Page 8 of Playing With My Heart Strings

I pull out a pen and open the journal to the very first page, running my finger over the faded inscription.

This journal belongs to Sylvie Mae.My mom.

Four hours later, Daniella walks through the door of our shared apartment and immediately starts apologizing again.

“Baylor, I’m so sorry. I had no idea the video was going to blow up. Hell, I didn’t even know I posted it. I was so drunk, oh my God.” She’s rambling, and it takes everything in me not to smack some sense into her, if not just to get her to stop word vomiting all over the carpet.

“Daniella.” I try to get her attention, but she keeps sputtering about how she ruined my career and she can’t handle Colette on her own and what if I have to move back to Denver?

“I can’t believe I did?—”

“DANIELLA!” I shout at her.

“WHAT?” she shouts back.

“Chill the fuck out! It’s fine.”

She gives me a look that tells me she’s not convinced it’s fine.

“Seriously. I’m fine,” I reassure her. “I’ll just go on the show, make it past the first few eliminations, and then Colette will be happy enough that she won’t fire me. It’s not like I’m being forced to fall in love with the guy.”

“I mean, isn’t that the point of the show, though?” She grimaces.

“It’s a dating show, yeah, but there’s a thing called faking it, Daniella.” I roll my eyes. “Besides, reality TV isn’treal. I just have to give the viewers a good show. That’s all.”

“Hm, yeah, that’s true. Are you sure about this, though? Maybe we can talk to Colette and I can explain what happened.”

“And risk both of us getting fired? No way.” Even if Daniella technically did royally screw me over, I’d rather neither of us lose our job.

“I just feel terrible.” She sits on the couch and places her head in her hands.

I sit next to her and try to comfort her by rubbing circles on her back. “Just keep your head down and work. It’s not that big a deal. Two months tops, and then everything will be back to normal.”

4

dusty

Ripping Off The Voice

“Okay,so here’s how this is going to work…” A producer explains the recording process to me as we walk down the tunnel to the area we’ll be filming in.

The space has the appearance of an auditorium, with seats arranged in a semi-circle around the stage. However, a temporary wall divides the stage down the middle, so you can’t see the other side. It gives off a similar atmosphere toThe Dating GameorLove is Blind.

“You’ll sit on one side of the wall, and the singers will be on the other. You won’t be able to see the women, just hear their voices.”

“So you’re ripping offThe Voice?” I deadpan as we walk onto the stage. All that’s missing is a turning chair.

The producer starts sputtering over his words. “W-well…no. We’re just taking inspiration from it, Mr. Wilder.”

“I see. What exactly am I supposed to be doing?”

“Well, Mr. Wilder, we have thirty women here that will perform for you. You’ll hear all of them, then at the end, you’llchoose nine of them to compete for the spot as your music partner,” he explains as we head toward the stage.

“Why nine? I thought I was choosing ten?” I ask, confused.

“Er, well, technically there are going to be ten women competing. But one has already been preselected.” He fidgets with the sleeves of his shirt like he’s hiding something.

“And how come I don’t get to hear her sing? Shouldn’tIbe the judge of whether she’s good enough? After all, it is my career that we’re talking about. Right…” I look at his name tag. “Ezra?”

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