Waverly: DAMMIT again. I’m walking away from my phone because every time you say sweet things, it makes me tear up. I miss you. I miss you a lot.
Cooper: By December, you’ll be completely tired of me. I’m best in small doses. Ask my teammates. They have to live with me for like nine months of the year.
Waverly: I have this text message from Diego who says the locker room wasn’t the same without you, but that he’s glad I got to have you for a few days. And then he sent me other videos of the whole team saying nice things about you, and none of them appeared to be under duress, so…
Cooper: All CGI.
Waverly: You are such a goof.
Cooper: *gif of himself having a twerk-off with an umpire after getting called out at first base*
Waverly: Hiramys just got here. She has outfits for me to approve and a schedule to discuss, and then I need to get to bed. Sleep well. Xoxo
Cooper: *heart emoji* You sleep better.
35
Waverly
One more week.One more week. One more week.
My stomach is cramping constantly and I haven’t eaten anything but crackers in three days. My head hurts if I think about anything too hard. And after a completely tumultuous play-off season, Cooper’s first World Series game is tonight.
But all I can think isone more week.
Tops.
“You’re releasing your tenth studio album in twelve years soon,” Calista Finley says from her pink velvet seat across from me on the set of her daytime talk show in Burbank. She’s a tall Black lady who started as a comic about the same time that I got my break in music, and as much as I adore her, I don’t want to be here right now. “How does it feel to be on top of the world?”
“I think I could ask you the same, Ms. Seventh Emmy in a row,plusyour third Critics Choice Award. High five, rock star.” I smile at her and lean in for that high five while the audience goes crazy.
She slaps my hand but waves her other like I’m embarrassing her.
I probably am.
But come on.Seven Emmys? In a row? And so many more accolades under her belt than I could even begin to name?
Sheisa rock star.
“That was months ago,” she says.
“And it’s still amazing.” I look at the audience expectantly. “Isn’t it?”
They burst into wild applause again, and I give them my pop star smile.
It’s the one I don’t feel, but that I have to fake forone more weekbecause this is only the first of seventy million appearances I have to promote my new album, and if I have a nervous breakdown on set because it’s one more week until I see my boyfriend again, and one more week until I demote Aunt Zinnia to just being my aunt, then maybe I don’t have what it takes to be in this business.
“Stop changing the subject.” Calista gives me the friendly evil eye. It’s like she’s trying to be mad but she’s incapable of it.
“How’s your puppy?” I ask her. “Is she potty trained yet?”
“You arestillchanging the subject.”
“Let’s be real here. Betty Bite iswaymore interesting than me. Cuter too. I couldnotpull off bangs the way she does.”
A picture of Calista’s puppy flashes on the screen. Betty Bite’s a young mutt with fluffy brown and black fur, and I want to squeeze her every time I see her picture.
“Oh, she’s gotten so big,” I squeal while a wave ofaaawws and cheers sweep through the live studio audience again.
