Make It Happen - Elyssa Patrick Page 0,3
I can make all your wildest wishes and dreams come true. If you agree to do the show.”
What if doing It Girl wasn’t such a bad idea?
And what if Sam was telling the truth about helping her with acting?
And what if she said no? Kate could see herself regretting it. The same kind of regret she’d lived with when she hadn’t pursued her dreams. Instead, she had listened to others and settled for a career she never liked. If she said no, then she’d spend the next few months moping, working at a dead-end job.
But if she said yes, she could change her future.
“What does being on the show entail exactly?”
“You’d live at my house and have lessons. From the moment you wake up in the morning to the moment you fall asleep at night, the cameras would film your every move.”
“That doesn’t sound like fun.”
“After a while, you don’t even notice them,” he said, nodding his head at the cameras. “It’s a small price to pay for your ultimate goal. Just picture this: it’s August, you’re in a dazzling green dress and have emeralds at your throat, something to match your eyes. You’re walking the red carpet, barraged with questions and lights and mingling with celebrities. By the next morning, everyone in Hollywood––and the world––will want to know who Kate Templar is. Your phone will be ringing off the hook with offers like you’ve only dreamed about.”
“What do you know about my dreams?”
“Nothing. But I can help you. Say yes.”
Chapter 2
“I . . . I . . .” Kate smacked her hand against her forehead. “Murphy.”
“Murphy?” Ah yes. The dog.
“My dog. I can’t leave him here all alone. And I won’t put him in a kennel. Not for that long.”
“He can come.” If it meant her saying yes, then she could bring the dog.
“He can?”
“Of course. After all, how much trouble can one dog be?”
Kate bit her lower lip. “Um—”
“Sam,” Charlie said. “You have to see the kitchen.”
Well, since Kate looked as if she dunked herself into a vat of chocolate, Sam could only imagine the kitchen was in much worse shape. Her apartment didn’t have an open plan, being so old, so it was blocked off from view.
He smiled at Kate and gestured for her to lead the way.
And then he stopped in the narrow doorway from the living area to kitchen.
There was chocolate everywhere. Every nook and cranny was covered in gooey batter. Nothing had been spared. Nothing.
Not even the ceiling fan, that thankfully, was not on. Chocolate clung to the blades like muddy icicles.
“What exactly happened?” he asked.
Kate pointed to a mixer, its silver whisk pointing skyward away from the bowl. “Well, I wanted to make a cake.”
“How many?” Charlie looked down into the open garbage can.
“Three.”
Sam swore that if Kate hadn’t been covered in chocolate that she would have blushed.
“But it wasn’t completely my fault they didn’t work out. One came out like pudding. Another was too hard. And the third led to this.”
Sam opened his mouth to say something in response about the kitchen disaster, but just then a beast scampered through the other door. A huge, yellow-haired, beady-eyed beast, its fur splattered with chocolate. The thing eyed all of them, its tongue lolling out his mouth. It pawed at the chocolate-covered floor like a bull seeing a red cape and emitted a low, pitiful growl.
Kate stepped in front of the garbage can and gestured to the beast. “This is Murphy.”
“That’s your dog?” Sam pointed to the thing. He had imagined some furry, harmless little thing like a Yorkshire terrier or a miniature poodle. Something cute and much smaller.
“Oh, you really shouldn’t have pointed at him.” Kate grabbed his arm and tugged him behind her. “Don’t move.”
Don’t move?
“Why?”
“Now, Murphy, you know you can’t rifle through garbage. We talked about this yesterday. And you have to behave when there are new people in the house.” Kate’s voice came out in a soft coo as if she were addressing a newborn baby.
Murphy ignored her and instead fastened his gaze on the strangers in his house.
“I don’t think that’s working, Kate,” Sam said quietly.
She turned around. “Don’t talk.”
“Your dog isn’t listening to you. It would be better if—” He stopped and looked at the space where the creature had been. “Where did he go?”
She spun back to where Murphy had been, muttering a low curse.
Then, Sam heard the click-clack of nails against the tiled floor. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise and