The Invitation by Adriana Locke

Georgia

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

The elevator doors open, and the lobby of Canoodle Pictures comes into full view. The room is light-filled, and large potted plants dot the space. The walls are a buttery yellow, giving off happy vibes.

I vaguely wonder if this is because most guests are as nervous as I am.

“Hi,” I say to the pretty blonde at the reception desk. “I’m Georgia Hayes. I’m here to see Sutton McKenzie.”

“Yes, Georgia, hi. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Juni. Congrats on the new show, and welcome to the Canoodle family.”

I hum a little, wishing I was as chipper about this as Juni. “Thanks.”

“Head down that hallway,” she says, pointing to her right. “You’re in the conference room at the end. I’ll let everyone know you’re here.”

“Fantastic.”

If the word is edged in sarcasm, Juni doesn’t pick up on it. I’m happy for that. My anxiety surrounding this whole thing has nothing to do with her.

I make my way down the long hallway, pausing to peruse some of the many pictures hanging on the walls. Some are from awards ceremonies, others appear to be still photographs from film sets, and a few were taken in cafés and fancy offices—beautiful people in beautiful locations.

When I enter, the conference room is empty. It’s about the size of the lobby and not too ostentatious. A table runs down the center of it, and a sideboard table is tucked against one of the two walls without windows. Two extra chairs have been placed beside a projector screen.

I turn to sit when I glimpse my reflection in the glass.

My tanned skin is thankfully not orange after the self-tanning job I performed at home last night. The A-line dress I found in the back of my closet creates an hourglass look that’s a bit deceptive, but I’m not about to argue with it. It accentuates my bust and hips, and the purple fabric lifts my confidence. I brush a strand of face-framing hair out of my face before adjusting my high ponytail.

“Not bad,” I say, breathing in through my nose and out my mouth. “Just try to have fun. You’re getting paid, and it’s better than sitting at home and hoping for a call from a prospective employer.”

The door behind me opens, and a red-haired spitfire enters the room. “You must be Georgia.” She shoves out a ring-laden hand my way. “I’m Myla. It’s so nice to meet you. Sutton sings your praises.”

I smile and shake her hand. “Sutton is too sweet.”

“I’m one of the directors on The Invitation, and I’ll coordinate with you and the male lead as we go. Speaking of the male lead, have you had a chance to meet him?”

“No.” I exhale. “I haven’t, but I’d love to.”

She glances at her watch. “I believe he’s in the building.” She places a file folder on the table. “This is a copy of the contract sent to you yesterday. Did you have a chance to have an attorney look at it? I know this is the epitome of last minute.”

Yes, thanks to Jeremiah. “I did.”

“Super. When we get to the signing portion of the afternoon, we’ll bring in a notary and get it all squared away. Do you have any questions? If not, I’ll go find our other actor, and we’ll get started.”

The other actor. That makes me laugh. But, hey, they asked me to do this.

I squash a bubble of nerves from rising in my throat. “I think I’m good.”

“Okay, then grab a seat and make yourself at home. I’ll be back shortly.”

“Great.”

“Welcome aboard, Georgia.”

She gives me a quick smile before darting out the door.

I heave a breath and fall into a chair when she’s gone.

The past thirty hours have been a whirlwind—a nonstop set of movements from when I agreed to participate in this show until now. Contracts, which Jeremiah thankfully had an attorney look over for me pro bono. My hairdresser squeezed me in for a cut and color. I visited my nail tech and had to coordinate with hair, makeup, and wardrobe late last night. Thankfully, since this is fairly low budget and just a pilot, I have the option to create my own looks.

At least I can feel like me in this very non-me scenario.

“Our hero is on his way,” Myla says, bursting into the room again. “And, let me tell you, you lucked out.”

I lift a manicured brow. “Really?”

She sits across from me. “Trust me. This could be a lot worse. He’s handsome and charming. That’s not always the case.”

“That’s a relief.” I blow out a steady breath. “Thank you for telling me that. It helps.”

“Of course. Now, I want to go over a few things with you because Jonah has already gone over these things with your counterpart.” She whips an iPad out of nowhere and turns it so I can see the screen. A bullet point list of items is clearly delineated. “The show’s premise is to see if two people can be matched by their search histories.”

The blood drains out of my face. “Wait. You’re not actually looking at my search history, are you?”

