Wendy looked at me again, still beaming. “So you started this fun line of greeting cards, and then what happened?”
I cleared my throat. “Well, the Honey Notes sort of took off, and then one day I got a call from the San Francisco Sun asking me if I wanted to write an advice column based on the cards. I decided to call it Honey on Your Mind, and well, fast-forward, and here we are.”
She clapped her hands together. “I love it! What a faaabulous story.” She looked out at the audience again. “Isn’t that just faaabulous?” The audience cheered.
I smiled, finally feeling comfortable. “Thanks, Wendy.”
She put her hand on my arm and winked, then turned toward the audience once more. “So what do you think, everyone? Are you ready to see what Waverly’s done with Honey on Your Mind for TV?”
“Yes!” shouted the crowd.
“Are you sure?” Wendy said.
“Yes!” the audience shouted even louder.
I had no idea who this Wendy was, but there was no doubting that she was good. TV Wendy was very, very good.
“OK then, let’s see it!” Wendy twirled her finger in the air and pointed behind her. An enormous flat-screen TV appeared out of nowhere. Suddenly, my smiling face came up on the screen. The first thing I noticed was that I had a huge underground zit on my forehead.
Darn.
I inhaled deeply and hoped for the best.
I also hoped no one noticed the zit. What a way to shatter a girl’s confidence.
But then I was distracted by the familiar yet unfamiliar sound of my own voice.
“Hi, everyone, I’m Waverly Bryson, and I’ll be hosting a semiregular feature for Love, Wendy called Honey on Your Mind. Given that I’m brand new to New York, I thought it would be great to kick off my first segment by approaching some real New Yorkers and asking them what’s on their minds. Want to join me?” I pointed my thumb over my shoulder, and the camera followed me.
I walked about ten feet down the street, then proceeded to accost total strangers and ask them, literally, what was on their minds. I began each interview with this question:
“Hi there, I’m Waverly Bryson from the Love, Wendy show with a new segment called Honey on Your Mind. Would you mind if I asked what’s on your mind right now?”
A fun montage of the responses followed, set to a background of Willie Nelson singing “You Were Always on My Mind” as I made my way from the crowded street through the park.
Guy in suit in line for coffee: “I’m wondering why the bleep you’re in my face with that bleeping microphone. Scat.”
Woman in dress standing in line behind first guy: “I’m thinking, why are all the good men married? And why are the people who work at Starbucks always so freaking happy?”
Skinny guy sitting on grass: “The bleeping condom broke last night. BLEEP!”
Two girls lying on the grass: “We’re thinking about how much we’re loving this weather. We’re supposed to be in class right now.”
Another guy in suit on park bench: “Why hasn’t she replied to my text?”
Guy in jeans sitting on bench: “What’s on my mind? Bacon, dude, always bacon.”
Guy selling roses: “Just ten dollars a dozen, special just for you, lady. You interested?”
Obese tourists on street: “Breakfast! We just love the food in New York. Do you know where TGIFriday’s is? We heard there’s a huge one around here.”
Disheveled woman exiting subway: “You want to know what’s on my mind, Whitney or Wanda or whatever you said your name is? Why do idiots shove themselves into the subway car while everyone else is still trying to get off? That’s what’s on my mind. What the freaking hell is wrong with people?” She stormed off.
By the time I finished the last interview, the background music had changed to the classic “Super Freak” by Rick James, which got louder as the segment ended. The entire studio audience was laughing, and some of them were even dancing in their seats. The camera panned back to me, and I signed off with the following:
“So there you have it, my new friends, a taste of what’s on the minds of some real New Yorkers, who are apparently unconcerned with the ramifications of sharing their most intimate thoughts with a national TV audience. I’m already looking forward to our next segment as I continue to get to know this great city. Wendy, back to you!” I smiled and pointed at the camera.
The screen went black, and the crowd erupted in applause. I could feel my cheeks go bright red, but I felt happy and incredibly relieved. That was actually pretty good.
Wendy smiled and put her hand on my knee. “Waverly, that was just fabulous.” Then she looked out at the audience. “Am I right? Isn’t she faaabulous?”
“Yes!” shouted the audience.
“Should we bring her back for more?”
“Yes!” they shouted again.
Wendy turned back to me and beamed. “Well, my love, it looks like I’m not your only fan. I can’t wait to see what you do for us next.”
“Thanks, Wendy.” I couldn’t help but smile back at her. She seemed so sincere, so genuine.
Did she really like it?
Does she really like me?
Maybe I was wrong about her.
We broke for a commercial, and I glanced down for just a moment to take off my microphone.
When I looked back up, Wendy was gone.
• • •
“Well?” What did you think? Be honest.” I could feel myself make an anxious face into the phone.
“It was awesome.”
“Really?”
“Really. Well done, dearie.”
I felt my whole body relax as I walked toward my apartment. “Thanks, Andie. You have no idea how happy you just made me.”
“It was great. You made your hometown proud.”
“I’m so glad the audience laughed. I was totally afraid that when they ran the tape there’d be nothing but silence in response…a deafening silence that screamed You suck, Waverly!”
