The Next Big Thing (5 page)

I chomped angrily on my salad and thought about how Jon had ignored me. Men were so predictable. Just once, I’d like to have a fantastic guy lavish attention on
me.
Once I got skinny and fabulous, I would treat all people equally—the good, the bad,
and
the ugly. Even though I’d have the kind of body that would garner attention from male models, I would ignore them in favor of average-looking men. I wouldn’t
date
any of these guys, of course. I’d be with Nick. But I could make them
feel
special, just by flirting. Duds, not studs. That would be my motto.

“So back
to your Nick problem,” Donna said, scooping up a chip and popping it into her mouth. “If you really want to continue with this, I think you should just bite the bullet and call him.”

“No way,” I
said. “He wanted space. I’m giving him space.”

“Kat . . .” Donna’s voice trailed off. She twirled a chip around, string
ing it with cheese. “Yes?” I looked up between bites of my fajita salad. 

“Look,
let’s just assume Nick really is who he says he is – that he’s not hiding anything. Then there’s something else you need to consider.”

“What’s that?” 

“Sometimes the reason men don’t call isn’t because they’re hiding anything, and it’s not because they’re busy, either. It’s because they’ve lost interest.”

“I know,” I said. “But why would that happen so suddenly?”

Donna laughed. “God only knows. Ask someone with a penis. I can’t explain it, but men do it all the time. They’re madly in love with you one day, then the next day they couldn’t care less. Sometimes it’s because they’ve met another girl. Sometimes it’s because they got bored. Who knows.”

I nodded miserably. “Yeah, but how would me calling him change anything? If Nick’s lost interest in me it’s not like he’s going to suddenly get re-interested when he hears my voice. If anything, it will just reinforce how much he doesn’t want to talk to me. Shouldn’t I play hard to get?”

“Even if he doesn’t have
a wife, he’s probably at least got another girlfriend in England. And maybe you’re a fun challenge right now, but it’s only a matter of time until he gets tired of your runarounds. You guys have already invested
way
too much time in a relationship that was—in all likelihood—doomed from the get-go. I bet Nick just wants to meet you so he can find out one way or the other.”

I ate my salad in silence, glaring hard at Donna. She had basically said I was lucky to have someone like Nick interested in me and I should bend over backward to keep him.

As if reading my mind, Donna reached over and squeezed my forearm. “I’m sorry, Kat,” she said softly. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings. It’s tough, ’cause I know how much you care about Nick. I don’t want to see you lose him. Honest. Take my advice and call him as soon as you get home tonight. You’ll see. I bet he’ll be thrilled to hear from you.”

“Even if I did call him, there’s nothing I can say to make things better. He’ll start in, offering to buy me a ticket to London . . . Don’t you think it’s best if I stall until I can think of something to say, some good excuse that will smooth things over?”

Donna bit her lower lip. “Opportunity,” she said, “is fleeting. I know we don’t see eye to eye on this Nick situation, and a lot of that is because he just seems too good to be true. But let’s say you’re right and I’m wrong. Let’s say Nick’s the real deal. Well, if that’s the case – if he really is all he says he is, then a guy like that isn’t going to stay on the market for very long.”

I stared at her in surprise. For a minute I thought she was joking, but I could tell from her expression that Donna was deadly serious.

“If you wait too long, Nick may wind up being the one that got away.”

It was a horrifying thought, but I knew she was right. “But what am I going to tell him when he wants to know why I can’t come to
London?”

“Tell him your mom’s sick, tell him you totaled your car,” she said. “Use the newspaper for inspiration, like I do—whatever it takes. But if you want to keep him, you’ve got to keep him interested.”

I took a huge gulp of my margarita and tossed her words around in my head. I was attempting to play hard-to-get, but what if it backfired? “I thought guys didn’t like girls who were too available. You know, the thrill of the chase and all that.” Donna laughed.

“Kat, you’re an ocean away. I’d hardly call that available.”

I was starting to come around. “Maybe I’ll send him a quick e-mail when I get home. . . .”

“Call him, don’t e-mail,” Donna insisted, dipping her fork into my salad and trying a bite.

