The Sweetest Thing by Christina Mandelski Read Free Book Online Page B

want you to meet.”
    “No.” I shake my head. “Dad. I’ve got a lot of work to do and tons of homework.” I pat my messenger bag to drive the point home.
    But he talks over me like I haven’t said a word. “I’d like for you to come in and meet the people from the network.
    They really want to get to know you.”
    “Oh,” I say. “No thanks.” I turn and walk away.
    “Sheridan. Come back here.” I do what he says, cock my eyebrows, and wait. “This isn’t really a request. . . .” He tilts his head and chuckles. “Look, come in. It’s cold out here.
    Come on, do this for me. I’ll make it up to you.”
    “Don’t bother, I’ll just be swamped.” I shrug. “I did have time to talk last night, but apparently, you had more important things to do.” I pass him and walk toward what I feel is my certain doom. With every footstep toward the house I can see my entire world crumbling.
    I think of Dad, a long time ago, lifting me gently into our sailboat, strapping on my life jacket, reciting his long list of water safety rules. Holding me in his arms when the wind picked up and I got scared. Where did that guy go? That guy would do anything for me. This guy is throwing me to the sharks.
    “Here they are!” A gray-haired man in a suit and tie pokes his head through the back door and scares away the 56

    memory. The smiling stranger ushers me into the kitchen.
    There are others here, too. An impossibly tall amazon woman with one of those edgy New York haircuts and superchic brainiac glasses. A young guy who looks totally wired, looks like a surfer, and probably uses “Dude!” as a greeting.
    They look me up and down and grin. Gray Hair leads me to the long dining table in our kitchen and pulls out a chair for me. They stare at me as I fix my gaze to a spot on the far wall. We recently studied Marie Antoinette in world history. She was the famously clueless and eventually head-less queen of France. I feel like her, on the chopping block.
    What was it she said? Yeah. Let them eat cake.
    God, if only it were that easy.
    57

Chapter 5
you catch more flies with
    honey than vinegar
    So I sit at the head of the table and wait. A group of three men walk in from the front of the house, one of them carrying a big camera. Our roomy kitchen suddenly seems very small, almost claustrophobic.
    “Well,” Gray Hair says, “let me introduce myself. I’m Randall Beaumont. I’ll be producing your father’s show for ExtremeCuisine TV. It’s very nice to meet you, Sheridan.”
    “Nice to meet you,” I say quietly, now feeling like the frog in ninth-grade biology, laid out and ready for dissection.
    “This is Jacqueline,” he says, pointing to Amazon. She nods in my direction, all business. “And this is Ricky.”
    Surfer flashes me the peace sign. “And here’s Dylan, Luke, and Will, our camera crew. They’re here scouting locations for the shoot.”
    Dad is leaning against the counter, looking nervous.
    “So.” Gray Hair takes the chair next to me, sits back, crosses a leg, and folds his hands in his lap, real casual. “As you know, your dad’s show is called The Single Dad Cooks .
    The network has ordered ten episodes, but we’re planning tons of merchandising tie-ins. Cookbooks, aprons, coffee mugs—the whole nine yards. We have every reason to believe it’s going to be a big success.” He smiles, clearly proud of his newest star. “But of course, since being your dad is central to the show, we have a proposition for you. What we’d really like is for you to be in the pilot episode.”
    Say what?
    “Me? Oh, no no no,” I say without pause, smiling but emphatically shaking my head. No way. Dad stares at me, his eyes steady. Don’t blow this, Sheridan , those eyes are saying. Don’t you dare.
    “Well now, hear me out”—Gray Hair laughs—“before you say no. You don’t need any experience, so there’s no need to be nervous. It’s reality TV, so you’ll just be yourself.”
    He thinks this