“Wren who?”
A subtle nod, and I understood. The woman with the eyelashes, sat on the sofa surrounded by three very keen…male admirers.
“She’s a lesbian. I’m not sure they’ve cottoned on to that fact, but I can’t figure out who she’s with because all the other girls seem clueless.”
“She’s with me,” Diane interrupted. “Nice girl, but not quite the handsome mature father I asked for. We all seem to be in a bit of a pickle.”
“Say that again.” I sighed. “Not that I mind. Oliver here is mine.”
“I’m keeping you.” Oliver smiled, nodding politely to Diane. “Sorry, doll, hands off. He’s a nice guy, and everyone else here is slightly…”
“Terrifying?” Diane laughed. “Trust me. Wren here screamed the house down when she entered our flat. There she was, asking for a masculine-looking lesbian and absolutely not a frumpy mum of three from Brands Hill. I’m the wrong everything. Wrong skin colour, wrong size, wrong… I was wearing a frilly dress. My daughter bought it for me, and Wren just screamed.”
Yes, that’s when I blushed. I might have been screaming too. Internally. Whilst shouting. And I cringed as Oliver delightfully retold the story of my disgrace, the cameraman behind me no doubt capturing every hilarious moment word for word.
He could be charming, this Oliver. And he still had his arm hooked in mine.
“Diane’s nice,” he whispered into my cheek when Diane momentarily turned away. “But I’m keeping you for now. Please save me from Bisexual Ben’s advances. He won’t take no for an answer.”
“He seemed pleasant enough.”
“He’s…a little… How do I say this nicely?”
“Dull?” I was trying not to become another meme, and failing badly as Oliver arched an eyebrow.
“He’s not quite the sharpest tool in the box, Peter. And Chloe-Catherine is a menace.”
“So judgemental.” I sounded like my sons. I could almost see them cringing at the back of my head.
“Can we disappear for a bit? I need a breather.” I had to ask because I could see that Anne was making a beeline for me from across the room.
“Run.” He smiled. “I’ll bring the tea.”
He did as well, somehow managing to lose Diane in the process, and delivered two steaming-hot perfect cups of tea to our apartment…room…place…where I awkwardly had sat myself on the edge of the bed, hiding my face behind a pillow. And for the first time in what felt like hours, I could breathe.
Day One
George
“All in all, I think this has gone remarkably well,” Alastair said flatly, even though I could see his hands shaking. If he didn’t take a seat, he’d probably spill that coffee he was trying to swallow all over himself. Something Kirsten no doubt would roll her eyes at, and then she’d once again call him names and he’d exit the room in a haze of embarrassment.
Never work with your spouse. Ever. If I’d learnt any life lessons in this role? It would have to be just that.
“It’s all fabulously going to plan!” Kirsten declared with a smile. It wasn’t a kind one. It was mechanical and cold, where her mouth would grin but her eyes were dead. “Our matches are perfection, and we already have some great footage. I’ve asked for teasers for social media to be ready for tomorrow, so we can start to drum up page clicks. Signups on the website have already begun. We’re collecting some interesting data, and we haven’t even announced our resource matches.”
“We shouldn’t use that word,” I stuck in, feeling that prickly irritation creep back in. “Resources. It dehumanises these people, and we have to…”
“Oh, don’t you start. I already had to have words with Gina. I don’t expect hostility towards our methods here. We are an experienced production, and this is exactly what we do.”
“I share some of her concerns,” Alastair voiced, only to get shut down by Kirsten. No words needed, just a stern stare.
“Insensitive and unethical? We are an entertainment show, and nobody gets invested in boring, sugary romance. What we are producing here is pure grit. The entrance with Chloe-Catherine and Ben was pure comic gold; you have to admit. Him screeching when her boobs popped out of her bra was…I mean. That is definitely going in the teaser. Diane crying and Wren screaming. I can see awards here.”
I could see delusion, but I wasn’t going to open my mouth just yet.
“Storm, how are we going with the script?” Kirsten spat out, making our lead scriptwriter jump. She was good. Just not that good, and it concerned me.
“We have to get more sentences in, where our contestants open up about their preferences, so we can soften the viewers’ perception of deception.”
