75. Alice

ALICE

A large black SUV with tinted windows pulls up in front of us.

A few more people were taking pictures of us as we passed through the airport to get our luggage, but I kept my gaze down and the tabloid tucked under my arm.

Michael presses his hand against my spine, urging me into the back seat of the SUV.

I go without protest, knowing that one of the show producers is the one picking us up.

The producer, a.k.a. driver, helps Michael get our bags into the back, then they both climb in, Michael in the back next to me.

“So,” the producer starts as he pulls away from the curb, “you two sure know how to make an entrance.”

Michael just grunts, but my worry starts to kick in.

“Is this, um, situation, going to ruin anything for Second Bite ?” I have to ask.

The producer laughs. “Hell no. Our projected viewership just shot through the roof.”

My eyes widen. “Seriously? Why?”

“Because.” The producer glances over his shoulder at me. “Pamela got sick and can’t make it to the recording.”

“Pamela,” I whisper the name of the woman who always judges beside Michael.

The man nods. “Yep. And we just announced you as her replacement.”