in his tracks when he sees me. “Whoa. That’s … a new look.”
“Too much?” I ask, feeling silly all of a sudden.
“Ah … hmm … I guess just not what I was expecting.”
“Maybe I should change.” The way he hesitates makes me nervous that maybe this isn’t the right look for me after all.
He shakes his head. “No time. We’ve got to get your mic on.”
I follow him backstage, my heart pounding as I wait for my one shot at winning back the woman I love. I can hear Serafina out there chatting with Hal and Lacey, and I’m sure she looks as gorgeous as ever. My pulse is racing so fast, I feel like it’s taken on the cadence of the William Tell Overture.
I feel decidedly dizzy while I listen to their conversation. “We’ve got a special surprise for you, Serafina,” Hal says. “Courtesy of your assistant, Charley.”
I can see them from where I’m standing and Serafina raises one eyebrow while she shifts uncomfortably in her chair.
“You look worried,” Lacey says. “Are you worried?”
“A little…”
“Well, don’t be. As you know, Charley is a delightful young woman. She told us she’d do almost anything to see you happy. We’re going to talk to her later, but first, we want to welcome back astronerd, Dr. Banana Pants himself, Ben Williams, to the Wake Up America! stage!”
My legs feel like I just got back from ten months on the International Space Station as I walk out. Serafina’s eyes light up, then she looks me up and down and her expression immediately hardens. I give her a sad smile, then take my seat on the empty armchair next to hers.
“Dr. Williams,” Lacey says. “You’re quite a sight for sore eyes.”
Hal actually rubs his eyes before adding, “Yes, welcome back. That’s quite the shirt you’re wearing.” Hal laughs like crazy while Lacey rolls her eyes at him.
“Thanks for having me,” I tell them both. Glancing at Serafina, I add, “I have some apologizing to do.”
Serafina snorts. “Do you mean you have some more people to make fun of?”
“No … not at all.” Damn, this isn’t starting out well.
“What’s with the outfit then?” she demands angrily.
“I picked this up at Namaste Friends in the Village. I’ve been trying to immerse myself in the metaphysical world to better understand it.”
Raising one eyebrow, Serafina says, “You’ve been to Namaste Friends?”
“Twice actually. I picked up a Tibetan singing bowl and have been using it while practicing meditation.”
She stares at me like I just pulled a warthog out of my hat, then says, “Okaaaay.”
“So, Ben,” Lacey interrupts, “As you know, we here at Wake Up America! have been completely fascinated with you and Serafina. And we’re not the only ones, because we haven’t had so much fan mail since Backstreet Boys performed in short shorts. It seems that more than half of our viewers are desperate to see you two back together.”
“What do the other half want?” I ask nervously.
“Seventy percent of the other half want Serafina to kick you to the curb, and the other thirty percent want to see the resurgence of boy bands,” Hal says.
“Since the majority wins, we’ve invited some guests here today to try to talk some sense into the two of you. Maybe we can give America the happily ever after we’ve all been waiting for.”
“Look around, Ben; you might recognize a few faces in our studio audience,” Lacey adds as the lights in the audience come up. “Your mom and her two best friends, Lita and Lynda, are here.” Gesturing for them to stand, Lacey says, “Come on, Mom, stand up and show yourself.”
Holy crap. They’ve flown my mom and her friends here?
My mom gets up, looking like she’s going to burst into tears from all the excitement. She waves around the crowd like she was just crowned Miss America before sitting back down.
I’m totally stunned, which makes the shock that much greater when Lacey calls out to my team from the office to stand up. Dev looks oddly pleased with himself, while Alec and Carla wave wildly. The rest of them look decidedly nervous.
Just when I’m sure they can’t fit any more rings into this circus, Gwen and her aunt June stand up. Oh, dear. I have no idea what Hal, Lacey, and Charley have in mind, but I sure hope to hell everything works out. I say there’s about a forty percent chance it will. Sixty percent goes to the crowd having me tarred and feathered in retribution.
“So, Dr. Ben,