“Homewreckers? I mean, what does that even mean?” Mo asked. His gut churned, because he knew what was coming. Something diabolically awful.
“Picture this: We’ve got your girl Hattie. She’s cute as a button and wholesome and southern-fried freckles. And then we bring in this gorgeous L.A. designer. He’s a blond, big-city drink of water with tons of published projects. His name is Trae Bartholomew, by the way, and your viewers are going to go literally nuts over him. He’s done television too.”
Mo grabbed his iPad and tapped the IMDb tab, typed in the name Becca had just mentioned, and stared down at the photo. “He looks like a male model,” Mo said. “And according to his bio, he’s the biggest loser in one of your design competitions.”
“He came in second,” Rebecca said. “But that’s beside the point. Trae is talented, he’s experienced, and best of all, he tests great with our target audience.”
“I’m still not grasping this concept, Becca. And if I don’t, our viewers won’t either.”
She gave him the death stare. “You’re being deliberately obtuse. Okay, I’m going to dumb it down for you. Homewreckers is at the space where a dating show meets a flip show. Think mash-up of The Bachelorette and Flip or Flop. Get it?”
“So … Hattie buys a house to flip, and we bring in a designer to tell her how to do it? And what? They fall in love and fall into bed? Are you serious with this shit, Becc?”
“You know me better than that, Mo. I never joke.”
This, Mo reflected wryly, was possibly the truest thing she’d ever said. He’d never known Rebecca to tell a joke, or even a vaguely funny anecdote.
“I’m serious,” she went on. “And so is Tony. Homewreckers, or this ‘shit’ as you call it, is the show he wants. And if you want to sell it to HPTV, that’s the show you’re going to deliver.”
Mo glared across the table at her and she glared right back. The doorbell broke up the staring contest.
“That should be Hattie, correct?” she asked. “Can’t wait to meet her in person. And, Mo? Let’s make sure we’re both on the same page with this show. The clock is ticking. We don’t have time for mistakes.”
* * *
As Rebecca’s eyes traveled over her, Hattie felt her cheeks burn, felt herself shrinking inside her own clothes, the designer jeans Cass had insisted on loaning her, her own blouse, carefully ironed early that morning, and stack-heeled suede booties, because they made her feel taller and more powerful.
But under the microscopic stare of the network executive, who wore an outfit that probably cost as much as her first truck, Hattie was already reevaluating her appearance. She should have worn more makeup, earrings, a nicer top. She should have gotten a manicure, a blowout, a facial. She should have been born blonder, and taller, and definitely with a flatter butt and higher cheekbones.
“Hattie,” Rebecca cooed. “Our newest star in the HPTV firmament. It’s great to meet you. Mo’s been telling me all about you!”
“Good to meet you, too,” Hattie said. She looked over at Mo, unsure of the next step.
“Let’s all sit down,” Mo said, gesturing to the dining room table. He’d placed yellow legal pads at all three chairs, and his laptop was open. “Hattie, Rebecca’s just been telling me about some, uh, modifications of our original concept for Saving Savannah.”
Rebecca cleared her throat and shot Mo a barely perceptible warning signal. “I’ve also been telling Mo that the reason I flew out here today was to expedite and accelerate this whole preproduction process. As you might have heard, we’ve had an unexpected blip in our programming lineup.”
“A blip?” Hattie repeated.
“Krystee Brandstetter is pregnant, with twins, but there are complications, and her doctor has her on strict bed rest. We were in the middle of filming her fourth season, but now Going Coastal is shut down for at least six, maybe seven months. Or longer.”
Hattie wracked her brain. Was she supposed to know this Krystee person?
Mo must have sensed her cluelessness. “Going Coastal is the network’s biggest hit show. Krystee and her husband, Will, restore old houses up in North Carolina. Krystee started a blog about fixing up an old farmhouse they bought near Wilmington, and it went viral. Their show is the tentpole for the Wednesday night lineup. Which is where you come in.”
“And how lucky for us that Mo found you,” Rebecca said cheerily. “Everyone at HPTV is so excited about the possibilities for this show.”