Unscripted (24 page)

“Moving out isn’t really an option right now,” I coldly inform her. “I’m working six days a week, if you haven’t noticed. Plus, moving would completely eat my savings.”

She knows my situation. I flash back to a conversation we had when I first started this job. I was excited that I could finally put a chunk of money away each week, but Zoë convinced me that I was better off paying down my credit cards since the interest rates were so high.

“I’d have to have a deposit, plus first and last month’s rent. Not to mention moving costs, and everything else. I don’t really have that much saved.”

“Well then, you can find someone to move in here.”

Now she’s beginning to infuriate me. I don’t know anyone who’s looking for a roommate, and I’m not about to live with a stranger. Zoë never would, and I can’t believe she expects me to.

Her smile has given way to a stubborn, bitchy frown. I probably have the same expression on my face.

“If I married Jeff, it was going to be the same situation, you know.”

“Yes, but I had more than a few weeks’ time to plan and save for it.”

Zoë clears her throat. “I’m sorry, Abby. I can’t live my life around you. You’re just going to have to figure it out. I’ll help you as much as I can. I thought you would be happy for me.”

I look at the plate of congealed eggs and bacon and my stomach turns. “Thanks for breakfast,” I say as I push myself out of the chair and head back to my room. I slam the door shut behind me, a childish gesture that I won’t deny myself. In return, I hear the clang of pans and utensils being tossed in the sink. I guess Zoë’s not denying herself, either.

It took Zoë and her packer just four days to move out. The only evidence I actually saw of their presence was an ever-increasing wall of cardboard boxes. I suppose I was spared much of the unpleasantness of the move; the terrible screech of tape tearing across box lids, that awful sound of cardboard being folded and shaped…and most importantly, an awkward and tense goodbye.

Except for her bedroom, which is now completely empty (apart from the dust bunnies she didn’t bother to sweep up), she left a lot of stuff, like her living room furniture and most of her dishes. She also left me a note with a check that will see me through another six weeks in the apartment:

Translation: Call me when you’re ready to apologize.
Not going to happen this time, Zoë.

I’d like to tell her to shove her money and her furniture, but I’m not exactly in a position to turn down her
charity
at this time. I look over at her oversized couch and chair. Once I leave here, they’re going back to her. I can’t keep them.

I pour coffee beans into our grind-and-brew coffeemaker. We bought it during one of those trips to Target, when you go for toilet paper and walk out with stationery, cleaning products, mascara, organizing bins and a $100 coffeemaker. I’m not giving this baby up. I’m sure Douglas has a fucking barista at his place.

The phone rings. It’s Stephanie.

“Hey,” I say as I fill the coffee pot with water.

“How’s it going?” she asks.

“Well, she’s officially gone. Left me a bunch of her furniture and a big check,” I say stoically.

“That sucks. Did you even say goodbye?”

“Nope. She left while I was at work.” I hit the brew button, shuffle into the living room and plop down on Zoë’s couch.

“Are you okay?”

“I guess so. It all happened so fast. Right now, I’m totally freaked out about finding a decent place that I can afford. I don’t want bars on my windows, you know?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you find a place. How are you doing with all the Zoë stuff?”

“I can’t think about it, it’s too sad. She’s supposed to be one of my closest friends.” I shake my head. “I think I’m dead inside.”

“You’re not dead inside.” Stephanie laughs. “Well, maybe a little. But as far as Zoë’s concerned, I’ll just say, it’s not surprising.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s pretty fucking selfish. I think she’s always been that way. I mean, I know you love her, and I like her too, but that girl only thinks about herself. Her parents must have spoiled the shit out of her when she was young. You’ve always been a better friend to her than she’s been to you.”

“Hmm, I don’t know, maybe,” I mumble. Part of me wants to agree with Stephanie and list off all of the shitty, self-centered stunts Zoë has pulled in the past. But the other part still wants to defend her. A tiny part that’s shrinking rapidly.

“Do you think this is it for you two?”

It? I haven’t even thought that far. But once Zoë is done with someone, she cuts them out of her life completely. She calls it spring cleaning. I’ve actually witnessed her deleting people from her cell phone. I thought it was funny at the time, but now that I’m on the other end of that—not so funny.

“I don’t know…” I catch myself staring off into space. I’m suddenly exhausted and want to return to bed immediately.

“You know, sometimes friends just grow apart. It’s sad, but it happens all the time.”

