A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait for chapter two. I need to learn how to manage my time better aka get my shit together. #procrastinationnation
Writing in Christian's point of view is highly entertaining so I'll try my best to update more often, but with my college classes and work schedule it can get hectic sometimes. Thanks for your patience so far. You guys are da best.
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Chapter 2
"Repeat after me: act charming, don't mention any girls in your life, and make that raffle winner feel like she's the only girl in the world. I want every media outlet to praise you for being so good to your fans after this. Got it?" My manager, Frank Renaldo, stared me down until he was sure I understood. When he saw the less-than-enthused look on my face, he added, "Be glad all you have to do is call the girl. Justin Trouneau had to serenade his contest winner with his newest song and have dinner with her."
"Yeah, well, I'm not a singer." I rolled my eyes. "If I had to serenade this chick, her eardrums would spontaneously combust and I'd be paying for her medical bills, not her dinner."
"You don't have to sing, Chris. Just flatter her for a couple minutes."
"That's what I do best, old man." I slapped Frank on the back a little too forcefully. He was kind of getting on my nerves with his usual "there's no way you could possibly fuck this up so don't ruin it" lecture. He was pretty short, so I had no trouble reaching his back even while I was sitting in my enhancement chair. I didn't like calling it a "makeup chair." I preferred "enhancement chair" because it made me feel manlier.
He tried to hide his wince but didn't do a very good job. "Well, are you ready? I think it's almost time for you to go on."
"Yeah, I'm good." Time to woo the ladies of Hollywood Tonight and the lucky girl who won my raffle. I used the word "my" loosely. I didn't have much to do with it. It was pretty much all Frank. All I had to do was slap my name across it and send the winner an autographed picture and have a short phone call with her. After that, I could just sit back and watch all of the good press come through.
He nudged me over to the entrance I would be going through in a few minutes and stood with me as we watched the show from behind the scenes. The camera and live-audience couldn't see me from where I was standing, but I could see and hear the hosts of Hollywood Tonight pretty well.
I tuned in when I heard my name. Who didn't like being praised?
"Fan-favorite Christian Ryder wanted to show his fans just how much he adores all of them once again," the blond host said. "Last week, he created a free raffle with amazing prizes and goodies, and the results are in!"
I mean, I wouldn't go that far. Whatever my publicity team put into that gift basket couldn't be that amazing, and I only had to talk for the winner for a minute or two, but whatever.
"This gave Ryder's manager a brilliant idea," the other one continued. She was the polar opposite of the blonde looks-wise, but they were both hot. I was pretty sure that was a requirement to work at Hollywood Tonight, or to work in Hollywood in general. "Frank Renaldo wanted to show Ryder just how dedicated and amazing all of his fans are. He wanted to give him a closer look at some of his Ry-Hards – so Frank had cameras installed in movie theaters across the nation to show Ryder and the world just how much we love him and his movies!"
I made a face at Frank. "Cameras? What the fuck, dude?"
I didn't get a response from Frank. Instead, he nudged me forward, my cue to enter the set.
"But first, please welcome our special guest, Christian Ryder himself!"
The small live-audience went absolutely wild when I walked through the entrance. I kind of had that effect on people. I waved at them and flashed them a smile before greeting the two hosts.
"Are you excited to see how your fans like your movie? I mean, how cool is your manager?" the blonde asked me.
Not very. I mean, seriously, what the fuck, Frank? "I'm pretty pumped to see what you guys have for me to see. Let's do it."
"Alright, that's what we like to hear," the dark-haired one said. "So our crew backstage worked hard to select the best video clips for you, and afterwards, we'll have a big surprise for one lucky girl!"
They played a few videos that were pretty much what I figured they would be – girls freaking out over me. Like I said, I kind of had that effect on people, girls in particular. It was pretty flattering. Kind of creepy, sure, but still flattering. There were a couple fights, too, which was even better. What's not to like about seeing hot girls fighting over you?
"This next one has got to be my favorite fight," Blondie said. "It's so funny."
I looked up at the screen on which they were playing the video for those of us on set. There weren't very many people in the theater. Actually, there were only a few girls in there. Why would they show this video? Why not show some from the shows that sold out? This was bullshit.
"O-M-G, O-M-G, O-M-G," some blond chick screamed in the video. I think a little part of me died inside just listening to her say "O-M-G" three times. "He's so freaking hot! O-M-G! I would, like, kill to meet him!"
And I would kill to make sure that never happens. Jesus. Please don't let her be the winner. Please don't let her be the winner. Please –
"O-M-G!"
Oh, my God, make it stop.
"O-M-G, Tori, like, look at, like, him, like!" This "O-M-G" was different. This one just sounded like it was making fun of the other girl. I couldn't really blame her. God bless the family and friends that put up with that God-awful voice. I almost shuddered at the memory of it, but Frank would yell at me if I did that on TV. "He's so, like, hot, like! O-M-G!"
Her rendition of Shrieky a few rows behind her was pretty awful, but I still preferred it to the original. She didn't have the same inhuman pitch the other girl had.
