Page 211 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet
Ah, fuck. Maybe I did come across like a sarcastic ass.
But the honey badger doesn’t care. “So, off the record,” she prompts, “I wonder how many more revisions Webflix will commission onTop-Notch Boyfriend.”
Ah, so that’s the news.
My pulse surges, but I play it cool. “Always a good question,” I say non-committal, though now I’m dying to know more about my failing adaptation.
“My sources tell me the latest round is terrible,” she says, grabbing her phone. “I dropped the story an hour ago.”
She shoves the cell at me.
My heart climbs up my throat as I read.
Webflix Has the Revision Blues!
Will Webflix ever figure out the problem withTop-Notch Boyfriend? The smart money in Vegas is on a big, fat no. The latest round of revisions makes you wonder just how many more the streaming giant will tolerate before scrapping their marquee queer rom-com. C’mon Webflix, get it right! This gal is jonesing for some diversity on the air! But some projects can’t be saved.
My stomach drops.
Not only is my project a laughingstock again, but I’ve also got to deal with anotherI’m an allyperson.
I paste on a smile as I give a bland response. “You know how it goes.”
Her phone buzzes, and she scans the screen and taps out a reply as she talks. “Don’t I ever.” Then she looks up and pats my hand. “Listen, I’ll let you two have your man talk. I need to skedaddle to see an LGO exec.”
My radar beeps. Jude’s show is on LGO. “About anything in particular?” I ask, nonchalant, though I am not. I’ve got to dig for any intel Rikki might have—for Jude’s sake.
She smiles sweetly. “Yes. A show premiering soon.”
Crap. That might be Jude’s series. I fish to ask more without giving away my motive, but I come up short.
The predator’s done with her meal anyway. Rikki hops off her stool and shoulders her bag. “What a treat to finally meet you, TJ. I feel like I know you. Your projects are a blast to cover. And you can call, email, or text me anytime round the clock. Tip me whenever,” she says as she slides a business card my way.
I take it with athanks.
The difference between her and Malcolm is she works her ass off. No one could ever accuse Rikki of looking for a shortcut. She’s working it every day and every night, and I have to admire that as she takes off in a pink cloud of smoke and gunfire.
Malcolm points a thumb at her retreating figure, shuddering. “I wouldn’t want to run into her in a dark alley.”
Is he unnerved by Rikki too? Ugh. Now we have something in common. “She’s tough. A reporter should be,” I say begrudgingly. As much as I want to despise Rikki, I can’t.
He leans closer, whispers like a mafioso sharing wisdom. “That’s why I keep her in my back pocket. I always want someone that dangerous on my side.”
That’s pretty strategic. The fact that he has a brain behind his bluster is terrifying.
I drink more of the club soda, wishing it were scotch, wishing I weren’t learning about my project from The Man’s Man and themost feared reporter in Hollywood. “So, what’s on your mind, Malcolm?” I’m not in the mood to play games.
He narrows his dark eyes at me. “Talk to me about bloggers. They’re so powerful. I want to know how to use them to promo my book—The Man and His Main Squeeze.Don’t steal my title, okay?”
“It’s all yours.” Because I’m generous that way.
“I want to make a big splash when it’s done. Like a fat kid cannonballing into a pool.”
I cringe over the low-brow analogy. “Bloviators weigh more. Maybe use that as a metaphor next time.”
His eyes widen with gratitude. “Sweet. Appreciate the tip.” He taps out a note on his phone, talking under his breath. “Put bloviator joke in gym pickup scene.”
Oh, score! He doesn’t know what bloviator means.