“Not to freak out on you,” I tell Flint, breathing deeply, “but I’m freaking out.”
“Don’t.” His voice is commanding, but not pushy. Gently, he places a hand on my shoulder. “No one, and I mean no one, is more capable than you. You’re the person who hunted me down and didn’t let up until I said yes to this show. Remember? That insane, charismatic, relentless person is going to nail this.”
It’s a great pep talk. But I feel like that insane, charismatic, relentless person decided to take a day at the spa and left me behind to do all the work. Are my knees actually trembling? I square my shoulders. Well, I’m not going to break down, dammit. As ridiculous as this talk show idea may be, I’m going to stand my ground.
I maintain that resolve until we sit down on the couch in front of the cameras and I get a real look at Kandy Kristi. She’s an ever-smiling, white-toothed, platinum blond goddess with a bit of a rocker edge who’s probably six feet tall. On TV, she looks like she’s thirty-three, tops, but up close you can see the wrinkles smoothed and pulled back so that only the faintest traces of them remain. I used to think Kandy’s tight, slightly odd speech was just the way she talked. Now I think it’s because so much of her face has been pulled back.
This is why I wanted to work behind the camera.
“Flint McKay and Laurel Young,” Kandy crows, looking out to the camera and the live studio audience. They applaud and cheer. I think I even hear some gasps and whistles when Flint comes out. He sits down like a champ, though. Me, I just kind of fall into a chair and hope no one notices. “And you’re here to show us how to assemble our own furniture?” Kandy asks Flint. “Warning you right now: we ladies have a hard enough time operating a hair dryer.” She giggles as the women in the audience applaud. Wow. Nothing like some cheap-shot, female-led sexism to start the day off right. Flint smiles.
“You’re downplaying your own abilities, Kandy. I believe women can be as capable as any man,” he says. That gets titters and happy noises from the audience.
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I love having a big, strong man around the house to help me assemble myself,” Kandy says, fanning herself with her notes to show just how hot Flint is. The audience erupts in cheers and applause.
Where is my enormous coffee mug? I need a drink. Grabbing it off the table, I pray I can hide my face behind it and no one will notice me. Be the coffee mug, Laurel. Become one with it.
“Now. You have a piece you recently remodeled that you’d like to show us?” Kandy asks Flint. Still no focus on me. Good. Maybe I can discreetly burrow a hole through the floor and make for Pismo Beach like Bugs Bunny.
This is no time for Looney Tunes. My God, pull yourself together.
“Sure do. It’s a great piece I found at a local yard sale.” Flint signals off camera, and a production guy brings out a beautiful 1920s art deco armchair, reupholstered in soft, caramel-colored leather and painted with gold accents. Flint gets to his knee as he shows it off. “It was pretty beat up when I picked it up, but once I got it in my shop I just sanded it all down and applied a dark stain to contrast with the lighter brown of the leather, then followed that with a few layers of lacquered varnish. You see?” He runs his hand along the chair leg. “Looks expensive, but refinishing it took minimal time and money. With some basic tools, it’s not hard for anyone to get this kind of elegant look.”
“Where can we get some of these fabulous tools?” Kandy asks, in what feels like an incredibly rehearsed manner. Flint’s game for it, though.
“My family’s company, McKay’s Hardware, supplies every kind of varnish, paint, or tool you need for refitting or refurbishing your home,” he tells the women. He returns to sit next to me on the couch, and I get a close look at that incredible smile. The audience is practically melting. “And if you watch our show, Rustic Renovations, you’ll have all the instruction you need to acquire some first-hand experience.”
“I think every lady here would love a little first-hand experience,” Kandy says. The laughter is huge, and then slowly Kandy’s eyes track over to me. Oh God. Look, I’m a lady with coffee. Don’t bother talking to me. I know nothing but this mug.
“Now, Laurel, you were the producer on this show? Producer turned into star. That’s a real Hollywood dream right there!” Kandy laughs again, and her eyes would crinkle at the corners if she had enough skin to do the job. My nerves make me mean.
Okay. I can do this. I smile, open my mouth, and say,
“Sure.” Then I slurp more coffee. Loudly. I actually cannot think of more words.