Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
“You loved that job.” My eyes roam her face as she looks down at her whiskey in front of her. Her hands are nervously turning the glass around and around in circles.
“It’s been fucking miserable,” she says, her eyes avoiding us. “I’ve been miserable.” She looks up at her father, and her face shows defeat. “Every time I wanted to do something, it was always a tug-of-war with all of them. I just …” She takes a deep breath. “It’s been a fucking struggle, and I was at my wit's end.” She finishes the whiskey in the glass. “They did me a favor by pushing my back to the wall.” She shrugs.
“Those sons of bitches,” Matthew finally says, and we both look at him. He puts one hand on his hip while he runs his other through his hair, shaking his head. “They came to me before they hired you.” I don’t know why, but I pull her closer to me.
“What are you talking about?”
“They wanted me to buy the station and merge it with the New York station that your grandfather gave me,” he says softly. “But I told them no, and I still remember him saying that he was going to make sure I bought the station.”
“Oh my God,” she hisses, shaking her head. She pours another shot of whiskey in her glass. “All this fucking time.” Her voice starts to go higher. “I thought they hired me because I was good enough.” She grabs her glass of whiskey and downs it in one shot.
“You are good enough,” Matthew says, but she just looks down at the empty glass of whiskey in front of her.
“Your father is wrong,” I say, and she looks up at me. “You aren’t good enough for them.” I smile. “You are too good for them,” I say, kissing her head. “Way too good for them.”
“You are the best thing that station had going for them.” Matthew walks to the counter to get closer to her. “Your show pulled in triple the numbers than the sports show that plays during the day. And that was their best show to date.”
“Well, then it’s a good thing that all the shows I’ve produced belong to MFG Production.” She claps her hands. “They thought they had a sucker.” She shakes her head.
“Say what?” Matthew says, laughing.
“All the shows were shot by MFG Production.” She looks at her father and then me. “I own MFG Production.” She smirks. “Matthew Franny Grant,” she says, and my eyes go big. “I started it when I signed the contract. I knew that if what I created took off, they would own my shit for life. There was no way I was going to allow that to happen.” Matthew throws his head back, and the laughter roars through him.
“Now that’s my girl.” He points at her. “With that said, we are expanding into the Dallas market.” He smiles at her as her eyebrows pull together. “I’m going to be spending time here and figured why not.” He shrugs. “I want to offer you a job.”
“No,” she says right away, and Matthew just stares at her, not sure what to say. “I’m not going to take a pity job.”
He laughs. “It’s not a pity job,” he says, and she rolls her eyes. “I told you I watch the show, and I told you how good it was.”
“You have to tell me that. You’re my father.” She folds her arms over her chest. “What were you supposed to say? It sucked?”
“You should take the job,” I urge, and she looks up at me. “At least listen to what kind of job it is.”
When she doesn’t say anything, Matthew begins his pitch. “You can do what you want, to be honest. You’ll have the creative control to produce your own show. Exactly like you did for them.”
She stares at him, and I can tell she wants to say yes, but she stops. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good enough,” Matthew says, tapping the counter in front of him. “You start Monday.” He turns around and walks out of the room.
“What just happened?” I ask, and she shakes her head, trying not to laugh.
She looks up at me, smiling, and all the sadness is gone. “I just landed a job.”
Chapter 35
Frances
“What just happened?” Wilson asks me, and I shake my head, trying not to laugh.
“I just landed a job.” I turn away from him, running to the door to stop my father before he leaves.
“Dad!” I shout after him and find him with one hand on the door. “I’m not working for you,” I tell him when he turns to look at me. Admitting to him how miserable I was had to have been the hardest moment in my life. Even harder than telling him I was moving away.