“Stop. Geez. I have a reputation to uphold around here.”
“Sorry. I forgot.” She winks and turns to the door. “Mercy should be here anytime. I’ll give you a heads-up when I hear that she’s arrived.”
A flash of excitement washes through me. “That would be great. Thanks.”
My stomach tightens just enough to notice as I turn on my computer and look over my notes once again. Three a.m. Gianna did me a favor and put them in meticulous order. I have a page filled with Mercy’s history and backstory, another listing her professional accomplishments, and a third with miscellaneous facts that I thought were interesting or could come up during our chat. I also have a flow of questions to guide me in case I get performance anxiety.
That would be a first.
I take a deep, steadying breath and remind myself that this is fun. Sure, it’s my job, but it’s also an amazing opportunity. And, if all goes right, I might find myself in the Thursday slot after all.
“Gianna.”
The urgency in Francine’s voice has me whipping around to face her. As soon as our eyes meet, I stop dead in my tracks. The pale pink lipstick clinging to her lips is pressed into a thin line. Shoulders back and chin lifted, she’s the picture of trouble.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as my stomach careens to the floor.
“Don’t panic.”
“That instantly panics me.”
She holds a palm out as if it will steady me. “I just got a call from Mercy’s team. She’s been in a car accident.”
“What?” I grip the edge of my chair. “Is she okay?”
“I was told that she has some cuts and bruises, but they’re going to take her to the hospital as a precaution. Apparently, a semi-truck driver lost control. They believe it to be a medical emergency—a heart attack, probably—but he smashed into Mercy’s SUV.”
The news ricochets through my brain, barely making sense. “Ishegoing to be okay? Was anyone in the car with Mercy?”
“I’m not sure. Most of the information is being held close to the vest, as you can imagine. Mercy’s publicist made it sound like there weren’t any serious injuries, but that could bea misunderstanding on my part. I’m just uncertain.” Her chest rises and falls beneath her pretty cream-colored blouse. “Mercy is obviously not going to make it this afternoon to the interview.”
The interview. Right. Shit.
I glance at my watch.
What do I do now?
“We aren’t allowed to say anything about the accident on air,” Francine says. “They’ll put out a statement later.”
“Oh, of course not. I wouldn’t want to out her like that. It’s not our business to share.”
Francine nods. “We have about ten minutes to figure out how to handle this. Do you have any ideas? Any preferences? I know you’re prepped for Mercy, but could we do call-ins?” She nibbles her bottom lip. “That doesn’t really explain the promised fireworks, though.”
I look at the ceiling, regretting all the yapping I did this week about today’s show. It could’ve been left as a true surprise. If it had, then I wouldn’t be in this situation.
“Do you have any clever ideas?” Francine asks. “You work well through chaos.”
Think, Gianna.“Well, we could say that our guest had an accident, right? And just not say her name?”
“Maybe. But news will break this evening that Mercy was in an accident in Nashville. If you say that, people will put two and two together. We’re better off not to touch it at all.”
“Okay. Let’s take a step back,” I say, pacing the room. My heart pounds with each step I take, reminding me that every second that passes brings us another moment closer to the start of the podcast. “The worst-case scenario would be that something bad happened to Mercy or someone else in the accident. This just … sucks.”How can you fix this?“I’ve played this up for days, and now I’m going to show up on air with a smile and an empty chair.”
“Eight minutes doesn’t give us much time to work with. You could just not go on today. We can say you’re under the weather and run a previous segment. Oh!” She points at me, her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. “I know. We can run the live you did with Drake. People have gone feral for that.”
They have … And we could…
My attention is snagged by something over Francine’s shoulder. Something tall, muscled, with bright blue eyes.
