Page 4 of Unscripted

Arriving at my intended destination, I checked in with security in the lobby and took the elevator up to the eighth floor, trying to take deep breaths to cool my internal body temperature. When the elevator doors dinged opened, I was still overheated but knew I was at least in the right place.

A large, neon sign with the company’s name, Sunset Productions, hung above the receptionist’s desk. Posters of their various shows lined the walls, most of which featured women in bikinis and men in what I’m guessing passed as swim trunks in the UK but looked more like boxer briefs to me.

I had been hoping that the person I was interviewing with would be running late so I could have a bit of a breather in the waiting area but as soon as I checked in, I was swiftly shown to a conference room.

Moments later, a woman walked through the door. She was in her early thirties and dressed casually in gauzy, black linen pants, a white t-shirt, and Adidas Gazelles. Next to her, in my slacks and sweater, I looked like somebody’s middle-aged aunt.

“Hi,” she said, reaching out to shake my hand. “I’m Harriet. You alright?”

Her handshake was firm, her accent incredibly posh. I had the urge to ask where she got her pants but refrained from doing so.

“It’s great to meet you. I’m Poppy,” I replied.

I was trying to play it cool, to act like this was just another meeting and not a very important and pivotal moment in my life. I needed this job. I needed to stay in the UK.

I also needed not to look like a desperate loser, so I tried to squash all that down and focus on the moment at hand.

Harriet motioned for me to sit, so I did, and then it was just the two of us staring at each other.

“Poppy, I’ll get right to it as we are on a bit of a time crunch,” she said. “The show goes into production next week, so we’re making final decisions now. It’s all rather mental as we had someone drop out and are looking to fill their role immediately.”

Production chaos was something I was all too familiar with, and I felt the tension in my gut ease at having something to latch onto and talk about with confidence.

I let out a breath and launched right into it. “I know how crazy a shoot can be, especially with a last-minute change, but I’m certain that with my experience I’d be a great addition to the crew. While I haven’t previously worked in the unscripted space, I’ve—”

“I’m sorry, I have to stop you there,” Harriet interjected.

I stilled. Was something wrong? Could it be because I had never worked in reality television before?

Harriet, apparently serious about that time crunch, pressed on.

“You said you’d be a great addition to the crew.”

“Yes, do you call it something different on your shows? On the shoot I was just on—”

“No, that’s not it at all,” she continued, looking at me like I had sprouted two heads in the last minute.

“Oh?” I asked, because what else was there for me to say when I'd made an unknown mistake.

“I’m not hiring for a production role,” she said.

Not hiring? What was I doing here if she wasn’t—

“I’m a casting director, Poppy. We don’t want you to work on the show, we want you to be on the show.”

Oh.

3

Iwas going to kill Hunter.

I could murder him in his sleep. Or maybe add cyanide to his morning coffee. The options were endless, really, when living in someone’s home.

Blinking back into my current situation, I tried to get a grip. Harriet couldn’t be serious. She couldn’t be saying what I thought she was.

Suddenly, it was clear: this was a prank. Something set up by Blair to make me laugh. Or make me feel better. It wasn’t a very good prank, to be honest. I would have rather stayed in bed watching teenage vampires for a few more hours than gotten on the Tube today but here we were.

“Did Blair set you up to this?” I asked Harriet.