Page 10 of Unscripted

I looked around, trying to guess who among the twenty or so people standing about could be Cecilia, but my efforts to spot her, or to look at anyone, really, were in vain, as the stage lights directed at me were so bright it made seeing anything more than a few feet in front of me difficult.

“So, Poppy,” Harry said, although I could only place the general direction of his voice. It felt like I would be talking out into the ether. Like I could just go on and on and say anything and everything forever until the end of time.

Maybe that was a production hack: blind the contestants so they’ll be more inclined to spill their guts.

Focusing my attention on where I believed Harry to be, I squared back my shoulders and exhaled a breath.

“Tell us,” Harry continued, “what’s your dream date?”

***

My testimonial was not the most intellectually fulfilling experience I had ever had, but it had at least been easy to stick to my plan of “light and fluffy.”

I was asked if I preferred a six-pack or broad shoulders, blonds or brunettes, and where I drew the line when it came to height preference, along with a slew of seemingly never-ending questions about sex positions. I was furiously blushing by the end of the interview, which I hoped they could edit so I didn’t seem like such a prude.

When the testimonial finally ended and the bright lights shut off, when I could finally see out into the studio space, I was immediately struck by the unwavering stare of a woman directly across from me: Cecilia, I assumed by both her intense demeanor and the fact that she was the only person on set who was sitting in a director’s chair. She had been rather close to me the entire interview, and it was unnerving to realize it just then.

She was still staring at me as I stood up off the stool and walked over to where Harry was standing to her left.

“Poppy, I’d like to introduce you to our illustrious leader, Cecilia,” he said.

Cecilia remained seated as I extended my hand to shake hers. Maybe it was a power move. Maybe she had watched these interviews enough times not to be bothered with formalities.

“Poppy,” she said, cracking what I thought was some sort of smile but could also have just been the way her mouth moved. “Great to have you. Welcome to the Bella Amore family.”

There was nothing familial about her welcome, but I didn’t take it to heart. How many young men and women had she seen go into the villa? For all she knew, I was a social climber, using the show as a vehicle for more likes and follows and attention.

“It’s great to meet you. Thank you for having me. I’m really looking forward to it,” I said.

I felt the sudden urge to impress her, to let her know that while I was voluntarily being interviewed in a sliver of a bikini, I still had valid thoughts and opinions and life goals. I knew, though, without a doubt, that anything beyond basic pleasantries would come across as trying too hard. I had worked for women like Cecilia before. All they wanted to know was if you were going to show up and do your job properly. Even if that job was to date a group of single men and live in a villa on the Gulf of Naples.

The decision about what to say to her next was made for me when a PA walked up and told her she was needed in Studio A, effectively ending any conversation we were about to have.

“It was great to meet you, Poppy,” Cecilia said as she slipped out of her chair. “I look forward to seeing what you bring to the villa,” she finished, turning away and exiting the space before I could even reply.

“That was excellent! Just excellent!” Harry exclaimed as the crew around us also filtered out of the studio.

“Was it? You don’t think she judged me for my ‘pro-kissing-on-the-first-date’ stance?”

“No, you were great. She totally liked you,” he said.

“Really?” I had spoken to her for a grand total of thirty seconds; I wasn’t sure how that warranted her actually liking me.

But Harry nodded solemnly. “Last year, there was a contestant she didn’t like. I don’t know why, but I always guessed it had to do with the Bella thinking London and England were two different countries,” he explained.

“Someone actually thought that?”

“Don’t even get me started on her. She was not only an idiot, but she wasn’t very nice either, and I’m of the belief that in life you can be mean or dumb but not both.”

“Amen,” I agreed as I followed Harry off set and through the studio’s halls, making our way to my dressing room.

“Anyway, Cecilia never liked her, even from the beginning, so she never said anything to her. Like, physically did not speak to her the entire time she was on the show. Which is not super crazy. I mean Cecilia is in Italy with us the whole time but she’s not as hands on as other producers. Still, the two never exchanged words. Cecilia’s assistant told me that’s how you know what kind of mood Cecilia’s in: how chatty she is.”

“Got it. The more words, the better the impression I’m making.”

“Exactly. And you are making a good impression, by the way. I think you’re going to go far in the villa,” he said.

“I bet you say that to all your contestants,” I teased.