Page 46 of One Time in Paris
“Look, I’m trying to get over it. But I’m letting Callum squirm for a little bit. He should have thought about that before he forced Tomas into my orbit again.”
“Tomas seems like a nice enough guy.” Kyle shrugged.
Tomaswasnice enough, but that was as far as it went. And he’d clearly felt the same way about her, considering he’d let her go just as easily.
“Yeah, he’s fine. It’s just that whatever spark was there is gone now.” She sighed, then looked back at the people gathering at the Eiffel Tower Park for the festival. “I need to find Davy—ask her what the plan is.”
“Sounds good. In the meantime, I’m going to go snag something with bacon in it.”
“Don’t say that too loudly,” Isla hissed, glancing at a local man a few feet away holding a pig.
An actual pig. What in the world?
She started toward the crew, looking for her friend, but she didn’t see her anywhere. “Any idea where Davy went?” she asked Tim as he passed her.
“I think to grab some coffee and muffins across the street.” Tim nodded at a row of shops on what appeared to be the main street. “True Grit Grounds—down that way.”
A ridiculously small main street.
Phew.
Isla saw the distant sign and then headed down the sidewalk, hurrying in case Boyd wanted her back sooner rather than later. As she drew closer, she spotted Davy sitting at a small table in front of the café, sipping on a paper cup.
Her hands trembled.
Isla drew a sharp breath, then rushed toward her. “You okay?”
Davy’s eyes were red-rimmed and shiny. She blinked at Isla distantly, then nodded, swallowing whatever she was drinking. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”
Isla pulled out the chair beside her, the metal legs scraping against the sidewalk. “What happened?”
“I just...” Davy let out a slow breath from puffed cheeks, then shook her head, unable to finish.
Sliding her hand on top of Davy’s, Isla gripped it with a tight squeeze. “You can tell me anything, Dav.”
“I know.” Davy inhaled and exhaled, struggling for calm. Then she glanced at the park and back at Isla. “Is your gear on?”
Isla bit her lip.Crap—is she that nervous?And would anyone really be recording anything right now?That was a troubling thought.
Davy leaned over, then reached behind Isla. With a quick tug on her shirt, she flipped a switch on the pack tucked into Isla’s waistband, then straightened. “Boyd chewed me out,” she said at last. “Said this wasn’t what I promised—that this shouldn’t even be a stop on the tour.”
Hesitating for a few moments, Isla tried to come up with the most positive way to approach this. “It’s a small town, sure, but isn’t that the point? If every town named Paris was the same, it’d be a boring show.”
“Try telling that to Boyd,” Davy said glumly. “It hasn’t been announced yet, but after last week, they’ve already decided to nix the episode in Virginia because they felt there wasn’t enough there. We’re down to five. And now, after this, they might just cut their losses and cancel the whole thing altogether.”
Scrap the whole production?
Isla wasn’t as familiar with the ins and outs of the business side of film, but Boyd had to be seriously worried if that was what they were leaning toward.
“What happens if they scrap it?” Isla asked softly.
“I lose my job,” Davy said, lifting her cup in a bitter toast. “That sort of loss would be enormous for the company. It’s a modestly-sized YouTube and cable channel, so absorbing that sort of financial penalty means job cuts, even with Aiden’s investment.”
The door to the coffee shop opened, and a woman came out, holding a box of muffins. “Here you go, sweetie,” she said with a warm smile, then set them on the table. “Hope you enjoy the visit.”
Isla watched the woman go, a visceral feeling of helplessness washing over her. Was there any way to make this better for Davy? Sure, maybe Paris, Arkansas, was small, but it was a town full ofpeople,and people were inherently interesting with stories worth telling.
Hmm. Maybe that’s what the show needs.
