ever done, isn't it?"
"Top three."
"Wish me luck."
George parked the van on the side of the street and got out. He didn't want to freak the girl out by running at her, but he wanted to make sure he intercepted her in time, so he settled for a brisk walk.
They reached the corner at the same time.
George tried to give her his least predatory smile. "Hello there."
CHAPTER FIVE
Grab and Go
The girl gave him a wary look. "Hi." It sounded like a question.
"You're Britney's friend, right?"
"I don't know anybody named Britney."
"Oh," said George. Crap. He'd assumed that all fourteen-year-old girls had at least one friend named Britney. He should've gone with Bella. Too late now. "I was supposed to meet her at school for her audition."
"School's that way," said the girl, pointing.
"Okay, yeah, that's what I thought. Just got turned around." George raised an eyebrow. "You look like you can sing."
"How does somebody look like they can sing?"
"I mean that you look like you've got stage presence. That's a rare thing. I'm George."
"Hi, George."
"And you are...?"
Her eyes narrowed, as if trying to decide if she should run away screaming.
"You don't have to tell me," he said. "I understand. You don't know me from Simon Cowell. I just got turned around, and I was supposed to meet Britney for her audition for this new reality show I'm producing."
"What's it called?" she asked, clearly testing him.
"We're still doing market research on the title. You're part of our core demographic, so maybe you could help. Would you watch a show called Singers Incorporated ?"
"Who are the judges?"
"Nobody has been hired yet. We're still in the early stages of development."
"Then why are you already auditioning singers?"
How the hell was this little girl outmaneuvering him in this conversation? George was a good talker. He'd been head of the debate team in high school. He could've been a lawyer if he hadn't discovered alcohol during his first and only year in college. Ninety percent of his job involved talking to people and making conversations go the way he wanted. This was insane.
"I like your spirit," said George. "Most kids your age would be saying 'Ooh! Ooh! Put me on your show, pretty please!' but you're actually smart. Let me guess. Straight A's, right?"
"Mostly."
"The truth of the matter is that I conned my way into this job and I don't have a clue what I'm doing. I'm completely out of my element. Do you think you could take a few minutes and answer some questions...what did you say your name was again?"
"I didn't."
"Well, again, I'm George."
The girl took a step back, but then seemed to decide that, if he lunged at her, there was enough distance between them for her to get away. "I'm Ally."
"Nice to meet you, Ally."
Where was Lou? This would definitely look like a suspicious encounter if anybody happened to glance through their window. For all George knew, he was standing right outside of Ally's home, with her mother dialing 911 at this very moment.
"What questions did you have?" asked Ally, scratching the back of her head. She looked like somebody who was born with straight brown hair but would prefer a purple Mohawk.
George could hear the van approaching.
"For starters, who's your favorite singer?"
"Gigi Kealan."
"Oh, yeah? Great choice. She's definitely somebody we should contact."
"She's my aunt. She doesn't sing at all."
George forced a chuckle. "Now, see, you think you tricked me, but I already admitted that I don't know what I'm doing here. I'm utterly clueless. You are looking at the biggest idiot in the music business. I should be fired. Seriously. My boss should call me up and say, 'Hey, you are literally the least qualified person we could have ever hired for this job,' and fire me. That's why I need you, Ally."
The van came into view. Ally didn't glance back at it. As soon as she did, George would rush her. They were ten feet apart, but George could move pretty damn
"Top three."
"Wish me luck."
George parked the van on the side of the street and got out. He didn't want to freak the girl out by running at her, but he wanted to make sure he intercepted her in time, so he settled for a brisk walk.
They reached the corner at the same time.
George tried to give her his least predatory smile. "Hello there."
CHAPTER FIVE
Grab and Go
The girl gave him a wary look. "Hi." It sounded like a question.
"You're Britney's friend, right?"
"I don't know anybody named Britney."
"Oh," said George. Crap. He'd assumed that all fourteen-year-old girls had at least one friend named Britney. He should've gone with Bella. Too late now. "I was supposed to meet her at school for her audition."
"School's that way," said the girl, pointing.
"Okay, yeah, that's what I thought. Just got turned around." George raised an eyebrow. "You look like you can sing."
"How does somebody look like they can sing?"
"I mean that you look like you've got stage presence. That's a rare thing. I'm George."
"Hi, George."
"And you are...?"
Her eyes narrowed, as if trying to decide if she should run away screaming.
"You don't have to tell me," he said. "I understand. You don't know me from Simon Cowell. I just got turned around, and I was supposed to meet Britney for her audition for this new reality show I'm producing."
"What's it called?" she asked, clearly testing him.
"We're still doing market research on the title. You're part of our core demographic, so maybe you could help. Would you watch a show called Singers Incorporated ?"
"Who are the judges?"
"Nobody has been hired yet. We're still in the early stages of development."
"Then why are you already auditioning singers?"
How the hell was this little girl outmaneuvering him in this conversation? George was a good talker. He'd been head of the debate team in high school. He could've been a lawyer if he hadn't discovered alcohol during his first and only year in college. Ninety percent of his job involved talking to people and making conversations go the way he wanted. This was insane.
"I like your spirit," said George. "Most kids your age would be saying 'Ooh! Ooh! Put me on your show, pretty please!' but you're actually smart. Let me guess. Straight A's, right?"
"Mostly."
"The truth of the matter is that I conned my way into this job and I don't have a clue what I'm doing. I'm completely out of my element. Do you think you could take a few minutes and answer some questions...what did you say your name was again?"
"I didn't."
"Well, again, I'm George."
The girl took a step back, but then seemed to decide that, if he lunged at her, there was enough distance between them for her to get away. "I'm Ally."
"Nice to meet you, Ally."
Where was Lou? This would definitely look like a suspicious encounter if anybody happened to glance through their window. For all George knew, he was standing right outside of Ally's home, with her mother dialing 911 at this very moment.
"What questions did you have?" asked Ally, scratching the back of her head. She looked like somebody who was born with straight brown hair but would prefer a purple Mohawk.
George could hear the van approaching.
"For starters, who's your favorite singer?"
"Gigi Kealan."
"Oh, yeah? Great choice. She's definitely somebody we should contact."
"She's my aunt. She doesn't sing at all."
George forced a chuckle. "Now, see, you think you tricked me, but I already admitted that I don't know what I'm doing here. I'm utterly clueless. You are looking at the biggest idiot in the music business. I should be fired. Seriously. My boss should call me up and say, 'Hey, you are literally the least qualified person we could have ever hired for this job,' and fire me. That's why I need you, Ally."
The van came into view. Ally didn't glance back at it. As soon as she did, George would rush her. They were ten feet apart, but George could move pretty damn
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