Honey on Your Mind Part 32

He pretended to remove a cowboy hat and tipped his head slightly. "I'm a Texas boy, born and raised, and you know what they say. You can take the Texan out of Texas..."

Tad laughed. "Don't buy it, Waverly. He likes New York more than he likes Dallas now. He just won't admit it."

"But it worked out great for your career, so that made the decision to move easier, right?" I asked Scotty.

He nodded. "True."

"But what if that hadn't been the case? Would you have moved?"

He gave me a strange look. "That's a good question."

I turned back to Tad. "Did you ever think of moving there?"

He coughed. "Oh G.o.d, no. Me? In Texas?"

"The South's a whole other world," Scotty said. "They say, *Don't mess with Texas,' for a reason, you know." He gestured to the waiter and introduced dessert as a new topic of conversation, but I could tell he knew something was going on with me. He was too polite to pry in front of Tad, and I was grateful for his discretion.

a a a I don't think I slept at all that night. For hours on end, I stared at the ceiling fan in my bedroom, my body ignoring my head's desperate pleas to please, please, please get some rest. To keep myself from completely losing it, I focused on what my dad used to say to me when I was a kid. "If you're lying still, your body is resting, and that's as good as sleep." I still didn't know if that was actually true or if it was just a trick he used to get me to take a nap when I didn't want to. But tonight, it was the only rope I had to keep me from falling into a pit of anxiety, so I grabbed hold and hung on.

My brain apparently believed the mantra, because the next morning I felt alert. My face had other ideas, however, as demonstrated by the huge bags under my eyes. I knew they'd de-puff eventually, but for the time being I resembled someone who might ask you for spare change on the sidewalk. I could only wonder what the well-heeled commuters on the subway thought about my haggard appearance. At least I was sure no one recognized me. Now I know why celebrities wear sungla.s.ses year-round.

The hours flew by in a blur, with back-to-back meetings, prep calls, and run-throughs. At some point we stopped to grab lunch, but I was so focused on the evening ahead that when I finished my meal I stared at the plate in front of me and had absolutely no idea what I'd just eaten. No idea. That is sort of scary if you think about it.

Before I knew it, Tanya was performing her magic on my face. Normally she only did Wendy's makeup and had one of her a.s.sistants do mine, but every once in a while she took care of me. And because this was a special show, she wasn't leaving anything to chance.

I loved when Tanya did my makeup. No matter how stressed I was, she managed to calm me down. Her voice was deep and soothing, and when she told me stories it reminded me of my fourth-grade teacher, who used to read us Watership Down every day after lunch. One moment we'd all be running around the playground like feral cats, and the next we'd be sitting in front of her in silence, mesmerized.

"So you ready for the big show?" Tanya spread cool, creamy foundation over my face with a sponge.

I nodded with my eyes closed. "I think so. As ready as I can be, I guess."

"I'm sure you'll do great. Your segment is a lot of fun."

"Thanks. I hope it goes well. If I screw it up, Wendy will have my head."

She ran a concealer under me eye. "Oh please. She's not as bad as people make her out to be."

I kept my eyes closed. "Yeah, she puts on a hard front, but there's more to her than that. Maybe that's why she wears so much makeup, to keep people from looking too deep."

Tanya laughed. "Hey now, that's my livelihood we're talking about. There's nothing wrong with a little makeup." She lightly pressed powder across my forehead.

"Oh believe me, I know. I never used to think about it, but once I saw how much better you could make me look, I was ruined. Now I'm constantly, shall we say, underwhelmed by my natural appearance."

She laughed. "Oh please, you look great. You're a natural beauty. Everyone should be so lucky. Some people spend their whole lives trying to create an appearance that isn't who they really are."

I opened my eyes and looked at her in the mirror.

Are we still talking about makeup?

Just then, her phone rang. She dug it out of her purse and looked at the caller ID, then held up a finger.

"Waverly, I'm sorry, I've got to take this. I'll be right back, OK?"

I nodded. "No problem."

As she walked away, I couldn't help but think about what she'd just said.

a a a "Can you hear me OK?" the voice asked.

