all. And then I’ll be back on track and I’ll have either saved a man’s career from bitter rumors or trashed a dude who deserves trashing.
I can do this.
“Do you have ID?”
“Oh, yeah.” I fumble through my bag to get it out. “Sorry. My brain’s not working yet. I’m supposed to report to the key production assistant. I think his name is Patrick. Do you know where he is?”
The burly security guard checks my ID against his list and passes me a lanyard that proclaims me to be crew. He sits back and yawns as he points down a long hallway. “That way, I think. I don’t know. This place is weird. There are actual tunnels they’re using. Apparently whoever used to own this place made his money smuggling booze or something. Don’t wander down there, though. I would bet it floods.”
I promise not to wander and then immediately break the promise because he’s right and this place is huge. It’s been years since I was here, and I hadn’t exactly walked in the front door. The production crew has also taken over the building next to the mansion as its primary studio, and that’s the building I’m wandering through now. I likely won’t see a ton of the mansion since that’s where the “contestants” are going to live. I’ll primarily be running between sets.
I walk down one hall and find hair and makeup, and it looks like they’re wrapping up. A stunning woman is sitting in one of the chairs, having her natural curls worked on. Her makeup is flawless, and she could be a model.
The real filming begins this evening when the first cocktail party with the king will take place, and His Majesty will dash the dreams of three women right then and there.
When I think about it, it’s kind of brutal.
But the good news is I’ll likely be wandering around this place trying to find coffee or the right lightbulbs or whatever the directing crew requires. I won’t have to watch the drama that will play out this evening.