Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 112961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“Are you telling me that you and Felicity Chen—”
“I said no, Nat.” It sounds just as stupid the second time. “I told her I couldn’t. I’m the producer on her dating show.”
“Okay,” she says, processing. “Right. I get that, but—”
“There’s no ‘but.’ Even if I wanted to, I can’t.”
“Do you want to?”
“The easy answer is yes. The answer that’s based in reality and the way my life works right now… is more complicated.”
“How did she take it? Was she upset?”
I’m not about to flatter myself into thinking Fizzy’s proposition was anything more than a moment of mutual attraction and wanting to scratch an itch. But it’s nice to know I wasn’t imagining it. “I don’t think she was too upset.” Fizzy can have any man she wants. I’m not going to delude—or torture—myself into thinking it was anything more than it was. “Anyway,” I say, searching for a change in subject, “I can absolutely pick Stevie up and keep her however long you need. More time with our kid is never a hardship. I’m sure I’ll have to pull in a few favors myself once the show starts. Speaking of which”—I check my watch—“I need to get going.”
“Thanks, Conn. This speaking thing is a big deal for Insu. And in Vegas! There will be buyers from all over the country.”
“Tell him congratulations, really.” Insu and a friend started a fledgling software company a few years ago and have been working on a VR game. He must be over the moon at this opportunity. “I’m not sure he’s old enough to gamble, but you kids will have fun either way.”
“Didn’t you say you had work to do?”
We ring off, and I continue to my office, pausing as I stop outside my door.
My hardworking, straight-from-Kansas assistant has two very fit-looking young men moving her desk from one end of her workspace to another.
“Good morning, Brenna,” I say.
She spins around, cheeks flushed. “It certainly is!”
Trent rounds the corner, briefcase and car keys still in hand. He looks as tired as I feel.
Confused, he surveys the chaos around us. “What in the fresh hell is happening?”
“Casting,” I tell him. “We’re narrowing down the final contestants for my dating show, The True Love Experiment.”
He continues to look around, and I imagine his bewildered expression looks much like mine did barely ten minutes ago.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” I ask. “I thought you were on a bus for six weeks.”
He runs an exhausted hand down his face. “I’ve got to meet with some lawyers and fly right back out tonight. I’ve barely slept in four days; these contestants never shut up, and there are just so many rules! Did you know there are insurance clauses about different protective cups for this type of show?”
Brenna tilts her head, confused. “Different… oh.”
“Right.” He nods. “I’ll never forgive Blaine for putting phrases like ‘testicular degloving’ in my vocabulary.” At both our horrified expressions, he adds, “It’s absolutely as bad as it sounds. Learn from my mistakes and don’t google that one.”
Brenna gently turns Trent back toward the kitchen. “Why don’t we get you some coffee before your meeting?” Trent continues to mumble about penis dislocations as they move down the hall.
“Be grateful you got a dating show, Connor,” he says over his shoulder.
* * *
Later that morning, I’m set up with Brenna; the casting director, Kathy; and our director, Rory, in North Star’s largest conference room. We’ve successfully signed on a viral YouTube sensation named Lanelle Turner to be the show’s host—an intermittent role requiring her only to pop in at the beginning and end of each episode—but the bulk of the day’s work stretches ahead of us, with a call sheet approximately seventy beefcakes deep.
Fizzy insisted that she doesn’t have a physical type per se, but having walked through the halls of North Star Media today, I think it’s safe to say these men are everyone’s type.
Our first possible Hero is Isaac Moore. He’s tall and fit, Black, with short, cropped hair and a smile so arresting it makes Brenna flush from head to toe when he shakes her hand. Isaac has two sisters, collects vintage board games, and works in AI modeling and development.
I make a note, checking a box next to Hot Nerd.
“What does that mean exactly?” Kathy asks, looking at him over the top of her tortoiseshell glasses. She’s in her midfifties, with curly red hair and a diamond on her ring finger that’s so large I’d imagine her left arm is significantly stronger than her right. Kathy has been brought on as a consultant; she doesn’t usually cast the kinds of things I make—obvious, perhaps, given that the kinds of things I make usually feature marine mammals—so we’ve never worked together before. “AI modeling and development?”
“I work with artificial intelligence systems that build and implement engagement algorithms. Specifically, I program the ethics and accountability that come with those systems.”