Rugged(76)

“I think every lady here would love a little first-hand experience,” Kandy says. The laughter is huge, and then slowly Kandy’s eyes track over to me. Oh God. Look, I’m a lady with coffee. Don’t bother talking to me. I know nothing but this mug.

“Now, Laurel, you were the producer on this show? Producer turned into star. That’s a real Hollywood dream right there!” Kandy laughs again, and her eyes would crinkle at the corners if she had enough skin to do the job. My nerves make me mean.

Okay. I can do this. I smile, open my mouth, and say,

“Sure.” Then I slurp more coffee. Loudly. I actually cannot think of more words.

Great. Great job there. You could hear a pin drop in this room. The room starts spinning. I can see Kandy staring at me with confusion, and Flint looking like he’s really concerned. The camera and the lights all kind of blend together into this horrible soup of noise and light and I’m dizzy and…oh God, I’m going to pass out. I think I have to put my coffee down.

“It was a real journey, though. Wasn’t it?” Flint asks, covering for me. I stare right into his eyes. This I can do. I can talk to Flint like it’s just us. My frozen smile eases into something natural.

“I actually had to go hunt him down in Massachusetts to get him to agree,” I say. There are some shocked laughs in the audience.

“Do tell!” Kandy says, her voice pitched high, probably hoping this doesn’t morph into another awkward moment. Those don’t play so well on live television.

“My sister actually submitted my audition tape for me,” Flint says, this time to the women. They hoot and gasp. “I didn’t know anything about it until Laurel showed up, pounding on my door in the middle of the night. So if she’s watching: thanks, Callie.” He waves, that good-natured smile on his face. I’m pretty sure that Callie is watching this, probably in her living room while cleaning Spaghetti-O’s out of the carpet. And I’m pretty sure she just screamed.

“And you found him in the submission pile?” Kandy says, turning to me like this is just the most fascinating thing. Oh no. My eyes are off of Flint, and that means my stomach drops right into my feet. I never said I was an on-camera person, dammit!

“Yes. Just…piling it,” I say. No one laughs, but thankfully no one has to. Flint steps in and takes the burden off me again.

“I’m grateful every day that Laurel came into my life,” he says. There are coos of delight out in the audience. Yeah, don’t get too excited, ladies. He doesn’t mean it like you think he does. “This was a once in a lifetime opportunity for myself and for McKay’s.” See?

After another exhausting three minutes of this, the segment is finally over. We manage to remind the ladies another fifty times what the title of our show is, and when it premieres. Then, Kandy is done with us. She doesn’t pay any attention to me, but she’s all smiles for Flint.

“You are just gorgeous,” she purrs. She even grabs his arm and squeezes. “What do you do for fun?” Wow, Hollywood decided to roll out the ‘Let’s Sexually Harass Flint McKay’ parade with a vengeance.

Flint delicately removes her hand from his arm and steps back. “Read. Hike.”

“Swim? Because I know a fabulous beach up the coast. Clothes optional.” She winks at him. Eww.

“I don’t care for the ocean. Too many sharks,” he says flatly. Flint walks away, and I sigh with relief. That was getting uncomfortable. Kandy pouts and frowns at me. At least, she would frown if she could move her forehead.

“Laurie,” she says, nodding curtly, forgetting my name three minutes after we’re done. I’m fine with that, because right now I have to find someplace to potentially vomit.

Okay, vomit is the wrong word for it. I need a place to reflect, to gather myself, to achieve maximum poise. So the first janitorial closet I see as I’m walking down the hall, that’s the one I leap into. Not hiding. Just…thinking. While hiding. And maybe looking for a bucket in case things go south in the stomach department.

I can’t do this. I run a hand through my hair, allowing my knees to really knock together. There’s no way I can keep a straight face during these interviews, no way I can say the things they want when they want them. There has to be a way to get out of this.

Someone knocks on the closet door. Do janitors usually knock before entering supply closets? I’m silent until I hear Flint say, “Laurel? Are you all right?”

“Yes. Just reconsidering career options,” I say. Flint opens the door and we stare at each other. “I may go back to school to become a broom,” I add. I’m hoping this doesn’t look too stupid, but I have a feeling it does.

“I’d get in there with you for some privacy, but I don’t think they make closets my size,” he says. I laugh, but I don’t leave my sanctuary. We likes it here, precious.

“I don’t think I can do this,” I tell him. He frowns.

“Please don’t say that. You’re the thing that’s keeping me grounded through this process.”

“You seem like you’re doing a fine job on your own.” It’s not like you need me, McKay. Don’t make out like you do.

“I’m serious. I don’t know what was wrong with that woman’s face.” Flint looks legitimately freaked out. “Where did it go?” He shakes his head. “You make me remember there’s at least one sane person in the room. I’m serious.” He holds out his hand. “We’re the dream team now, partner.”