Pick Me

PICK ME

By

KRISTINE MASON

Copyright © 2013 Kristine Mason

All rights reserved.

For my husband, Mark.

I’m so glad we picked each other…and not on a reality show!

XO

Special thanks to my career partner, Jamie Denton—none of these books could have happened without you! Christy Esau, my incredible brainstorming partner, thank you for listening and listening and listening…As well as the rest of the gang—Mary Ann Chulick, Eddie Columbia, Rhonda Helms, Erin McCarthy and Barbara Satow. Your friendship and support means the world to me.

Chapter 1

Why did I let them talk me into this?

Money.
Valentina Bonasera tapped the question cards against her outer thigh.

The career opportunity of a lifetime.
She drew in a ragged breath and from behind the heavy velvet curtain stared at the two hundred plus people in the audience.

The chance to have her screenplay read by the biggest television producer since Aaron Spelling.
Her heart pounded as if she’d just sprinted up ten flights of stairs, two steps at a time, and she began to wonder if any of those things were worth the potential humiliation she could face on national television.

Sweat began to drip down her back and coat her face at the thought of being placed center stage in front of a live studio audience. Worried the make-up applied moments ago would coagulate and clump, she fanned her overheated cheeks with the cards, while bile rose in her throat and her head tingled with a wave of dizziness. With desperation, she forced her mind to control the catastrophic panic attack ready to unleash.

Breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In through— 

“Val, you’re on in two.”

She stopped mid-fan and opened her eyes. As her gaze locked onto the audience, her stomach flipped, flopped, then knotted. “I don’t think I can do this. The people, the cameras...”

Danny Webber,
Pick Me’s
Production Manger and her dear friend, laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “C’mon, Val. You’ve done this show for what, four years?”

Widening her eyes, she turned. “That was from
behind
the scenes as Production Assistant. Not as the...the...” She waved the cards in the air. “
...talent,
” she finished with disgust.

“Look, I know you think this show is beneath you,” he said, irritation flashing in his soft brown eyes and reddening his plump cheeks. “But if
Pick Me
tanks, we’re all out of a job.” He eyed the sexy, red halter dress she wore, courtesy of the show’s producer, Derek Delmont, with disdain. “Well, everyone but
you.
”

Like she needed this now. Of all the times for her one and only friend on the set, not to mention in Dallas, to give her a hard time over a decision she’d been pigeon-holed to make. An absolute nervous wreck, she needed Danny’s support. “I did what I had to do,” she mumbled. “You of all people know I wanted nothing to do with this.”

He nodded and squeezed her shoulder. “I know, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have...hang on.” He cupped the headset closer to his ear. “She’s ready...no, there’s no problem, just a little cold feet,” he said, then winced. “Gotcha, I’ll tell her.”

“Jonas?”

“Yeah, and he’s antsy.”

“You mean going ape shit,” she said with a wry grin.

“Can you blame him? If the show’s cancelled, he’ll be out of a job, too.”

She pursed her lips. While she understood why Jonas Michaels,
Pick Me’s
director, worried over this season’s ratings and pending cancellation, a part of her wouldn’t mind seeing
him
cancelled from the film business all together. “I don’t know why you make excuses for him. He treats you, along with everyone else on the set like garbage,” she said, then jumped and sucked in a deep breath when the show’s theme song blared from the speakers. “Oh no, Danny, I...I...”

Gripping her shoulders, he turned her toward him. “I’ve never met a ballsier woman in my life. You can do this, Val.”

She mustered a smile, grateful for his encouragement, but still terrified to walk out on the stage. If she screwed things up, people would lose their jobs.
Pick Me
would be cancelled.

Laying her hand on his, she drew in a shaky breath. “Did I make the right decision? Or did I sell out?”

Danny sent her a rueful smile. “Val, I think any one of us would have jumped at the opportunity Derek threw at you. And you know I’ve always got your back.”

Her throat tightened as she kissed his cheek. “Thanks, I needed that.”

