Page 72 of The Situation
“Exactly. The tech team is adjusting the back end of the website, which I don’t fully understand, but they expect it to be completed by Wednesday.” She looks up. “Guess it should be done tomorrow.”
Bile creeps upmy throat as I think about Wednesday.
“You just turned a little green,” Tally says, confused.
“I’m fine. I just …” I sigh. “I have a date on Wednesday night at six with a guy I should never in a million years have agreed to see.”
“Then why did you?”
“Because I hate myself, apparently.” I look at the ceiling. “We’re going to Caesar's at six.”
“That’s … an interesting choice.”
“Yeah. Let’s move this conversation along, please. I’m going to pretend this date isn’t happening until the very last minute.”
She side-eyes me like I might fall apart but does as requested. “Additionally, I reviewed your notes from last week on the audition process, and I’m not sure I fully understood them. Do you have a moment to go over it?”
“Of course.”
My email dings and a new message from Tally is at the top.
“Take a look at that,” she says. “I tried to organize it in the most logical way possible. Feel free to adjust it, obviously.”
I scan her notes. “Okay, let’s start day one with something fun. Maybe Raptors trivia, just to break the ice. Let’s do games while the interviews are happening, and let’s do those in groups of three. That’ll give us insight into how they act in a group setting. The games will single out who will partake in activities and who won’t.”
“Oh, that’s smart.”
“I’ve done this before.” I smile. “Granted, I was on the other side of things, but the process is the process.”
“Do you want the choreography for day two to go to everyone on the first day? Or wait and see who gets cut and send it only to those who make it?”
“If they don’t make it to the second day, they don’t need the choreography. Let’s make sure someone tapes the routine, and we’ll send it via text or email to everyone we ask back for day two.”
“Got it.”
I look up at a knock on the door.
“Excuse me, ladies. Am I interrupting?” Tate grins from the doorway.
Does this man ever not look good?
Dark gray pants paired with a crisp white T-shirt make for a striking combination. The man does rock a good white shirt. A black blazer matches a black belt wrapped around his waist. Bright white sneakers tie the look together.
He looks like he walked straight off a runway.
He steps inside my office, and I’m immediately hit with a burst of his cologne. I don’t know whether he wore an extra spritz today, or if I’m just acutely aware of everything about him. Either way, the scent has my mouth watering.
“We were just making changes to the audition process for the promo team,” Tally says, looking up at him with stars in her eyes.
I don’t blame her. Everyone in the office reacts to him, albeit in different ways. Some women drool. Some men chase him like puppies. Others stand back in awe like they’re watching a movie. Porn, probably.
He does this simply by existing.What kind of magic is that?
Tate slides a hand in his pocket and casually leans against the door. “The promo team … is that the talent team you were discussing yesterday?”
“It’s tough to come up with a cute name when your mascot is a raptor,” I say, laughing. “We’re still throwing ideas around.”
“I’m 99 percent sure that my father chose the mascot,” Tate says. “That’s par for the course considering everything that man touched turned to shit.”
