“But that goes against our confidentiality agreement,” I argued. “I might not have a specific contract with Cindy, but I’m not about to go on television and spill all of her secrets.”
“We’re not looking for any salacious details. It’s not that kind of show, but if you can provide some vague answers, enough to keep the audience enticed, that’s what we’re looking for.” The woman shuffled through her notecards. Her dark hair was cropped close to her head and frizzed considerably, but she was the most well-put-together woman that I had ever met. In the span of the conversation that she was having with me, she’d handled two other crisis situations flawlessly and without breaking a sweat.
Joyce Reid should have interviewed her.
“I kind of thought we were shining some light on the idea of therapy. Grief and stress and anxiety can hit anyone, no matter what their job is or how much money they have. Successful stars are not immune.”
The manager nodded vigorously. “Yes, that’s exactly it. You just hold on to that thought.” Suddenly, she held up a finger and pressed a hand to her headset. “Crap. I’ve got to go. You two are going to be great. Just great. Georgina… where is Georgina? There she is. Georgina will give you a ten-second heads-up before your cue, and then you just walk out to your seats. Remember that Cindy gets the chair in between. When you’re done, Georgina will call you off during break. Got it? Good.”
Actually, I felt like I was in a dream world. I had no idea what was going on around me. People rushed by me, barking orders and using short-term slang that I didn’t even begin to understand.
“Jillian, aren’t you just ecstatic?” Cindy practically glowed. “You are going to be a celebrity doctor.”
“No.” I shook my head emphatically. “I’m not a doctor yet, and I don’t want to be a celebrity doctor. I just want to clear up some misconceptions that people have about therapy, that’s all. I just want to help as many people as possible, but I don’t need fame.”
Cindy frowned. “But you want success.”
“I do, but success and fame are two different things. Success is meeting my own goals and not the standards of the press or the public. To me, success is opening my own office. Helping people. Maybe writing a book to help people who can’t see me.” Nervously, I wiped my hands on my black pants. Despite Cindy’s protests, I had dressed as conservatively as possible. Pulled my hair back. I didn’t want this to be about my looks. I wanted it to be about my talents. “I’m not doing this because I want my face splashed across every television. In fact, the very thought of that makes me want to throw up.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Cindy waved her hands dismissively. “You’re doing it to help people. Is it really so hard for you to admit that this is a big opportunity for you and just be happy about it?”
Understanding her point, I chuckled and inclined my head. “Now, who’s giving the advice?”
“Am I wrong?” she demanded.
“No. You’re not wrong. I am excited.” Taking a deep breath, I tried to find that calm center inside of myself, but my emotions were a hot mess. Right now, the only person that I wanted to talk to was Brendan. His voice could soothe me and remind me that this was everything I wanted.
Used to want.
Right then, I wanted to go home. Not to my apartment with Danielle but to that stupid horse ranch in the middle of nowhere where I could stroke Silva’s mane and bury myself in Brendan’s arms.
I’d made a mistake.
“Ten-second cue!” A woman’s frantic voice broke through my thoughts, and I slid off the chair and took one last look in the mirror. This was it.
As we walked to the side of the stage, Joyce’s voice came in strong. “And now, the woman who has stolen everyone’s hearts on the silver screen and the woman who helps her keep it together, please welcome Cindy Collins and Jillian Quinn.”
There was a loud applause, far too loud for the small crowd in the audience, and the lights were blinding as I walked onstage, but I’d been warned not to wince, so I focused instead on the woman greeting us. Joyce was a beautiful woman. Having been on television since she was a teenager, she’d aged well but had the help of a little plastic surgery along the way. Her trademark red hair was curled around her shoulders, and her creamy complexion was heavily caked with makeup, but I knew that was for the cameras. I felt a little bit like a painted doll myself.
“Welcome, welcome!” Joyce hugged Cindy and me both as if we were old friends, and I tried to follow Cindy’s lead. I didn’t love being touch by a stranger, but I kept it together long enough to be seated.