Symphony carried on as if she hadn’t heard. “And he’s quite inexperienced when it comes to show business. Being a contestant is one thing, but tohost? That’s a level of responsibility I’m not sure he’s prepared for.”
Adi’s jaw dropped.
“And of course, he has the rest of school to think about, and college after that. He has his whole future ahead of him. I don’t know if this is the best course.”
“You may be a producer,” said Ranielle, “but Hitflix execs’ opinions trump yours. And they want Aditya.” Adi was tempted to cheer for her—before he remembered that she was almost certainly a cold-blooded murderer.
Symphony kept talking. “I’m not sure he’sreallywhat the show needs. I was watching some recent episodes—”
Adi snorted. Yeah, right.
“—and I think you’ll agree, Ranielle, this show is ready for an infusion of feminine energy. A softer touch. A moreelegantflair.” She swished her fingers, and suddenly, Adi understood.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said.
Symphony looked at him, all tenderness. “Darling, it’s nothing personal. Even you have to admit, you’ve never taken the slightest interest in acting. Whereas this is my life. My soul. What I could bring to the show is far superior to anything you, or any of those young people, ever could. A sense of presence. Confidence. Experience. And let’s not forget”—she looked back at the producer, puckering her lips—“a certain amount of sex appeal.”
Adi pressed a hand over his eyes. He didn’t know what was worse—that his mom had mentioned her own sex appeal in front of him, or that she had driven here in Monday rush hour traffic to steal his contract.
He knew he shouldn’t be surprised. This was painfully on-brand. But while he’d expected his mother to milk his contract for all it was worth, it hadn’t crossed his mind that she might try to take it for herself. It was a new low.
“Thank you for that riveting sales pitch,” said Ranielle. “But as I’ve explained numerous times, Hitflix wants a contestant as our next host. Awinningcontestant. And, as our contestants are teenagers, that means, by default, they want ayoungcontestant.”
Symphony’s nostrils flared. Uncrossing her legs, she jabbed a manicured nail toward Adi. “He hasn’t agreed yet. So no—I’msorry, Ranielle, but I must implore you to reconsider.”
“I am not reconsidering.” Ranielle faced Adi, eyes blazing. “But she does make a point. Are you taking the gig or not? I have a lot on my plate right now, and if you’re declining the offer, then I need you both out of here so you can stop wasting my time.”
Adi’s mouth opened, but no words came out.
Defiance roiled inside of him. He was tempted to say yes for no other reason than to see the look on his mother’s face. He would meet his dad, and live at Sweetbrier Resort, and be free of her, finally free.
But something held his tongue.
Because at least one thing his mom had said was true. He’d never had any interest in show business. This wasn’t the life he wanted, no matter the perks.
He was saved from answering by a knock at the door.
Vera walked in, fuming. “We can’t get the”—she cut off abruptly when she noticed Adi, and her nose wrinkled—“spinny thingto work.”
“What are you talking about?” Ranielle demanded.
“Thespinny thing,” Vera said, more forcefully. “On Soundstage D. They want you to come take a look.”
“For god’s sake,” Ranielle said under her breath. “Do I have to do everything around here?”
Vera snorted. “Tell me about it.”
Ranielle stormed around her desk. “Aditya, wait here. Symphony, out.”
Symphony jumped to her feet. “We aren’t finished.”
“Yes, we are.”
Ranielle and Vera stalked out of the office. Symphony marched after them. “Ranielle Russell, I will not be dismissed. This discussion is not over—” Her voice faded into the bustle of the studio.
Adi looked from the door to Ranielle’s desk, with its open laptop. Back to the door. Back to the desk.
Well, damn. Here was that opportunity Beck had hoped for.