She laughed. “Please. It was very entertaining, and the music was hilarious. What did that Wendy woman think about it?”
I shrugged. “You saw as much as I did. The second we broke for a commercial, she jetted off to God knows where, so I didn’t talk to her before I left. It was sort of weird, actually. I thought she would have said something.”
“She seemed to love it. She seemed to love you as well, which was odd given how she acted on the Today show.”
“I know. That’s why I’m keeping my guard up.”
“What did Scotty say about it?”
“He wasn’t there, so I’m not sure. I’ll see him at the next taping, though, if I don’t hear from him before then. It’s crazy how busy he is. Actually, it’s crazy how busy everyone in New York is. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. The whole city is in constant motion.”
My caller ID beeped. It was Jake.
“Oh man, case in point. I’m sorry, Andie, but I gotta run. Talk to you later?”
“Sure thing. I want to wax my arms before I leave for work anyway.”
I laughed. “What did you just say?”
“You heard me. Bye.”
I clicked over to Jake. “Hey, you!”
“Hey, TV star, nice work.”
I smiled into the phone. “You saw it?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
“And?”
“You were great.”
“Really?”
“Really. I laughed several times. I loved that bacon guy. He was my favorite.”
“Me too. How can you not love a guy who loves bacon?”
“You looked like a knockout on camera, Waverly. Gorgeous, actually.”
I could feel myself blush. “Thanks. I owe it all to the magicians in the makeup department. It’s sort of scary what they can do with some pretty raw materials.”
“So what happens next?”
“We’re still working out all the kinks. They told me to prepare for a taping tomorrow, but it ma
y get bumped if the crew is needed for something else. Eventually, I’ll get used to this erratic schedule, but for now I feel like I’m standing on a skateboard.” I put one hand out and bobbled back and forth as I walked. “By the way, you can’t see me right now, but I’m pretending to stand on a skateboard.”
“Nice visual.”
I laughed. “Thanks. You can’t see me right now, but I’m taking a little bow.” I took a little bow.
“So listen, Miss TV star, I just found out that I have next weekend off. Do you think you could come down for a visit?”
I bit my lip. “Oh man, I’d love to, but…”
“But…?”
“But I feel like I should be here in case anything comes up, just because I’m still so new. I hope you understand.”
“I do.”
“I’m sorry, Jake.”
“Don’t worry about it. I just miss you. Not that I don’t love listening to you tell jokes on my voice mail, but I prefer the real thing.”
I stopped walking and put a hand on my hip. “I knew you loved my jokes!”
“I love the sound of your voice. Let’s just leave it at that, OK?”
My call-waiting beeped again. It was McKenna, who, since having a baby, never had time to call.
“Hey, Jake, that’s Mackie on the other line, and getting her on the phone is like pinning Jell-O to a wall, so I should take this. I’m sorry.” I hated that I had to end our call so quickly. It happened too often.
“No worries, I should run too.”
Suddenly I missed him desperately. “Maybe you could you come up here this weekend. I could roll out the blow-up mattress like old times.”
He laughed. “Let me see about that. I’ll look into it and let you know, OK?”
“Sounds good.”
I clicked the phone again, still feeling like I was on a treadmill.
The following Thursday, I was nearly home from the market when my phone rang. I somehow managed to dig it out of my purse without dropping my groceries. I unlocked the door to my apartment building and started up the stairs, juggling the bags and my purse with one hand. “Paige, hey, what’s up?”
“Can you get on a plane to Chicago tonight?”
“What?”
“Chicago. You. A plane. Tonight. Can you do it?”
“Why?”
“A buyer for Jordan Brooke saw you on Love, Wendy yesterday and wants a meeting.”
“Jordan Brooke? You’re kidding.” Jordan Brooke was a national department store.
“Not kidding. She wants to meet you, and she has tomorrow morning open. Can you meet me at JFK at six? There’s a seven o’clock flight on Delta, we’ll get in around nine.”
I held my phone away from me to check the time. It was nearly three, and I was drained from shooting my latest segment that morning. I was enjoying Honey on Your Mind even more than I thought I would, but I hadn’t realized how time-consuming and exhausting it would be. But Jordan Brooke was a big store, and I knew I’d be foolish to turn down a meeting with them.
“So we’ll be there for just one night? Jake’s coming in tomorrow for the weekend.”
“Yep, in and out. You can be back home by dinner, I promise.”
“Are the tickets going to be crazy expensive to buy last-minute?” I’d be paying for both of us.
“Sort of, but it will be worth it if she places an order. That’s just how it is with sales. Everything’s an investment.”
“Got it.”
“So I’ll see you at six?”
“OK.”
I hung up the phone, put away my groceries, and ran to pack.
• • •
“That didn’t really happen.”
“Oh yes it did.”
“I still can’t believe it. And you paid to meet him?”
She nodded. “I paid. A lot.”
“Good God.”
It was approaching eleven o’clock, and Paige and I were having our second drink at the hotel bar in Chicago. It was packed, and I found myself wondering where the others were from and why they were there.
