“That would depend, Mr. Johnson,” I say. “I’ve worked very hard to create the GKT brand.”Why are we calling it that?I’m too tired to care. It’s apick your battle day, and this isn’t one I’m willing to fight. “What are you proposing?”
Francine nods. “I agree. GKT is Gianna’s baby, and I think we need to wade into these waters very carefully.”
I give her a quick smile, grateful for the support.
“We’re thinking of taking it to the next level,” Mr. Johnson says with a fake enthusiasm that annoys the hell out of me. “New format—from live podcast to an actual online show. Daily episodes that are pre-recorded. Think reality show meets daytime talk show, only scripted.”
I should’ve drunk more coffee today because this man makes no sense. “And who writes the script?”
“We’ll hire a team of writers. Don’t worry about that.”
“Don’t worry about that?” I ask incredulously. “With all due respect, what makesGianna Knows Thingsspecial and different is, well, what Gianna knows. If someone else is writing the script, wouldn’t it be like every other show out there?”
Mr. Brevard holds a hand out like he’s cautioning me to stay in my lane. That makes me want to jump three lanes and blow a donut.They didn’t talk to Drake like this. Fuckers.
“There is a formula that works, and we know what that is,” he says. “That’s the difference between a show like GKT and a household name. Bigger audiences have expectations.”
“Would I have control over the script—or a say at all?” I ask.
“Sure, you could give us your notes, but it’ll be up to the team to make the final call,” Mr. Johnson says. “This is what we do, Gianna. You have to trust us.”
I close my eyes and try not to laugh. If I do, if one little rumble of a chuckle manages its way from my chest to theoutside world, it’s going to be ugly. It’s going to look delirious, like a meltdown in epic fashion. While that will be cathartic, it won’t be helpful.
Francine glances at me and then steps in. “You mentioned last week about spinoff shows. Can you talk to Gianna about that?”
“Sure,” Mr. Brevard says. “Ultimately, what we want to do is create a whole Canoodle family of shows built around GKT. We’ll court the late teens to early thirties demographic. You’ll be the face of the brand. Francine shared with us the list of requests already pouring in for you to appear on podcasts and in magazines nationwide.” He folds his hands in front of him. “The potential here is limitless.”
Mr. Johnson engages Francine about the technical aspects that mean nothing to me.
I sit back and watch them go back and forth about my work. And as I watch the discussions happen about me, but without me, I realize what will happen if I agree to this move. I’ll be used to make these fat cats even richer. They’ll parade me around like a dog on a leash, telling me what to say and where to go.
It’s the antithesis of what my show stands for.
I’ve spent months telling my listeners to follow their gut and use their voice. I’ve built a following by being honest. Thousands of people trust me to tell them the raw, unfiltered truth.How can I sell out now?
A flood of nervous energy spreads through me in a gentle but steady wave. This isn’t what I want. I don’t need to be a household name or fancy GKT branding. I wanted those things before because I needed to be accepted. I wanted validation. I wanted to belong to something bigger than myself in a way that didn’t feel personal so that it couldn’t hurt me.
But this isn’t what I needed.
I glance over at Drake. His bottom lip is between his teeth, and his fingers clutch the armrests on his chair. He looks like he’s two seconds from leaping up, and, really, so am I. Because I see things clearly now.
I didn’t need acceptance and validation from others. I needed someone to come in and help me tear down my walls and give me space to find a new path.
What I really needed was a sprinkle of magic fairy love dust.
“Excuse me, Mr. Brevard,” I say in a lull in the conversation. “I am not sure that this transition you’re proposing makes a lot of sense, and I don’t know that it’s in my best interests.”
He exchanges a curious look with Mr. Johnson.
“I think you misunderstand what we’re saying, Miss Bardot,” Mr. Johnson says.
“Apparently so.”
Mr. Brevard sighs. “As we advance, GKT will be transitioned to the format of our choosing. That’s in your contract. You have no say in it.”
“What if I refuse?”
“You have every right to walk away from Canoodle at the end of your contract,” Francine says over the top of Mr. Johnson’s reply. “You own the rights to your brand. We ensured that we negotiated that in the deal when we signed on here. They can make decisions on how to publish your show while you’re here—but only while you’re here.”
