In Between the Lines | Completed

Chapter One | Toads Aren't Good Pets

Vivian Jones

The presence of a slimy, wart covered toad is not my idea of good time. In fact, you could say that I am not toad friendly. Or lizard, snake, or scale friendly. But the pleading eyes of my 7-year-old were asking me to set aside my preconceived notions of all things gross and slimy in favor for his green-eyed gaze.

"Sammie, I'm not sure if an outdoor toad is exactly the best pet..."

I don't know who or what told my son that he NEEDS a pet, but as of 2 weeks ago he was begging to have a pet of his very own, even logging on to my phone and loading photos of all sorts of cute and cuddly creatures (and a different vile slimy thing I accidentally looked at during my 3am call of nature that brought out a scream so loud the topic hadn't been brought up in a few days) to try and tempt me to turn to the dark side.

Oh, the joys of being a boy mom. Surely girls wouldn't be as obsessed with all things creepy and crawly?

"But it's not a snake and it would be free—"

"Baby, why don't we discuss this after I finish my call."

"But Mom—"

"After my phone call, then we can think about what our options are for a pet."

"REALLY?"

Samuel Joseph Jones, or SJ to his family and Sammie exclusively to me, was a package of persistence and adorableness that I had always had difficulty saying no to. At 7 years old, his biggest obsessions in life were baseball, avoiding piano lessons, and most recently, getting a pet of his very own.

"Really," I sigh, shooting a smile at him, trying to hide the exhaustion on my face as best as I can.

"WOO!"

Sammie scrambles out of the library, the slimy toad from the garden thankfully leaving with him and as soon as he had disappeared from sight, the chiming song of the video chat app alerts me to an incoming call.

One thing down, one more to go. Lord help me.

I run my hands through the mess of brown curls and tuck the loose waves behind my ears. With a deep breath and a smile hiding more nerves than anything, I answer the call and welcome the face of two gentleman on the screen.

"HELLO!"

Gong Hoon's booming voice enters the quiet sanctuary of my library and I have to force myself not to flinch at his loud volume.

"Hello Chairman Gong, how are you?"

"We are doing well Miss Jones, have you looked over at our proposal any further?"

Gong Hoon had cropped silver hair, dark eyes, and a mischievous boyish smile that was sometimes out of place with his shrewd business mind. While the color of his hair revealed his age, his flashy clothes, booming voice, and youthful excitement made me look at him as more of a peer than a leader. Mr. Gong was the Chairman of a major production company based out of Seoul and the newest company pitching to snag my newest novel series for a Korean drama adaptation.

I sigh and smile as I look at the man in front of me who dark eyes seem to twinkle as though he's anticipating the next move in an exciting game of chess.

And maybe he is...

"Mr. Gong, I really appreciate the offer to turn 'Behind the Scenes' into your next series, I am however, concerned with the artistic license some of your writers might take with the tale. Asian dramas are very different from American dramas, and I have my reasons for writing things how they were. I understand some things would need to be translated for cultural understanding, but I do worry about the story going off script, pardon my pun."