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Or to at least attempt to.
I’d doubt their ability to do their jobs if they didn’t. I was half shocked that Raquel hadn’t brought it up herself.
But since she hadn’t, I had to decide if, in the very likely event, there were questions about Nell tomorrow, how or if I would even answer them.
Jeffers pulled up to the curb in front of my building before letting me out. I told him to have a good evening and quickly made my way upstairs.
The familiar hum of the elevator as it climbed up to my apartment lulling my whirring thoughts. The moment the doors pulled apart and I stepped into the space, something inside of me unclenched, and exhaustion rocked through me.
Between my dates with Nell and trying to get these projects underway, I was beginning to feel like I had been running on fumes.
My body went into autopilot as I showered and got myself ready for bed.
And when I pulled back the covers and climbed underneath them, no sooner than my head hit the pillow, I was fast asleep.
* * *
Four thirty inthe morning came along quickly, and when my alarm blared, I glared at it before forcing myself to get out of bed.
Thankfully, it didn’t take long for me to throw on sweats and shoot off a text to Jeffers as I was brushing my teeth that I’d be down in ten.
Raquel was bringing my interview outfit to the station, and I’d need to go through some level of makeup and hair, so the amount of effort I had to put in before leaving the house was minimal.
When I arrived at the station, there was a flurry of activity.
Raquel was there, a garment bag in hand as expected, but before I could even greet her properly, I was rushed into a chair to get my hair and makeup done.
The people around me prattled so quickly that I couldn’t keep up with a word they were saying.
Thankfully, they at least provided coffee and breakfast sandwiches. Otherwise, I would have been a wreck in their chair. When the prep team was finally done, I stood just as a piece of paper was thrust into my face.
The show’s producer was looking at me expectantly, his grey eyebrows raised as he explained.
“The final list of questions,” the man barked out.
I took it from him and began to read. About halfway down the page, I began to smile. Just as I expected, there were questions about Nell.
“Anything out of the ordinary?” Raquel asked, and I took a moment before I answered.
I had a choice to make. If I told her now that Nell was on the list of questions and I didn’t want to talk about her, she would run out there and confront them head-on until they removed the questions altogether. I had enough faith, and anecdotal evidence, of her being able to bully them into not bringing her up.
But was that what I wanted?
With a jolt, I realized that it wasn’t.
“Everything’s good,” I explained, folding up the piece of paper and sticking it in my pocket.
I grabbed my phone from the counter, brought up my text thread with Nell, and began to type.
I wanted to give her a heads-up and let her know that she would be being discussed in my interview, but just as I was about to press send, someone grabbed my attention by barking my name.
Blake,” the show producer yelled, and my eyes darted up from my phone to find him standing a few feet away. “We have to go.”
He grabbed my arm and began leading me toward the stage, and without thinking, I set my phone down on the counter as we walked out, my text to Nell still unsent.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
NELL
