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“I’m not going.”
“I already signed you up and paid the fee,” Mom says cheerfully. “So wear something red. And heels.”
“I’m 6’2” in heels,” I point out indignantly. “Men hate that.”
“Maybe one of them will be tall, dark, and handsome.”
I put my face in my hand and don’t answer.
“You never know until you try,” Mom says.
“I don’t want to.” I look up to see John standing over me with his tablet in his hand. “I’m not doing this.”
“Yes, you are. I’ve already got Paul lined up for camera crew,” he says very firmly. “You don’t really have to go on any dates unless you meet someone nice, but you’re going tonight, and you’ll do a short segment on it.”
“You’re not going to promise me the weekday evening slot, are you?” I ask him suspiciously. “Because that would be—”
“No, no,” John says, smiling like a proud uncle. “No. But you need some more experience to even be considered for that slot. You’re going to need to step out of your comfort zone once in a while, Dara. Good reporters make the story personal.”
I open my mouth to reply, but Tanisha makes a suck-it-up face at me so I shut it.
Looks like I’m speed-dating this evening.