"Yep." I put my hand over the tiny microphone in my ear and nodded into the chilly air. Then I glanced at the backup microphone, also tiny, attached to my coat in case anything happened to the microphone in my hand. Soon I'd be using it to interview New Year's Eve revelers on live TV. I could only hope I wouldn't choose anyone who'd been overly enthusiastically partaking in the pre-midnight festivities. One drunken slur and Middle America, not to mention the plug-pullers at the FCC, would utter a collective gasp. At the meetings all week Scotty-and Wendy-had drilled this into my head a million times. The screeners would preselect people for me to interview, but if I had any sense that the person speaking into the microphone was going to utter something that might upset our "core viewers" (code for uptight advertisers), I needed to pull the rip cord and move on to someone more...wholesome.

The a.s.sistant producer's voice was back in my ear. "We're going to count down from ten, and then Wendy will introduce you from her stage across the street, which you'll hear through your earpiece. Then we'll cue you that we're moving to a split screen so viewers will see her on one half and you on the other, understand?"

I nodded again. I can't believe this is happening.

"You two can chat a bit, and then we'll cue you that split screen has disappeared, and then it's all you. Got it?"

I nodded and tried not to think about the thousands of people swarming the streets around me, not to mention the millions of people who would be watching me from their living rooms.

I squeezed the microphone tightly.

You can do this, Waverly.

The cameraman nodded and held up ten fingers, then started counting backward.

Ten...nine...eight...

Don't freak out.

Seven...six...five...

It's just like the taped pieces you do all the time.

Four...three...two...one...

You can do this!

I closed my eyes and listened to Wendy's cheery voice in my ear.

"OK now, everyone, it's time to introduce a special live feature from one of our favorite parts of Love, Wendy. The always delightful Waverly Bryson is out here braving the cold with us to bring us her New Year's Eve edition of Honey on Your Mind."

I opened my eyes and waited.

It's going to be OK. You can do this.

Wendy's voice came through the earpiece. "I know you're going to just luuuv what she's cooked up for you, so let's turn it over to her. Waverly, are you there?"

The cameraman gave me the thumbs-up sign.

I squeezed the microphone and smiled wide.

"Yes, Wendy, thanks so much for that kind introduction. I'm here, freezing, I might add, along with thousands of other happy visitors to Times Square on this crisp and clear evening." I rubbed my left arm with my free hand.

Wendy laughed. "The chill in the air certainly gives everyone out here a reason to look forward to that New Year's kiss now, doesn't it?" I couldn't see her, but I was willing to bet my life savings that she winked, charming the TV audience to no end.

I laughed too. "Indeed, it does. In fact, I've seen a few early kisses out here already. It looks like people are certainly in the mood for some New Year's cheer."

"Nothing wrong with a little smoochin' now, that's what we always say down in Tennessee. So Waverly, we're just thrilled that you're joining us live tonight. Personally I can't wait to see what you've got up that honey sleeve of yours."

"Thanks, Wendy, I think it will be fun."

"So we'll turn it over to you, while I get myself a hot chocolate. Bye-bye."

The cameraman spread his hands apart to indicate that the split screen was gone.

This is it.

I squeezed the microphone even tighter and smiled again. "h.e.l.lo, everyone. When I began planning what to do for this New Year's Eve edition of Honey on Your Mind, I couldn't help but think about the obvious, which would be to ask people, well, what's on their mind for the coming year. After all, everyone makes New Year's resolutions, right?" I slightly shifted my weight from one foot to the other.

I held up a finger. "But...the more I thought about it, the more I realized how stressful it is to spend every New Year's Eve thinking about what's on my mind for the year ahead. I think about goals I'd like to accomplish. I worry about things I'd like to do better. I obsess over ways I'd like to improve myself. In fact, sometimes I spend so much time thinking about the future that I forget to think about the present. And why is that?"

The cameraman smiled and nodded.

I swallowed. "I thought about it a lot, and I finally came to realize that no matter what happens in the new year, there are so many wonderful things in my life now of which to be proud, for which to be grateful, for which to be happy, and I think it's important to recognize them...to celebrate them... before they're not here anymore." I thought of Shane's broken NBA career, my damaged friendship with Paige, my own precarious love life. "Life is short, right? And things can change so quickly, things you might never have truly appreciated because you just a.s.sumed they'd always be there."

