Page 80 of Grumpy Bear

But I wasn’t okay. With any of it.

“Wait. Can I ask a stupid question? Is this an audition-audition, or am I, like, already on the show?”

Gary cocked his head. He wasn’t following me.

God, this was going to sound lame, but… “When do I find out if I… got the job?”

“Oh.” Gary blinked. “Oh! You signed your releases, right?”

I nodded, dumbly.

“Everybody submitted audition videos to get on the show. Brad sent me your audition video two nights ago, right? And I said yes. You’re on the show. We’re filming the competition rounds starting today.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now.” His tone said his patience with me was in short supply and the three crumbs I had remaining would need to last for the remainder of this job.

I got it. I’m here. It’s happening. Holy shit.

But before I had a chance to process what that truly meant, there was a cameraman and a boom operator and a ring light in my face, and Gary was saying he wanted to start with me talking about what happened to my guitar.

I froze, paralyzed by a sudden weird defensiveness. I wasn’t sure how much I should talk about the campground. A terrifying image of this crew invading Bear Mountain Lodge flashed across my mind. I stuttered like an idiot, finally managing to ask, “W-why?”

“Handsome drifter guy, down on your luck, on the cusp of making your dreams happen. You get your big break within days of your guitar being destroyed.” Gary rolled his hand, like he was scrolling through a list of the most obvious things on the planet. “This shit is money. It impacts the online votes like you wouldn’t believe. It gives the audience a reason to root for you. They love an underdog.”

I pathetically asked if it was going to be possible for them to find me a guitar I could use.

“Oh, yes.” Gary exchanged a look with Brad who was watching from the sidelines. “We have a fantastic surprise for you. Someone wants to gift you a guitar.” He muttered to Brad, “Have we heard from the, um… benefactor?”

“En route,” Brad piped up. “On his way.”

Gary put up his hands. “But I can’t tell you anything more because we want to get your authentic reaction on camera. We’re gonna shoot the whole thing, okay?”

“Okay.” My voice sounded small to me. I guess it was my new puppet voice.

“So, why don’t we talk about how winning this competition could change your life. Remember, turn my question into the beginning of your answer. Winning this competition would change my life by…”

I repeated it automatically, but then I paused. I couldn’t think of what to say. I mean, I knew what they were looking for. I was just supposed to say all the things. But had I really, truly considered the question? How would winning a competition like this change my life?

Gary frowned compassionately. “It’s okay. Take a beat. Speak from your heart. Just tell us the truth.”

The truth was… my life had already been changed. For a few brief days, it had been perfect. It wasn’t anything I would’ve dreamed of or pursued because I could never have imagined there was this devastatingly gorgeous man named Coleman Sawyer whose tiny shack at a campground in the North Georgia mountains would be the happiest home I’d ever known.

Or that I could fall in love with someone so fast.

Was I supposed to say that? Was that the story I should tell? Would Coleman see it broadcast on TV?

God, what if he thought I was using him to get attention?

Bear. Unicorn. Deer in headlights. My brain was buffering. “I’m sorry, can we—?”

“Take a break? Sure. Let’s take a break.” Gary smiled but his jaw was clenched again.

I asked for the bathroom, reaching for my backpack and guitar case.

“I can watch your stuff,” Brad said, but I ignored him.

I barricaded myself in a stall and pulled out my phone, scanning for WiFi networks. If I could find the Bear Mountain Lodge website, they’d have a contact number, and I could… What?