Page 15 of Heart to Heart
Kiki shook her head. “Are you sure about that, Ave?”
If looks could kill, Kiki would be six feet under. “Hi, I’m Avery Martin. How may I help you?”
“Avery,” the woman on the other end blessedly acted as though the whole sex toy conversation had never happened, proving once again that not all heroes wear capes. “My name is Gemma, and I’m calling from Simon Winters’s office. We received your video. Our selection committee was quite impressed with your willingness to wear your heart on your sleeve, and we would like you to be a contestant on the upcoming season ofHeart to Heart.”
When I was in school, I was once given an extra slice of pizza by the lunch lady. I remember staring at her in disbelief for so long that she’d clearly regretted her decision. This was not unlike that moment.
“Hello, Avery?” Gemma’s voice rang in my ear.
My mouth hung open in disbelief. “I’m here,” I managed to eke out. “You mean, I’ve moved on to the next round of submissions?”
From what Kiki had drilled into me,Heart to Hearthad an initial submission process, then interviews and more videos. That tidbit was about three-quarters of the way through her PowerPoint, which I’d watched only after she’d snapped me out of my daydream with a laser point to the eye.
“Usually, yes, there would be more hoops you would have to jump through, but our people were so impressed with your videothat they decided to fast-track you straight onto the show. That is, if you’re still interested?”
Strangely, there was a hint of worry in her question, as though my saying no would shatter all her plans.
“Yes, I’m still interested.”
“Great. Grace from our office will be in contact with you shortly regarding your travel plans and signing the requisite paperwork. You should be prepared to arrive in Los Angeles in two weeks. We will also be arranging psychological and STD testing for you.”
“STD testing? Why would I need that?”
Kiki gaped at me, her eyebrow arched. Her lips were keeping a tenuous hold on a squeal that was muffled by her valiant effort at keeping her mouth shut.
Gemma laughed with a sweet, honey child tone to her voice as though addressing someone who was much younger than me or just plain naive. “It’s our policy and mandatory for all contestants.”
“Oh.” Her answer made it seem perfectly reasonable, yet there was a slight tugging in my stomach.
“Well, congratulations again, Avery. Do you have any questions for me?”
I had about a million and one questions for her, but my brain wouldn’t allow my mouth to voice them in a coherent fashion.
“No, I think I’m good for now,” I answered her, shock maintaining a firm grasp on my body.
“Okay. Make sure you keep on the lookout for that call from Grace to button everything up. I’m looking forward to meeting you.”
“I’m forward to looking at you, too.” She’d hung up well before I could register what I had said to her. Equal parts terrified and stupefied, I set the phone down on the counter.
“Well?” Kiki squealed so shrilly that she startled Kevin into dropping his broom. At the same time, a dog across the street began to howl. “Does this mean what I think it means?”
I nodded. “I’m on the show.”
“Oh my God, this is the happiest day of my life.” Trembling with what could only be described as glee, she leapt from her stool and threw her arms around me.
“What about the day you met Ethan?”
“Eh, he’s okay.” She leaned over the counter, snatching my mug and nearly spilling my Americano, as she searched the drawers behind it in a fevered manner. Her entire body was slumped over the counter, her short legs dangling in the air, when she produced a spoon, which she used to tap my mug. “Attention, everyone,” she announced, much to my horror, to the entire café. She attempted to scoot her way back over the counter but failed to find enough purchase, instead resembling a seal I once saw on a beach in Nova Scotia. “A little help here, Avery.”
“I’m not so sure that’s in my best interest,” I said, pulling the bottom half of her body down, until she was able to touch the floor again. To my amazement, she’d only managed to spill about a quarter of my coffee.
Kiki straightened out her wrinkled T-shirt with the logo for Love You A Latte printed on an illustrated mug containing foam in the shape of a heart. “As I was saying,” she commanded the attention of the café once more. “My bestie here just found out that she’s been selected as a contestant to appear on the next season ofHeart to Heart. Barring a clean STD test, she’s going to be wooing Tristan Tate.”
A small table of women in the back clapped excitedly as the people occupying the rest of the tables managed to look up from their respective books and laptops long enough to givea courtesy congratulatory smile before returning to their own lives.
Thank God for introverts.
“Party poopers,” Kiki muttered, slumping back down onto the stool.
