Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“Do you know the part that’s bothering me just as much?” she asks. “It’s that I’ve already told Jeremiah’s family about the show. They weren’t amazing about it. They acted like I was living with delusions of grandeur and was possibly making it up or exaggerating. And now they’ll think they were right all along.”
And there goes me being rational.
I stand tall. “First of all, Sutton, who cares what they think? I know you do because they’re his family, but their opinion of you comes from a very biased background that we’ll never understand. All that matters is what Jeremiah thinks of you, and he’s made that clear.”
“Yeah,” she whispers.
“And second, you, my friend, are brilliant. You’re a problem solver. You’ve gotten this far on your grit and grace, and there’s no reason in the world why you should stop remembering that.” I take a deep breath, letting that sink in. “Now, get a glass of wine if you need it to calm down, but you’re going to figure this out.”
“I don’t know how.”
I roll my eyes and dump my coffee down the drain. Then I pull out a wineglass and a bottle of red.
“Yes, you do know what to do,” I say. “Let’s talk through it. What do you need to make this work?”
“Well, at a base level, I need two people to film who would be a draw and available on Monday morning. If they understood the filming process, that would be all the better.”
Yikes. I down a huge gulp of wine.
“I had a few leads before Callum and Gia, but I could never reach them, let alone get them to sign contracts by Monday.” She laughs sadly. “I’m so screwed. When production halts, the crew signs onto other projects, and we’ll lose our teams. I’ll never get this back.”
The wine warms my insides and makes me slightly ill as it mixes with the coffee in my stomach, but I try to ignore that.
“You don’t have to get it back if you don’t lose it,” I say. “Does anyone in your office know of anyone that could do this? You’re all in the industry. None of you know a starving artist who’s desperate for a job? And we’re in Nashville. There are loads of famous people here.”
Sutton pauses, hopefully mulling over my impromptu speech.
“Check out the college campuses,” I say after another quick drink. “This city is filled with gorgeous co-eds looking to make it big. Ask your coworkers. Oh! Call Mason Music. Are you still friends with that girl who works there? Ask her.”
“Yeah, I could ask someone I know,” she says slowly.
“That’s the spirit!”
“Now that I think about it, I know someone who fits the bill perfectly.”
“See? I told you this was possible.”
“I could ask my best friend.”
“Yes, you could—whoa, wait.” I set my glass on the counter and flinch. “I’m your best friend.”
Her voice lightens. “Yes, you are. And you’re beautiful and definitely entertaining.” She takes a quick breath. “Look, I’ve been listening to what you’re saying, and you’re right—and you’re also the perfect candidate.”
The room spins—I don’t think it’s from the wine—and I also don’t think she heard me correctly. “You’re also the perfect candidate.” Sutton has lost a few marbles if she thinks I’m the perfect candidate.
I pace the length of the kitchen, trying to make sense of what Sutton is saying. She wants me to go on her fake-dating reality show? Does she even know me? I’m not the type of person you put on television. I speak without thinking. I forget to put mascara on one eye. I’m easily triggered by assholes.
I’d rather be home in bed with a book. And snacks.
“Think about it,” she says. “You’re looking for a job, and you want something on camera. Hell, you applied for a weatherwoman job.”
“That’s forecasting moisture in a whole different way.”
She laughs. “Come on, Georgia. You’re perfect. You know how to work a camera. You’re hilarious. And you could use the money. This could even be a big break for you, too. You’d be helping me out of a huge hole I’m desperate to escape. You’re my only hope.”
“Sutton …” I laugh warily. “You need to think about this.”
“No, you need to think about this. Filming is set for a month. We have a list of scenarios that need to be filmed. It’s nothing wild, just a getting-to-know-you scene, a first date, an adventure—things like that. And, of course, we’re footing the bill. Just reframe it in your brain. You’re fake-dating a mystery man on someone else’s dime and getting paid for it.”
Oof. I down the rest of the wine and refill the glass. I have so many questions, and so many more reasons not to do this. But her “you’re my only hope” line is doing exactly what it was intended to do—guilt me.