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Perching on the tall barstool as bachelor number three, I feel as out of place as a fish on dry land. The other two dudes are very easy on the eyes, if I do say so myself. They both chum it up as if they have been pals for years. While Phoebe gives us all one last glance of approval, she does a knowing nod to me. I rub my palms on my dress slacks while I wait for the signal.
The director yells, “Cue theme song,” and I tense up. This is either going to help our ratings or be the last day I will ever work in television. Thank goodness my father is on tour because the odds he will be watching are very slim. While the nails-on-a-chalkboard song surrounds us and Stu does his spiel, I wish I had convinced Phoebe to give me the questions ahead of time, but she insisted my answers be spontaneous. Apparently, she thinks I’m a terrible actor and would make the audience suspect something wasn’t right.
“And bachelor number three is Pryce Hatfield. If the name sounds familiar, it’s because his father is Rick Hatfield. The Rick Hatfield.”
The studio audience erupts in cheers, but I wouldn’t be able to tell anything about them because the studio lights are blinding me. I plant on the fake smile that Phoebe had me practice as I give a bashful wave.
“Now, let’s meet our bachelorette. She’s a native Nashvillian, studied marketing at Belmont University, and is currently working at the Rescue Mission. Let’s give a warm welcome to Kenna Frye.”
The applause sounds sincere as the two other bachelors straighten up to start the round of questions. Of course, we cannot see her, but I hope she feels me wishing she relaxes because I’m sure she’s nervous. When I was younger, my father used to pull me up on stage. It was always a crowd pleaser. I hated it but got used to it. This is probably Kenna’s first experience in front of the camera. I only hope she can pull it off without passing out.
“Kenna,” Stu says, “you know the rules. You cannot ask for their names or any other personal information. Go ahead with your questions.”
Kenna clears her throat, and with a shaky voice, she asks, “Bachelor Number One, which flavor of ice cream best describes you?”
Number One says, “Definitely Netflix and Chilled because I’m really cool and down with just hanging with my girl.”
The audience groans. Trying not to roll my eyes, I wait my turn. Cookies & cream will be a good answer.
“Number Two?”
The dude sitting next to me says, “I would like to think I am cookies & cream because I’m mostly smooth, but at times I have more to me.”
That was my answer!
“Okay… Number Three?”
“Uh…” Think fast, dummy. “I guess vanilla because I never go out of style.” Lame. Lame. Lame. But Number Two used my answer.
Stu claps, and the audience joins in if for no other reason but to fill the awkward silence.
After a pause, Kenna says, “Bachelor Number Two, what kind of animal would you be on our first date?”
I glance over at him and wait for his answer. He juts his chin in the air and replies, “I would definitely be a puppy because I would want to do whatever you wanted to do.”
“Cute.” Kenna giggles. She actually giggles over Number Two’s answer. “Number Three? What about you?”
I rack my brain trying to think of something clever. But nothing comes to mind, so I blurt out, “A sloth.”
The other two bachelors snicker as the audience howls with laughter. Heat rises up my neck while a bead of sweat trickles down the side of my face.
“Would you like to explain?” Kenna asks with humor in her tone.
“I guess I would take my time and enjoy the day with you.” I give the audience a broad grin and mentally pat myself on the back for that explanation.
“Oh brother,” Number One says under his breath.
“That’s kind of sweet,” she replies. “Next question. Number One, you’ve just won a lifetime award. What did you do to receive it?”
“Save you from these other two men.”
The audience boos, but Stu quiets them down. “Now, now. It was a decent response. Kenna, please continue.”
“Number Two?”
“Easy, save someone from a burning building. Most people run from danger, but I’m not afraid of a challenge.”
Stu spares me the embarrassment of spewing another lame answer by saying, “Kenna, you have time for one more question. Make it a good one.”
