13. The Prickly Process
WEST
Darren leans back in the conference room’s leather chair. “All right, West, let’s see what you’ve got.”
I slide into the hot seat across from Darren, and a bead of sweat threatens to race down my spine. It’s my interview for Groomsman to Groom, but we’re having it a few days early. I don’t know why, and I wish I’d had a little more time to prepare but still—bring it.
Except I’m distracted. Somewhere above us, Eva’s sipping champagne in a helicopter, while I’m trying to sell my life story. “Okay, shoot,” I say, feigning confidence. I faced some seriously wild crap on Paige’s show, I mean, I had to break up a fistfight. Really, how hard can this be?
Darren props his elbows on the desk. “Pretend I’m a beautiful woman. Sell yourself to me.”
“Well, I’m a computer scientist who can fix your Wi-Fi. Never underestimate the power of uninterrupted streaming.” I shrug. “Geek is the new chic, right?”
“Nice.” Darren leans forward, eyes fixed on me. “But what’s under the hood?” His gaze sharpens, cutting through my crap.
My heart thumps. “I guess... I’m someone who believes in going the distance, no matter the odds. Whether that’s working through the night to crack a code or sticking by the people I care about.”
“Good. Any regrets?”
I shuffle in my seat. Regrets? Oh, that’s Pandora’s box. Eva’s face flashes in my mind because I never told her how I felt, not really. I hinted around it but never put it all out there to see what would happen. But I really don’t want to get into all that, so I opt for vagueness. “I have a few.”
“Which are?” Darren isn’t budging, his producer instinct digging for drama.
I run a hand through my hair. “I regret not risking it all. You know, for something that could either end up in a total disaster or give me everything I’ve ever wanted.”
“With your career?”
“More personal than that,” I hedge, thinking of Eva again. I know I’m walking a tightrope. “Let’s just say, when it comes to putting my heart on the line, sometimes I wish I’d gone all in.”
“Okay, so regrets with romance.” Darren nods. “Which is fine,” he says with intensity. “Without mistakes, we’re unpolished diamonds.”
“Unpolished diamonds,” I echo, thinking. My mind’s a whirlpool, but I inhale and plunge ahead. “That’s definitely true. I’ve screwed up plenty, but who hasn’t? And those face plants taught me more about persistence and being present than any victory lap ever did.”
“That’s good.” Darren’s surprise is genuine.
“Thanks.” I feel the tight grip of anxiety loosen.
He jots down notes I hope are all positive. Then he taps his finger against his lip. “All right. Is there anything you’d change about your upbringing?”
The question hits home, no pun intended, and for a split second, embarrassment shadows me—the dingy trailer home, the sex shop sign flickering in the window. I clear my throat, buying a few seconds as I rifle through memories best left in the back of my mind. “My upbringing,” I mumble. The truth is a gnarled tree root in my gut, one that I’ve stumbled over more times than I’d like to admit.
“Take your time,” Darren says, but his eyes are sharp.
I blow out a sigh. “Hell, my folks run a store that’s fifty shades of awkward for a kid.”
Darren chuckles, and I can tell he didn’t expect me to go there. But this is me—unfiltered, unapologetic, and undeniably shaped by the weirdest upbringing around.
“Here’s the kicker.” I lean forward as if we’re talking over beers. “I wouldn’t change a thing.” I emphasize so Darren knows I mean it. “My parents may not be country club material, but they’re amazing people. They love hard and laugh harder. They might own a quirky business and aren’t rolling in dough, but they gave me something better than money.”
Darren studies me, his expression unreadable. “Such as?”
“Well, when the bank called threatening foreclosure, we worked our asses off and made enough in a month to keep the doors open.”
“So you’re persistent.” Amusement winks in his eyes.
“Like a cockroach. And the most important—be present for those you love. Because at the end of the day, even if I’m surrounded by dildos, it’s hearts—not parts—that matter.”
Laughter erupts from Darren. “You’re something else, West.”
I feel the weight of my past lift. “And whoever ends up with me is getting the skills and the store.”
“We’ll have to include that in your bio.”
“Please do.” I grin. “It’s high time the world knows that love isn’t always found in the places you expect. Sometimes it’s tucked between blow-up dolls and flavored lube.”
“Romantic.” A smile spreads across his face, as if I’ve passed some unspoken test. “Well, West, you certainly don’t lack heart and humor.” He scribbles something on his notepad. “Groomsman to Groom is all about taking the leap. Think you’re ready to jump?”
“More than ready.” I flash my most confident grin, the one that says ‘I can handle anything’—even though my insides are flip flopping. “Maybe I’ll finally win big.”
“Or crash and burn,” he says, but there’s a twinkle in his eye that suggests he’s enjoying this little game.
“Hey, if I crash, I’ll do it with style.” I ease the tension knotting my shoulders. “Maybe even pull off a somersault first.”
“Good. We need someone who can laugh in the face of impending doom. Makes for great TV.”
“Then I’m your guy. I’ve been laughing at doom since diapers.”
Darren’s chuckle fills the room, and I take it as a good sign. Maybe I don’t need a helicopter to soar. And maybe this show will be my launch pad. Perhaps Eva will be watching.
Darren closes his notebook. “I think we’ve got everything we need. Eva was right about you.”
Eva?“I’m sorry—what?”
“She approached me and told me you’d interview very well and to make sure to do this right away so I could see how great you’ll be for the discussion segments. I’m glad I took her advice.”
“Awesome.” I exhale, relief washing over me. I guess Eva’s holding up her end of the bargain, not that it surprises me in the least. She always pulls through with more than expected in her end of a pact. But I better finish strong, so I smile at Darren, saying, “Now I have a question for you. Can one wear Vans with a tuxedo on national television?”
Darren smiles. “We might be able to work something out.”
As I stand, I feel like I might actually have a shot at this. “Thanks again. I’ll be waiting by the phone, ready for my close-up.”
As I leave his office, I can’t help but feel like I’ve leveled up—not just in Darren’s eyes, but in my own. And as far as my parents’ store, this really would be a game-changer. Right now, I’m also working on a few backup plans. I’ve gotten in contact with Sniffly Steve, an old high school buddy who played DD with me, and now manages a bank. I’ve asked him if he’ll let me co-sign a loan with my parents to get them back on their feet, so he’s checking on that. I also tried developing a keyword click campaign for Toys ‘n Joys, but the corporate porn companies out-maneuver me at every turn. They simply have more dollars and more resources. So I think that’s out. But as a last resort, I can sell my condo. My cousin Riley and her husband live in Atlanta, and they told me I could live in the guest house over their garage for a while. That wouldn’t be too bad.
But still—this is by far and away the best option for my parents, not to mention me too, because I’d really love to find my person. I’m ready.
My phone buzzes. It’s Eva.
Eva: MARSHMALLOW. Need backup. Can you come with me to the bridal shop on Main Street?
I type a quick response.
Me: On it, give me 5. And thanks for the interview, Manhattan.
My text zips out into the ether.
Eva: Of course—I knew you’d nail it. And a pact is a pact.