I was extremely ready to stop being the centre of attention, so I opened my mouth to say something that would make them cross me off the potential contestant list forever, like,ideally, a rich old man on the verge of death who’ll die and leave me his fortune.
‘I want someone to kiss me under a waterfall the way Brett kissed Mary-Ellen,’ I blurted out. ‘Like he might die if he let me go.’
Carrie raised her eyebrows.
‘I know he didn’t pick her in the end,’ I said, ‘but just once, I’d like someone to look at me the way he looked at her.’
My desire to get pashed under a waterfall aside, there was no way I would have ended up on reality TV if it wasn’t for step four. I don’t like attention, I don’t like crowds, I don’t like talking about myself, and even though I hadn’t got laid in a while, I wasn’t especially desperate to find love.
But there was a step four.
The pandemic.
‘I’m sorry, Cecilia, but I’m going to have to let you go,’ my boss told me on the phone. ‘We kept you on as long as we could, but the new restrictions mean we can’t open the shop for at least a couple of months. Without that cash flow, we can’t afford to pay you.’
‘Please,’ I said, a horribly prickly feeling descending overmy skin, like someone had thrown a net made of ice and bees over me. ‘This is my only income. I need this job. Is there anything else I can do? I could pack orders for people and send them out. You know people are going to want to comfort eat! I could go and work with the chocolatiers and run errands for them! I could—’
‘I’m sorry, but we can’t afford it.’
‘How am I supposed to pay my rent?’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘Maybe when this is all over, we can hire you back. Goodbye.’
After she hung up, I sat in my room staring at my phone for a long time, like that would suddenly make it ring again.
Sorry for the confusion, Cecilia, my boss would say.Of course we’re not firing you! We would never fire someone who’s worked for us loyally for five years and never complained about anything, especially not right in the middle of a pandemic when we know she’s got rent to pay! In fact, we’re promoting you. You’re going to be the new queen of the franchise.
My throat tightened. Dots started swimming in front of my eyes, like a screensaver had suddenly started up on my phone screen and then slowly spread to the world outside it. There was a rushing in my ears, a roaring, and the air felt hot, thin.
‘You’re eighteen now. We don’t get funding for you any more. You’re on your own.’
‘But I don’t have any money.’
‘Not my problem, kid.’
Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God—
My phone rang.
I snatched at it, not even bothering to look at who the caller was. ‘Hello?’
‘Hello,’ the man on the other end of the phone said. ‘Is this Cecilia James?’
‘Y-yes,’ I said, swallowing a couple of times.
‘Are you all right? You sound like you’re about to cry.’
‘I’m fine,’ I said tightly, scrubbing my hand over my eyes. ‘Sorry, who is this?’
‘My name is Murray O’Connell, and I’m a producer onMarry Me, Juliet. I’m just calling to tell you that we were really impressed with your audition.’
I blinked. It had been a few months since the audition by that point, and I’d relegated it to the ‘humorous stories to tell at parties (in several thousand years’ time when we’re allowed to go to parties again)’ section of my brain.
‘We’re just finishing up our casting for this season,’ Murray said. ‘If you’re willing, we’d love to have you as one of our Juliets.’
‘I—uh—just a minute.’
I took the phone away from my ear and googled ‘how much do marry me juliet contestants get paid’.