“So what is this company called?” I leaned forward to hear her over the chatter around us.
“It’s called Just a Drink, but after this experience I think I’m going to refer to it as Just a Joke.”
I laughed. “That’s good. So they really told you they would set you up with some quality men?”
She nodded and took a sip of her martini. “In my interview they talked about all the successful, professional men out there who are too busy to find love on their own. I think their tag line is something like YOU focus on your career, let US focus on your love life.”
“That’s catchy.”
“I know, isn’t it? What a load of crap.” She stabbed the olive in her drink with a toothpick.
“They really told you he was a professor…and he turned out to be a cab driver?”
She nodded. “Apparently, in the eyes of the genius screeners at Just a Joke, teaching two mornings a week at a community college in the middle of nowhere qualifies you as a professor. A professor in New York City, they also said.”
“Yikes.”
“I mean, I want to be open-minded, but I figured they’d match me with someone with a similar professional background. That seems reasonable, right?”
“Definitely. What did they say when you told them he was a cab driver?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Absolutely nothing. It’s been ten days, and no return phone call or e-mail. Quite a contrast from how attentive they were when I was thinking of becoming a client.”
“But that’s so unprofessional!”
She waved her hand in front of her face. “They obviously don’t care about being professional. They care about my check, which they already cashed.”
I laughed. “I can’t believe you let him drive you home from the date in his cab. What if he turned out to be a serial killer?”
She shrugged and finished off her drink. “He was nice enough, so I didn’t want to be mean. I mean, it’s not his fault that they set him up with me. And besides, as evidenced by our current circumstances, one never knows when one might need a ride to the airport in a pinch.”
“This is true.”
She stood up. “OK, Miss Honey Shop, finish that drink. We have an early meeting tomorrow.”
I finished the last of my wine and set the empty glass on the bar. “Done.”
“Lobby at eight?” she said.
“Lobby at eight.”
We were about to walk away when the bartender approached us and set a full glass of wine in front of me. “Excuse me, ma’am, but the ladies at the other end of the bar would like to buy you a drink.”
“Me?”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
I looked toward the end of the bar and saw two heavyset women with short, poufy hair smiling and waving at me.
“Do you know them?” Paige asked.
I frowned. “I don’t think so.” Do I know anyone in Chicago?
“Well apparently they know you. Listen, would you mind if I headed up to my room? I’m beat.”
“Of course not.”
“Don’t stay out too late, OK? We have to be at our best tomorrow.”
I saluted. “Got it.”
I picked up the wine glass and jostled through the crowd toward the other end of the bar. As I approached, the shorter of the two women stood up.
“Is it really you?” she asked.
I had no idea how to respond, so I just said, “Is it really me?”
“Yes, are you Waverly from Love, Wendy?”
Ah!
I smiled. “Yes, that’s me. So you’ve seen the show?”
She nodded. “Oh yes, we never miss it! I’m Marge, and this is Evelyn.” She held out her hand, and as I shook it, I couldn’t help but notice her square, pink, acrylic fingernails. Then I shook Evelyn’s hand. She wore her frizzy hair in a banana clip, and her square, pink, acr
ylic fingernails were even brighter than Marge’s. The kindness in their faces struck me more than their appearance, however, and I immediately liked them both.
“I’m Waverly Bryson. It’s nice to meet you.”
“We’re just tickled to meet you,” Evelyn said. “We live in a small town called Chippewa Falls, way up in northern Wisconsin, so being in Chicago is exciting enough for us. But running into a real celebrity? This is just too exciting.”
I laughed and put my hand on my chest. “A celebrity? Me?” Ha.
“Oh yes,” Marge said, completely serious. “I recognized you right away. I turned straight to Evelyn here and said, ‘Gosh darn, Evelyn, if that isn’t the girl who does that fun new Honey on Your Mind segment for Love, Wendy.’”
Evelyn nodded. “We’re both tickled to death to meet you. I loved the segment where you asked people what desserts were on their mind. But I couldn’t believe no one said apple pie. Why didn’t anyone say apple pie? That’s so un-American!” She looked confused, as though I’d just told her Sarah Palin’s grasp of English grammar could use a little work.
I pointed at her. “Now that is an excellent answer. It’s too bad I didn’t run into you on the street that day. You would have made a great interview subject.”
She crossed her hands over her heart. “Me in New York City? Oh my, I don’t think I could handle that.” She looked at Marge. “Could you imagine? Me in New York City?”
“I loved the segment where you asked people what regrets were on their mind,” Marge said to me. “It was just so…honest.” She turned to Evelyn. “Didn’t you just about cry when that woman said she regretted not telling her dad how much she loved him before he died?”
Evelyn nodded. “I cried. Then I called my dad. Right there from the couch.”
Marge laughed. “So did I!” She put her hand on my arm and squeezed, then became very serious again. “You’ve got something really special on that show, Waverly.”
I felt myself blush and had no idea what to say. I often thought of my segment as pure entertainment fluff, but these women were sincere…fans. And I was sincerely touched by their enthusiasm.
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