The Real Real by Emma McLaughlin, Nicola Kraus Page B

natural,” I hear as I’m met with a blinding flash. “Your eyes’re closed.
    Whatever.” I recognize the mirrored aviators tilted over an iPhone screen. Fletch!
    “Hi!” I jog over.

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    “Jesse, what’s up?” He reaches out to swipe fingers, all the while looking at his phone. Registering that he’s expecting us to do some street-boy high five, I tug my hand out of my pocket too late to meet his and we awkwardly brush nails. “Come on in.” Ignoring my gaffe, he waves his fingers, flexing the word Killah tattooed on the fleshy web at the base of his thumb. He would seem to be indicating I should get in the car but makes no effort to move over.
    “Sure!” I go around, squidgying myself between the wet hedge and the car to open the back passenger door.
    Sprawling on the black leather interior, he greets me with another flash. “Second time’s the charm.” As the spots clear from my eyes, I see his phone has been custom-spangled with black Swarovski crystals in a skull-and-crossbones pattern.
    “Hot, right?” he asks. “Gift from Diddy.”
    “Cool.” I shrug off my hood and attempt to fluff my sprayed-dead bangs. He drops the phone in the pocket of his Prada parka.
    “Just wanted a shot for pitching sponsors. Selling young and natural all the way, baby. G, let’s do it.” He lifts forward to slap his hand on the driver’s shoulder—a very large black man in a disjointedly bright pink sweatshirt spotted with Murakami daisies.
    His eyes darting back and forth, Fletch splits his attention between me and the flat screen—one of three I can see from here—showing some sort of financial show over 91

    the driver’s seat. “You ready for all this, Jesse?”
    “Definitely. And I’m so glad you’re back because I’m really eager to talk to you about Caitlyn. My really hilarious, pretty friend Caitlyn. I talked to Kara about her when you were away, and she said you made a decision?”
    He nods, his teeth sinking into his lower lip. Dear God, just make this man say yes and I swear I will go directly home and write three letters to Grandma before I even set foot in that tub. “Riiiggghhht,” he says. Fasten your walker for some seriously charming communication! “I really dig you taking the initiative to think outside the box about our baby, Jesse. I need that. I need everyone thinking.”
    “I am!” And now yes . Just one little yes .
    “Man.” He laughs as he punches his fist into his hand. “We were in serious need of story line! Something dynamic! I owe you, Jesse, you landed it!”
    I did? “Great!” Looks like yes , sounds like yes . . .
    “Now, one more thing.” G turns the SUV onto Dune Road. “What I want from you is to really focus on letting your character be bigger. Don’t hold back, like, at all.”
    “My character?” I strain hopefully to spot Caitlyn’s white coat in the mass of people milling around the trailers parked in the Beach Club lot.
    “Spunky heart-of-gold with a hit of smart to keep it relatable. And here’s the money shot, okay? We’re meeting you just as you’re discovering your dark side. I’m telling you it’s a magic combo. Money.” I crane my head. There’s Kara and the lighting guys and the makeup crew. “Just.”

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    He tosses his hands up. “You know, like, if you’re mad, go there. If you’re jealous, don’t put revenge out of your mind. If you’re in love, act on it, you know? Good gets you into heaven, not television. Cool?”
    Dude, I have no idea what you’re talking about. “I guess?”
    “And anytime you want to come by my place to converse about it . . . I think you’re about to really blow up.”
    Sure—uh-huh—sure. “Definitely. So Caitlyn’s on the show?”
    His face clouds and I get a hint of what Fletch angry would look like. Something you do not want to be in a confined space with, like, say an SUV. “Jesse. I have about two hundred emails to return and twice that number of phone calls to make and that’s before,