Page 87 of Isn't It Obvious?
“Jesus, you need therapy,” Sanaa says.
“Rude.”
“But true. You’ll be fine. She clearly wants to sign you. I’m pretty sure this is just the last thing before she sends a contract to look over.”
“Yeah,” Yael says. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I guess I’m just worried… I don’t know. That I won’t be what she expects me to be when I’m not scripted.”
“You’re very charming when you need to be. It’sfine,” she says.
“Okay,” Yael says. “I should probably walk over there now.”
“Want me to stay on the phone until the last second?”
“Yes, please.” Yael stands and slides her arms into her coat. As she deposits her mug in a bus bin by the door, a text flashes across her screen.
Kevin
Can we talk after the Renegade dinner?
A pit forms in Yael’s stomach. She hadn’t even told him about the dinner, too afraid she’d mess something up. But she knew Kevin had rescheduled his call with Jami for today. If Jami mentioned it, and now Kevin wants to talk, he must know something she doesn’t.
Yael
Sure. Is everything okay?
Kevin
Just promise me we can talk
“What was that noise you made?” Sanaa asks.
“I just got an extremely ominous text,” Yael says, typing backSure, I hope you’re alright.He fails to reply immediately, and the pit grows deeper. She elbows the walk button at the crosswalk.
“Oh no,” Sanaa says. “Try not to think about it until after dinner.”
“I’ll do my best,” Yael replies. She forces one deep breath, then another. When she reaches the other side of the street, her phone flashes with another text, this time from Jami.
Jami
I didn’t realize your editor was also based in Portland until we chatted today! I invited him along. See you soon xJ
Yael stops in her tracks, a few short yards away from the entrance to Luce, her heart pounding so hard she fears it might quit on her. “Sanaa,” she says. “Apparently my editor lives here.”
“What?”
“He lives in Portland,” Yael says.
“Ravi moved toPortland?”
“Ravi?”
“Yes… Ravi Kissoon, your editor.” Sanaa laughs. “Oh, I’m sorry, I mean ‘Kevin Kissoon on audio editing,’” she says in a poor Elle Rex impression.
The half of the mocha that made it into Yael’s stomach sours. “Holy shit. Holy shit, Sanaa.”
“What?” Sanaa demands, the laughter leaving her voice.
“I’m sorry, but I have to go,” Yael says, and hangs up.