The cameraman nodded again.

"So I thought a nice way to ring in the upcoming year would be to think about the past twelve months and what has made them special for us. The people, the experiences, the successesahowever big or small-that have made our lives worth living. The things on our minds that keep us wanting to move forward on this crazy journey we call...life."

The cameraman kept nodding, so I could only hope I didn't sound ridiculous.

"So this New Year's Eve, instead of focusing on what you want, I urge you to appreciate what you already have. Don't take anything for granted...especially the people you love."

I took a deep breath.

"Now to give you an idea of what I mean, I'd like to start with me. I know I don't usually share personal details on the show, but my dad, who raised me all on his own, is getting married soon. I don't think his fiance knows how grateful I am for how much joy she's brought into his life. He is literally a new man because of her, and seeing him so happy makes me happy." I smiled and wiped a tear from the corner of my eye with my glove. "So, Betty, if you're watching, I want you to know that you're on my mind this New Year's Eve. Thank you for everything you've done for me and my dad, and...well...I'm extremely honored to call you my stepmother."

The cameraman gave me a thumbs-up, and I smiled.

"So with that said, dear viewers, I'd love to find out who and what is on the minds of some of these lovely people out here tonight." I turned to face the first duo the crew had screened for me to interview. They looked to be in their sixties, a married couple from Detroit.

"Well, h.e.l.lo there," I said. "What are your names?"

Before they said anything, the woman surprised me by giving me a bear hug. "Your stepmother is one lucky woman," she said, holding me tight.

I laughed and looked at the camera. "Why, thank you. I hope she agrees with you."

"Come on, Marion, let her breathe." Her husband looked horrified as he pulled on her arm, and I laughed again. "I'm sorry, Ms. Bryson. My wife's a little emotional, as you can see. My name is Bob."

Marion broke away from me and nodded. "It's true, I cry at Hallmark commercials."

I laughed. "I do too!" I was about to ask her if she liked watching sappy movies on Lifetime when I realized we were on national TV, and I pulled myself together.

"So, Marion, Bob, welcome to New York. What is on your mind this New Year's Eve?"

Bob adjusted his gla.s.ses. "Well, I got a promotion at the factory this year. I work for General Motors. I haven't talked about it much, but the reality is that I'm darned proud of myself. Been there forty years, you know. It's like a second home to me."

"Forty years? Wow, that's wonderful. Congratulations, Bob."

"Thank you." He really did look proud.

I turned to Marion. "And you, Marion? What's on your mind?"

She smiled wide. "I adopted a cat."

"You adopted a cat?"

"Yep. Poor little thing had been left behind when its owners moved. I heard a few women at church talking about it, and I thought to myself I could help, so I did. I've never been a cat person, but d.a.m.ned if I haven't grown to love that darlin' cat as much as if it were my own flesh and blood."

"Marion, hon, your language? We're on TV." Bob again looked horrified.

"I just adore that d.a.m.ned cat. Now who would have thought?" Marion said.

I laughed as the crew whisked Marion and Bob away, and soon a shy, skinny teenager and her dad approached. Her beaming mom stayed off to the side.

"Well, h.e.l.lo there, and who might you be?" I said to the girl.

"Um, Monica." She could barely make eye contact.

"She's a quiet one," her dad said with a grin. "She's mortified I'm dragging her on TV, but she'll thank me one day."

I smiled at her dad and looked at the girl again. "Well, h.e.l.lo there, Monica. And what's on your mind this New Year's Eve?"

She adjusted her pink headband, still barely making eye contact. "Nothing, really."

"Nothing?"

"She made the varsity soccer team this year," her dad said. "She's only a freshman, and we want her to be proud of herself for that."

I smiled at the girl. "Varsity as a freshman? That's great! You should be proud of yourself, Monica."

She shrugged. "I didn't play much though, just for a few minutes in one game, actually."

"She was the only freshman on the team," her dad said to me.

I raised my eyebrows. "The only freshman?"

Monica nodded. I put my arm around her bony shoulder, which reminded me of a bird. "You should definitely be proud of yourself, Monica."