“We will need to film a shot making it look like you were one of several applicants and were chosen based on your results. We don’t have to do that today. Actually, we’ll probably shoot that more toward the end so we can angle it to match the scenes you’ve captured.”

Thank God. That’ll give me time to search for regular people’s topics.

“We’ve created a list of scenes for you to film,” she says, pointing at the second bullet point. “Some will be filmed by our crew, and you will film some on your own. We’ll give you cameras and review all of that with you this afternoon. You’ll be required to film confessionals.”

“Excuse me?”

She laughs at the surprised yet concerned look on my face. “I just mean you’ll sit for solo interviews where you’ll record yourself. I’ll send you a list of questions after each scene to get you started.”

I nod warily.

“This is going to be a lot of fun, Georgia. Do you have any questions for me?”

I did, but now my brain feels like scrambled eggs, and I can’t think straight.

“All right.” She glances at her watch again. “Our hero should be coming. We’ll do introductions, discuss any questions you might have, and then we’ll sign the contracts. Once that’s finished, we’ll take you both in separately to film intake interviews.”

“Sounds good.”

The door creaks behind me. Myla’s attention shifts in that direction, and her face breaks into a wide smile.

“Hey, Georgia,” Sutton says, bounding into the room. Her eyes are wild as she sweeps her gaze from me to Myla and back again. “Myla, could I speak with Georgia alone for a moment, please?”

The uneasiness in her voice set off alarm bells in my head. My palms sweat as they grip the arms of my chair, and my freshly painted nails dig into the soft material.

“Sure,” Myla says, hiding her confusion well. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Thank you,” Sutton says.

Myla slips through the door, closing it softly behind her.

“Sutton, what’s wrong?” I ask.

“Georgia, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I swear to you that I didn’t know.”

Every fiber in my body warns me of danger—to get up and flee from the scene of a crime I can’t identify. But before I can even question her regarding her apology, the door opens behind her.

“Please,” Sutton pleads, her gaze holding mine. “Please believe me. I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know what?” I ask, my heart pounding so hard that I can hear my blood pulse through my ears.

Goose bumps prickle my skin as I slowly turn to my left.

No. No, no, no.

“Georgia?” Ripley’s voice is a note too high. “What are you doing here?”

I avoid his eyes and keep mine glued to Sutton. “Is this a sick joke?”

“I’m so sorry.”

My hands press against the cool stone table, and I shove away from it. I stand, wobbling for a split second on my heels, and send a bewildered look at my so-called best friend.

“What is this?” I ask, my voice rising. “Why is he here?”

Ripley steps into view. “Someone needs to explain.”

His eyes capture mine and attack the small amount of composure I still have in my grasp.

“Look, you two, this is a wild, crazy coincidence,” Sutton says, holding her hands in front of her.

“How wild?” Ripley asks, his eyes never leaving me.

“Sutton, I need you to tell me that Ripley is here to drop something off for Jeremiah,” I say. “And he wandered into the wrong room.”

Sutton’s chuckle is almost convincing. “Would you believe that the head of Canoodle Pictures is Ripley’s friend, Jonah Spaulding?”

“Sure,” I say, knowing the story doesn’t end there. “I don’t have a problem believing that.”

I hold my breath, certain that I won’t like what’s coming next.

“And Jonah happened to ask Ripley if he would be interested in⁠—”

“No, he did not,” I say before she can finish. My attention whips back to Ripley. “Are you here to film The Invitation?”

An arrested expression crosses his face. “Are you?”

“Let’s sit down and talk,” Sutton says carefully.

“I can’t believe this.” I spin on my heel and put some distance between us. “There’s no way we can do this now.”

“Georgia …” Sutton begs my name. “Please. Please, please, please. Don’t bail on me. I need you to do this.”

“With him?” I point at Ripley and try not to actually look at him. “You want me to pretend to date him? Pretend to fall in love with him? Are you kidding me? I’d rather live in a world without carbs than spend a minute alone with him.”

Sutton flinches, her face paling. Tears well up in her eyes.

“Can you leave the two of us alone for a minute, please, Sutton?” Ripley asks like the gentleman he is not.

“Did you not hear what I just said?” I ask. “I said I’d rather live a life without bagels than be alone with you.”

Sutton ducks out the door, taking all the oxygen with her.

