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“Have a seat, Stella,” she encourages.
I do as I’m asked, remembering Bennet’s promise to get in and out. I’ll make this the fastest interview on record, so we can get back to the cabin and spend the day together, at least.
“Do you want some coffee or something?” one of the producers asks.
“No, thank you.”
“How are things going at the house?” another producer asks politely. She’s a gray-haired woman in her late sixties who has been in the reality TV game for at least two decades. I only remember this because I’d Googled her the minute I’d left my first production meeting with her.
“Fine,” I reply shortly, still unsure if I’m in trouble.
“Your challenges and outings have come out well. They’re in editing now,” Anya tells me.
A shiver of excitement slides through me.Well, that’s good news…
“That’s great,” I say, genuinely pleased to hear it. We really are in the home stretch of filming. All the stress and aggravation is going to be worth it in the end. Hopefully.
“And you’re getting along with the guys when the cameras are off?”
My neck tightens, eyes narrowing. Why does that feel like a loaded question?
I sneak a glance at Jessie, who is looking anywhere but at me.
“The guys are great.”
“Oh, yeah?” All three of the producers lean in with the director, too much interest sparking their eyes.
“Which one are you going to pick for the finale?” the salty-haired producer asks.
I grimace and sit back as if they’re on top of me. “Don’t you guys have that scripted already?” I demand, folding my arms under my breasts.
“Nope,” Anya says. “The choice is all yours.”
I grit my teeth, not particularly keen on this idea. It doesn’t matter who I pick onscreen. They all know how I feel about them offscreen. I just have to warn them ahead of time.
“I haven’t given it any thought, really,” I reply. “Like I said, I thought you were picking for me.”
“Well, you better choose one of them because the finale is filming in two days, and when you pick, you’ll have to make something of a… production of your choice.”
I inhale deeply, trying to steel my annoyance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Jessie starts to speak, but Anya cuts her off, eager to be the one to break this news to me. “It means that when you pick either Gabriel or Bennet, you’ll have to be painstakingly clear as to the reasons you didn’t pick the other two.”
I’m still confused, but the hairs on my neck rise in alarm. “What? What do you mean?”
Anya rolls her icy eyes as if I’m purposely being difficult.
“You’ll have to list out their shortcomings—in detail. Talk about their sloppy kissing or poor cologne choice. Bring up their daddy issues. Both Gabriel and Forrest have them—but you already know all about that, don’t you?”
Blood drains from my face as my head begins to wag vehemently. “What? No!” I gasp. “I’m not doing that!”
The director grunts and sits back, throwing up her hands. “You see?” she tells the producers. “She was a terrible pick for the Heartbreaker. Next time, make sure you get someone more professional, at least someone with a lick of experience. We’ll do our due diligence and ensure she has decent references. I don’t know how you settled onher.”
My chest tightens as my hands close into fists under the table. “Iamprofessional,” I rasp. “That’s why I won’t do something so… so cruel and immature for ratings!”
Anya’s leer gives way to a scowl. “Little girl, this is what show business is. We cater to our audiences and what they want. Why do you think we threw in the drama, Gabe’s parents showing up at the charity auction or putting you onstage at the improvshow? That’s what they’re watching for—embarrassment. Not your cutesy little face with three men that are way out of your league. No one gives a rat’s ass about that, not really.”
Her words do exactly what she intended, shrinking me back into the shell I had finally learned to emerge from under the loving guidance of my three housemates.
