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“I don’t care. I’m not doing the show without you, Laila. That was a basic condition of me doing the show. Doing it with you.”
“No, it wasn’t. You agreed to do it, long before you knew I’d be anything but Aloha’s one-episode mentor. Plus, the whole reason you signed onto the show was for Mimi. And that reason still stands today, more than ever.”
I feel flooded with panic. But I manage to say, “Okay, let’s not panic here. I’m not supposed to tell you this, but I know something you don’t. Something that proves, beyond a shadow of a doubt, they won’t fire you, whether we deliver ‘Vintage Savage and Laila’ tomorrow or not.”
She looks at me hopefully, her blue eyes wide and brimming with hope.
I glance toward the front of the vehicle, to make sure our driver and bodyguard can’t overhear me, despite the loud music. And when it’s clear they’re enmeshed in their own conversation, I return to Laila and grab her hand. “There’s a dangling carrot in my contract, baby. They’ll pay me a fat bonus—a quarter mill—if I get down on bended knee and propose to you, right after we perform our duet in the finale.”
Laila gasps. “No.”
I nod. “They didn’t want me telling you about it, to ensure you had an ‘authentic reaction’ on-camera. And, honestly, I’ve never told you about it, anyway, because there’s no way I’m going to do it. But the mere fact the bonus is hanging out there proves you’ve got nothing to worry about. Why would they offer me a bonus to propose to you in the finale, if they’re not planning to keep you around until the finale?”
Laila’s shoulders slump. The hope in her eyes a moment ago fades. Clearly, she doesn’t find my logic as compelling as I do. “I don’t think we can rely on that clause to protect me, honey. I think they’re preserving themselves all sorts of potential storylines, depending on what happens, from week to week. You know, hedging their bets. If I’m still around for the finale, then maybe you’d choose to earn that bonus. But if they don’t keep me around, then that’s fine, because they’ve got a Plan B that will work, too. That’s what Rhoda told me they do on The Engagement Experiment, all the time. She worked on that show with Nadine for five seasons, remember? When she came to the house and spilled all the tea, her stories made it clear the producers of that show always hedge their bets. They manipulate the contestants in lots of different ways, and then run with whatever storyline begins taking shape. Savage, you wouldn’t believe the stuff they do to people to manipulate their emotions and actions on that show. I think Nadine has taken a page out of her old playbook.”
I process that for a moment. “Okay, then. If you’re genuinely worried about this, then I’ll do my best to be more of a dick to you tomorrow, so you can fight fire with fire, and we can deliver ‘Vintage Savage and Laila,’ like Nadine wants.”
Laila sighs with relief. “Thank you. I don’t know if I’m capable of scowling at you anymore, let alone being a bitch to you. I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to pick a fight with me tomorrow to get the ball rolling.”
“Hell no! You’ll have to be a bitch to me first, or I’ll come off like a misogynistic asshole. Like I’m punching down. I’ll play along and give almost as good as I get, but you’re going to have to be the one to get the ball rolling.” Laila snuggles into me and I put my arm around her. “It’ll be fine, baby,” I coo softly. “You’ll be a bitch to me and I’ll fight fire with fire, and we’ll be everything Nadine wants and more.”
She sighs like there’s a hundred-pound weight resting on her chest, and my heart pangs in reply.
“I don’t know if I’m capable of being a bitch to you anymore, Adrian. You fucking bastard. You’ve tamed the shrew.”
I can’t help chuckling. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It is. I can’t even imagine how mortified I’d be if I got fired from the show. The list of fired judges, forevermore, would be me and Hugh Delaney.” She makes a guttural, disgusted sound. “Let’s face it. The word ‘disaster’ really does say it best.”
We sit without speaking for a long moment, listening to the loud music in the car. The song, by chance, is “Fireflies,” by our friends 22 Goats. Finally, Laila sits up and breaks the silence. “What if you told them you’re planning to propose to me in the finale? Maybe that would make them want to keep me around!”
My heart explodes. “I . . . I don’t think I could do that convincingly, Laila.”
