4. 4
“Bella Amore ?”
Blair screamed so loudly that Hunter dropped his fork.
When I finally made it home from the Sunset Production offices and filled them in on the little “miscommunication” that was my interview, they were shocked.
“I’m so sorry, Poppy. I swear I thought the guy I sent your resume to said it was for a production job,” Hunter said, his British accent somehow making his apology all the more sincere.
Blair was a different story.
“Bella Amore is my favorite show. Like, favorite favorite. I even love it more than Housewives,” she said somberly, as though this was an admission she did not make lightly.
“That’s great,” I said as I loaded my plate with the Chinese food they picked up for dinner. “But come on, me doing reality TV? We can’t actually be having this conversation right now.”
Blair set down her chopsticks and turned her whole body toward me.
I took one look at her and immediately knew where the conversation was going.
Her eyebrows were knit together, her lips ever so slightly pursed; it was her serious, discussion face.
How many times in college had I seen this very expression looking over at me while talking about finals or boys or post-grad plans?
This was the second time I’d had it fixed upon me today, and just like the morning, Blair did not hold back.
“Poppy.”
“Blair.”
“I think you should do this,” she said. “Not just because I’m a fan of the show and would die to see you on TV every night, but because I think you deserve to do something different for once. Give something new a chance.”
I began to object, to tell her she was crazy and that going on a reality show was a totally ridiculous suggestion. But when I opened my mouth, nothing came out. Not one word. It was as though my body was rejecting the way my mind wanted to immediately shut this down.
The truth was I would have normally laughed the offer right out the door. Doled out a quick “Thanks, but no thanks” and moved right along.
But something about Harriet, and then Blair, telling me to give it a chance was pulling at a thread in my mind I didn’t even know existed.
I’d had tunnel vision with my career ever since I graduated. I knew what I wanted, found a path to pursue it, and didn’t look back. I had never even considered doing anything else, because why would I?
It all felt horribly comical, seeing where that had gotten me.
I sighed into my dumplings, taking a bite and chewing as I collected my thoughts.
Would it really be that bad?
Was I actually considering it?
“It is basically a paid vacation,” I mused, echoing the very words Harriet said to me in her pitch.
“Exactly!” Blair jumped in, taking my one relenting inch and running away with it. “And you’d be in a beautiful villa on an island off the coast of Italy. They take your phone away, so you won’t have to keep avoiding those calls I know you’ve been dodging.”
She pointedly looked between me and my cell phone resting on the table.
That would be one silver lining—being able to shut off my phone and disappear for a few weeks without causing alarm.
As if on cue, as though someone was actually pranking me, my cell phone lit up with an incoming call. The name flashing across the screen sent a swoop of dread through my stomach.
“Case in point,” Blair muttered under her breath, just loud enough for me to hear.
I silenced the phone and let it ring through to voicemail. Again. He had been calling a few times a day for the past week, and I’d been set on ignoring it. I didn’t intend to stop doing so anytime soon.
“If I did the show,” I continued, letting myself talk through a web of thoughts, “then it would extend my visa, and I’d get paid. Even if it is just pennies, at least I’d come out with more than I have now.”
“Tuppence. Not pennies,” Hunter corrected.
“Same thing,” Blair said, slapping his arm before turning to face me. “Pop, I know it’s something new and it’ll probably be overwhelming to have every moment of your life filmed for up to six weeks while also trying to find someone to date.”
Oh, yes. Dating.
The whole point of the show; the part that had registered in my brain the least over the last few hours.
If Blair noticed I’d gone a bit pale at the mention of the “D” word, it didn’t faze her.
“I think you should do it,” she said. “I think you should throw that caution of yours that you grip so tightly to out the window. Fly like a bird. Set sail on the seas of change.” She huffed out a breath, as though trying to convince me had worn her out.
“Basically,” she continued, “I think you should say ‘yes.’”
It had worn me out, all the overthinking and analyzing. I felt, not for the first time today, simply exhausted by my own brain. I was tired of second guessing myself, of worrying about every move I made and stressing over where it would lead.
I looked at Blair across the kitchen table. Was her insistence I give this a chance really that crazy?
I had so desperately wanted to get myself back on the track I had been on just two weeks before, when I had a goal and a sense of where my life was headed.
But going back wasn’t an option and if I wasn’t ready to return to New York and face the music there, I needed to take control of the hand that had been dealt to me in London.
Maybe Blair was right.
Maybe it was time to blow up my life a bit.
Looking down at my phone, I found another voicemail from him waiting in my inbox. Seeing his audacity displayed in the simplicity of a voicemail notification tipped something over in me.
I got up from the table and grabbed my bag, rifling through it until I found Harriet’s business card.
I dialed the number and listened as it rang.
My heart was in my throat, but my mind was surprisingly clear as I waited for her to pick up. Maybe a part of me deep down knew that no matter how long it took and how many ways I would need to talk it out, the day was always going to end here, with this phone call.
“This is Harriet,” the voice on the other line answered after the third ring. Her tone was crisp and to the point, just as it had been earlier.
“Harriet? Hi, it’s Poppy.”
“Poppy, wonderful! Have you made a decision, then?”
This was it. Once I said the words out loud, I knew there would be no going back, no time to change my mind.
I took a deep breath and let it out.
Then I pulled the pin on the grenade, disrupting my previously well-curated life, and said, “I’m in.”