"What's your, like, problem?" Shrieky's side-kick, a red-head, demanded.
The not-as-annoying brunette turned around in her seat and said, "My problem is that my friend and I are trying to enjoy the movie and your commentary is getting on our nerves. You don't have to add your own soundtrack to the movie."
Damn. Brunette for the kill. Those hosts were right. This was going to get good.
"And you throwing, like, popcorn at the screen isn't annoying?" Shrieky was back at it, but she'd toned it down a few octaves, so my ears didn't ring this time.
"I was just trying to feed him like they do in the movies," the brunette said. "That's romantic, right?"
This girl seemed to have a lot of attitude and sarcasm up her sleeve. I'd give her that. Shrieky and Red-Head didn't stand a chance at this rate.
"Oh, please," Red-Head said, but she said it in a snarky, valley girl kind of style. "Like Ryder would ever go out with you."
There wasn't very good lighting in the movie theater, but the spunky one didn't look ugly to me. I'd have to get a better look at her to ultimately decide, but I'd probably still tap that.
"Oh, and he would go out with you?"
"Uh, yeah." She started messing with her hair and just ended up making it worse. What had she meant to accomplish by doing that? I didn't understand girls. "I know how to make myself look good, unlike you."
I mean, no offense to her or anything, but that was highly debatable. Highly, highly debatable.
"Yeah, sure. Nice makeup. Do you use a brush, or do you just dip your face in?"
I almost said, "Daaaaaaamn," out loud but somehow managed to stop myself in time. Seriously, though, damn. Spunky for the kill over here.
That was the end of the video, but the hosts were still laughing over it. "She's my favorite! Which is why we have unanimously decided to declare her Hollywood Tonight's Most Memorable Ry-Hard – and Christian Ryder's Mystery Ry-Hard, the funny, sassy girl we wish we knew!"
Uh... okay.
"We have several other clips of this mystery girl, and a lot of them have us guessing. We just don't know what to make of her here at Hollywood Tonight!"
They said the name of the show a lot. Did they think people would forget what they were watching? Come on. Get your shit together, Hollywood Tonight.
The next video they played was of Spunky throwing popcorn at the screen every time my face popped up. Wait, why was she throwing popcorn at me, anyway? She was supposed to be a fan. Maybe this was a weird way of showing affection.
The next round of video clips started playing. In the clip that followed, she said, "The last time I saw a face like his, I fed it a banana."
Maybe I was wrong about the whole "affection" thing. This was going downhill and fast.
"He needs to wear a condom on his head. If he's gonna act like a bleep, he might as well dress like one."
Hey now. That was low. How did she know I was a dick, anyway? She didn't know me. She didn't know my life.
"I understand now. I see why some animals eat their young."
I struggled to keep a light-hearted expression on my face. I didn't think the cameras were on me since the video clip was probably taking up the entire screen, but the audience and hosts could've been watching me. Who was I kidding? Of course they were watching me. It wasn't every day they got to sit in my presence.
"Quick! Somebody call the zoo! There's been an escape from the simian exhibit!"
Damn, Spunky. Damn. Breaking my heart over here. I thought we had something special. And to think I was rooting for you earlier.
"There were a few others, but we pushed it far enough with her second comment," the dark-haired host said with a laugh. "So, as promised, we'll get to our surprise... after the break! Don't go anywhere!"
The hosts tried chatting with me during the commercial break, but I wasn't feeling it. This is not what I had signed up for. I was on Hollywood Tonight, not the Roast, for Christ's sake. I came here to be fawned over, not insulted. Was that too much to ask? I thought not.
The commercial break ended all too soon and I was expected to put my best face on and pretend my ego hadn't just taken a hit on national television. It was fine, though. I'd heard worse. She could've done worse. No big deal.
"As we promised, one lucky girly also gets a little surprise of her own..."
"This lucky, lucky girl didn't just get named Christian Ryder's Mystery Ry-Hard. She also won the grand prize in his raffle!"
Wait. What?
"With the little bit of information our mystery girl was nice enough to provide, we managed to track her down!"
Oh, come on. Seriously? Of all the people that could have won, they picked the one that apparently wasn't even a fan?
"Her name is still a secret, but we do have her cell phone number, and that lucky chica is about to get a call from none other than Christian Ryder!"
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe she actually was a fan and this was just her way of getting my attention. If that was her plan, then it was a good one.
Frank shot me a look from the audience – I wasn't even sure when he got over there – and I grudgingly pulled out my cell phone. I didn't let my lack of enthusiasm show. I pretended to be someone I wasn't for a living. I could handle anything this show – and this girl – threw at me.
I was handed a cell phone and dialed the number on the slip of paper given to me by the blond host. Putting the phone against my ear, I waited for her to pick up.
Nothing.
Okay. I'd try again. If she didn't answer this time, maybe they'd let me call the runner-up. It probably wouldn't be as entertaining for them, but it would probably be better for me (and my ego.) What if Bubba was at home watching this with Blake while he was dog-sitting? I couldn't let my dog see me like this.
Except the second time I called, she actually picked up. Here went nothing.
"Hey, this is Christian Ryder."