help?â
Josh got his grin under control. âIâd be honored,â he said.
I let out a huge breath. I hadnât realized how nervous Iâd been about whether Josh would be willing to listen to my opinions.
He reached under the mixing board and pulled out a backpack, then rummaged in it until he eventually found a legal pad and pencil. He looked at me expectantly. âTell me what to do.â
Music to my ears.
Â
THREE HOURS LATER Josh was beginning to get a clue. They were possibly the most gratifying three hours of my life. I knew I missed having a real job, but I hadnât realized how much Iâd missed the actual work. Figuring out problems, identifying concrete goals, and planning strategies to meet them. The more we talked, the more I realized that I knew almost nothing about Joshâs business. I had no statistics to cite, no demographic data to turn to, no market analysis. The sheer volume of what weâd have to do if we were serious about broadening Vladimaâs viewer base was enormous.
Finally, I could sink my teeth into something other than cartoon necks.
When we finally ran out of steam, Josh started flipping through the pages of notes heâd taken. âBecks, I donât know what I was thinking all this time just using your voice when I could have been exploiting so much more.â
âExploit away. Iâm happy to do it. Besides, as far as I can tell, the major qualification for using my voice is my overall level of bitchiness.â I made a face. âAnd apparently I have other outlets for that these days.â
âItâs not just the bitchiness,â Josh corrected me. âItâs also the obvious disdain you have for the material. That comes across as a nice little snobbishness when you record. It makes Vladima superior to the rest of the characters.â
âSeriously?â
âSeriously. But donât worry. Youâre still a great bitch.â
Okay, I had started it, but it stung a little anyway. âJosh?â
âYeah.â He was packing up his backpack.
âAm I really a bitch?â
Something in my voice must have told him I wasnât joking anymore. He didnât look at me, but I could tell he was thinking because his eyebrows came together and sort of vibrated. Itâs a thing he has. âNo,â he finally said, âyouâre just old school.â
âOld school?â
âYou know, like Katharine Hepburn or Rosalind Russell or Joan Crawford. You talk fast and sound smart and you say what you mean.â
âSo Iâm a diva,â I said, deflated. âWhich is pretty much a bitch in good shoes. Thanks.â At least he was honest with me.
âNo.â Josh seemed bothered by the fact that I wasnât getting it. âYouâre just old school. Itâs like you expect to be taken seriously while at the same time youâre this great-looking babe. No!â
I was just beginning to like the sound of things when he corrected himself.
âIâm not a babe?â
He shook his head. âYouâre not a babe or a fox or a chick or anything like that. Youâre a grown-up. Youâreââa light dawnedââyouâre a dame.â He seemed pleased with himself. âYeah, youâre a dame.â
âA dame.â This is how he saw me. This is why I should never ask his opinion about anything again.
âYou know,â he went on, âBette Davis had this great line. She said that if a man asks for what he wants, heâs a man, but if a woman asks for what she wants, sheâs a bitch.â
Bette had a point. âSo you do think Iâm a bitch.â
âI think youâre not listening.â
âIâm asking, Josh. Does everybody think Iâm a bitch? Is that why Iâm Vladima?â
He mumbled something.
âWhat?â
âYouâre Vladima because you kick ass.â He looked up from the
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