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)
Francine glances at me and then steps in. “You mentioned last week about spinoff shows. Can you talk to Gianna about that?”
“Sure,” Mr. Brevard says. “Ultimately, what we want to do is create a whole Canoodle family of shows built around GKT. We’ll court the late teens to early thirties demographic. You’ll be the face of the brand. Francine shared with us the list of requests already pouring in for you to appear on podcasts and in magazines nationwide.” He folds his hands in front of him. “The potential here is limitless.”
Mr. Johnson engages Francine about the technical aspects that mean nothing to me.
I sit back and watch them go back and forth about my work. And as I watch the discussions happen about me, but without me, I realize what will happen if I agree to this move. I’ll be used to make these fat cats even richer. They’ll parade me around like a dog on a leash, telling me what to say and where to go.
It’s the antithesis of what my show stands for.
I’ve spent months telling my listeners to follow their gut and use their voice. I’ve built a following by being honest. Thousands of people trust me to tell them the raw, unfiltered truth. How can I sell out now?
A flood of nervous energy spreads through me in a gentle but steady wave. This isn’t what I want. I don’t need to be a household name or fancy GKT branding. I wanted those things before because I needed to be accepted. I wanted validation. I wanted to belong to something bigger than myself in a way that didn’t feel personal so that it couldn’t hurt me.
But this isn’t what I needed.
I glance over at Drake. His bottom lip is between his teeth, and his fingers clutch the armrests on his chair. He looks like he’s two seconds from leaping up, and, really, so am I. Because I see things clearly now.
I didn’t need acceptance and validation from others. I needed someone to come in and help me tear down my walls and give me space to find a new path.
What I really needed was a sprinkle of magic fairy love dust.
“Excuse me, Mr. Brevard,” I say in a lull in the conversation. “I am not sure that this transition you’re proposing makes a lot of sense, and I don’t know that it’s in my best interests.”
He exchanges a curious look with Mr. Johnson.
“I think you misunderstand what we’re saying, Miss Bardot,” Mr. Johnson says.
“Apparently so.”
Mr. Brevard sighs. “As we advance, GKT will be transitioned to the format of our choosing. That’s in your contract. You have no say in it.”
“What if I refuse?”
“You have every right to walk away from Canoodle at the end of your contract,” Francine says over the top of Mr. Johnson’s reply. “You own the rights to your brand. We ensured that we negotiated that in the deal when we signed on here. They can make decisions on how to publish your show while you’re here—but only while you’re here.”
“If you refuse,” Mr. Johnson says, “we will invoke Article Ten of your contract. You’ll wrap your current season, which ends this week, and we’ll part ways.”
“And I keep all rights to Gianna Knows Things?” I ask.
Mr. Brevard nods. “You do.”
I look at Francine, and she nods subtly, urging me to turn this down. So I take a long, deep breath and blow it out slowly before I speak. I give myself time to regret the decision, but the longer I sit with it, the more it makes sense.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “You’ll have to invoke Article Ten because I can’t agree to this. I’ve sacrificed a lot in my life because of who I am and what I love. If I don’t embrace it now, what was the point?”
The suits look at each other and implement a predetermined plan.
“You’ll need to clean out your office immediately,” Mr. Johnson says. “You can return for your show on Friday, but you will need to leave the premises right after. May we also remind you that you cannot disparage Canoodle Media or any of its associates on air or otherwise.”
“I would never.”
“Great.” Mr. Johnson stands and shakes my hand, then Francine’s. “It was nice working with you ladies. I’ll have security usher you out, Gianna.”
Francine and I get to our feet. But, as we rise, so do Drake and Mario.
I shiver as I watch Drake gather his things. What’s he doing?
“Mr. Bennett?” Mr. Brevard says, apparently unsure what’s happening as well.
He bites the inside of his cheek as he lifts his gaze to Mr. Brevard. “I’m going with her.”
“What?” I say before I can stop myself. “Drake …”
“I’m not working for a company that would talk to a woman like that,” he says calmly, as if he doesn’t give a shit what Mr. Brevard says. “You tried to steamroll her into doing what you want so you could essentially steal her brand.” He looks at me and smiles proudly. “She’s too smart to let that happen.”