Page 2 of The Invitation
That must be nice.
I’d love to be more like Sutton—a trusting, loving, positive individual who wears a smile and carries love in her heart. But when I try to slide on those rose-colored glasses, the ends poke me in the eyeballs, and I’m reminded that the best predictor of the future is the past.
And my past is filled with rich, manipulative pricks who wouldn’t even know what the word love means.Sometimes, I’m not even sure I know what it means, so I probably shouldn’t judge.
“Hey, what happened with your project at work?” I ask, eager to shift the focus away from my quasi-love life. “You lured me here with the promise of a huge update. So update me.”
Her eyes sparkle. “Remember the reality show idea I presented to my boss last year?”
“Of course I do. It was such a fun concept and totally original.”
“Well, he took it to the executives a while back. I’ve spent the past few months building out the concept and trying to attach names to a pilot, just in case.” She pauses, her smile growing as my anticipation inches higher. “And I did it, Georgia. I was notified a few days ago that it’s a go. The football player and beauty influencer we’ve been courting signed on, and the funding came through.”
I squeal, my auburn ponytail swishing along the top of my back. “You’re freaking kidding me! This is incredible.”
“Thank you.” She shimmies in her seat with excitement. “I’m over the moon about it. Because it’s just a pilot, we’re only shooting with one couple and have a low budget. We start filming next week, which is why I’ve been so slammed lately.”
“Sutton, I am so,soproud of you.”
I lift my glass to hers and tap them together.
My heart swells with delight. It’s incredible to share this moment with my friend and to witness the well-earned pride color her cheeks. She doesn’t often pause to revel in her achievements, choosing instead to root for those around her. So I sit back and give her space to toot her own horn.
“I’m pretty proud of myself, to be honest,” she says. “I put my heart and soul into this concept, and seeing it come to fruition—knowing others with much more experience than me believe in it, too—it’s so satisfying.” She spears a ravioli with her fork and drags it through a dish of marinara. “It’s also going to be satisfying when I tell Jeremiah’s parents, and they realize I am an asset to their family, not just a silly gold digger like they think.”
My smile fades. “Do this for you. Not them. You have nothing to prove to those people.”
She raises her glass and clinks it to mine again. “Amen.”
“Just remember when you’re a famous producer that I was the one who supported you when you were a nobody.”
“Thanks, I think,” she says, laughing. “Now, what about you? Have any of your interviews panned out?”
I down the rest of my martini before flopping back in my chair.
I didn’t expect to be job hunting for this long when I got laid off two months ago. I have a bachelor’s degree in communications with a minor in journalism. My résumé is solid, and I have great contacts in the broadcasting industry. My references are stellar, too. I’ve sat for numerous interviews and applied for various positions, everything from a news writer to a weatherwoman—the latter out of desperation. I’m pretty sure it just entails reading the weather report. And, if not, I can guess when it will rain as well as anyone.
The response?Crickets.
It’s disconcerting.
“I had an interview yesterday at a music label,” I say. “And I met a podcaster this morning for coffee. Both went great, but I doubt I’ll get a call back from either.”
“What makes you say that?”
I shrug. “Gut feeling.”
“Okay. Hear me out.”
I groan.
“I have an idea,” she says.
“That scares me.”
“As it should.” Her eyes dance with humor. “Remember when I took a weekend alone in Utah last year?”
I nod slowly. I’m unsure where this is going, but I know it will give me a headache.
