COOPER
Asolid thwack to my ribs is more than enough to knock me out of my daydream. “Henry, are you listening?” David, my agent, hisses under his breath.
“Duh,” I tell him with an eye roll, crossing my arms in a sad attempt to subtly rub the place he hit. I breathe in deep, holding it in. My chest expands, and I shimmy just slightly. It’s not broken, obviously. But I wonder how much of a baby I can get away with being about it. Maybe he’d let me get away with a little more this season.
The woman in front of me holds a white binder in her perfectly manicured hands, her green eyes flashing us as she pauses, an eyebrow shooting up to the sky.
“Sorry, Nancy,” David grins, adjusting his coat. I watch his sweaty little hands grasp at his buttons. “Cooper is just really excited.”
I roll my eyes.
“Are we okay to move on?” she asks, looking between us with her fluorescent pink lips pursed.
I open my mouth to tell her,yes, we are ready to move on and end this godforsaken meeting early, thank you very much,when David says, “Of course! We’re on your time!”
Cheeky asshole.
I nudge him in the ribs with my elbow, and his snake-like eyes flash to mine. “Youcannotsleep with her,” I hiss under my breath.
He doesn’t argue with me. I know him far too well for him to. After all, we’ve been working together for years.
Nancypeers over her binder, her eyes flickering between us before glancing down. “Tomorrow, you need to be up early and ready to let the production team in. They’re going to be starting the process bright and early.”
I raise my hand, and she looks up with an eyeroll. “Yes?”
“Is this going to be for confessionals? Like on Housewives?”
Nancy’s brow furrows. “Why would you film confessionals first when nothing has happened yet?”
I open my mouth to retort, but close it slowly, realizing that she has a point. I slump into my couch, biting my cheek. I was really excited for a dramatic confessional moment.
“Anyway,” she continues, “we call them ITMs. In the Moment Interviews. We will, generally speaking, because there are always exceptions to the rules, pull you aside after something happens for you to comment on. We don’t film many,” she pauses, her eyes closing. “Confessionals, and when we do, they’re for something production wants clarification on.”
My sister is going to besodisappointed.
“I need you to play it up for confessionals,”she had told me over the phone the other day. “Get creative with it. Wear something insane. Here, watch this episode of Housewives so you can see how it’s done.”
She proceeded to send me an exact episode. Ididwatch it.
Actually, I binged half the season that night. Just lying in bed, pumpkin spice ice cream at my side, and middle-aged women screaming at each other on the TV.
I won’t lie, it was like music to my ears. I completely understand why Isla and my sister love this shit now.
“Production is going to come in and set up. That means there will be people setting up lights, cameramen, sound guys, all of it. You’ll be up, getting ready to go, and they’ll start the interview process.”
I sit up. “I thought we already interviewed and everything?”
She shakes her head. “For the show. You do know how this show works, correct?”
She must see the way my lips twitch, because she lets out a deep sigh, placing her binder on her lap with a thwack. “The Final Pickis a reality dating show, yes. But we put people through a series of interviews and challenges before pairing them with someone. The person walking down that aisle for you is going to be someone the experts think you’ll pair well with. We’re not setting you up with anyone randomly, and it’s notjustgoing to be someone who will make good TV.”
Something about the way her eyes don’t meet mine when she adds that last part makes me think that all they really care about is making great TV.
“So, the interview questions for that part are being done tomorrow?”
She nods.
The rest of our meeting went by oddly well, for how awful it had started. But it did serve several purposes. One, I was fairly informed about how the next week was going to go regarding my new reality star status. Two, for about three seconds of it, I stopped thinking about the way Amara Flores looked at me with such disdain, that my palms are still sweaty as we speak.
