This is a fiction piece I started back before pregnancy sucked my creativity dry. If you want to get caught up, click “Kissing Frogs . . . So Far” either here, or on the tab at the top of the page.
“We’ll keep working through the monologue, but if we miss the teaser for the interview, come and get us.” Jack was saying to Joanna as the theme music playing on their radio was suddenly joined by the radio in the break room. Joanna nodded in agreement and returned the way she had come. Joey looked at Jack in confusion.
“Why do we care about this?”
Jack returned to taping sheet rock seams and was silent for a moment.
“I don’t know,” he answered, finally. “But we do.”
“Yeah,” answered Joey, troweling mud onto the taped seams. “For some reason we do.”
The sound of Andrew Falkner’s radio voice began to come through the radio, but Joey wasn’t listening to it. He was wondering if the paycheck was really worth all the strings that seemed to be attached to this job.
Tracey didn’t hear a word of the monologue.
It was like magic. As soon as Andrew put on his radio persona, she had been able to put on her business hat. This was the biggest break Sophia Publishing was ever going to get, and she wasn’t going to blow it. Her author was literally certifiable, the first run print had been ruined and her father was out there somewhere doing something to try to help her, which was inevitably going to go poorly. This was the only thing in the “pro” column at the moment and she was going to wring every last drop of positivity out of it.
“And after the break, I’m going to be talking to an up and coming publisher, who is local here in my home town and has a very interesting project coming out that I think is about to make some waves.” Andrew hit the word “waves” just as the music cut in and he nodded with satisfaction before flashing Tracey a smile.
“You ready for this, darling?” he asked.
Tracey smiled and nodded. It was like the curtain had been pulled back on the wizard. Dr. Andrew Falkner was just a guy who got paid a lot of money to talk to himself about his own opinions. The butterflies weren’t flying now, they were laughing.