Chapter 13
Doug
I managed to avoid Willa the rest of our break. She called once, even invited me to meet up with her for lunch, but Strength Warriors had a marketing photo shoot they wanted that day, and my contract obligated me to be there.
I promised her I’d call back another time and make the lunch thing happen, but my pride kept me from following through. I understood what had happened at my apartment. I was the goofy sidekick friend, and when I’d let my feelings slip, it was met with sheer panic. Her reaction wasn’t a surprise, but the gut-wrenching loss I felt was. Willa had worked her way into my heart, and I couldn’t get her out.
Yes, when she’d pulled out of our hug, the overwhelming desire to kiss her, right then and there, must have shown on my face. I felt like I was going to jump out of my skin with the connection I felt to her. But it was all one-sided. Obviously.
Which was why, showing up at the theater for our path to the top twenty-five had me more than a little on edge. My mother had called that morning, wanting a detailed update on the show. Trying not to dwell on that mess of a phone call and my gloomy thoughts about Willa, it took effort to put on a pleasant expression while I made small talk with the staff and went through makeup and wardrobe.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to pretend to be in a good mood with the eager contestants. They were like middle-graders on a school field trip, all wide-eyed and hopped up on copious amounts of caffeinated soda and candy. Everywhere I looked, they were huddling cheek to cheek for selfies with their new friends.
I stopped to lecture the lot of them, channeling my irritation into the role Alan wanted for me. “If you all get sick, your excuses will not carry you through to the top twenty-five. Stretch out and drink some water. Quit coughing on each other. This is not a vacation. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Start acting like it.”
The crowd scurried away to obey me. Nobody laughed or rolled their eyes. Sometimes I forgot how scary my face could look when I was annoyed. As the crowd thinned out, Willa made her way over. She looked smug and reprimanding, all for the cameras of course, but behind that was the same nervousness I felt at seeing her again.
“Way to keep up morale, Doug.”
I saluted. “I try my best.”
With cameras on both of us, there was nothing real we could say to each other. I didn’t trust myself with what needed to be said anyway. Not yet.
We walked together to the auditorium and up to the judge’s desk, talking about various contestants we looked forward to seeing. It was something Stanley, the director, had asked for—that every on-camera conversation have soundbite potential.
The crew scurried around messing with lighting and taping down cords, while Justin and Victoria got last minute touchups to their hair and makeup. Alan waved us both over with an exasperated look. Time was money, and we were keeping him from getting started. The sooner we sent home the majority of these contestants, the less money he’d be shelling out and the happier he’d be.
As soon as I was in place and my hair properly mussed, he called for the first group to be sent on stage. They’d already filmed all the instructions and the groups practicing in the halls. Stanley was satisfied they had enough preliminary footage to work with.
The contestants had been split into groups of four, and would all be performing the same song, “Seasons of Love” fromRent. Like the opening of the movie version, they’d stand together in a line under their individual spotlights and let their voices and stage presence tell us whether they deserved to stay. It was up to the group whether to add in the harmony or solos, or sing the melody all together.
Willa stayed curtain-side to cheer on each group, but I could read her facial expressions and I made note of her favorite groups.
The day passed quickly in a blur of the same song, sometimes done well, sometimes butchered, and sometimes so forgettable that if it wasn’t for my notes, I’d have no idea what I thought five minutes later. For those we were considering, we brought them back in to dance for us. The music changed every twenty seconds, and we watched to see what they’d do with it. I felt bad because it often just looked like they were losing at a game of freeze dance.
We ate lunch and dinner at the desk, and after all the contestants had been gathered into their convention room holding cells to wait for a verdict, it was time to film our decisions for whittling them down to the top twenty-five. Off camera, Alan had already put his foot down on a few he adamantly wanted. They had courageous backstories or quirky personalities he knew would test well with audiences, and enough talent to not stand out in a bad way.
The last twenty-or-so were left up to me, Justin, Victoria, and Willa. Instead of pulling up a chair, Willa sat on the end of the desk, my end, with her legs swinging next to me. She was wearing a short dress that ruffled out at mid-thigh. Wardrobe seemed to have an endless supply of dresses like this for her, all showing off her incredibly shapely legs.
She stole my notes and looked them over, and it was all I could do to tamp down my reaction to her invasion of my personal space. Having her so near took my concentration and threw it out the window. We hadn’t talked about our awkward hug, or near kiss, or whatever it was, and now we were on camera with all that unsaid angst for Stanley and Alan to play with.
What I hated most was not knowing if Willa was messing with me strictly for the cameras or to get some kind of reaction out of me for her own personal reasons.
“What does SM mean?” she asked, pointing to the letters I’d put next to certain groups.
I wanted to lean over and whisper without the cameras hearing, but it was my job to make every on-camera moment about the show and not what I’d prefer to keep between us.
“It stands for smile. Those were the groups you gave genuine smiles to. You liked them. The rest you just faked it with, Frostina.”
Justin laughed, but it was a little forced, and his eyes, as always, continued to study us with annoyance and confusion. “You must’ve been watching her a lot to know all that, Dougy boy.” He patted me on the back, a little harder than necessary. He’d been a lot less friendly since noticing Willa’s constant attention to me.
Thank goodness Victoria decided she was being upstaged. She ordered us back to work, and we started making piles of headshots, a pile for yes, a pile for no, and a big pile of maybes. Willa slid off the desk when they brought her a chair and pulled it up next to me. Every once in a while she’d lean over to pick up a photo, and her arm would brush across mine or a strand of her hair would tickle my cheek. It was such a small thing that I wouldn’t have suspected any intention if it wasn’t for the sneaky little smiles she threw me as she did it. I didn’t dare look at Alan off camera. I wasn’t supposed to know it was all fake. I was supposed to be blindly falling in love, and the sad irony was, it had worked.
Willa
Alan got what he wanted. I’d upped my on-camera game with Doug and practically unhinged the guy, though Doug did his best to be professional and ignore me. And now that we were finally done for the day/night—whatever it was now, crushing some dreams and giving others the good news that they’d made it, Alan had one more task for me.
“Wait for Doug here at the desk,” he whispered in my ear. “I’ll get everyone else out of here, and we’ll find a way to send him back to you. We’ll leave the cameras on, but we’re going to hide a mic on you, so stay as close to him as possible to catch his responses.”
