2. Michael
MICHAEL
“ A re you fucking kidding me?” I growl into the phone, not caring that we’re going to start airing any moment.
“Look, Mike, I know it’s not what you wanted—” My manager tries to placate me.
“Not what I wanted? This is so far from what I wanted it’s not even funny.”
“I know, but New Year’s in Canada isn’t so?—”
I cut him off. “If you don’t want me to fire you, you won’t finish that sentence.” He wisely stays silent. “I told you I wanted a break. I told you I didn’t want to do any of these fucking holiday specials. And now you have me shooting some live stream bullshit over the next three days—which is gonna be a goddamn nightmare—and then instead of going home to re-fucking-lax after this circus, you’re telling me I need to go to Canada and do it all over again.”
“I know, I’m sorry. But after this, I promise you’ll have two months off.” He pauses. “One, at least.”
I almost laugh.
“If you’re lonely, we can arrange to have some of your family meet you in Winnipeg, or I can always have a, um, a lady waiting for you.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Did you seriously just offer to send me a Canadian prostitute?”
“She doesn’t have to be Cana?—”
I hang up the phone.
How? How have I surrounded myself with such idiots?
But I know it’s not just the schedule that’s getting to me. It’s… fuck .
I heave out a breath.
It’s the loneliness.
I don’t want a random hookup. I don’t need a professional to meet me in Canada. I need a life. A real life with real people and a real relationship.
We all grow up romanticizing fame, thinking it’s the pinnacle of success. And sure, it can be. It’s validating, and my money and fame have opened a lot of doors. But they’ve closed just as many.
“We’re going live in…”
I sigh.
Time to get my head out of my ass because I have a job to do. And angry or not, I won’t just walk away.
My palms smooth out the front of my shirt.
Might as well throw myself into work. I have nothing else to do. Even though I won’t meet the love of my life on Second fucking Bite .