Page 42 of Make Me Laugh

So, against every fiber of my being, I lower myself back to my side of the table and tuck my hands under my thighs.

I have to physically restrain myself from touching this woman.

“Is tomorrow’s show the same?” She goes on asking questions like my proximity does nothing to her.

“Yes,” Enzo answers for me again.

“What’s your pre-show day look like?” She reaches for her lavender water bottle and takes a sip.

“What is this? Twenty questions?” I ask, cocking my head.

Joey shuts her laptop and leans forward. “No, this is me doing the job you hired me for.” She gives me a thin-lipped smile. “I have to know what your days look like in order to figure out when and how long we have to make content, what kind of schedule you can handle when I’m gone, and how you’re going to maintain your consistency.”

I don’t move, don’t pull my hands out from under my legs. Instead, I smile and make sure my dimples show. “Yes, ma’am.” I wiggle in my seat. “Continue.”

The next hour and a half is spent going through my schedule, coming up with times I could and should be dedicating to posting, or interacting on my socials, or batching content.

There’s so much that goes into this… I knew there would be, but when it’s staring me in the face, it feels a bit overwhelming.

We run into some traffic, which immediately makes Enzo tense, definitely stressing about whether we’ll make it an hour early or not.

I, on the other hand, end up sliding into the booth next to Joey, spending the extra time actually working.

She shoots her hand out and wiggles her fingers. “Give me your phone.”

I’m proud of myself. I never once blacked out and stared at her lips or pictured her naked… Okay, well she did show me an example of content she posted and for a hot second I definitely couldn’t stop staring at her nipple piercings through her leather top, but that wasn’t my fault!

I don’t even question it. “8-5-0-4.”

I watch her fingers move over the screen. She taps the App Store and downloads a program she has synced to her computer. “This will set off alarms that won’t let you access anything else until you complete the task.” Joey slides the phone back to me, and I scroll through the calendar she put together as Kell pulls us up to the side of a building.

“I mean, can’t I just say the task is done even without doing it?” I ask.

Befuddled, she scrunches her brows. “Well, yeah, but who gets dopamine from cheating on their to-do lists?”

“We’re here,” Enzo announces, hopping up. “Sound check is now. Let’s go.”

Joey closes her laptop and follows me out of the booth. “Are you ready for the most fun forty-eight hours of your life?” I ask as she stands.

She’s close enough to get a whiff of the still-fresh fruity shampoo scent of her hair. “This is work for me.”

“And what do you think comedy is for me?” I counter. “A job,” I answer before she can scoff. “A job can still be fun, Joey. It’s not conventional, but it’s possible.” I grab a water out of the cabinet and hop down the stairs, shaking the RV. I pop my head back in and find her at the top of the stairs looking down at me. “West Parker isn’t my only side. It’s just the one everyone thinks they know.”

Everyone thinks they know me. They know me because they assume I’m always the man on the stage—the image I’ve allowed them to see.

I’ve created a character to hide behind, and I think Joey has too.

She doesn’t say anything for a beat, making my heart race. I fucking hate how nervous she makes me. I want to know what’s going on inside her head at all times—which scares the shit out of me.

But when she does finally say something, I think it’s what I’ll tell our children when they ask me how I knew I was in love with their mother…

“Then maybe we should show them who you really are.”

Whatever this is with Joey, I’ve never felt anything like it before, and I’m starting to wonder if I should be admitted for a psych evaluation.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

THE ONE WITH THE YELLOW SUNDRESS