The music kicked up, and the audience cheered as the show’s host, Shepp McCord, ran out on stage. “Welcome to the fifth season of
Pick Me,
the show that’s turned the dating game upside down. Now, let’s meet our beautiful bachelorette, the
lovely
Val.” Shepp’s voice boomed throughout the studio and the crowd cheered.

She grabbed Danny as sudden stage fright grabbed hold of her nerves.  “Oh shit. I can’t, I can’t...”

“You have to do this,” Danny hissed, spun her around and gave her a shove.

Bright lights needled her eyes. She could no longer see the audience, only Shepp. He held his hand out toward her, and wore his syrupy, trademark smile. The scene was just way too surreal for her. She turned her head toward the curtain, caught Danny’s nod of encouragement, and remembered this wasn’t just about her.

With a smile plastered on her face, she let Shepp help her to the lone bachelorette chair. Although the lights were bright, she caught sight of Jonas as he waved his arms toward one of the camera men.    

Jonas had hated the idea of using her as the show’s
talent,
but considering the timing and the cost of recruiting a replacement, he’d settled on her.

She’d always been told that to break into the film and television industry, whether you’re in front of the audience, behind the scenes, or writing the scripts, achieving those opportunities came by timing and luck. Lucky her to be the only single woman in
Pick Me’s
crew, and talk about timing...

The woman originally scheduled as
Pick Me’s
bachelorette had cancelled yesterday. The parochial school where she’d taught had learned she would be appearing on a “trashy” reality show, and had threatened to fire her. To try and scramble to bring in a replacement within twenty-four hours would have been a logistical and financial nightmare. The studio had been paid for, the other contestants were ready to roll, and the sponsors were all in line.

And while most anything Derek Delmont touched turned to gold, last season’s show had produced the lowest ratings in four years. Rumor had it that if this season didn’t meet the quota demanded by World Entertainment, the company that produced the show, they’d pull the plug.

Now Derek, and even Jonas, along with the rest of the crew were depending on her to boost their ratings. The show’s fate basically weighed on her shoulders. Not only did she have that pressure, she would also be dating strangers on national television.  

Yep.
Just her luck.

“So, Val,” Shepp said with a bright, white smile. “Are you ready to find true love?”

She caught Jonas’ glare, Derek’s nod and blurted, “That I am, Shepp.”

Shepp faced the audience. “Isn’t she gorgeous, folks? Once our bachelors meet Val, they’ll all be screaming...”

“Pick Me,” he and the audience shouted in unison.

Fighting an eye roll, she stacked the question cards in her lap. Gorgeous was the last word anyone would use to describe her. Had they seen her two hours ago, before the show’s make-up artist/hair stylist, Goldie, took hold of her, they would have thought she’d stuck a wet finger into an electrical outlet. Dallas in July did not bode well for her unruly hair.

Chuckling, Shepp moved to his podium. “Okay, Val, here’s how the show works. We have three eager bachelors anxious to date you with the hopes of finding love.” He pointed to the flimsy partition wall where the bachelors sat concealed on the other side. “Their identities will remain confidential until the end of tonight’s show when you’ve chosen one of these gentlemen, based on the questions you’ll ask them, for the coveted first date. After tonight, you won’t be dating just one of these men, but all three and for the next four weeks. Multiple times.”

“Here’s the kicker, Val.” Shepp sent her a ridiculously grave look that would have been comical if she weren’t on the verge of a panic attack. After working as
Pick Me’s
Production Assistant for the past four years, she knew what was coming next. “You’ll have to be careful when choosing your bachelor, because one of these men isn’t who he claims to be.”

A collective gasp came from the audience. The crowd murmured and pointed toward the bachelors as if already trying to decide which man was the fraud.

“One of these men,” Shepp continued with theatrical
flair while thumbing toward the concealed bachelors, “has agreed to take on a false identity for the duration of the show. So, during your journey, Val, you’ll have to exercise extreme caution. Because if you fall in love with our imposter, you risk losing it all. The prize money. The ten day, all inclusive vacation to the Caribbean.
And
true love if your heart can’t handle the truth and you decide to not accept the bachelor should he end up as
Pick Me’s
imposter. Do you understand?”   

