Page 50 of Gray Hair Don't Care
“Fantastic,” Monica said. “We’re hearing a lot about the ad campaign for your cosmetics line. We’re wondering if you’d like to come on the show this week? Share your story with our viewers?”
“Really?”
“Yes. Really.”
“Uh, sure. Yes. Of course. What day?”
“Wednesday? We’d have you on in the second hour of the show.”
Lela wanted to play it cool, but deep down, she was screaming at the top of her lungs. “That sounds great.”
“Perfect. We’ll be in touch tomorrow about where you’ll need to be and at what time. I’ll talk to you then.”
“Sounds great. Thank you for calling.” Lela pressed the red button on her phone and shrieked. “Oh my God. My mother is going to flip out.”
“Good Day USA? Seriously? What day? When? Tell me what she said.”
Lela loved hearing the jubilation in Donovan’s voice. She quickly recounted her conversation with Monica. “Can I just tell you something?”
“Of course.”
“This is the weirdest thing that has ever happened. Stuff like this doesn’t happen to me.”
“It does now.”
Her mind was running at a million miles a minute, overcome with the same nervousness she’d felt about doing the photo shoot. This was going to be even more intense. More cameras, more people on set. And of course, millions of people watching. “You have to come with me on Wednesday.”
“Are you sure? You don’t want one of the publicists to go with you? They’re probably better equipped to deal with this.”
“No. Donovan. You’re the only one who can keep me calm. You’ve known me longer than anyone.” Funny, but the thought of him being at the photo shoot had been horrific, and she’d been so relieved when he hadn’t shown up. But now, the thought of being on television and him not being there? Even scarier.
“If you want me there, I’m there.”
She felt like she could exhale. “Perfect. Thank you.”
They spent the rest of the drive talking over strategy and next steps. Much of it was Donovan talking and Lela listening and jotting down notes. He was the expert when it came to making the most of the situation they found themselves in, not her.
When they got into Manhattan, Lela’s nerves kicked back into hyperdrive. There was so much uncertainty ahead of her. She liked it when she knew what was going to happen, and right now, she knew nothing. Nada. Zilch, other than the fact that she and Donovan were about to be on the front lines together, battling the unknown together. Donovan pulled on to her street, and that was when she saw a commotion. A small cluster of women were standing at the bottom of the stairs leading up to her brownstone. As they got closer, Lela noticed that a few had gray hair.
“What’s going on?” she asked Donovan as he pulled up to the curb.
Her question was quickly answered when one woman turned, spotted Lela, and promptly said to the rest of the group, “She’s here!”
As the crowd approached the car, Lela reflexively leaned back against the car’s center console. “Are they talking about me?”
“I think so.”
“How did they figure out where I live?”
“The Internet?”
“So I should fix that?”
“Probably.”
“But what do I do right now?”
Donovan leaned closer to her, his chin nearly on her shoulder as he waved hello to the strangers on the street. “Smile. Wave. These are your fans,” he said through grinned teeth.
