3

I refresh my work email inbox. Still nothing. One day after I got the best professional news of my life, I’m a ball of nerves. I still have no idea who’s hosting the series.

Brooke and I have been calling and emailing the casting department nonstop since I got the news Monday morning, and we’ve gotten nothing other than noncommittal hemming and hawing.

And with Brooke gone today for the preproduction of an upcoming series she’s producing about sailing in New England, that leaves me to panic all on my own.

When my phone rings with a call from Brooke, I answer it right away.

“Hey.” The way she breathes through her greeting, I know something’s up. “You busy?”

“Always free for you. What’s up?”

“Okay, well . . .”

My heart pounds as she hesitates for several more seconds. This is so unlike confident and decisive Brooke. Ever since I’ve known her, she speaks with certainty—and I don’t think I’ve ever heard her hesitate.

“Is everything okay, Brooke?”

She sighs. “I finally got word on the host.”

I start to smile. Finally. But then she once more falls into a few seconds of silence and stumbling.

“I guess there’s no way around this,” she finally says. “Check your email. And I just want to say I’m sorry in advance.”

Half an hour later my eyes are bulging as I stare at the screen of my computer. It doesn’t matter how many viral videos I watch featuring the soon-to-be host of my series. My reaction is always the same. Disbelief. Disgust. Confusion.

When Brooke told me an hour ago that the network cast Blaine Stephens to host Discovering Utah, I didn’t react. I had no idea who he was—and I had no idea why Brooke was so upset about it. But then I clicked on the video links she sent me.

Blaine Stephens is a former reality star and D-list celebrity. He’s also a train wreck in human form.

That thought repeats over and over in my brain as I watch yet another video I found online when I searched for his name. There’s Blaine standing on top of a car that’s parked on a busy street in San Francisco, his hands in the air as he’s screaming something unintelligible, totally nude.

People walk past while staring and pointing. A few parents cover the eyes of their children. A handful of people stop to film him on their phones.

“What the . . .”

I don’t even finish my sentence before Blaine starts jumping up and down on the car, denting the roof. Then he loses his footing and plummets to the sidewalk, hitting his head on the cement.

I whip my head to Haley, who’s hunched over and watching along with me while eating the gluten-free breakfast bar I brought her this morning.

“How the hell is this guy still alive?”

“He apparently dropped acid that day,” she says between bites. “Must have been one hell of a trip.”

The moment I realized who this Blaine person was, my internal panic began. How in the world is a guy like this going to host a show? Brooke apologized while on the phone with me, saying that she initially told the execs that no way would he work as host, but it was a done deal. The contract was already signed, and Byron said Blaine was a nonnegotiable. He claimed that since Blaine already has an established fan base, it would translate into guaranteed viewership for the series.

I emailed Byron stating my case for a new host, but he wouldn’t budge. Once I realized I wouldn’t be able to fight him on this, I texted Haley to come to my office ASAP. I need help gathering as much info about Blaine as possible so I can prepare myself to deal with him.

Haley leans over to do another search on my computer. “Why did they tell Brooke the news about the host and not you? It’s your show.”

I let out a slow hiss of breath while remembering what Brooke said to me. “They want her to oversee things for me during the shoot.”

Haley stops typing and turns to look at me. “So, like, micromanage you?”

“Yup. They don’t think I can pull it off on my own. They assume I’ll need help from someone more experienced.”

Haley shakes her head, clearly annoyed. “Buncha dicks.”

“Brooke had my back. She told them I don’t need to be micromanaged and that I can pull this off as the one in charge.”

“Good. I mean, I’d expect nothing less from Brooke. She’s amazing and so supportive of you. I just can’t believe how insulting the execs are being.”

“All the more reason why I need to just accept this host casting. I need to show that I can handle whatever they throw at me without needing my mentor to babysit me.”

Haley mutters a curse word as she turns back to the computer screen while I scroll through the links.

“How is this guy so famous? I’ve never even heard of him.”

“We’re too young,” I say. “He’s some big reality star from the early nineties who was in a bunch of straight-to-video movies. And his agent is Byron’s golfing buddy.”

“Of course,” Haley mutters.

I click on another video. This one shows Blaine shouting profanities at a valet who didn’t bring his car out fast enough. The poor young guy in the maroon vest looks like he’s about to cry.

“Jesus,” Haley mutters.

“Wait until you see this one.”

I lean over to click on another video. In this one, Blaine’s walking out of a courthouse wearing sunglasses and dressed in jeans and a shirt that says “Save the Whales.” Next to him is an older mustached guy in a three-piece suit holding a briefcase. They stop at the bottom of the stairs, where there’s a podium and a microphone.