“Yeah, I know.” Stephanie’s right. I’ve felt really distant from Zoë lately. Even before all of this happened. It’s been a gradual decline, but there’s no denying we’ve been walking on eggshells with each other for months.

“So when are you going to start looking for a place?” asks Stephanie.

“This weekend probably. It’s my last day tomorrow, I’ll have a week off and then it’s time for my next crap-ality show.”

“You guys are done already? That went fast. Are any of her exes left?”

“Just one, that really good-looking guy, Ryan. And then there’s Lee the Shitter and Seth.”

“Who’s Seth?”

“Boring. New guy. Doesn’t stand a chance.”

What was that thing that I signed again? Right. A nondisclosure agreement. Fack.

“Jesus, I should not be telling you any of this. Tell no one.”

“Who am I gonna tell? Okay, when you’re ready to start looking, let me know. I don’t open up the gym for another three weeks so I can go with you to look at a few places.”

I forgot all about Stephanie’s gym. Talk about self-centered friends. All I’ve done is rattle on about myself. “Is everything ready?”

“Almost,” Stephanie says excitedly. “Got all of the equipment, the place is painted and decorated, I just have to tweak my advertising, and then in a couple of weeks I’ll have my grand opening.”

“That’s so cool, Steph.”

“I know. Maybe I’ll actually be able to retire one day.”

I laugh. “At this point, my retirement plan is to die beforehand.”

“Shut up, you’ll figure it out. As Nancy would say, you’ll find your path.” Stephanie uses her best dramatic Nancy voice. “Or your path…will find you.”

Laughing, I say goodbye and hang up.

Or your path will find you.
I’m sure Nancy would have meant those words to be reassuring. Why do they feel like a threat?

The next morning, I’m sitting in the production van heading to the house for the last time. As everyone talks about how excited they are for our last day, and what they’re going to do with their time off, I realize I’m surprisingly melancholy. Sure, it’s been the most grueling show I’ve worked on in a long time, but I’m going to miss seeing some of these people on a daily basis. It’s like saying goodbye on the last day of sleepaway camp. It’s sad, but at the same time, you’re ready to get back to your real life. Unfortunately, in this case, I’m not exactly sure what my real life is.

The first person I see when I get off the van is Lisa. Well, that just killed my whole melancholy reverie.

“Morning,” I say with a quick nod.
Just keep walking.

“Abby.” Lisa blocks my path. “I need you in the library in fifteen minutes.”

Oh man, but it’s my last day!

“Do you want me to find Christine?” I ask. There’s safety in numbers.

“No.” Lisa draws out the word as if she’s speaking to a child. “Just you.”

Bah.
What is this about?

I decide to grab a coffee before my mysterious meeting. As I walk through the foyer I notice one of our PAs scrubbing furiously at a thick black streak of some kind of grime on the wall. That’s not good. Upon closer inspection, I notice a ton of scuffmarks and dents on the floor and walls. Yikes. As I head toward craft service, I take inventory of the damages we’ve caused. There’s a huge chunk missing from the granite countertop in the kitchen, and in one of the bathrooms, a toilet seat has been ripped off and laid haphazardly against the shower. I don’t even want to know how that happened. I’m sure the network will have to shell out some serious bucks to restore the house to its original pristine condition so that the next reality show can come in and destroy it all over again.

As I make my way into the library, I find Lisa, Will, Grant and Dan, one of the other producers, hovering around the smooth, oak desk.

“Hey,” I say as they all look up at me in unison.

“Close the door,” Lisa scolds.

Ooookayyy.

Grant smiles at me as I walk toward the group. Thank God, a friendly face.

“Hey, Abby,” Will says, looking serious.

“Hi, Will.” I feel a little silly just saying hi to just him, so I give an uncomfortable “hey” to all members of the group. Including Lisa.

“What I’m about to tell you all stays in this room,” Will says as he leans on the desk.

“We’ve been given a network directive.” Will picks up a square black box from the table and opens it. Inside is a huge round diamond, embedded in a simple platinum setting. “Whoever Katie picks is going to have to give her this ring. The network wants the winner to propose. Obviously, if this ever gets out, the credibility of the show would be ruined. So your discretion is paramount. I need you two to tell the final three guys,” Will says as he looks at me and Dan, “and Lisa and I will handle Katie.”

Oh come on. Are we that desperate for viewers? I shake my head slightly.

“Yes, Abby? Is there a problem?” Lisa asks impatiently.

Busted. Thanks, Eagle Eye.

“No, I was just wondering, what if the guys are uncomfortable with this?”
Nice cover.

