Me: I’ve asked my boss for some time off.
Ryan: Is it too much to say that I miss you?
Me: No…I miss you too.
Ryan: Good luck with Nick today, but you don’t need it. If he doesn’t sign you on first sight, he’s an idiot.
Ryan: I’m going through security, going to turn phone off soon. Call me after?
Me: Safe flight!
I almost catch myself typing Love you without thinking about it, but not because it means anything. I say those words to Lisa all the time, and she says them to me too—even if she’s a little more crass and adds a few curse words in there just out of habit.
While thinking about Lisa, I text her the news about my meeting with Mr. Bennett.
She responds immediately.
Lisa: No way! Good luck! I love you, bitch!!! You’ll do great. Call me after—drinks, my bed, tonight.
CHAPTER 32
Andi
“So? How did it go?” Lisa’s voice sounds through the speaker. “I’ve been on pins and needles over here.”
I’m making my way out of VWA agency headquarters, still spinning from the interview with Nick. My sex hair has been somewhat tamed, and I’m lucky that the comedy business is casual by nature. My black tank top and jeans worked great with the leather jacket and high heels stashed in my trunk.
“He asked me to do a five-minute bit,” I say, my breath coming in gasps. “I think I nailed it. We didn’t agree to sign anything yet, but he’s interested. He’s sending in the footage for some new show.”
“One of those Last Comic Standing type things?”
“Yeah, but a brand new Netflix edition,” I say. “They have their male roster set but needed a few females. He’s going to call you next!”
“Shit, you’re kidding.”
“He loved our show!”
“Shit.”
“Stop cussing! This is exciting!”
“Damn.”
“That’s a curse word, Lisa. Say something else.”
“Bitch, I don’t know what to say!”
“Okay, well, at least we’re getting somewhere.” I reach my car, unlock it, and slide inside. “Plans for tonight?”
“My house at nine.”
“I have to work.”
“Well, I’ll order a pizza,” she threatens. “And make you come over.”
“Lisa, I really have to work.”
“Ryan got to hang out with you when he ordered pizzas!”
“Ryan ordered twenty pizzas.”
She blew out a breath. “Come over when you’re done. I’ll be waiting, but I can’t guarantee there will be any wine left.”
“I’ll bring a bottle.”
“Good girl,” she says. “Bye.”
As I pull away from the parking lot, I debate calling Ryan to tell him about the meeting. It truly felt like it was a success. Nick Bennett listened, explained in no uncertain terms that he thought both Lisa and I had potential, and offered to put our footage in front of producers.
Even if they didn’t opt to take us for the show, he thought the two of us had potential for a joint show at a big, local theater. I am positively buzzing with excitement, and of their own accord, my fingers dial Ryan.
When he answers, his voice is quiet. “We’re about to take off,” he whispers. “How’d it go?”
“Success!” I shout. A driver looks over at me from the next lane, and I realize my windows are cracked. “Success,” I say more quietly. “At least, I think so. Too early to tell, really.”
“I didn’t have a doubt in my mind,” he says, and in the background an airline attendant tells him to shut off his phone.
“I’ll hang up,” I say, “I just…well, I wanted to share the good news with you.”
“So glad you did,” he says. “Congratulations.”
“Ryan.” This time it’s a closer female voice, clipped and short, and I am willing to bet big money it belongs to the ice queen who picked Ryan up from his house. “Didn’t you hear the attendant? We’re taking off.”
“I’ve gotta go,” he says. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Bye,” I say, hearing the click of the ended call almost instantaneously.
I focus on driving home, but my mind is somewhere else, somewhere distant. I’m on top of the world one second, thrilled about the opportunities for my career, Lisa and I going places… If Nick’s prospects are serious, this could change our lives.
On the other hand, Ryan Pierce is flying away from me with a beautiful woman by his side. I trust him, and I know he wouldn’t lie to me, but…we are friends with benefits. We aren’t exclusive, we aren’t married—we aren’t anything, really.
Even if he promises nothing will happen between him and the agent, what happens when he spends time with her day after day while I’m thousands of miles away? And if not her, then someone else.
While one part of my heart is thrilled, the other is aching. Unfortunately, I can’t do anything about either of them at the moment.
Only time will tell.
The problem is that I’m impatient, and I don’t feel like waiting.
CHAPTER 33
Andi
“Andi, for the third time, will you bring me the freaking—” My dad pops his head out from the kitchen at Peretti’s and cuts himself off midsentence. “Andi?”
I’m sitting on a barstool at the counter staring deep into the flames of the oven, oblivious to the customers around me. I only vaguely hear my dad’s voice calling my name to bring him something or other to fix the leaky faucet.
“Is everything okay?” he asks, his voice a little gruff as he rounds the counter and takes a seat next to me. “What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing,” I say, forcing myself to snap back to attention. Neither my dad nor I are big in the way of talking about our feelings. We prefer to grunt and argue with each other until the problem has passed or otherwise fixed itself. “Sorry, just distracted.”
“I’ll say. I’ve asked you for the screwdriver several times.”
“Where’s the screwdriver?” I stand. “Sorry, I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”
It’s the truth, but that’s not the only reason I’m off balance. The adrenaline has eased from the morning’s meeting and the previous night’s thrills, and now Ryan’s far away and I’m waiting to hear from Nick. This odd limbo has me in some weird funk, and I can’t decide if I’m excited or sad, happy or depressed, tired or alert. Somehow, I manage to be none of the above, which is why I’m floating around in a fog of uncertainty.
“I recognize this, whatever it is,” my dad says. “I’ve been there. Something’s bothering you.”
“Comedy stuff,” I say. “Don’t worry about it. I won’t let it affect my schoolwork.”
“Is that all you think I care about?” he asks. “Your stupid grades?”
“Stupid grades?” I face him. “You’re the one who makes it sound like it’s the end of the world if I get a B+.”
“Nobody should get a B+ in art class, Andi. Draw something on a page and turn it in to your teacher.”
“It wasn’t an easy art class,” I mumble. “I suck at drawing.”
“But you don’t suck at comedy,” he says. “And that’s an art.”
I frown. “How do you know?”
My dad looks at his fingernails. They’re clean, but he plays with them anyway. “I just know.”
My dad has never been to a show, never supported my dreams of being a comic. He still wants me to be an accountant—stable job, stable pay, stable everything. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“You know that thingy with videos?” He glances at me, his cheeks reddening ever so slightly. “The tube or whatever.”
“YouTube?”
“Whatever. Where they put videos of you?”
It starts to click. “You’ve seen me on YouTube?”