Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 111980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
The guy adores her. He also says her name with a certain flair, rolling the R like he does when he occasionally speaks in his first language—Spanish, since he was born and lived in Panama for the first several years of his life.
“I was just telling Chloe how your cousins will perform ‘It’s Raining Men,’” Mom says and pops a grape into her mouth.
“Yes, and you will sound amazing together. You on piano, the other Riveras on pipes,” he says to me, playing his part in helping Mom make her pitch.
“Angelo’s helping me produce the show too,” my mom adds.
“Yes, I gathered,” I say.
“We think you’ll be…perfy,” he adds.
Oh, they’ve been hanging out with the actresses. That’s totally Veronica’s word. But it probably rubbed off on Saffron.
“And if Saffron opens the event, the crowd will be huge. We could even introduce you as the dog trainer who does double-duty as a pianist,” my mother adds, making a great closing pitch.
She’s good. She’s so good. I don’t know how she does it. Or really, how they do it. But they’ve become quite the team. Rivers and Rivera. It’s like it was meant to be. Well, she’s a Taurus and he’s a Cancer, so of course they fit. And of course I’m convinced, since the fundraiser not only helps a good cause—science research at the local university, which has been hurt by terribly deep cuts—but also the cause of, well, me.
“Fine. Fine. I’ll do it. But on one condition,” I say.
The twinkle in my mom’s eyes is triumphant before she turns serious as she says, “Anything, darling.”
“Tell me what I need to do to win this deal for the TV show,” I say, shifting from pianist daughter to nervous strategist. We’re meeting the producers later today in Linus’s office. I give her more details about the show and the opportunity.
My mom bites into a grape, then points it at me like it’s a mic. “Confidence, darling. That’s what sells. It’s like an elixir.”
“A daring perfume you can’t help but notice,” Angelo says, reaching for Mom’s hand and stroking it dotingly. She really scored when he pursued her a few years ago, a little after my father officially came out of the closet. Angelo is a heavy-metal artist—he crafts steel and metal sculptures—and he’d been pining for my mother for years. Every time he saw her walk by his studio, he was transfixed, he said. Now she’s his, and he couldn’t be more obsessed. “Just don’t forget to walk in like you’re the one they should be pitching to.”
I roll my eyes. “I meant real advice.”
Mom stares sharply at me, those rhinestone glasses practically burning a hole in my heart. “That was real. But also? Be yourself. That’s what’s gotten you this far.”
But have I come far? I’m barely scraping anything together. All I have is luck, and sure, it’s landed me a few high-profile clients. I’ve been in the right place at the right time, including a lake while wearing a white dress. Now I need to capitalize. “Thanks, Mom,” I say, then push up to leave at last.
“But there is one more thing. Let them see you in action,” she adds. “That’s how actors win roles.”
“They must audition,” Angelo says, sounding serious.
“Yes! You should audition without them knowing that’s what you’re doing.”
I stop in the aisle, letting that nugget soak in. And…it’s actually kind of brilliant. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me sooner, but I’ll have to bring a third party to the meeting.
When I leave, I text my brother.
Chloe: You were right about the fundraiser.
Jay: I’m not doing ‘Islands in the Stream’ with you.
Chloe: Trust me. That’s on my list of things that’ll never happen.
Jay: Mine too. But what specifically was I right about?
Chloe: She roped me in, hook, line, and piano-accompanist sinker.
Jay: For the whole show?
Chloe: Yup.
Jay: She’s good. She’s really good.
Chloe: She’s a mistress of flattery, and it gets her everywhere!
But as I head to work, I noodle on that talent of my mother’s. Is it flattery, or is it just taking the time to compliment people? To highlight what they’re good at? Find their strengths? And really, isn’t that something we all should do for each other? Cheer others on?
I imagine her cheering me on for my Webflix meeting, and that feels pretty damn good.
* * *
Later that day, I’m working from home on training reports for clients when my phone pings with a text.
Sawyer: Want me to pick you up for the Webflix meeting? We could go over any final notes in the car together.
Hmm. Is he thinking about my shitty car door? my inner skeptic wonders.
But the other inner voice adds, Or maybe it’s just a good idea?
I read the message again, looking for hints he feels sorry for me but finding none. What will he think of my home though? It’s a tiny one-bedroom. It’s not even truly mine. My dad’s boyfriend rented this little bungalow from his uncle, who lives in Greece. When Luca moved in with Dad, he offered me the sublease for his place for a screaming-good deal. I’m not sure if he felt sorry for me because I wasn’t making a ton of money as a bartender-slash-nightclub-piano-player-slash-dog-trainer then, or because he knew I was eager. Either way, I leapt at the chance.