Smart Girl by Rachel Hollis Page B

calories don’t count on event days, since we’re so busy setting up that we basically consume only coffee and random snacks. Today my food pyramid is made up of a latte, some Corn Nuts, and the other half of this bag of rainbow-flavored candy. With all the furniture moving, I could eat an extra-value meal and still be in a calorie deficit for the day.
    “Throwing him off would be fine if that was my intention, but I was honestly just trying to make conversation. How am I supposed to get to know him better if I have no idea what his reaction is going to be to anything I say?”
    “Girl, that is every new relationship ever! I once got so mad at Brody I didn’t speak to him for the whole afternoon.”
    I grasp my imaginary pearls in feigned shock.
    “Not a whole afternoon!”
    She bumps me with her shoulder and giggles.
    “Shut up. I was really upset.”
    I roll my eyes.
    “And what did he do to make you so mad?”
    Her heavy sigh makes a blonde curl bounce around her face.
    “He said that Britney wasn’t a real singer.”
    Discretion is the better part of valor. I keep my mouth shut.
    Landon, on the other hand, gets more upset with each word.
    “He said she was a pop star who imploded under the pressure of fame and a lot of other rude things about her songs. Can you even believe that? He never once took into consideration how hard 2007 was on her or how terrible the grow-out on that buzz cut must have been. Also, the Blackout album was incredible—one of her best ever! Not a real singer? Please!”
    I bite a lime-green Skittle in half to stall for time.
    “And so you didn’t talk to him . . . because of Britney Spears?”
    She nods.
    “It seems ridiculous to you too, I’m sure, but we all have stuff that sets us off that other people won’t ever understand. Just because you don’t understand it doesn’t mean it won’t sting when it’s brought up. It’s like how upset you get when an author turns what should be a trilogy into an unending series.”
    I swallow the candy in my mouth before it’s completely chewed, so I’m choking when I try to explain my vehemence for this topic.
    “Because she’s toying with characters we love in order to sell more books! Just land the plane and give them their HEA,” I cry in exasperation. “It’s not fair to any of us to keep manipulating our emotions!”
    Across the room Cas slips through the door and points at her wristwatch in a silent question. Landon holds up ten fingers, a sign that our brief respite has come to an end. We struggle to our feet to get ready for the crowd.
    “See, this is my point. Very few people would understand getting so ticked off about an author’s artistic choices—”
    I snort. Artistic choices is a generous description, and she knows it.
    “Just like very few people would understand why what you said got under his skin.”
    I nod slowly in agreement.
    “So then what do you suggest I do next?”
    She considers it for a moment.
    “Well, a conversation didn’t work. So maybe an option with less dialogue and more action?”
    Landon reaches for her headset and radios our tech team to open the doors. Like some kind of magic, the air wall splits in two, creating an entrance for the guests. Almost immediately people start to trickle through wearing tuxedos and dresses rumpled from hours of dancing and the arduous job of lifting Cristal to their lips throughout the night. Regardless of their couture ensembles, they make a beeline for the stations of street food we have set up around the room. No matter how much money they have in the bank, people are helpless against greasy food when they’re fighting a buzz. I’d kill for something from the Kogi truck right now, but we never eat in front of guests. Fingers crossed they’ll have some left by the time we wrap up.
    “Something with action, you think?” I ask as Casidee joins us.
    “What has action?” Casidee is already scanning the crowd, looking for possible problems. Even event