“Due to a court gag order, Mr. Stephens will not be taking questions at this time,” the fifty-something mustached man says. His lawyer, I assume. “He’s asked me to express his deepest regrets and apologies for his behavior on the night of January 7.”

Behind his sunglasses, Blaine frowns and lowers his head.

“Mr. Stephens wants to reiterate that even though he takes full responsibility for breaking into the San Diego Zoo and releasing various animals from their enclosures, he was under the influence of both illegal and prescription substances and was therefore not in his right mind,” his lawyer says.

Haley’s jaw drops once more. “Wait, he’s the guy who broke into the San Diego Zoo last year?”

I nod.

I remember distinctly that story circulating on the news. How some inebriated guy climbed a fence along the perimeter of the San Diego Zoo and started randomly breaking into animal cages. Then he climbed the gate of the big cats exhibit, and one of the pumas mauled him. By some miracle—and a few hundred stitches—he survived.

“Apparently Blaine is trying to clean up his act after the zoo incident because he’s lost a bunch of sponsorships,” I say. “Three alcohol brands and a delivery service for keto snacks.”

Haley mumbles, “What the fuck.”

“All he’s got left is an energy drink brand deal, some new app I’ve never heard of, and a reality show in the fall.”

Haley straightens the blouse she’s wearing, then crosses her arms. “You know, I’m so sick of Byron getting whatever he wants just because his dad started this network. He’s pushing sixty and still useless. He does zero work and collects a paycheck. He’s the dictionary definition of ‘entitled dude who is so beyond undeserving of every privilege he possesses.’ ”

Even though at five foot three she’s a handful of inches shorter than me, Haley’s energy is fierce.

I lean my head back against my office chair, groaning. Then I glance back at the computer screen, which is paused on his press conference. “So . . . this is the host of my show, huh? An insufferable man-diva who’s constantly high and behaves like a delinquent child.”

“Afraid so.” Haley gives my shoulder a soft squeeze.

I lean my elbows against the edge of the desk, then cup my face in my hands. “I knew this was too good to be true.”

Haley rubs that spot between my shoulders that always tenses up when I get stressed out.

“Look, maybe we can petition for a new host,” she says. “If we show the other execs what this guy is like on video, maybe then they’ll reconsider.”

I sit up straight and shake my head. “If Byron put him up for it, the execs already know what he’s like. And they obviously don’t care.”

I click on Blaine’s Instagram account, which popped up when I googled him. Half a million followers.

“Besides”—I point to the massive number on the screen—“I’m willing to bet that Blaine’s follower count trumps all and is why everyone agreed to hire him. No one who has any pull at this network is going to care that he’s a crappy person, because he’s got more than five hundred thousand followers that might translate into viewers for the series.”

Haley crosses her arms. Her shoulders slump.

I sigh, even though I want to scream. Blaine is going to be impossible to manage as a host—but he’s my only choice. And right now, I have to accept it and move on if I want to make this series happen.

Haley offers a sympathetic smile, her deep-brown eyes understanding. “The bright side is the rest of the crew is going to be killer. You’ve got me as production manager, so you know it’s going to be dynamite.”

I laugh and pat her arm.

“I’m your right-hand woman,” she says. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do. Writing scripts, scoping out locations, getting permits, setting up interviews, managing the lighting, going on coffee runs, whatever. I’ll support you in every way possible. You’ve done the same for me on a million shoots before.”

“Thank you. Seriously.”

“Wyatt and Joe will be on camera. They’re the best you could ask for.”

I nod along, thankful that I’ve worked with them both multiple times. They have stellar work ethics and are willing to go from sunup to sundown for days in a row if necessary. And they’re both laid-back and easygoing, which will be crucial for this series with a host as unpredictable as Blaine.

“We’ll need an intern or a PA too,” I say. “How about Rylan? She’s been here since the fall and she’s been great. Always eager and willing to take on work. Brooke said she did a good job as PA on that documentary about oyster farms in the Pacific Northwest.”

Haley smiles. “She told me a while ago that she’s dying to work with you.”

I can’t help but feel flattered. Rylan is a recent college graduate who interned for the network her senior year.

My phone buzzes with a text from Brooke. I look back up at Haley and smile. “Tell Rylan she’s hired.”

Brooke: Just want to say sorry again. I fought them tooth and nail, but those ball sacks refused to budge.

I let out another loaded breath. Of course the execs don’t listen to Brooke and me. We’re not relatives or golfing buddies.