My chest burns as I watch her disappear. I know how much this means to her and how helpless she must feel right now. I want to chase her and promise her everything will be okay—that I will do everything in my power to make this happen for her.

But I don’t. Because it’s him.

Ripley moseys through the room, rolling the sleeves of his white shirt up his forearms. His legs are clad in dark denim, and his face is freshly shaven. He’s rested, ravishing, and the devil himself.

“For the record, I’m not any happier about this than you are,” he says, his voice strong and full of authority.

“I expected no less.”

“But arguing isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

“Agreed.”

He puts his hands on his hips and faces me. “You need to go out there and tell Sutton you’re pulling out of the project.”

I blink in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“As much as I’d love to back out of this, I can’t. I gave my word to Jonah and …” He rolls his head around his neck. “Let’s just say there’s more to this for me than just doing a favor for a friend.”

“So you think I can just bail on my friend because that’s what’s easier for you?”

“Frankly, yes.”

I scoff, glaring at him. “You’re such an arrogant asshole.”

“Why? We cannot pull this off without killing each other, and I can’t back out, so I’m an asshole for expecting you to be the one to exit quietly?”

“Frankly, yes,” I say, mocking him. “Sutton is my best friend, Ripley, not just an acquaintance like Jonah is to you. She needs this job. That means you should be the one to walk away.”

He growls, looking at the ceiling. “What did I do to deserve this?”

I move to the other side of the room to evade his cologne.

What the actual hell?

My face is flushed, and I ball my hands at my sides. The tips of my pale pink fingernails dig into my palms. The chill snaking down my spine starkly contrasts the heat of my blood.

“I’d say this is karma, but I think karma will come for you a little stronger than this,” I say.

He barks a laugh. “As if you know a damn thing about me.”

“I know all I need to know about you.”

“Great.” He shrugs. “If you know so much, then walk away.” He motions toward the door. “Trust me, if there were any possible way for me to do it, I would without hesitation. But I can’t.”

“I can’t either. I’m not going to leave Sutton hanging out to dry. She’s like a sister to me. If this show fails, it won’t be because I tanked it.”

Ripley moves through the room with purpose. “Then what do we do? We’re at an impasse.”

I groan loudly, letting my frustration get the best of me.

“One of us has to quit,” he says. “And it’s not going to be me.”

“One of us does have to quit, and it’s not going to be me.”

Ripley stops in front of me, his eyes drilling into mine. The intensity steals my breath, and my vulnerability to him makes me even madder.

We stare at each other, neither of us backing down. We’ve done this many times because we’re both too hardheaded to give in. There’s no way I’m breaking for this jerk. Not ever.

Finally, a slow, calculated grin slides over his lips and paints him like a villain. I shiver in response.

“Okay,” he says with a casual shrug. “I’m telling you right now that I’m not walking away. Are you going to change your mind?”

I shake my head.

“Then it looks like we’re doing it together,” he says.

“That’s impossible.”

“Well, apparently, it’s not. You are more than welcome to change your mind, but I’m certain where I stand. But let me tell you one more thing, Miss Hayes.” He leans closer, his minty breath filling the air between us. “I plan on fulfilling my end of the bargain for Jonah. I’m going to pretend to fall in love with whomever they put in front of me, whether that’s a random woman off the street … or you.”

It’s a warning—a threat. An attempt to get his way like he always does.

Sorry, buddy. Not this time.

I want to poke him in the chest, but I know better. Instead, I narrow my eyes and appear as menacing as my five-foot-two-inch frame will allow.

“I’m certain where I stand, Mr. Brewer. And let me tell you one more thing. I’m going to do everything in my power to make Sutton look like a genius, whether that’s with a man off the street worthy of me … or you.”

He snorts. “Better be sure you can handle this, big girl.”

“Oh, little boy, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

Our gazes are electrified, the air crackling between us. In the distance, a door opens, and Sutton’s and Myla’s voices break the silence.

“I see you two have met,” Myla says. “Are we ready to move on to the contracts phase?”

Ripley grins. I smile, too.

I lift a brow, and so does he.

“You sure you’re up to this?” he whispers.

I wink at him, a sign of indifference, but meanwhile, my legs wobble beneath me. This is going to be an absolute disaster, but I’m not going to back down.

I’m not letting him win.

“Myla, where is the pen?” I ask.

His eyes sparkle back.

I’m so screwed.