A warm welcome to author Louisa Masters joining us today to share an exclusive excerpt of new release “I’ve Got This”.
Dimi is by the door, talking to a man. The man is tall, built, blond, and it looks like he has light eyes, though I’m too far away to really tell. His skin is tanned; his smile is white and blinding. He’s bold, brash, vibrant, his energy filling the massive rehearsal studio, and the way people turn toward him, orbiting in the force of his charisma, makes me envision him as a sun.
I dislike him on sight.
“Oh, Derek’s here!” one of the staff performers says, her face lighting up in a smile.
Derek? This is Derek, the assistant director everyone has been talking about all morning? The man who insisted on finding extra dancers so none of the shows would be canceled, and then paying us a mint? Who is paying his staff’s medical bills? Who is apparently loved by all?
I sigh.
If Derek were an actor in a teen flick, he’d be the high school jock hero. In a college flick, the frat boy hero. It’s wrong to typecast people by how they look, I know this, but it’s not just his physical characteristics—he has the aura. The “center of the universe” aura. Although his looks aren’t exactly anything to sneeze at, all boy-next-door action-hero perfect. For fuck’s sake, he even has a square jaw and cheekbones you could cut glass with.
Why do I care? He reminds me of every jock who made my life miserable in high school, every fraternity guy who made me feel like a loser in college. Because I was the shy, nerdy gay boy who was into musical theater, and that made me a target.
So I get nervous around popular men with head-turning charisma.
I brace myself because Dimi is bringing the man around, introducing him to those of us who don’t normally work here, and soon I’ll have to meet him and pretend shaking his hand doesn’t give me flashbacks.
That’s not fair, because seemingly he’s a good guy who does good things. But emotion isn’t logical, and in my experience when a universally liked, charismatic guy is nice to me, he’s working an angle for self-gain.
Finally they reach me. “And this is Trav,” Dimi says. I’m actually pretty impressed that he remembers all our names. We met once, for like five minutes, and there were more than twenty of us. Dimi seems like a pretty cool guy—good-looking too, and only a couple years younger than me from the looks of it. Not like a certain unnamed person who is clearly much older than me.
I ignore the voice in my head that says Golden Boy looks to be early thirties, max, and smile at Dimi, then turn to Golden Boy. If the smile turns slightly forced, nobody seems to notice. “Trav Jones,” I say, offering a hand.
“Derek Bryer. Thank you so much for doing this, you’re really saving our bacon. If there’s anything you need while you’re here, give Dimi a call and we’ll take care of it. Not just today and tomorrow, but the whole time your show is running.” He gives me a megawatt smile, and the knot in my stomach tightens.
“Thanks.” I’m pretty sure he notices now that my smile is pasted on, because he blinks and the blinding smile dims a little.
“Not at all,” he says smoothly, then seems to hesitate. Is he waiting for me to say something else? I wish he’d just move on so I can get myself back together. “If you like, you can have my number too. I’m at your complete disposal.” The smile he gives is a little toothier than before. Fuck, should I be gushing over him like some of the others were? I can’t, I just can’t right now. I need time to prepare so I can look past the Golden Boy aura.
“That’s not necessary,” I tell him. I meant it genuinely, I swear, but somehow it comes out sounding like I don’t want his phone number polluting my phone, and I just want to die. A little silence falls around us, and I’m getting surprised looks from the other performers, who clearly all adore this man. I have to work with them for the next two days, so a little damage control is in order. “I mean, thank you for the offer, but it’s fine.” I look away, take a tiny step back. I’m so uncomfortable right now. I’m sweating like crazy, my heart rate is way up, and I just know my face is red. Why won’t he go away and let us get back to work? I can’t help it; I fold my arms across my chest.
Dimi puts a hand on Golden Boy’s arm, and they turn away for a moment, murmuring to each other. I seize the advantage offered and take a couple of deep breaths. It’s a technique one of my acting coaches taught me—the act of pausing and breathing gives your mind and body the chance to release tension and reset. Could I maybe slip away while they’re distracted, or would that be rude?
By the time they turn back, Golden Boy’s mouth open to say something, I’m ready to end this, and the only way to do that is to seize control.
“I’m sorry.” I jump in before he can speak. “I—I think I mustn’t have gotten enough sleep”—lie—“and I’ve never worked at a theme park before, so I’m a bit… flustered.” Crap, that has to be the lamest excuse ever. I push on. “I’m, uh, going to go get a drink.” Yeah, that’s no better.
He flashes that megawatt smile, and flashback. Disdain curdles in my belly. Fake. I need to get away.
“No problem, Trav,” he says. “We’re all under a lot of strain today. I’ll let you get back to your rehearsal, and I’ll drop in later today to see how things are going.” He makes solid eye contact with me as he says that. “I’m going to take Dimi with me now”—he raises his voice so everyone in the room can hear—“but he can still be reached by phone.”
They leave then, and the supervisor calls a five-minute water break. Kev makes his way across the room to stand by me.
“Dude, what the fuck was that?” he asks incredulously, and I can only shake my head.
I’ve Got This
Derek Bryer loves his life. His job as an assistant director at Joy Universe, the second-largest theme park complex on the planet, makes him indirectly responsible for bringing joy (pun intended) to millions of people. So what if none of his relationships are that close? Everyone he meets loves him.
Except Trav Jones. For some reason, the visiting Broadway performer would rather Derek just go away. He appreciates Derek’s work ethic, though, and after Trav steps up when Derek desperately needs someone to fill in for his sick staff, Derek seizes the chance to convince Trav he’s not such a bad guy.
Falling in love while distracted by a murder at the park, food poisoning, and colleagues laying bets on their relationship won’t be easy, but between the two of them and with the magic of Joy Universe, they’ve got this.
Louisa Masters started reading romance much earlier than her mother thought she should. While other teenagers were sneaking out of the house, Louisa was sneaking romance novels in and working out how to read them without being discovered. She’s spent most of her life feeling sorry for people who don’t read, convinced that books are the solution to every problem. As an adult, she feeds her addiction in every spare second, only occasionally tearing herself away to do things like answer the phone and pay bills. She spent years trying to build a “sensible” career, working in bookstores, recruitment, resource management, administration, and as a travel agent, before finally conceding defeat and devoting herself to the world of romance novels.
Louisa has a long list of places first discovered in books that she wants to visit, and every so often she overcomes her loathing of jet lag and takes a trip that charges her imagination. She lives in Melbourne, Australia, where she whines about the weather for most of the year while secretly admitting she’ll probably never move.
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