as I conjured up a million excuses. I’ve got to tell Alex about Grant! Like now!
“Um, maybe later in the week?” I said sheepishly, avoiding the inevitable.
“Don’t make me wait,” Alex whined. “It’s been long enough.”
“Well, I start Tuesday.”
“Let’s meet Tuesday night then. I’ll take you for a celebratory dinner.”
“Um, oh, okay. That’ll be fun,” I said, but not entirely sure it would be fun at all.
“Done.”
“One thing,” I said, the guilt burbling up. “I have something to tell you—”
A belt clanged from the bedroom.
“What’s up?” Alex said cheerfully.
“Never mind. It can wait,” I said. “See you Tuesday. Text me where to meet and when.”
A shirtless Grant stepped out in his jeans, looking positively sexy with his angled pecs, bed-head, and squinty eyes. He looked at me sideways.
My heart knocked against my chest. I worried he’d heard me. I felt putrid. I wanted to tell him about Alex and what had happened between us in France, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It felt wrong: too late, too soon, too something. Instead, my plan was to see Alex face-to-face, come clean with him, explain that Grant and I were together, then ask if we could “just be friends.” No one need be the wiser.
Grant was silent. “I overheard you.”
“What?” My heart thumped.
“You start Tuesday?” Grant looked surprised. “On Fix Your Life?”
“Huh?” I was relieved it wasn’t about Alex. “Oh, yes, isn’t it great?”
“I don’t know.” Grant’s face turned somber.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t think you should do it.”
“Are you joking?” I said, amazed. I’d been raving about the show for only the last three months.
“Just yesterday I shot a promo for the debut.”
“And?” I could hardly take the suspense.
“The guy is a snake.”
“What?” I was perplexed.
“Seriously. I wouldn’t touch that guy or his show with a ten-foot pole. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“This is totally out of left field! What’s going on?” I heard myself getting snappy, the hangover kicking in.
“Jane, Rick Dean is a total phony.”
“How would you know?” I was still crouching on the floor.
“We were in the middle of the shoot, he was doing his spiel, and the batteries went down on his microphone. My sound guy asked to change them. Standard issue. All of a sudden, Rick Dean loses it. On us! Totally went off. ‘I don’t work around TV! TV works around me! Get it right or you’re through!’ I was like, ‘What? You joking? We’re changing batteries here!’ Then he threatened to have us fired. Complete asshole. Then my camera assist sat at his table for lunch and Rick Dean got up and left. He left his plate there and everything—had his assistant bring it to him in a private booth. God forbid he sit with the great unwashed.”
“He was probably having a bad day. Who knows what he’s going through right now?” I said, feeling protective, not just of Ricky Dean, but of my dream. “You know, Mr. Dean’s dedicated his life to helping people.”
“Oh, yeah? At the end of the day, he shook hands with the senior producers and said to us: ‘You guys are lucky to have a job.’ This just before he sped away in his red Ferrari. Like he owns us. We’re freelance. What a jerk!”
“Well, it’s not easy being a host,” I said snottily.
“Jane, I’ve filmed Tom Hanks, Steven Spielberg, Mel Gibson—some of Hollywood’s biggest stars and directors—for movie promos, and I’ve never seen anyone as rude as him. Unless you can prop him up or make him money, he’s not interested.” Grant was visibly upset. “He’s a megalomaniac! And it will only get worse.”
“Why did you wait until now to tell me—to burst my bubble?”
“Because I just met him and I didn’t see you until last night, which was a bit of a shit show, in case you didn’t notice. Your roommate’s passed out with some random dude. Anyway, I didn’t even know you’d been offered the job—or that you’d accepted!”
“I wanted it to be a surprise. You knew how badly I wanted this!” I sat totally stunned—my dream boy disapproving of my dream job. “Well, I’m not going to base a major career move on something so trivial, a one-off incident.”
“I’m just telling you, I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t care. You had one day with him. You guys should have had your gear prepped properly. Batteries, Grant? That’s pretty bad.”
“Give me a break, Jane!”
“You know what this is?” I said, my eyes squinting, suddenly struck with an unexplainable