Unscripted (23 page)

She is squirming. Grant is probably the only person here besides Will who could talk to Lisa like that. He’s the director, and the network loves his work. He’s not going anywhere.

“It’s late, we’re all tired. But let me make myself clear here. If I ever have this conversation again, we will have a problem.” Grant turns away, essentially dismissing Lisa. She stares at me and I smirk at her. A tiny smirk, but a smirk nonetheless.

Sides have been chosen and Grant has just made it clear: he’s on mine.

Another week has flown by, two more guys have been eliminated and we’re deep into the one-on-one dates. Two days ago, I produced Katie’s date with Lee the Shitter. To cut down on costs, Lisa had us film them down by the pool, sharing a candlelit dinner for two at sunset. Since Lee is one of the new guys, it felt very much like a first date. He was on his best behavior. I guess he figured Katie wasn’t the type of girl who would appreciate his wrestling story.

She laughed at all his jokes, they tasted each other’s food and in the end they kissed for a good ten minutes. All in all, the date went fairly well. Tonight is another elimination and it looks as though Lee will probably sail through this next cut. Ryan might have a little competition.

“Oh my fucking God!” Christine says as she walks into the cramped production room at the back of the house.

“What?” I ask, looking up from my laptop.

“Katie. She’s freaking out upstairs.”

“Freaking out how?”

“She’s supposed to be getting her makeup done for her pre-elimination interview but she wants to take a nap. Lisa’s up there with her right now trying to explain the schedule.”

“Katie’s been really bitchy lately,” says Amy, another producer sitting behind me.

“Raging.” Christine widens her eyes in disbelief. “What happened to her? She was really cool in the beginning.”

“Oh please, I see it every single time. Goes to all their heads. They start out nice, but the second the cameras are on them, they turn diva.” Amy shakes her head. “It was just a matter of time.”

“Katie’s not that bad,” I interject. “Maybe she just doesn’t like
Lisa
telling her what to do.”

“I don’t think so. I’ve been hearing little stories from her PA. She says she’s a bitch,” says Christine.

Lisa’s voice bellows over my walkie.
“Abby, what’s your twenty?”

I pick up my earpiece and grimace. I refuse to engage in the ridiculous walkie-talkie expressions that Lisa has enforced upon the crew. I realize it’s standard in production, but I always feel like I’m driving around in an 18-wheeler, hanging out with B.J. and the Bear.

“I’m in the production office.”

“Please come up to Katie’s bedroom.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t you mean, ‘copy that’?”

I look at Christine and roll my eyes. “Yep, that’s what I meant.”

Upstairs, I find Lisa standing outside Katie’s bedroom, the double doors closed behind her. She looks irritated.

“Katie is having a temper tantrum,” Lisa blurts out before I even get a chance to ask.

“Yeah, Christine said she wanted a nap.”

“It’s beyond ridiculous. She’s not even talking to me.” Lisa drums her French-manicured nails across her folded arms. “She is clearly one of those women who is threatened by other beautiful women. So I need you to go in there and talk some sense into her.”

Ouch. I blink my eyes several times at the blatant insult. Ever since the Grant incident, Lisa has been working double time to get in the stealthy digs. Damn, I wish I had a clever comeback, but I’m so tired it would most likely be of the “I know you are but what am I” variety.

“Okay,” I say without even looking at her.

Yeah, that will teach her.

“If it comes to it, remind her that she is under contract,” Lisa hisses as I open the bedroom doors.

Inside, Katie is lying on her stomach on the large four-poster bed. I spot Karin, her makeup artist, in the bathroom and decide to approach her first.

“Hey,” I whisper. “What’s going on?”

She starts to arrange her brushes along the sink counter. “I got half of her makeup on, and all of a sudden, she started complaining that she looks like shit because we don’t give her enough time to sleep.”

I turn to look at Katie on the bed. She’s now lying flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling. She looks pissed.

“She’s turning into a total prima donna.” Karin looks over her shoulder to make sure we aren’t overheard.

I look back at Katie and feel a sense of disappointment. I really like her. Everyone is probably on edge and overreacting. She can’t be that bad.

The bedroom doors open again, and this time, Katie’s twenty-one-year-old PA Leslie walks in holding a bagel on a plate. Katie props herself up in bed and places the plate in her lap. I decide to walk out of the bathroom and talk to her.

“Hey, Katie, how are you feeling?”

