A/N: For now, I'm going to try to update 1-2 times a week and see how it goes. Wish me luck because my time management skills suck. Thanks homies.

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Chapter 3

Silence. Nothing but silence. Was I ever going to catch a break? And why did I have a feeling this was just going to end in embarrassment for me?

Actually, not nothing but silence. There was some background noise, like the girl on the other line was throwing her phone around. Not that that was any better.

"Hello?" I tried again.

Still nothing. Come on, Spunky. I didn't have all day.

"Are you there, Mystery Girl?"

Well, I tried. I made a valiant effort. Time to call the runner-up –

"I have a name, you know," she finally snapped. She sounded pretty irritated but it was a start. At least she said something this time.

"Ryder," the blond host said in a sing-song voice, giggling like it was the funniest thing in the world. "I think we found her."

Well, no shit. That was the whole point of all of this. "Well, what's your name then, sweetheart?" I asked, glancing up momentarily and shooting a wink at the audience.

Chicks loved pet names. I was bound to slowly win her over if I threw them around here and there. I was pretty fond of pet names myself, mostly because they were the easiest, most noncommittal way to make a girl happy. Most of the girls I dated or slept with didn't even realize I only called them "baby" and "sweetheart" because I couldn't always remember their names and didn't want to take the risk. I was better off sticking with "babe" than getting it wrong and getting punched out. My face was way too pretty for that shit.

"I don't see how that's any of your business," she said.

Well, damn. She didn't like nicknames. She apparently didn't like pet names, judging by her tone of voice. And she didn't want to tell me her name. What the hell was I supposed to call her then? Raffle Entry #587? (I wasn't sure if that was her actual raffle entry number. It was just a guess.)

But what if it was a good guess? Note: ask Frank what this chick's raffle entry number was to see if I'm psychic once and for all.

"Fair enough. But I'm sure everyone here is curious. Come on. Don't leave us hanging like that, sweetheart."

She didn't tell me what to call her. She only told me what not to call her. So I figured I'd just call her whatever the hell I wanted to until she ceded. Plus, it was kind of fun hearing how annoyed she was getting over a stupid phone call.

"Would you stop calling me that?"

"I will as soon as you tell me your name, sweetheart," I said with a chuckle. This was finally getting entertaining for me again. I could tell from her voice that she was getting riled up, and I liked them feisty.

"Not happening."

I also didn't mind a good chase. I could play along if playing hard to get was her strategy. I had never been one to turn down a challenge. "How about I try and guess?  And if I'm right, you have to tell me, or it won't be fair." I paused and looked down at the slip of paper I'd been handed with her information on it. "Because I'm thinking your real name isn't Amanda Huggenkiss."

Actually, all of the information she'd given sounded like total bullshit. I was pretty sure her number was the only real piece of information she'd given. It didn't make any sense unless she secretly wanted to win. Why go through so much effort to hide your identity only to put your real phone number on the raffle ticket?

"Well, no shit."

Ouch. Her sarcasm was much less endearing when it was being hurled at me and not some clown-faced red-head.

"You should probably watch your language," I said. "You're on television."

"And you should probably mind your own business. You're not my mother."

Every response she uttered made it harder and harder to hide my irritation. I was trying to fake a good attitude for the audience, but her attitude wasn't doing me any favors. I could deal with a little sass, just not when I was on national television and had an image to keep in mind. I couldn't exactly flame her ass right now even if I wanted to - which, to be honest, I kind of did.

"Why are you being so rude?" I finally asked, trying to paint myself as victim. I was just a nice guy trying to have a nice conversation with this girl. It wasn't my fault she was being so unreasonable.

"Why are you being so sensitive?"

I let out a huff. "I'll have you know that girls happen to like sensitive guys."

"Is that what your mom told you?" she retorted.

The two hosts laughed out loud. I was pretty sure they'd been laughing the whole time, but the cackle they let out this time was particularly loud and ego-splitting. I was getting butchered here and no one was helping a brother out.

"I'm sure hearing this kind of thing from a fan is a first for you, Ryder," the dark-haired host said, leaning closer to me to make sure she could be heard.

