years,” Jeremy said. “All I’m saying is, words can be romantic. She fell in love with my messages long before we met in person.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Everett said, closing his laptop. “Who said anything about love?”
“Yeah,” said Astrid with a smug smile. “We all know Everett doesn’t do relationships, because that would mean spending time on something that isn’t work. He’s content to have an unrequited crush on young Carol Kane.”
“Or, frankly, old Carol Kane. At any age, that woman can get it. Her sense of comedic timing is great, and she’s got those big eyes,” Everett said, deflecting the insult. He had zero desire to talk about the fact that it had been years since his last serious relationship, and look how that had turned out. He had his reasons for focusing on work.
Astrid sighed. “Okay, as great as it’s been making fun of Everett . . . and to clarify, I find that deeply enjoyable . . . maybe it’s time to—I don’t know—do our jobs? Everett, why aren’t you dressed?”
Technically Everett was dressed, in jeans and a T-shirt, but what Astrid meant was that he wasn’t in costume. Not that he wore a superhero costume or anything, but he did have a look for the show. One that (he hoped) said I’m a professional adult, but I’m fun. I’m educational, but I’m creative. Kids like me, but I’m not a kid.
He pulled on the navy blue cardigan he’d thrown over the back of his chair. “Done. Dressed. Let’s do this.”
Astrid rolled her eyes. “This is why women write you emails. Because you dress like hot Mr. Rogers. Why don’t you wear a red cardigan and make the homage more obvious?”
Everett bristled. “I would never. The man is a legend, and it would be disrespectful to invite the comparison.”
Astrid shook her head and followed Jeremy out the door to set. Everett drummed his fingers on his laptop, thinking about reading through the email one more time, but decided against it.
Astrid poked her head back in the room. “Hey, before I forget. . . . I have to talk to you about something later. Not related to your love life, thankfully.”
“Can’t you tell me now?” Everett asked.
“Nope!” Her voice carried as she walked down the hall. “Later!”
Everett sighed, his mind running through the possible bad news it could be. Was he fired? Doubtful. The show had his name in the title. Was the show canceled? Astrid was in way too good a mood for that to be happening. Budget cuts? Possible. Probable, even.
He sighed again. Okay, he’d read the email one more time.
* * *
—
AFTER FILMING ENDED for the day, Astrid caught Everett while he was still sitting on the couch. “Hey, you have a second?” she asked.
Everett looked around them. They weren’t alone—people were still walking around set, even though no one was paying any attention to them. “How much are they cutting it?”
Astrid coughed. “What?”
“The budget,” Everett said.
“Oh. Oh!” Astrid barked out a laugh. “You thought this was bad news. Wow. Okay.”
Everett sat still for a moment as Astrid laughed. “Uh, Astrid? Filling me in right now would be great.”
She wiped her eyes. “Right. Okay, well, this is the opposite of bad news. I got a call from the Imagination Network—”
“You what?” Everett cut her off. The Imagination Network was the biggest children’s production studio in the country, a place so out of his reach that he’d never dreamed he might be able to work with them.
“Yeah. They saw the show, and Everett . . . they liked it. They really liked it. In fact, they want to meet with you.”
“They want. To meet. With me?” Everett sounded the words out slowly, like they were a language he was just learning.
Astrid nodded. “Yep.”
“About . . . the show.”
“No, about your illustrious burlesque career. Yes, about the show!” Astrid took a sip out of her thermos, which Everett knew was full of herbal tea. Astrid never needed caffeine; she was permanently in the state that most people could achieve only via coffee. The only thing she ever needed from a beverage was the ability to calm down.
“I can’t even focus on how you made another joke because holy shit,” Everett said slowly, sprawling back on the couch.
“My thoughts exactly,” Astrid said.
“So . . . what’s happening? Are they coming here? Do we have a phone call?”
“They’re gonna come here to talk to you,” Astrid said. “And provided things go well, they’ll fly you out to see their studios