She sighs dramatically as she runs her fingers through her red hair. “I’m tired. I have bags under my eyes, and no one in this place ever lets me sleep. I can’t deal with all the lights. They give me migraines. The guys who aren’t on camera get to lounge around in the pool all day and I have to be on all the time. I don’t get any time to myself.”

I take a seat on the edge of the bed. “I know this must be draining for you,” I say without even a hint of sarcasm. “You’re the one carrying the show. You never get a break.” Katie isn’t listening. Instead, she’s pulling the bagel apart, looking aghast.

Leslie, whose job it is to make sure Katie’s happy, stands next to the bed wearing a look of fear on her young face.

“What’s this?” Katie asks, teeth clenched.

“What do you mean?” replies Leslie.

Katie looks back down at the inside of the bagel, then plops both halves back on the plate. “I wanted it toasted, with cream cheese and grape jelly.”

“I—I—I did toast it,” Leslie stutters, wringing her hands, “but we didn’t have any jelly.”

Katie’s brow furrows. “Then why didn’t you go out and get some?”

Leslie pauses for a second and looks at me helplessly. Her eyes are wide with fear.

“I don’t have a car up here. And there aren’t any supermarkets around…”

Katie’s face turns a bright shade of red. “That’s bullshit. I said I wanted some goddamn jelly!” And with that, she grabs half of the bagel and chucks it against a wall. “I feel like throwing you off the fucking balcony!” she screams.

Did she…I can’t believe…and with the…Holy shit!

With her head down, Leslie scurries out of the room, leaving me alone with Sybil on the bed. I don’t even know where to look, much less what to say.

I do, however, know that I want to grab the remains of that bagel and shove them in her bratty face. But I can’t. She’s the
talent
and it’s my job to do what it takes to get this horror back on camera. Jesus, I’m sick of catering to these crazy reality people. They are not God’s gifts, and the moment the cameras are turned off, they learn that lesson pretty damn quick.

“How difficult is it to make a fucking bagel?” Katie heaves.

Now, if this were a movie, or a scripted TV show, Katie would be untouchable. Everyone would be so far up her ass that they’d fire the PA for getting the order wrong. But this is a crappy reality show. And I have to say something. It just has to be something that won’t get me fired.

“Katie, what is going on?” I try for a concerned tone, rather than angry. Her eyes dart toward me, but her expression doesn’t soften. “I’ve never seen you act like this before. Leslie is probably out there crying—all over a bagel?”

Katie’s lower lip quivers. “I’m sorry. I’m just really tired. You don’t understand the pressure I’m under,” she whines.

“I know I don’t,” I say as I trace a red-and-yellow flower on the comforter. “But everyone is really stressed. We’re all working hard. And if we don’t stick together, it’s just going to get worse.”

Katie picks up a lock of her hair and pulls at a split end. “I know, you’re right. I’m really sorry. That wasn’t me. I don’t know what that was.”

“Well I guess everyone gets one freak out in her lifetime,” I lie. No, if I ever act like that, I give God permission to smite me on the spot.

Lisa taps twice as she slowly opens the door. “How’s it going in here?”

“I’m so embarrassed. I can’t apologize enough.” Katie holds out her hand to Lisa like a wilted princess. Lisa sits on the bed, edging me out of the way without acknowledging my presence. I can’t just sit here, squeezed against her size two jeans, so I stand, pretending to stretch my arm over my head.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lisa says sweetly as she gives Katie’s hand a little pat. “You’ve never been exposed to anything like this before, I can’t imagine the pressure you are dealing with.”

“Thank you. Will you forgive me if I promise to never behave like that again?”

“There’s nothing to forgive. Anytime it’s too much, let me know. It’s just TV, we’re not saving lives here.”

Before I can register my shock at that display of human-ness, the Lisa-Bot shocks me even more by giving Katie a hug. And it’s not a quick embrace, either. They’re lingering. Katie is resting her head on Lisa’s shoulder like they’ve been friends for years.

I look over my shoulder and see Will standing in the doorway; he’s completely eating it up. Katie lifts her head up and smiles woefully at him.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Yes, you guys have been so cool,” Katie says as she rubs Lisa’s arm. “That will never happen again, I’m so sorry.”

Lisa stands from the bed and grabs Katie’s hand. “Remember, I said no apologies. Water under the bridge.” Lisa signals for Karin, who has been hiding in the bathroom. “We have about twenty minutes, Karin will finish your makeup, and then we’ll need you. Okay?”

