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Chapter One
Kenna
The theme song to the game show Music City Match is tacky to say the least, but it reminds me of watching it with my grandma when I was little. She used to sing “Music City Match,” and I would chime in with, “Find your match today.” But that was a long time ago, and the producers could have used any songwriter in Nashville to upgrade the little jingle. I guess it’s endearing that it has never changed. The technology has improved since the sixties, but the set is still very retro.
It’s one of the reasons I love working for the show. The other is my very talented boss, Mr. Weber, with whom I do my very best to remember I will only ever have a professional relationship. To him, I am just a lowly assistant—and his college roommate’s pesky little sister.
But a girl can dream…
After the Music City Match host, Stu Stansic, does his spiel introducing the bachelorette to the blind date she chose, she bounces over to the bashful guy, whoo-hooing all the way. The poor dude, bachelor number two, backs away, and by his deer-in-the-headlights expression, I’m guessing he’s already regretting auditioning to be on the game show.
From next to me offstage, Stu’s assistant, Frankie, whispers, “You called it, Kenna. This isn’t going to end well.”
I give him a one-shoulder shrug. No one listens to my suggestions since I am the last on the pecking order around here, but I hope that will change one day. It’s almost impossible to break into this business, especially for this show. Other than Phoebe and the hostess, I’m the only other female. Everyone here had to know someone in order to get their proverbial foot in the door. For Frankie, it didn’t hurt that he is the producer’s grandson. A little name-dropping may have helped me land this gig, but my willingness to do almost any task thrown my way will help me climb the ladder.
The hostess swings her hips as she pushes a cart, which holds a shiny gold guitar case, into the filming area. While she opens the case to show the viewing audience that it is filled with folded pieces of paper, the bachelorette does a high kick.
Frankie squeaks like a mouse. “Did she just–”
“Yes, she did.”
Stu does his best to wrangle her in and says, “To remind our viewing audience, the couple will now pick a card from the guitar case. On each card is a potential destination for their date. Audience? What do you hope they pick?”
“Bad Axe Throwing,” one member of the audience yells while others boo the idea.
I cringe. Fingers crossed they pick the Jackson Showboat. I always want the couples to pick that one. Floating down the Cumberland River at sunset and forgetting the rest of the world exists seems so romantic.
Stu calms down the audience and asks the couple, “Which one of you will pick a card?”
The girl pushes her date out of the way. “Me!” She rifles into the box and pulls out a folded index card.
Frankie crosses his fingers. “Please, not the Pedal Tavern tour.”
“Hush. Don’t speak it into existence.”
“Do you ever wonder what it would be like as a contestant?”
I do a full-body shiver. “Never. I might pass out if I was out there in front of the camera. I’m definitely a behind-the-scenes kind of girl.”
We watch as the female contestant hands the card to Stu, and he reads, “Our couple has won…. a Pedal Tavern tour.”
“Whoo-hoo!” The female contestant screams so loud, Stu takes a step backward while the audience lets out lackluster applause. The poor schmuck’s shoulders slump. As if going on a date with what appears to be a party girl weren’t enough, he gets to cruise around downtown pretending to ride a bike strapped to a flatbed truck while getting sloppy drunk.
Stu reads from the teleprompter, “Experience one of the best things to do in Nashville!”
A snort comes from Frankie. “Did he just say ‘one of the best?’”
I hold a finger to my lips to shush him as the announcer describes the destination. “Nashville Pedal Tavern is a unique and affordable way to experience our beautiful city, from Broadway to Music Row.”
The stage manager signals for Stu to wrap up this section of the show. The hostess takes the guy by the hand and leads him offstage.
“Let’s give our couple a hand, and don’t forget, your date will be filmed and shown on a later episode.”
The female blows the camera kisses to the sound of a spiritless audience. The couple is hustled off the stage to Phoebe, the contestant coordinator, who escorts them out of the filming area. She may be eight months pregnant, but she racewalks like she’s in the Olympics, all the while shaking her finger at them.
“We’ll take a commercial break,” Stu says, “and when we come back, we will see how last week’s couple’s date went. Don’t go away.”
“And we’re out,” the director says. “Back on the air in three minutes.”
