Page 11 of Heart to Heart
“I’m sure they received a million emails. Mine will probably be lost in the sea.”
“Not with the nudes I slipped in there, it won’t.”
“Kiki!”
“Settle down, woman. I only sent the one of you in your Cookie Monster onesie.”
“Okay, you can quit with the jokes, Keeks.”
The smile slowly faded away from her face as she replied, “Joke—yes. That was most definitely a joke.”
We stared at each other, unblinking, until I looked away, shaking my head, knowing that it really didn’t matter what Kiki sent as doubtful as my selection was. “So,” I asked, “what are we doing with the rest of the night?”
No sooner had I asked that question than a loud noise, an attempt at singing, I surmised, approached our apartment from somewhere down the hall.
“Mother of pearl,” Kiki muttered under her breath.
“Is that Ethan belting out ‘Sweet Caroline’?” I asked, recognizing the familiar tune and the voice behind it.
“Yup,” Kiki sighed, bracing herself for the approaching onslaught. “His mating call. God, I hope he’s wearing pants.”
“Why wouldn’t he be wearing pants!”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
Suddenly, the door flew open, bouncing off the door stop as Ethan strolled his way triumphantly into our apartment, donning a Red Sox cap and—thank the lord—pants.
“Ba! Ba! Ba!” He sang with an enthusiastic roll of the hips with each syllable.
“Jesus.” Kiki shook her head.
“Keeks,” he proclaimed, punctuating Kiki’s nickname with a clap of his hands, “fire up SportsCenter. We’ve got some celebrating to do.”
CHAPTER 6
TRISTAN
“There he is,”Wanda jumped up from her perch on the edge of the desk belonging to Simon Winters, President of WinterTime Productions, a studio founded by Simon’s great grandfather in the 1930s. The same studio responsible for the production ofHeart to Heart.
Confused, I stole a glance at the clock above Mr. Winters’s desk and rolled my eyes, avoiding Wanda’s icy glare. Five minutes early was considered ten minutes late in Wanda time.
“Mr. Tate,” Simon rose from his chair, holding out his hand, which I shook without hesitation, as one does with the person who’s saving your career. “I can’t believe we’ve never worked together before.”
“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Winters.” I went toe-to-toe with him, matching the firm grip he had on my hand. I’d heard one too many horror stories from peers about actors missing out on jobs after a perceived lack of confidence expressed in their handshake.
“Really, Tristan—may I call you Tristan?” he asked, subtly shaking his hand and stretching out his fingers at his side, one by one. It was all I could do to hide the small grin tugging at mylips. Wanda was going to have words with me after this meeting was over.
“Sure, it’s what everyone else calls me,” I replied, sitting down in the leather chair Simon gestured for me to take.
“Well, Tristan,” Simon began again, “I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but our ratings last season tanked something spectacular, partially due to the competitive timeslot we’re in, but mostly because viewers just weren’t able to connect with our star. Frankly, I was concerned we would have to pull the plug on the show altogether.”
“You’re kidding?” I feigned shock. I hadn’t exactly watched an episode ofHeart to Heart, well, ever. “The show has been going strong for twenty years.”
Simon nodded, hopefully impressed by that bit of knowledge Wanda had spent the better part of a month imparting to me. He wasn’t too much older than me, Simon, but already his dark hair was showing signs of greying at the temples, a reflection of a man stressed by the responsibility of keeping his family’s business from going up in flames.
“Which brings me to why I should be thanking you. We’ve received more submissions from hopeful contestants for your season than we have in the last seven years combined.”
“Of course, you have. He’s Tristan Tate, for goodness’ sake.” Wanda shot me a wink, already forgiving my being five minutes early instead of fifteen. If anything, she was an excellent hype woman.
