Fucking Brits and their obligatory small talk.
“Luca.” Mark held his hand out to me. “It’s great to finally meet you. I’m Mark, one of the show’s executive producers. We’re looking forward to having you on this season.”
I shook his hand a little harder than necessary. His smarmy smile and clammy hand gave me the fucking creeps.
His smile faltered for a second before he pasted it back on. Hescanned my face, and I didn’t bother to guess what he was thinking because, truthfully, I didn’t give a shit.
“Please, take a seat. I want to discuss a few things with you and ensure you’re both up to speed.” He gestured toward the sofas, papers fanned in his hand as he searched for the correct page.
“So,” he started, looking at me, “I’m guessing that Jack has told you this, but you’ll be partnered with Matilda this season.”
I nodded in response. There were a few beats of silence before Jack jumped in. “Yes, I told him. I think they’ll make great television.”
The very nature of Jack’s job as an agent meant he had to stretch the truth and schmooze, even if he disagreed with what he was saying.
“Well, I don’t doubt Luca will make great television.” Mark smiled.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” It was the first thing I’d said to him. If he was shocked by my attitude or tone, he hid it well.
He cleared his throat before continuing, “Your agent ensured that you were partnered with someone who wasn’t going to cause any drama…” He trailed off. Even Jack remained silent this time, unsure of where he was going with this.
He sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees in a weak attempt at camaraderie. “Put it this way. If Jack hadn’t pushed for Matilda specifically, I would have partnered you with someone more interesting, more appealing to the public eye.” He paused for a second, thinking. “Less boring, basically.”
Jack and I leaned back slightly, shocked at his admission. I knew my friend well enough to know we were thinking exactly the same thing.What a douchebag.
My lip curled involuntarily at the way he spoke about her. The blatant disregard he showed for his colleague in an attempt to flatter me summarized all the reasons I hated show business.
As a sign of how much I needed this show to go well, I resisted smacking Mark across the face. He recognized our brief silence for what it was and tried to rescue himself. “She’s lovely—don’t get me wrong. You would just suit someone who matched your celebrity, is all.” He returned to shuffling those damned papers.
“I think she and Luca will work well together.” Jack defended her casually, avoiding causing too much of a scene.
“Sure they will.” Mark’s voice carried the same enthusiasm it had at the start of the conversation but held a clipped edgenow.
“And it’s done, either way.” Jack clapped his hands. “So we’ve got to make it work.”
“I’ve got a file on her here that you can read over, Luca. It is more of a formality, so you won’t be in the dark about your future partner.” Mark held the file out to me. And maybe Jack’s childishness had worn off on me, but I left him hanging. When he realized I wouldn’t take it from his hands, he just placed it on the table and smiled tersely.
One part of me wanted to grab the folder and read it immediately. The other part of me wanted to say “Fuck it,” rip the paper to shreds, and blow it back in this asshole’s face, just out of spite.
I thought I’d lose my best friend for good if I did the latter.
“Is that all?” I asked bluntly, causing Jack to cast a sideways glance at my snippy tone.
“I think so. We will brief everyone tomorrow morning on how the next few weeks will go so you’re all up to speed. There will be a press event for everyone to attend at the end of week five of training. A camera crew will be there to get some teaser shots for the show, and, of course, journalists will be there too. That will be a week before the live shows begin.”
“Is the press event mandatory?” I hated the paparazzi with a burning passion and avoided them like the plague. At least witha television show, we could somewhat control the narrative around my character. The parasites with cameras would publish whatever the hell they wanted—whether it was true ornot.
“It’s not compulsory, but we do recommend attendance—it’s good publicity and all that.”
Ha—yeah, I wouldn’t be going.
He stood, continuing as he walked to the door, “You can ask anyone at reception to give you a full tour of the facilities, or you can ask Matilda later. I’d ask Samantha at the front desk; she can be very friendly, if you catch my drift.”
Was this guy for real?
“Will do, thanks,” Jack grunted.
He closed the door as Mark exited. Then he turned toward me, his movements deliberate, and remarked, “He seems like a complete wanker.”