“Just assure them that Katie is in on it and that she understands that it’s for the show,” Will says softly.

Lisa sighs loudly. “She’s getting a ten thousand dollar ring out of it, she’s going to be thrilled. We’re all adults here, everyone knows the score,” Lisa snaps.

Will looks over at her. He actually looks…irritated. “It’s a valid question. We are asking them to essentially get engaged on national television after knowing each other for six weeks. They’re going to have to lie to their friends and family. It’s a big deal.”

Yes!
I want to hug Will.

Do not look triumphant, you will ruin it. Look innocent. Do not look triumphant. So very hard.

Lisa’s face pales and she takes a step back. “No, no I get it,” she stammers. “I just want to make sure we don’t make a big deal of this with the guys. I don’t want to give them a reason to freak out.” Lisa looks skeptically at me.

“Exactly, and that’s why I chose Abby and Dan to be the ones to break the news,” Will says as he stands up. “Well, I’ll let you two get to it, so thanks.”

“Of course.” I smile. It’s all I can do to not flip my hair. Grant puts his hand on my shoulder as he steps around me to talk details of the shoot with Lisa and Will.

Dan turns to me. “Will you take Ryan? He responds better to the female producers.”

I laugh, say, “Sure,” and head off to talk to the golden boy.

A few minutes later I corner Ryan as he’s lounging by the pool and tell him about the show’s new twist.

“That’s a little over the top, don’t you think?” asks Ryan as he takes a sip of his iced tea.

“A little, but we know the network has been pushing to amp up the drama,” I reply. Yeah, it’s totally over the top.

“Katie’s great, but I don’t want her to get the wrong idea. After the show, we may date for a while, but I have no intention of getting serious with her.”

I love how Ryan doesn’t even allow for the possibility that he might not win.

“Believe me, Katie understands that whoever gives her the ring was told to do so by the network.”

“So what, I’m going to have to tell my family we’re engaged?”

Oh boy.

“Well,
if
you win, you’ll have to lie to the press and your family. No one can know the show forced you to do it. And if you don’t win, then you still can’t say anything to anyone about this.”

Ryan makes a smug, snorting noise and shoots me one of his cocky grins. He’s right, who am I kidding, the guy is going to win.

“And what do we say when we break up? I don’t want to look like an idiot.”

“Well, you could say you got carried away. People do crazy things on TV.”

“I suppose it will get me more attention,” he says, conspiratorially. “The romantic proposal…then I’ll get more press when I talk about our upsetting breakup. Fine, fine. I’ll play your Romeo.” Ryan flashes his perfect, white teeth at me.

Yeeks.
Dreamy Ryan reveals his dark side. They’ll make a perfect pair.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur. Surprisingly, Will nominated me to be the ring bearer. It’s my job to wait in the antechamber of the living room and hand off the ring to each guy as he goes in for the final ceremony with Katie. There’s only a handful of crew allowed in the room, and it’s pretty cool that Will trusted me enough to be around for this part.

Since Katie revealed her choice to Will and Lisa a couple of hours ago, it will be pretty obvious who the winner is (or is not) by the order that they go in.

The door opens. Boring Seth enters.

“Hey, Seth,” I say as I hand him the ring box. “Good luck.”
Dead man walking.

Seth walks into the living room looking hopeful. I peek in as I close the door. The art department did an amazing job. The room is filled with sparkling candelabras and at least eight-dozen red roses scattered around in crystal vases. It looks like something out of
Phantom of the Opera.

Twenty minutes later, Seth creeps back into the antechamber. He loosens his tie and hands me the ring, barely making eye contact.

“Sorry, Seth. Dan is waiting outside for your final interview,” I say as I lead him out.

Another twenty minutes go by and I’m sacked out on the floor, bored. I wish Christine were in here. It’s great to be trusted and all, but you know the people who aren’t needed in the living room are outside having fun and the people inside are at least seeing the action. I’m just staring at a door begging it to open.

A few minutes later Lee the Shitter walks in.

“Hey, Lee,” I say guiltily as I stand up.

“Howdy. All right, let me see it.” Lee holds out his hand and I give him the ring box. “Why even bother? You and I both know Ryan is getting this.”

“Not at all,” I say with a tight smile. “You never know.”
Oh man, look away, look away. Don’t let him see your eyes.

“Right.” Lee tosses the ring box in the air and catches it. “Here goes nothing.” Lee puts the box in his pocket and walks inside the ballroom.

Hope he’s a good actor.