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“Molly, I know how much this sucks,” he says as if he’s reading all my thoughts. “I wanted to do so many things with you this summer. But I should be home in time for the haunted carnival. We’ll go to Picking Ladder Farms for apple cider donuts. The drive-in is still open on the weekends through most of October. There will be bonfires at Zips until snow starts flying. We’ll finish the Malibu, race it, and win some money.”
Every word’s meant to reassure me. I nod slowly. Smile. I don’t want to do anything to make this harder on him.
But I can’t seem to smother the sense of impending doom squeezing the air from my lungs. My fears for Griff’s safety and my anxiety about our future have combined into a sinister force taking up permanent space in my chest.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Molly
Someone knocks on the bedroom door. “Long ride, Griff. We need to roll out,” Diane shouts.
“Shit.” Griff stares at the pile of clothes and starts scooping things into his backpack.
“I’ll wrap up a waffle for the road.” I squeeze his shoulder.
“I warned them not to film you.”
“It’s okay.” I wrap my arms around him and squeeze. “If it will help you. Give you an edge. Humanize you to the audience. To know you have loved ones cheering for you at home…” I shrug. “It can’t hurt, right?”
He frowns and shakes his head. “No. I don’t want you exposed to that.”
“Griff!” Diane calls.
“I’ll deal with them.” I pat his shoulder.
In a daze, I step out of the bedroom and close the door behind me. The camera guy returns with the light in my face.
“Did ya squeeze in a quickie?” he asks.
“What? No.”
“Knock it off.” Diane shoos him away. She threads her arm through mine and steers me into the kitchen. “Dear, I need you to sign a release form so we can use your footage in the show. You are eighteen, right?”
“Yes,” I snap, tired of this question. “What if I don’t want to be in the show?”
“Of course you do!” She slaps a piece of paper on the kitchen table and sets a blue ballpoint pen next to it.
I sweep my gaze over the document, and it snags on my name already typed in several spots. She sure came prepared.
“Come on. Won’t all your friends be jealous when they see you on the show?”
Not really. This lady exists in some alternate reality where everyone’s dying to be famous. “It’s not our thing.”
“Honey…” Her voice loses its fake niceness and takes on a harder edge. “If you don’t sign it, we’ll need to re-shoot Griff’s intro or cut it.”
No, no. I don’t want to be the reason he gets off to a bad start on the show. “It will help Griff if I sign it?”
“Yes! My gut says he’s going to be very popular with our audience. And part of that will be his commitment to his loving girlfriend waiting at home for him.”
False sincerity oozes through her words. But I sigh and take the pen she forces into my hand. “Can I read it first?” My Nana didn’t raise a fool.
“Sure, sure. It’s all standard.”
Molly Holt—background actor—releases Sidespeed Salmon Productions and assigns permission to license all video recordings in any packaging and promotion for Ultimate Underground Fighter…
My vision blurs with boredom. I ignore the nagging sensation in my gut and sign where Diane points.
“Great! That’s covered. I think your man’s going to be the star of the show, Molly.”
