Fake It List

Seven

Reysha watched the internal debate play out across Chris's features. How had she never noticed how straight his nose was before? Or how, up close, there were little flecks of gold mixing with the sea green in his eyes? More importantly, why are you noticing now? She did her best to remain patient, but she really wished he'd hurry up and tell them what he was thinking. She didn't want to lose her job. You won't lose your job. You can't lose your job. Listen to him.

"The audience wants a fairy tale, and I'm proposing we give it to them. Reality television has a huge market, and with what happened, it got me thinking we could work the audience interest into that framework. On the surface, the idea is simple—listeners will nominate potential dates. You go on three dates a week for four weeks. Each week, you choose the best of those dates, and that guy goes into the final round. In the fifth week, there'll be four men for you to go on a second date with."

Reysha's head was spinning. This was fairly simple?

Chris's enthusiasm was hard to miss. "You'll drop two that week and in the sixth week, you'll choose between the final two. The entire time, the audience will be allowed to weigh in on your candidates. I'm thinking you do some social media posts about the dates and your feelings on them. The audience already connects with you. They're going to want what makes you happy. Either way, the choice, of course, will be yours."

Her tongue wouldn't work. Never mind peanut butter; her mouth filled with concrete, and something lodged in her throat. Maybe her heart. Or her lungs. She tapped her fingers against her thigh, but it didn't help. She pushed her right thumb into her left palm. Hard.

"Rey, breathe," Stacey said, pushing Chris's rolling chair back. She gripped both of Reysha's hands and forced her to meet her gaze. "Hey. It's okay. Breathe."

She choked out a breath, shaking her head like she could clear the craziness from her brain.

"Are you okay?" Chris's worried tone cut through her haze.

Stacey turned to look at him, releasing one of Reysha's hands. "You just asked to set her up on a bunch of dates as a way to boost ratings. You may have noticed that she has a touch of social anxiety, so maybe you can see why this might have thrown her."

Reysha dug deep to find her voice and her professionalism. She appreciated Stacey understanding and having her back. But she was thirty and could speak for herself. "To clarify, you think if I select some listener-suggested dates, it'll boost our ratings and make the owner back off?"

Chris nodded, the excitement in his gaze dimming. "I think it's unique and fun and could mean great things for the station but also for you professionally and personally."

His words were careful, making her think maybe this was his way of having her back. He wasn't pressuring. He was laying out an idea.

Chris stood and paced behind his desk for a moment before going to stand over by the window. There was something in his gaze when he looked at her, something she hadn't seen before, even when he'd dropped the wall between them at her house the other day. Softness? Caring? Don't misread a look while you're emotional.

"Reysha, this isn't something you have to do."

She forced herself to breathe slowly. Evenly. He was serious. He had her back, for whatever reason. Could she do this? Online dating was the norm these days, and she hadn't had any luck with her current methods. It gave her control, which she loved, but also pushed her boundaries, which she didn't like but knew she needed.

"What if I don't?" she asked, curling the fingers of both hands into tight fists.

"We'll put out a press release thanking everyone for rallying around you. Then I'll fight to keep you and Stacey here."