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“The woes of the wealthy!” Sam laughed.
“I had to share a bedroom with my brother. My three sisters hoarded the one bathroom we had to share.”
“My life was similar as well.”
“I’m sure you’ll be showing me soon, but where in this huge place will I be sleeping? I do get to sleep… right?”
Sam laughed deeply.
“Yes, you get to sleep… if you choose, but it will not be in the mansion. Follow me.”
Matt followed Sam down the stairs and then through a hallway until they reached a door that led to what would have been a four-car garage. Inside the garage were hundreds of plastic bins filled with items needed to cook, clean, bedding, towels, decor, non-perishable foods, and many other items. Matt barely took it in as he followed Sam through another door that led to another air-conditioned four-car garage and housed all sorts of electrical and filming paraphernalia such as desks and chairs with monitors, cameras, and microphones.
“This is an expensive production!” Matt mused.
“You have no idea, my friend. The bank/investors are putting their faith in all of us… including you, my good-looking friend.”
“What do you mean, me?”
“The minute we posted your picture on the internet, the hits have been off the charts,” Sam laughed. “I mean, the other guy got good ratings as well, but not as good as you!”
“So I got picked solely because of how I look?” Matt asked, perturbed.
Sam stopped in his tracks. “If you were in our shoes, what would you do? Your face and physique will give this production a fighting chance to outshine thatotherdating reality show that seems toneverlose its ratings.”
Matt shook his head.
“Why are you shaking your head? You’re going to go home with $100,000, fame, lots of wanted female attention, and possibly find love. What every other man behind the scenes would love to have!” Sam sighed.
Matt pointed to Sam’s wedding ring.
“Divorced!” Sam muttered. “All men are required to wear rings even if they aren’t married so the women don’t feel inclined to flirt with the camera crew.”
Matt shuddered quietly as he realized he probably made a mistake. His father was probably adding more tallies on his disapproving chart. One big fat one under exploiting women. This time it wouldn’t be women who had gotten too drunk at the bar and went home with him. It would be women who aired their hearts and feelings on national TV and Matt would be delivering very public blows to their hearts.
Hell… he figured he should start making a chart for himself. He made another mental vow to make sure every woman he met on the first day would feel special and appreciated. That was the least he could do.
As Matt followed Sam out another door that led to the outside, he saw a motorhome.
“This is your residence.” Sam motioned for Matt to go inside. “No women from the show are allowed inside. It’s your private space.” Sam closed the door after he entered and motioned to what should have been the kitchen area. “Michele is your make-up artist and she’ll get you ready every morning, afternoon, and evening. I’ll introduce you to her tomorrow morning after she arrives on set. As for now, you can head back to your room and relax.”
Matt walked toward the rear of the motorhome and laid down on the queen size bed. It felt wonderful to lie down and close his eyes.
“Please hand me your phone,” Sam requested.
Matt reached into his front pocket and pulled out his phone. He turned it off and handed it to Sam.
“Here is your phone while on set. The passcode is 1111. You’ll find my name, Tom’s, Michele’s, Brian’s, and Evan’s names in the contacts. If you need anything, please text any one of us. Just so you know, you won’t be able to call anyone else, so I hope you made all your calls before you walked on set.”
“No need to worry. I’ve already called those I wanted to,” Matt uttered, suddenly feeling like he was locked up. He did want to make one call… and that was to Bobby. He had the sudden urge to kill him. Well, not kill… but seriously maim.
He had better get in a siesta before he became the ‘actor’ everyone needed him to be for their own personal paychecks!
Chapter 5
True to Amanda’s word, there was a man in a suit at the luggage claim, holding up a sign that said “Miss Call - The Host” in one hand, and the other hand held onto a luggage cart.
“Hi,” Evie greeted with a smile. She pushed her one suitcase beside her with a carry-on bag sitting on top of it, having slung her backpack on her back. After Amanda had finished stuffing her two suitcases with almost every article of clothing Evie owned, Evie went through the two suitcases and downsized her luggage to one, plus a carry on. She was not going on this show to show off her wardrobe. “I guess you’re the one who’ll drive me to where I’m going.”