Me: It’s okay. Thanks for fighting for me.

Me: Don’t think that I’m letting one man-child host bring me down. I’m going to kick ass on this project.

Brooke: My girl!

Brooke: Before I forget, here’s the email for a freelancer you’re gonna want to hire. I’ve worked with him on international shoots. He’s officially a field coordinator, but this guy’s done it all. Camera operator, sound guy, intern, production assistant, script supervisor, catering, set assistant. He’ll be clutch on a shoot like this.

Brooke: I already emailed him to tell him you’d be reaching out

I text Brooke thanks once more, wish her good luck on her shoot, and check back in with Haley.

“Just messaged Rylan,” Haley says, eyes on her phone screen. “We’ll see what—”

Just then there’s a soft squeal from down the hall, then hurried footsteps that stop right outside the door. Then there’s a soft knock.

“Come in,” Haley calls.

When the door opens, there’s Rylan standing with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. She wrings her hands for a second, then takes a breath and walks in.

“I’m so sorry. It’s probably unprofessional to be so . . . excited.” She bites her lip before fiddling with her blond hair, which is swept over one of her shoulders. “But I honestly am so thrilled to work with you, Alia.” Her blue eyes dart to Haley. “And you too, Haley.”

“There’s nothing unprofessional about being excited,” I say. “I’m really looking forward to working with you too.”

Rylan starts wringing her hands again, but then quickly stops and folds them in front of her. Then her chest heaves once when she takes a breath. “I just really admire the way you work,” she says. “You’re so encouraging and hardworking. You don’t just dump menial stuff on us PAs and interns, like some other producers do.”

I nod in understanding, recalling how when I was young and eager to learn on a set too, all anyone would let me do was fetch coffee or run their errands.

I stand up and take a step toward her. “Thank you, Rylan. I really admire your work ethic too. You’re focused and committed to whatever project you’re working on, and that’s definitely the kind of person I want to work with on Discovering Utah.”

She beams wide once more. “I’m going to start packing the minute I get home tonight.”

She says good-bye, then walks out of the office, shutting the door behind her.

“Damn,” Haley says, staring at the closed door. “I miss being that excited and optimistic.”

“It’s sweet. And honestly, her enthusiasm helped me forget about Blaine for a bit.”

Haley leaves to refill her coffee while I type out a message for the field coordinator Brooke referred me to—some guy named Andrew Irons.

I briefly introduce myself; then I dive into the concept of the series and the tight shooting schedule.

You came with a glowing review from Brooke, my mentor, and I’m hoping you’ll be able to work with us on this project. Hope to hear from you!

I hit Send, then answer an email from the office manager about booking plane tickets for our trip to Utah next week. Then I email Joe, Wyatt, Rylan, and Haley to set up a meeting to go over the schedule for the shoot. I want to prep in advance as much as I can. We’re going to have an unruly and unpredictable host to contend with, so the more we can plan out, the better.

I send it and then see a reply from Andrew pop up in my inbox. I click it, eager for his response.

Hey Alia,

Please tell Brooke thanks for saying such lovely things about me. That was bribe money well spent.

I snort out a laugh.

But in all seriousness, this sounds like an incredible series. I’ve always wanted to visit Utah, but haven’t gotten the chance. I’d love to sign on. I’m shooting in Nova Scotia until Tuesday, so I can’t make it out there till Wednesday evening. Will that work for you? Sorry, I don’t mean to kick things off by being the last crew member to arrive, but that’s the earliest I can wrap up. But I’m hoping you’ll say yes because this sounds like a blast and you sound like a pleasure to work with.

I’m beaming at his response. Sure, I’m disappointed that I won’t be able to meet Andrew until we’re all actually in Utah. But then again, this happens. People who work on travel shows are all over the place at any given time and fly to whatever job they’ve been hired for. On any past job, I wouldn’t blink twice at this—but that’s because I’ve never been a series creator before.

I silently acknowledge that I’m going to have to dial back my expectations in order to shoot this series. And at the very least, Andrew sounds like a funny and accommodating person, which will be refreshing to work with.

I quickly type out my reply.

No worries at all. I’m thrilled to have you on board. I’ll email you the hotel and flight info later today, then the script and shooting schedule this weekend. Looking forward to meeting you and working with you.

I send the message, relieved that I have the best crew possible for this series. Haley walks back in and sets a mug of coffee in front of me.

“All the Blaine nonsense aside, I’m so pumped for this,” she says. “Your own series, Alia. You’re going to kick ass.”

I smile despite the uncertainty whirring inside me. I hope she’s right.