Before I could say anything, Spunky/Mystery Girl/Raffle Entry #587 responded. "Well, that would be because I'm not a fan."

The two hosts had nothing to say to this. Now they decided to abandon me. I was feeling pretty betrayed by that point. I had gone on here to be fawned over and praised. Where was the fawning and the praise? Where?

Alright, complaining wasn't going to get me anywhere. I was already in this mess, regardless of what I thought of it. Besides, I could handle this girl. She wasn't as clever as she clearly thought she was. "Alright, is your name Jessica?"

"Right. Of course you'd pick the most common name in the world. Great job."

I chuckled nervously. Okay, that was a dumb guess. I could do better. I had to do better. Okay, okay, what were some popular – but not too popular, because apparently that was a thing– girl names? Uh... er...

Okay, I had one. I tried to make myself sound more confident in my guess than I really was. "How about Elizabeth?"

"Wow, shocker. Another common name," Spunky/Mystery Girl/Raffle Entry #587 said. "Are you insinuating I'm common?"

I forced out a laugh. "Of course not. Is your name... Jennifer?"

"Are your parents siblings?"

The two hosts kept laughing at everything she said, but this time it was more like they laughed out of habit and shock.

"Of course not," I said. What was wrong with this girl? Every good thought I'd ever had about her flew out the window after that comment. "How about... Emily?"

"Do you ever wonder what life would be like if you'd gotten enough oxygen at birth?"

I'd gotten enough oxygen at birth... I was a healthy baby. I think. "Er... Dorothy?"

Okay, okay. I knew that one was bad, but I panicked, alright? I was usually calm under pressure, but this chick was on another level. I hadn't mentally prepared for this kind of interaction. When I came here, I had a completely different scenario in mind. Like I said, I'd expected more fawning and praising than insulting and degrading.

She understandably had an immediate retort to give for that one. I couldn't even blame her this time – but this time only. The rest of her comments were all on her. "What do you think this is, the Wizard of Oz?" she asked.

"Uh... Kate?"

Please be Kate. Please be Kate. Please be Kate.

"Do you have the brain capacity of a fruit fly, or what?"

For fucks sake. I'd had enough. What the fuck was wrong with this girl? No one treated me like this. No one. Who did Raffle Entry #587 think she was? "Will you just tell me?" I yelled.

Amusement interlaced every word she spoke next. She was enjoying this. That little - "Am I making you angry?" she asked.

Come on, Christian. Get your shit together. "Well, a bit," I said carefully. I had lost control for a second, but that wouldn't happen again.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to make an ass out of you. I can't take all of the credit."

I'm not going to lie. I almost went off on her and told her what I really thought of her little remarks. Somehow, I managed to stop myself just as the scathing words were about to tumble out of my mouth – well, what I hoped would've been scathing words. So far, she had been the one excelling at that.

After taking a deep breath and making sure I had calmed down, I spoke. "Will you please... just... tell me... your name?"

"Oh, man, would you look at that?" she said. "My time here is up. I'd really love to keep talking to you, Christian, but I have to go walk my goldfish. Bye."

And then she hung up. Just like that. She. Hung. Up. On. Me.

What the fuck was that conversation? What was wrong with her? Why had I agreed to this stupid raffle and this stupid prize and this stupid phone call? This was all Frank's fault. "It'll be good publicity," he had said.

Good publicity, my left testicle.

"All publicity is good publicity," he'd counter if I complained about this.

Well, I begged to differ. This didn't feel like good publicity. I managed to calm myself down after she hung up and laughed it off with the hosts like I wasn't actually irritated at this entire situation. On the outside, I was fine. On the inside, I had a lot of angry remarks boiled up that I couldn't express without jeopardizing my career.

As fun as my job was and as much as I liked being famous, moments like this one where I had zero control over a situation that directly ended in my being embarrassed on national television really fucking sucked. I didn't want to be the laughingstock of the nation by losing my shit on a major talk show, but it looked like that was what was about to happen, anyway.

If only I'd known that it was all downhill from there.