“Ugh.” She wrinkled her nose.

Yeah,
I thought,
like I want to be eating this myself.

“England’s six hours ahead of us, so I can’t call him tonight—it’ll be nearly four in the morning. I’ll call him tomorrow, when I get home from H and G.”

Donna nodded approvingly. “Guys like Nick don’t stay on the market long. Do it the first chance you get.”  
 

                                              
***
The following night I rushed home from work, speeding through yellow lights and nearly sideswiping a mail truck on Union Avenue. Despite what Donna had said, I didn’t believe Nick had another girl or was in prison in England. Not for a minute. But she was right about one thing—guys like him don’t stay on the market for long. I pulled my car into the parking lot of my apartment, leapt out, and dashed up the stairs to my place.

The phone was ringing when I got inside. I grabbed it off the receiver without bothering to check the Caller ID. It must be Nick!

“Hello,” I said, gasping to catch my breath.

“Hi, this is Zaidee Panola calling with
From Fat to Fabulous.
I’m trying to reach Katrina Larson.”

My jaw dropped. Zaidee Panola! I recognized the name from the
USA Today
story. I’d read the article so many times every detail of it had become emblazoned on my brain.
Be cool,
I coached myself,
just be cool.

“This is Kat,” I said, trying my best to sound at ease.

“Hi, Kat, I’m glad I caught you. Is this a good time to talk?”
Hell, yeah, it’s a good time to talk!
I thought.

“I’m free,” I said in what I hoped was a casual voice.

“Good, because I’d like to go over a few things with you. First off, the assistant producers and I have reviewed your audition tape and we’re interested in
possibly
having you on the show.”

She put grave emphasis on the word
possibly,
as if to drive the point home that I was still one of many candidates.

“The audition process is fairly complex, but I’m happy to say you’ve survived our early eliminations. So congrats on that front. Now, what I need to do today is get you to expand on some of the things you touched on in your app and video.”

I took a deep breath. I wished I’d had even the slightest bit of warning, some time to prepare. I hadn’t expected them to call me for at least a month, and it hadn’t even been a full week.

“Fire away,” I said. My heart was pounding hard and fast, and I could feel pools of sweat forming under my arms.

“Great! Make yourself comfy, Kat. This is going to take a few minutes.” I slumped against the couch and drew in a deep breath to steady my nerves.

Zaidee started off with a bang. “You’ve slept with only three men in your entire life. Do you feel your weight has played a role in that?”

I gulped. It was a tough question, and not something I felt comfortable discussing with a total stranger.

I didn’t want to answer outright, so I responded with, “My weight has played a role in everything I’ve ever done, so yes.”

But she wouldn’t let it drop that easily. “And how has it played a role in your sexual relationships, if you could be more specific? Do you have a hard time exposing your body to men? Are you shy about undressing in front of a lover?”

I struggled to keep my tone as upbeat as possible. I was starting to be plagued by a very real fear that I might cry. I figured as long as I kept joking I’d be okay.

“Uh, yes and yes.” I laughed. “When your hips are four feet tall, you kind of want to keep them covered.”

“Right. I wanted to ask you about that. You made a comment in your app that your hips are almost four feet tall. I’ve got to admit I’ve never heard that one before. What’s the story?”

I explained that my hips—which measured forty-six inches—would stand nearly four feet tall if stretched out.

“Clever. You’ve found a way to make light of a depressing situation. I applaud that,” Zaidee remarked. “Now, can you tell me about your ex-boyfriends?”

It went on for quite a while. Our phone call was like a tennis match, with Zaidee serving up questions and me lobbing them back. We discussed everything from my written application and virtually nothing from my videotape. In fact, she didn’t even mention the video until the tail end of our thirty-minute conversation.

“I had a good feeling about you from the moment I saw your audition tape, and I’ve gotta say, Kat, you do not disappoint.”

“Wow.” I breathed, unsure of how to respond to her praise.

“Thanks. I’m glad you liked it.”

“Liked it? I
loved
it! The guys around the office haven’t stopped talking about it.”

“Oh, uh, great,” I mumbled, thrown off.

