Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 116268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
I rest my arm on my bent knee. “And what happened?”
“I inserted something in terribly wrong.”
We all make a pained face.
Jane takes a deep, reassuring breath before declaring, “I’ve realized it’s not for me.”
Seriously, I say, “I know what’ll make you feel better.”
“What?” she wonders, a gleam in her eye.
“One of Oliveira’s cookies.”
Quinn laughs, and Maximoff stares between Jane and me like we’re seconds from destroying a relationship we haven’t really even built.
Jane tips her head to me like touché.
“Akara to Farrow and Quinn.” The Omega lead’s voice bleeds through my mic. “Sul and I are leaving now. We’ll be there soon.” A motorcycle revs in the background.
I stand and inspect the pastries. “Sulli and Akara are on their way,” I tell Maximoff. “What do you want to eat?”
His eyes narrow like you shouldn’t speak to me in front of Quinn.
I cock my head, smiling. Come on. It’d draw more attention if we were playing a silent game with one another. I trust myself to rein in the causal flirting. I’m sure he trusts himself, too. He just likes to add five padlocked chains onto a dead-bolted door.
He stands, posture stringent. “I can get my own food.” It’s a common phrase for him: I can do that myself. You don’t need to open my car door. Et cetera, et cetera.
It’s more endearing than he understands. I grab an egg and cheese croissant and watch him grab a blackberry scone. We sit back down at nearly the exact same time.
His attention wants to be on me so badly. He stares at my hair for a long, long beat like it’s brand new.
“My hair has been blue for two weeks,” I remind him, the electric-blue strands pushed back out of my face. I wanted a change. I only have one barbell in my eyebrow now. Plus, I put in my small hoop earring.
“I got that, thanks,” he says, licking his lips and sipping his hot tea.
I laugh into a smile.
Quinn spreads cream cheese on his bagel with a plastic knife. “Can someone explain why there’s a production meeting for We Are Calloway if filming doesn’t start until next January?” He licks his thumb.
That’s why we’re all here.
A production meeting.
We Are Calloway has been an Emmy nominated and award-winning docuseries for over a decade. It’s the only platform that enables the Hales, Meadows, and Cobalts to voice their opinions and tell their stories. It’s to ensure their truth is heard and not twisted on social media.
When We Are Calloway first premiered, I was a kid, and I remember sneaking downstairs and hiding behind my father’s sofa while he watched the R-rated show (for mature themes). I peeked around the armrest and saw Lily Calloway.
A twenty-something, scrawny girl that I’d one day protect. And she looked powerfully in the camera and said, “I’m always going to be a sex addict, but I’m more than just sex.”
Every raw frame of the show struck a cord with me, and by the end, my father sat in silence and uttered one awed word. Wow.
After all these years, the families still film season after season. To humanize themselves, but also for the hundreds of people that relate to them.
Recently, the docuseries has been on a short hiatus, but it starts again next year. I only have one issue with the show.
It makes security harder.
Maximoff breaks his scone in half. “We have early production meetings because we need to talk to Jack before we do anything.”
Quinn nearly chokes on his coffee. “Jack? Like the Jack.”
I say, “The one and only Jack Highland. Take note: remember whose side you’re on. One too many have fallen for his charm.”
Maximoff gives me a tough look. “There are no sides.”
“There are definitely sides, wolf scout.” I motion to Quinn and myself. “We’re in charge of protecting your private lives. And then Jack is in charge of protecting your public lives.”
Still, we have to align at the end of the day and find common ground together. And almost everyone likes Jack Highland. He’s hard to hate. That used to make me a little bit wary of him, but I have no real beef with Jack. He’s the youngest executive producer on We Are Calloway, and he has an enormous amount of contact with security.
He has to. Production and security are intertwined on filming days. These meetings set up most of the prep work.
Someone knocks on the locked entrance downstairs. I stand and peer over the balcony railing. Speaking of Jack… “Go meet him first, Quinn.”
He bites into his bagel and then jogs down the twisting iron stairs.
Maximoff has pushed aside his food and tea. He somehow sits like a board on a slouchy red beanbag, and he cracks his knuckles.
Jane shifts her bag of peas, but I see how uptight she sits too.
“What’s wrong?” I ask them. Staying standing, I lean on the silver wall with a lightning bolt decal.