‘I didn’t mean like that,’ Damien tells him, his cheeks flushing lightly. I know he didn’t, and I’m sure Lockie did too. ‘I’ll play those games – I just don’t want to mess anyone around.’
‘That’s great, Damien, thanks so much,’ I tell him.
The second he’s out the door I turn to Lockie.
‘Don’t look at me like that,’ he says with a laugh.
‘Like what?’ I reply.
‘Like you’re going to say we should cast him,’ he says.
‘I think someone like Damien, someone real, and genuine, who could actually get something out of the experience is exactly who people want to see – they want someone they can root for,’ I point out.
‘And this is exactly why the show is flagging,’ he replies. ‘He would be so boring. You heard him say he’ll actively avoid drama. So unless he’s going to be dishing out IT tips while he’s sandwiched between two girls in the hot tub, he’s not going to have any survival skills.’
‘IT is a modern survival skill,’ I suggest.
Lockie snorts with laughter.
‘If anyone on the island ever needs an IT skill to survive, I’ll eat my hand,’ he claps back. ‘It’s a desert island.’
‘Right, except it’s not, is it? Because large parts of it are rigged up with cameras, lighting equipment, microphones – it’s a TV set. And the luxury room, where said hot tub is, attached to the studio where all of us are. It’s not actually a deserted island, you know.’
‘It is this year,’ he corrects me.
‘Erm, what?’ I reply. ‘What do you mean, it is this year?’
‘The crew won’t be stationed on the island this year,’ he says, still not really giving me much more information.
‘Of course we will,’ I insist. ‘That’s how it works. We stay close. Usher them around, if anyone unlocks the luxury suite we let them in, we prep the new additions there and put them in at the right times. Even Simon lives on the island, to oversee everything.’
He shakes his head, smug as ever.
‘Not any more,’ he corrects me. ‘I convinced Simon that the stakes need to be higher.’
‘Higher?’
‘Yeah.’ He leans back in his chair, oh-so proud of himself. ‘This year, the crew’s staying offshore. On a boat. Out of sight. That way, the contestants are truly deserted.’
I just stare at him.
‘Or,’ I say finally, ‘we could just edit it to make them look deserted. Like we’ve always done without issue. That’s literally what editing is for. You know this is a TV show, right? It’s not real.’
‘But if they feel alone,’ he says, his eyebrows raising as his eyes widen, ‘they’ll act differently. Raw. Unfiltered. Like rats in a maze, only sexier.’
Presumably anything is sexier than that.
‘You’re a sicko,’ I tell him plainly.
‘Aw, thanks,’ he replies. ‘I just love my job. Shall we see another person?’
I really, really don’t like the idea of being stationed on a boat. It’s bad enough that we have to take a boat to the island, I get terrible seasickness, but to find out I’m supposed to be working on one for the duration of the show? That’s crazy. I have to find a way to veto this.
We go through more interviews, and they’re almost all as expected. The influencers, the wannabe celebs, the people who think it will launch their careers if they turn up and showcase their talents like singing or magic tricks. I’ll admit, it’s hard to find a story here, a narrative that will drive the show and keep people tuning in. I suppose that’s why he’s here, Lockie, to manufacture some story, but I hate the idea of that too.
‘He seems like he might have jealousy issues,’ Lockie says after another potential (with zero potential) leaves the room.
‘Yeah, good luck getting him through the mental health check,’ I reply.
