Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
“Do you have any clever ideas?” Francine asks. “You work well through chaos.”
Think, Gianna. “Well, we could say that our guest had an accident, right? And just not say her name?”
“Maybe. But news will break this evening that Mercy was in an accident in Nashville. If you say that, people will put two and two together. We’re better off not to touch it at all.”
“Okay. Let’s take a step back,” I say, pacing the room. My heart pounds with each step I take, reminding me that every second that passes brings us another moment closer to the start of the podcast. “The worst-case scenario would be that something bad happened to Mercy or someone else in the accident. This just … sucks.” How can you fix this? “I’ve played this up for days, and now I’m going to show up on air with a smile and an empty chair.”
“Eight minutes doesn’t give us much time to work with. You could just not go on today. We can say you’re under the weather and run a previous segment. Oh!” She points at me, her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. “I know. We can run the live you did with Drake. People have gone feral for that.”
They have … And we could …
My attention is snagged by something over Francine’s shoulder. Something tall, muscled, with bright blue eyes.
The Tilt-A-Whirl I’ve been riding for the past couple of minutes screeches to a halt.
Drake isn’t Mercy Malone, but something tells me my viewers would be just as happy to see him for an hour. And it wouldn’t exactly be a hardship for me, either.
A quiver rumbles through my stomach as I check the time. Am I out of my mind? What would we talk about? What would I ask him? How do I make it as exciting as I’ve promised everyone?
I have no idea. But with time ticking, I don’t really have another choice.
Blood pounds through my veins, roaring over my eardrums. Sweat dots the back of my neck as adrenaline kicks in fast and hard. I’m not sure what kind of crisis my body is anticipating, but I know the one I’m about to give it.
“Francine, we have seven minutes,” I say, forcing a swallow down my throat. “Please get to your booth because we’re going live.”
Her brows arch in surprise, but a grin smooths the reaction. “You got it.”
I follow her to the doorway. As she exits, I reach out, wrapping my fingers around Drake’s forearm, and pull him to a stop.
He lifts a brow, grinning. “That’s one way to say hello.”
“Drake, I need you.”
“I knew it,” he says playfully. “Glad you’re finally on board.”
I roll my eyes. “Are you busy right now?”
“If I were, I’d cancel all my plans for you. Why? What’s up?”
Did he just flex his biceps? Damn. “This isn’t the time for jokes.” Or foreplay.
He smirks. “Who said I was joking?”
Other podcasters and support staff move past us, giving us curious looks as they go. A clock ticks in the back of my brain, reminding me that time is not on my side. Neither is privacy standing in the middle of Canoodle.
“Come here,” I say, dropping his arm and stepping into my recording studio. “Shut the door behind you.”
“I like where this is heading.”
I take a deep breath. Three minutes. “Keep this between us?”
“Absolutely.”
This isn’t going where he thinks it’s going, and that’s a shame. I wipe any indication of levity from my features. “Mercy Malone was supposed to be my guest today, but she’s been in an accident.”
His eyes go wide, but he doesn’t speak. Thankfully.
“I have three, maybe two minutes to find a replacement and—”
“What do you need?” He stares at me earnestly. “How can I help you?”
Francine taps the glass and holds up two fingers. Fuck.
I was so organized. The planning was done. I had a flow chart of topics, memorized Mercy’s life history, and even dug her concert T-shirt out of the back of my closet … for nothing.
“Need me to fill in?” Drake asks, already slipping off his jacket. “I think we’ve already established that I’m quite the draw.”
“Will you?”
He sits in the chair across from my computer and adjusts the mic. “Do you have a game plan for this, or are we winging it?”
Relief touches every piece of me as I drop into my seat. My entire body takes a breath. I start to speak, but choose that same moment to look up … and into those clear pools of blue. The genuineness in them pauses time, and the frantic pace of my brain finally eases.
I sense Francine motioning at me to be ready for the intro and see out the countdown flashing on my computer screen in my periphery. The corner of Drake’s lips tilt to the sky in a mischievous smirk and I’m hit with a connection—the familiarity of him. I didn’t realize how much I needed that until now.