“You’ve been very forthcoming, Kat, and that really helps us in this process, so thanks. Oh, and before you go, I’ve gotta get you to do one more thing for me. E-mail me two digital images of yourself, one head shot and one full body. They’ll need to have been taken within the past six months, and be in jpeg format, three hundred dpi. Are you familiar with how to scan and upload pictures?”

I told her I was. My knowledge of Photoshop, after all, was what helped me doctor the photo I’d sent to Nick.

“I’d like those as soon as possible. As inventive as your idea of the ‘talking breasts’ video was, we have to see a more accurate picture of you before we can make any kind of decision.”

“Talking breasts?” I repeated, horrified.
I erased that take, didn’t I?

“Sorry, didn’t mean to offend you. That’s just what the folks around the office dubbed your video. Kind of like how you get talking heads when you watch the news. But whatever you call it, I’ve gotta tell you, it was a creative approach.”

I wasn’t sure what to say.

Chapter Five

“I’ve got a surprise for you.”

These were the first words out of Nick’s mouth when I called him the next day. No “hello,” no “I’m sorry we haven’t spoken in a week.”

“Okay.” I breathed, bracing myself for the worst. “What is it?”

“I can’t very well tell you! Then it wouldn’t be much of a surprise, would it?”

“Come on, Nick, give me a little hint.”

“Nice try, but no. This is too good to spoil.”

“Okay. Then what have you been up to this past week?” I asked, shifting topics.

“Not a lot, really.”

“Is work keeping you busy?” I ventured. The conversation was so awkward.

“No. Remember, I’m off deadline at the moment.”

“Oh, right,” I said, silently scolding myself. His editor had cut his section in favor of a Johnny Depp feature. How could I have forgotten?

“How is the weather in the UK?”

“It’s quite rainy at the moment, a typical English spring. And
Memphis?”

“The heat’s suffocating,” I told him.

“It hit ninety-two degrees yesterday, and the humidity was around sixty percent.” After our pleasantries about the weather I sat there, tongue-tied. There was so much I wanted to tell him, so much I longed to explain.

“Nick . . .” I began, trailing off. “I’ve . . . um, really missed you.”

“Me, too,” he said, his voice softening. “It’s been ages since we last talked.”

“Well you wanted space, remember?” I said, feeling shy. “You said you wanted time to think.”

He chuckled. “I’m foolish like that sometimes. I never know what I want.”

“Does this mean you’re not mad at me anymore?”

“Mad at you!” Nick exclaimed. “Kat, I was
never
mad at you. I was disappointed and hurt and confused that you didn’t want to see me. But I wasn’t angry.” I let out a deep breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

“When you didn’t call for a whole week I jumped to all sorts of horrible conclusions. I thought our relationship was doomed.”

Nick sounded alarmed. “Why would you think a thing like that?”

“I don’t know, I guess I was just worried. I expected you to call.”

“I intended to ring you,” he apologized. “But then Mum phoned and invited me to Salcombe in Devon. I was aching to get away from the city, so I went for a few days. I love it, the air’s so much fresher in the country than in London. My family has a holiday home there—a converted eighteenth-century farmhouse.”

I pictured a quaint little farmhouse on the coast of
England. It reminded me of something straight out of a Regency romance novel. It was ironic, really, because I’d spent so much of my life reading romances. Now I was living one.

“That sounds amazing. What did you do while you were out there?”

“We have twenty-two acres and riding stables, so I spent a good deal of time wandering the local area on horseback,” Nick began.

I imagined him in jodhpurs and a riding jacket as he cruised along atop a mighty steed. Maybe one day we’d ride together, me sitting behind him, my arms clasped tightly around his waist.

I sank back against my bed. I could listen to his accent all night. It was so elegant and charming.

“It was a wonderful holiday. I’d love to show you someday. Devon’s in the southwest of
England, Kat.”

“I’ve heard of it.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be patronizing. But I know how you Americans are when it comes to geography,” he teased. “If it’s outside of the States you barely know it exists.”

“Hey!” I protested. “My geography skills are pretty good, thank you very much.”

