Morrie sighs. “I think it’s time we visit the executive producers.”
It’s pretty much a last-resort strategy. Morrie and I have never admitted as much out loud to each other, but I’m almost positive it’s a mutual feeling.
We’re scared of the executive producers.
Sienna Diaz more than Raquel Ezra, I think. She’s frighteningly direct and will say things out loud that most people would be way too chickenshit to vocalize. Though, Raquel has that intense stare that makes it feel like she can see right through you, so honestly, it’s a toss-up. It also doesn’t help that they’re both stunningly gorgeous. And they always smell so good. I’m not sure why, but that makes them even more terrifying.
A couple years ago, I spent three months undercover in prison, and somehow I feel more unsure of myself now, knocking on the door to their office, than I did then. “Come in!” a voice calls from inside.
Morrie and I exchange a glance. I wonder if he’d let me hold his hand ... ?
Kidding. Mostly.
Drawing in a bracing breath, Morrie lurches ahead of me and pushes open the door. “Ms. Diaz. Ms. Ezra. We were wondering if we could have a moment of your time?”
This is ridiculous. We’re both employees of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, for goodness’ sake, but Morrie’s voice cracks like he’s going through puberty, and my hands are legitimately shaking. I smile my broadest smile to cover it up. “Just a tiny moment. Half a moment, really.”
Raquel and Sienna exchange amused looks, like they’re used to men turning into babbling idiots in their presence. “Half a moment,” Raquel agrees, looking pointedly down at her watch. “Aren’t you supposed to be at a photoshoot soon?”
They’re both looking at me now. I don’t make direct eye contact, for fear I might turn to stone. “About that ...” I do my best to sound like a polished professionaland not trip over my words. “I met the other men just now, and I couldn’t help but notice they’re all ...” I search for the right word.
“Panty-melting?” Sienna supplies.
Probably not the phrasing I would have gone for, but she’s not wrong. And, as if she’s well aware that she’s not wrong, Sienna smiles knowingly at Raquel. “We have a real eye for sexy.”
“And they’re so interesting,” Raquel adds. “Everyone is so cultured and smart and wonderful. We’re really happy with our group.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “That’s kind of the problem.”
One of Raquel’s eyebrows arches. She is completely stone-faced. Yep, she’s definitely the scarier of the two. “Problem?”
Sienna lets out an aggravated sigh. “We are up to our necks with problems, boys. Between the studio sending in a lackey with the personality of a paper towel to babysit us to a wardrobe department intern’s creepy uncle demanding that he get to do product placement on the show, we have filled our weekly quota of problems.” She lets that sink in a moment before giving us each a meaningful glare in turn. “So this had better be something important. Or ideally, something really, really easy to fix.”
I look to Morrie for help. He wipes his palms on his trousers before gesturing toward me with a thumb. “Unfortunately, we’ve realized that ‘Nate’ is rather bland compared to the rest of the cast.”
Raquel and Sienna react with surprise at the word choice, checking my reaction, but I’m too aware of the issue to be offended. I shrug. “A little on the tame side,” I agree.
“Like ... beige wallpaper,” Morrie continues.
I frown at him. “They get it, Morrie.” Still feeling the collective gaze of beautiful executive producers on me, I turn back to the two women and hastily add, “Notme, me. My undercover character.Ican juggle knives. So.”
My comment just hangs in the air for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then Sienna clears her throat. “Okay. I’m struggling to see how this is a problem. For us, anyway.”
“He’s short, too,” Morrie chimes in. “I mean, not relatively speaking, in most contexts. But when you stand him next to those guys, he looks like Peter Pan.”
Peter Pan?“I’m notthatmuch shorter,” I object.
“Like a tiny, little boy who never got to grow up,” Morrie continues, just rubbing that salt right in my open wound.
Raquel holds up a hand, cutting both of us off. “Let me make sure I understand. What you’re saying is we chose a cast of men who are too interesting and too tall.”
I check with Morrie. We both nod at that assessment.
“For a reality show that we’re hoping will be a massive success,” Raquel continues. “Because if it’s a massive success, we can use the proceeds to fund our studio’s projects—even the ones with women and LGBTQ and BIPOC writers and directors that might not get greenlit anywhere else.”
“What were we thinking?” Sienna deadpans.
I shake my head. Clearly, this isn’t coming out right. “Obviously you want the show to do well. And you chose great! But since itisa competition, and I do need to stay on the show long enough to complete my importantfederalbusiness—” I really emphasize the word “federal” to remind them just how official this is.