“Okay. Thanks again, Lisa.” Katie leaps out of bed and heads over to Karin.

Thanks again, Lisa? Come on.
Standing right here.

Will is smiling at Lisa like she just cured cancer. “Nicely done, Lisa,” he whispers.

“Thanks. That was a tricky one,” she says as she wipes imaginary sweat from her forehead.

Well, this is just ass.

As they walk out the door, Will says something to her that makes her smile.

Hi, Will. Bye, Will. Oh and you’re welcome too.

After they leave, Katie smiles weakly at me. “Will you apologize to Leslie for me? I can’t face her.”

“Sure,” I say as I walk toward the door.

“Abby?” Katie calls out after me. “Can I get another bagel?”

Dear, sweet Jesus, we’ve created a monster.

“Well hello, stranger!” chirps Zoë the next morning as I shuffle into the kitchen. I’m so tired that all I can do is mumble “hey” before plopping down at the kitchen table.

Last night went a little smoother after Katie’s meltdown. Her performance during the elimination was an incredible achievement in acting. She seemed genuinely heartbroken when she Ex’d Thick-Necked Joe and the last remaining stalker. You could never tell that she just wanted to get the whole thing over with.

I rub my eyes and look up again at Zoë. She’s cooking bacon and eggs. I haven’t seen her cooking in this kitchen for weeks. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen her
in
this kitchen for weeks. She wasn’t home last night when I got in, so she must have snuck in sometime this morning.

“What time is it?” I ask in the middle of a yawn.

“Ten o’clock,” she says flipping an egg over in the pan. “Today’s your day off, right?”

“Yes, thank God,” I sigh.

“I made extra for both of us. And there’s coffee if you want it.”

What’s up with the Donna Reed act? Something is definitely off. Maybe she had a little tiff with the Silver Fox. I assumed she’d wait until after Paris to dump him, but maybe she finally noticed that she’s been dating a man with a ponytail.

“So how’s the job?” Zoë asks, placing a plate of two over-easy eggs and three strips of blackened bacon in front of me.

“Exhausting. Thankfully we only have a couple of weeks left.”

Zoë takes a seat next to me. “So, do you have another job lined up?”

“I do,” I say as I break the yolk with my bacon. “Grant got me a producing gig on a new show. It’s supposed to start a few weeks after this one finishes.”

Zoë’s face brightens. “That’s great! See, you always land on your feet.”

“It’s only luck.” I take a bite of the bacon.

“That’s not true. You’ve done really well for yourself, even if you don’t realize it.”

“Thanks. So, what’s new with you?” I take a sip of my coffee, waiting for her to give me the bad news.

“Well, I have something to tell you. Douglas has asked me to move in with him,” Zoë announces excitedly.

Come again?
All I can do is stare at her. Wasn’t she just telling me a couple of months ago, in the same enthusiastic manner, that Jeff had proposed? There’s no way that she’s even considering this proposition.

“So, what did you tell him?” I ask.

“I said yes.”

I remain silent for a few moments. I’m not quite sure how to process all of this. I was hoping this was just a phase she was going through, but apparently, it’s not wearing off anytime soon.

“Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, you barely know the guy.”

She gets up from the table and pours herself another cup of coffee. “I’m positive. I’ve never been more positive about anything in my life.”

“You were positive about Jeff,” I say, hoping that my jab will make a small dent in her confidence.

“No, I really wasn’t. I was afraid that I’d wasted so much time on him that it was too late to meet someone else.”

“Well then, why rush things? Don’t you want to be sure?”

Zoë sits back down and smiles again. “I am sure. Neither of us wants to wait. And seriously, you will die when you see his place. It’s gorgeous. It’s in Malibu and overlooks the ocean. It’s only like a forty-five minute drive to his, oops, I mean
our
place.” She giggles. “You can come over all of the time. There are six bedrooms so you can have your pick.”

“When are you leaving?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

“As soon as possible. This week if I can pull it off. Douglas is going to hire people to pack so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

I’m speechless. I’ve never been hit in the stomach before, but now I can imagine what it must feel like.

“What about the apartment? You know I can’t afford the rent in this place by myself.”

“You can find a one-bedroom. No problem. You’re all paid up through this month. And I’ll write you a check to help you out with next month’s rent if you haven’t found a place by then.”