Three
“You’ve done this a million times. It’s no big deal. You’ve got this.” Meghan blew out a breath and checked her microphones for the thirtieth time. She’d set up her laptop, three microphones—Max and Kendall were going to have to share one, but she didn’t think they’d mind—and coasters where everyone could set their water glasses. She’d learned a long time ago that the mics picked up on the clunk sound of glasses hitting the table if she didn’t pad the blow.
“Impressive, little sister.” Kendall entered the kitchen by way of the patio. She’d scrubbed the grill to ready it for steaks, and a portobello mushroom for Meghan, since she wasn’t a meat-eater. Kendall set the brush and spatula in the sink and washed her hands while she spoke. “Are you nervous?”
“A little.” No sense in lying.
“Don’t let Isaac intimidate you.”
“He doesn’t intimidate me.”
Kendall gave her a look communicating that she knew Meghan was lying, or at least exaggerating.
“Fine. But he only intimidates me because I’ve watched him on television so much, I feel like a younger version of me when I see him. I don’t know the grown-up version of him.”
“The grown-up version of both of you are successful and kind and funny. You will do great. You said dinner went well last night, right?”
“He is really nice.” What a lame descriptor. He’d set her at ease more than once when he’d noticed her nerves getting the best of her. But tonight was different. He was on her turf. Sort of. This was Max’s house, but once she hit the record button, Meghan would be in charge.
“I never would have guessed you’d like doing this.” Kendall touched one of the microphones. “You’re like a DJ.”
“I’m more like a radio version of Oprah. It’s my job to learn more about the entertainment my viewers and I consumed while we were growing up. There is a reason it resonated with us, and I’m on a mission to uncover why.”
“And here I thought Superfan TV was a fun side gig while you worked for Monroe Advertising.”
Where she’d met her ex-boyfriend Lane. Meghan had been impressed by his air of success and power. Only after she’d moved in with him did she learn how set in his ways he was. He had been closing in on forty years old to her naive twenty-five at the time. He’d made her feel more like a problem that needed solving than a girlfriend he loved.
When things had ultimately imploded, she’d returned to her old friend, Brooks Knows Best. When their brother died, Meghan had lost herself in the show while Kendall had shut down in her bedroom. Brooks had been there for Meghan during her darkest times, so it wasn’t any wonder why she held Isaac in such high regard.
After the breakup with Lane, she’d begun the podcast on a whim. She’d landed a small amount of advertising money. Her audience had grown and then slumped, only to grow and slump again. It hadn’t been an easy road, but she’d made it work. And it’d allowed her to leave Monroe Advertising. With a few odd jobs and the podcast, Meghan had found a way to support herself without a full-time job or Lane.
“It was a side gig at first,” Meghan said. “But then I learned that nothing made me happier than talking about the Brooks family. Whenever I was down, they lifted me up. They were always there for me.”
“And I wasn’t.” Kendall’s eyebrows bent in regret.
“I don’t think that.” She placed her hand on her sister’s arm. “Quinton’s death was hard on everyone. You dealt with losing him as best as you could.”
Happiness used to fog her childhood home until their brother died. After, it’d been like the warm fires of joy had been smothered with a damp tarp. Since Meghan hadn’t wanted to suffocate in the smoke, she had crawled out and found her own version of happiness. Their parents had been focused on Kendall at the time, as well they should have been. Meghan hadn’t resented her sister for needing her parents more back then.
Although, she sometimes wondered if they had paid her more attention when she was younger, if she’d be as responsible as Kendall. Meghan wasn’t purposefully careless or forgetful, but she’d had her fair share of fuckups over the last nine years. Growing up had been like a game of Chutes and Ladders. Each time she climbed, she slid down only to have to climb again. Rinse and repeat.
“In a way, Danny Brooks saved me.” Meghan shrugged.
“Which Danny Brooks?” Kendall teased.
“I have always been able to tell Max and Isaac apart. Even on the show where they were supposed to be the same person.”
“Max was the broodier of the two,” Kendall concluded.
And Isaac was the hotter one.
Meghan kept that thought to herself. Good thing, too, because a second later the front door opened and in walked Max and Isaac, in the middle of whatever conversation they’d been having in the car.
“Ashley is right,” Max was saying.
“She usually is. That’s what makes her a great director.” Isaac shut the door behind him as Max went to Kendall to kiss her hello. Isaac didn’t sweep in and kiss Meghan—more’s the pity—but he did grin and walk directly to her. If he didn’t have a girlfriend, she might let herself believe that’d meant something. But then, he was an amazing actor. He could turn on the charm when he wanted.
“Give me five?” Max asked Meghan.