“Are they now? Okay, think fast: what’s the capital of Sweden?”

“
Stockholm,” I shot back.

“Very well.” He sounded pleased. “But even if you’d gotten it wrong, I’d still be madly in love with you, Kat.”

I felt giddy, like a teenager. I drew in a breath. “I love you, too.”

“I feel so lucky to have met you,” Nick said. “The way things are sometimes, I just get so lonely.”

It was hard to believe. His life seemed so glamorous. “

You have a lot going for you.”

“Now,” he said, “I have everything.”

I blushed. “Yeah, me too. . . .”

We kept chattering on excitedly, flirting and catching up on everything we’d missed during the past week.

Right as we were about to hang up the phone, Nick dropped his bombshell. “In regard to the surprise I mentioned earlier. You’ll need to make sure you’re home between the hours of noon and four P.M. next Saturday. Is that going to be a problem?”

Yes, it sounded like a very
big
problem! “Uh, I’ll do my best,” I said. “I may have to work, you know. Richard’s got us doing tons of overtime because of these new clients.”

“Kat, it’s incredibly important that you be there. Try your
very, very best.”

I assured him I would. We said good-bye and I immediately dialed Donna’s number. “Is it okay if I crash at your place next Saturday?” I asked as soon as she’d picked up.

“Why? Is your apartment being fumigated or something?”

“Oh, I wish!” I hyperventilated. “I’d give anything to have my apartment overrun with termites, or roaches, or ants, or armadillos! Compared to this, that would be a picnic!”

“Armadillos? They’d eat the ants, wouldn’t they?”

“I was trying to make a point!” I shrieked. “Can I stay with you or not?”

“Calm down, Kat, you’re not making any sense.”

“Nick’s coming!” I thundered. “He’s coming to
Memphis a week from tomorrow! He’s going to show up on my doorstep next Saturday.”

“Oh my God!” Donna screeched. “How do you know?”

I quickly caught her up to speed. “So, as you can see, I’m majorly screwed.”

“
Maybe, maybe not,” she said slowly. “I think you’re jumping the gun. What if he just ordered you flowers or something?”

“No way. For a guy like Nick, flowers are no big deal. He wouldn’t plan that a week in advance.”

“Well, excuse me.” Donna sounded irritated. “I didn’t realize he was a flowers every day kind of guy.”

I felt a brief pang of guilt for bragging. As far as I knew, Chip had never sent flowers. Not even on Donna’s birthday.

“Kat, what good will sleeping at my place do? It’s not like that’s going to change anything.”

“Nick will never look for me there.” It was an ill-conceived plan, but it was the only thing I could come up with.

“So, what, you’re going to let this poor guy travel thousands of miles and then leave him stranded outside your apartment?”

I closed my eyes. “Yes. No. I don’t know!”

“Don’t you think that’s incredibly cruel?”

Cruel didn’t even begin to describe it. “It kind of is, yes.” Already, guilt was sinking in.

“You’re going to have to meet him eventually, you know.”

“Not before I get skinny,” I said firmly. “I can’t let him see me while I’m still”—I thought rapidly, trying to remember what I’d told her in the past—“almost two hundred pounds.”

Donna didn’t say anything, so I pressed on.

“So can I stay or not? ’Cause if your answer’s no, I’m booking a room at the Ramada.”

Donna sighed. “Not necessary. I’ll make up the couch.”  
                                                         ***

The following Tuesday found me back in Richard’s office. Only this time, it was under better circumstances. Instead of scolding me for not finishing my work on time, Richard was praising my efforts.

“You’ve been a real trooper, kiddo. Ever since our little talk I’ve noticed how you’ve buckled down and gotten your act together. I know I can count on you in a bind.”

I smiled, to show I appreciated his compliments. “Thanks. That means a lot.” It was just past 9:15 A.M. when he gave me the news. I can be certain of the time, because I was watching the second hand on his Cindy Crawford wall clock when he said it. My mind had been drifting in and out of the conversation,
What will Nick do when he finds out I’m not home next Saturday,
when I heard something that snapped me to attention.

