Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
She stops me from searching her body for injuries before blocking my line of sight with her classically elegant face.
Once she has the focus of my wandering gaze, she assures me, “I’m fine.”
“But—”
She flattens her finger to my lips, grinning when her briefest contact causes the hair on my arms to stand to attention. “Now is not the time to squash my voice, Laken. Not just as it’s about to be heard.” Her tone is neither stern nor playful. It is more confident than anything.
When I nod, conscious that she’s right—we’re minutes from her first press conference; now is not the time for any neuroses to be aired—Nicole looks set to say more, but a lady with a clipboard and blunt bangs who’s been endeavoring to interrupt us since we got here can’t hold back a second longer. “We have twenty minutes until we’re due on air.”
Nicole gulps back the nerves the lady’s snarky comment lodged in her throat before straying her eyes to me. “What I said on the way to the limousine isn’t as it seems.” The production assistant taps her foot, hurrying her along. “I don’t have time to explain all the details right now. They’re still a mess in my head, but once I have everything sorted, I will update you at the first opportunity.”
“Now nineteen minutes.”
Nicole’s expression reveals how badly she wants to snap back at the fire-breathing dragon, but she keeps her cool, for the most part. Instead of crumbling under the strain of the woman’s bossy demeanor, she tosses out a handful of her own demands. “Then you better point me in the direction of the producer’s office because I have a handful of changes I want to make before we record today’s segment.”
Her determination makes me hard. She didn’t pussyfoot around her demands. She straight up announced she’s making changes with no room for negotiations.
The production assistant acts blasé, though. “Changes?” When Nicole nods, her self-confidence building the more her importance is challenged, the lady sighs heavily before gesturing for Nicole and Knox to follow her. “You’ll need to be quick. We don’t prerecord our shows.”
After squeezing my hand in silent assurance of where her focus remains even with her about to wow the world with her voice, Nicole jogs to keep up with the lady.
Knox hangs back like nothing happening is of his choice.
His response is understandable. Until the crew's day off, he had everyone jumping on demand—myself included.
A power shift is long overdue.
I love my brother and will forever protect him, but I can’t continue being guilt-tripped and bribed to keep the promise I made to him when our mother left, or I’ll never be the man Nicole deserves. I’ll only ever be a puppet.
When the tension reaches a point that can’t be ignored, I ask, “You good?”
I hate what this is doing to our friendship, but I’ve already given him so much, so I can’t give him Nicole as well.
At least not without a fight.
Knox shoots me a snarled glare like he’s aware he is no longer privy to my deepest, darkest secret, before disappearing down a dark corridor like I never spoke.
It takes me a beat to shadow his stalk. I don’t fear him. I’m simply aware of how short his temper is when he doesn’t get his way. He’s a spoiled brat, and he wouldn’t care less if his actions put a dampener on the success Nicole is on the cusp of achieving.
He’s yet to learn that it’s okay to come second by putting someone else first.
“And this is your chair.” The executive assistant for 92.1 LA Daily gestures her hand to a director’s chair in the wings of a television-style set.
“Are these radio segments recorded?”
Smiling, she nods. “Every interview is live streamed on our social media sites and recorded in front of an audience who won tickets to be here.” Some of the nerves I’m confident Nicole is facing hit me when the assistant nudges her head to the bleacher-like pews behind plain sheets of windowpane. “It looks like a fishbowl, but the glass helps keep any sounds the producer doesn’t want included in the segment out and the singer’s voice in.” She hands me a set of headphones. “You’ll see.”
As the noises of a busy set trickle out of the headphones I placed on my head, the executive assistant attempts to go through the same steps with Knox, who is seated a couple of spots closer to the “fishbowl” than I am.
I say “attempt” because Knox snatches the headphones out of her hand a second after aggressively plopping into his seat.
When the unnamed woman peers at me, seeking support, I smile at her to assure her that nothing she said pissed him off.
I’m reasonably sure all his anger stems from me.
After wiring Knox’s headset into the same system as mine, the assistant returns my smile before giving the crew the all-clear to move forward with their plans.