Her face heated as she nodded. Did she ever, considering she used to brainstorm with Derek to help him come up with outrageous fake jobs and backgrounds for the show’s imposters.

“Great. Then we’re all set. Do you have your questions ready for our bachelors?”

The question cards had been handed to her as she’d walked out of the green room where Goldie had performed her magic. They weren’t her own, but written by Derek and Jonas.

“You betcha, Shepp,” she said with fake gusto, thinking only of Danny and the others on the crew whose jobs were on the line.

Shepp slapped the podium. “Then let’s begin.”

For a moment, she wasn’t sure what to do, which was completely stupid, because she knew how the show rolled. As she was about to read from the question card, she stopped when she realized she should at least acknowledge the bachelors. “Hi guys,” she said, her voice squeaky and off pitch. Could she sound more like an idiot?

“Hi, Val,” came their reply, and she forced herself to maintain her camera face. Why did it sound like only two men when there were supposed to be three? Shrugging, she looked to the first question card and tried not to wince while wondering who the hell came up with this question—had to be Jonas.

“Bachelor Number Two,” she began. Hating the nervousness in her voice, she cleared her throat. “If you could be an animal, what would you be?” As the final word came out of her mouth, she looked to Jonas, who preened with satisfaction. Yep, it was his dumb question.

“Well,” Bachelor Number Two chuckled. “That’s easy. A panther. They’re sleek, powerful and intelligent.”

Don’t roll your eyes, the camera is on you.
She clutched the question cards. “Thank you, now Bachelor Number Three, same question.”

“Um, I was going to say the same thing,” he said, and the audience laughed.

“What about you Bachelor Number One, were you going to say the same thing, too?” she asked, now genuinely amused. The casting crew had really picked some winners this season, she thought with a bit of cynicism. If the show tanked, the blame should be put on them.

“Nope.”

She waited for a second, then realized he wasn’t going to say anything more. “All right, if not a panther, then what?”

“A horse.”

When he didn’t elaborate why, she shuffled to the next card. “Oh-
kee
then, next question. Bachelor Number Three, you’re stranded on an island, what three things do you wish you had with you?”

“Um,” he began again, “whey protein, my iPod, and I guess maybe a blender.”

“Bro, you’re stranded on an island, wouldn’t you need electricity for a blender?”

That comment had to have come from Bachelor Number Two, because she easily recognized his “surfer dude” voice.

The audience laughed and she didn’t like how that must have made Bachelor Number Three feel. Even if the guy seemed like kind of a himbo he didn’t deserve to be publicly humiliated. “True, but what about you Bachelor Number Two?”

“Easy, my toothbrush, surfboard, and drum set.” He did some sort of drum roll noise with his tongue, then shouted, “
Pa-pow.
”

Shifting his rear on the uncomfortable wooden stool, Colt Walker eyed Bachelor Number Two, Trent Something-or-other, as he finished doing his air drum solo. Dylan Macavey was going to pay total hell for putting him in this position. Then again, a bet was a bet.

“Thank you Bachelor Number Two for that performance. What about you, Bachelor Number One, what three things would you bring to an island?”

Shit, his turn again. While Colt thought the show was completely stupid, there was no way in hell he’d give an answer like the other two boneheads. “A hunting knife, rope and a box of matches.”

The bachelorette released a low, raspy chuckle. “Ah, a survivalist.”

Great. He’d hoped his last, curt answer about the animal thing would deter her from picking him, but now this one seemed to only intrigue her. He’d make sure the rest of his answers were so awful, she’d choose one of these other guys for the official first date that would officially kick off the show. He wanted to keep a low profile. After all, he had his career to consider. Who was he kidding? The guys he represented would think this was hilarious, and Macavey was his boss. But his family, and the small community where he lived...oh, man, he was going to catch so much shit.