“. . . this promotion.” There were two words Richard Geddlefinger rarely said:
raise
and
promotion.
I hoped one wouldn’t come without the other.

“Are you serious, Richard?” I asked.

“As a heart attack.”

Wow. I’m so . . . surprised. Can you elaborate a little?”

It was a last-ditch attempt to get him to repeat what he’d said while I wasn’t paying attention. Fortunately, it worked.

“Well, nothing’s official yet. I’d have to talk things over with my partner, Jake Hood, but I’d like you to start taking an active
role in our presentations. In fact, I’ve got a potential client coming in a week from Wednesday. Mercer and Sons Funeral Home. Are you familiar with them?”

I told him I was. “Only in passing reference, though, thank God.”

He chuckled. “I want you to spend this next week getting even
more
familiar with them. Do some digging, compile some information.” He smiled broadly. “And then next Wednesday, you and I will sit down and sell them on our company.”

“Thanks, Richard!” I was glowing. Landing a slot on the presentation team would be a big step up for me. It wasn’t my dream job, but
still.

“What do you want me to talk about?” I asked. “I’ll need to prepare
some sort of a speech, right?”

“
Nah, that’s not necessary. I find spontaneity works best in these situations. You don’t want to sound too rehearsed.”

We were interrupted by a knock at the door. “Excuse me,” Cindy Vander said, popping her head in. “I don’t mean to be rude, but there’s an urgent phone call for Kat. It’s
long-distance.
” She raised her eyebrows.

I leapt up, nearly knocking the chair to the ground. It wasn’t unusual for me to receive long-distance phone calls; I dealt with out-of-state clients all the time. But something in the tone of her voice made me think it had to be Nick.

“You’re answering my phone now?” I demanded, scurrying toward the door.

She was the picture of innocence. “Oh, no. I happened to be walking by your desk when I heard it ringing. I knew you were in a meeting and I thought I’d make myself useful. So I took down a message.”

“That’s what voice mail is for,” I groused, dashing down the hall to my cubicle. I grabbed the phone and took it off hold. It was Zaidee Panola. Funny how she always calls when I am expecting Nick. “

Hi,” I said uneasily, caught off-guard that she had used my work number. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“That’s no problem; the girl who answered the phone was kind enough to track you down for me.”

Uh-oh,
I thought.
This doesn’t sound good.
“

You didn’t tell her why you were calling, did you?”

“She did ask.”

“
She did?” I held my breath.

“I told her it was personal. She was pretty persistent, but don’t you worry. I stonewalled her.”

I laughed. “Thanks.”

“Anytime. You girls got some kind of office rivalry going on?”

“Something like that.” I snorted. “Let’s just say we’re not on the best of terms.”

“Gotcha. Anyway, the reason I’m calling. First off, thanks for your pictures, Kat. I appreciate your sending them so quickly. Now, I just have a few more questions to ask, and then we can move on to stage two of the process.”

“A few more questions” wound up taking nearly half an hour to answer. At first I tried to be discreet, flipping through a file of paperwork as we talked. At one point that tattletale Cindy Vander sidled up to my cubicle and I had to put Zaidee on hold for a few minutes. I didn’t know if she bought my act or not. It’s hard to pretend you’re on a business call when you’re discussing diet programs and plus-sized lingerie. When Zaidee finally finished quizzing me, she thanked me for my time again.

“Okay, then, looks like I’ve got everything I need,” she concluded. “I’m about to go into a meeting with the other producers. We’ve got to compare notes and after that I’ll be calling you back before five o’clock with a firm decision, one way or another.”

I gasped. “You mean you’re going to decide right now if I’m on the show?”

My shock was palpable.

“Not now, no.” Zaidee laughed. “Calm down, honey. We’re merely narrowing the field to twenty-five finalists to bring out to the Los Angeles try-out. Didn’t you read the application packet?”

“I must have missed that part,” I said lamely. “I was in a pretty big hurry when I filled it out.” I wanted to kick myself as soon as the words left my mouth. I didn’t want her to think
From Fat to Fabulous
wasn’t important to me. “What I mean is, I didn’t find out about the show until right before the deadline.”