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Reality Check

Page 6

by Jen Calonita


  “Shape?” Mom asks quizzically.

  “Yes, well, as you all know, this is a reality show, but like most of our programming, it's scripted reality,” Susan says, and drums her pale pink manicured nails on the desk. “I promise, Katherine, everything we ask is benign. You can even sit in on Charlie's interview if you want.”

  “I had one question, Susan,” I pipe up. “What exactly is scripted reality? I've heard you mention it before, but I'm not sure what that means. Do we have to memorize lines and act things out? I'm not a good actress.” I couldn't even remember my one line (“Santa is on his way!”) in the first-grade Christmas pageant.

  “I may have to disagree with that,” Dad says with a twinkle in his eye. “You should see her try to win us over to meet the girls for ice cream on a school night.”

  “Dad,” I say through gritted teeth.

  Susan laughs. “One of the things I love about you, Charlie, is how charismatic you are. If we wanted a professional actress for this, we would have hired one. We want you to be you. I've seen you in action with your friends and at work, so I'm not worried about personality at all. That's why you're our lead girl. You're a star with your friends and I think our viewers will really gravitate toward what you have to say. When I say scripted, I mean we know what each episode is about before we start filming.” Susan's phone starts ringing and she presses a button to mute it. I can see the tiny blue light still flashing and I try not to pay attention to it. “Just to go over this one more time, this is how things will work: We'll call you on a Saturday and find out what your plans are for the week, and what the girls’ plans are. Based on that, we try to secure those locations for filming. Everywhere we shoot and the people featured have to sign a release so if we have trouble securing a location, we may have to ask you to move it, if need be, but generally things work out. Most stores and restaurants love the free publicity, believe me. Now sometimes we can't be there for an important conversation or moment that drives the show, so we may ask you to repeat it somewhat for the cameras, but it's just for continuity.”

  “Which is kind of like acting,” I sum up.

  Susan unclasps her hands and waves one in a small shrugging gesture. “The difference is we're not asking you to say anything you haven't already said on your own.”

  “That makes sense,” Mom says, nodding at me. “Does this all still sound okay to you, Charlie?”

  I nod. I guess if I'm not being told what to say, it doesn't matter how and when we tape the conversation. The location thing makes sense too. You can't have permission to film everywhere. We know we can't film at school and if we have some sort of powwow, I guess the show needs to know about it. The show and the rest of the paying cable world.

  Whoa. Scary thought. Breathe, Charlie. Just concentrate on the cool part: I'm going to be on TV!

  “There's someone important I'd like you to meet,” Susan tells me. “You're going to be spending a lot of time together and I really hope the two of you will gel.” Susan pushes a button on her phone. “Addison, would you come in, please?”

  Susan's office door opens and a girl in her mid-twenties walks in. She's tall and thin with wavy shoulder-length dirty-blond hair. She doesn't have on a lot of makeup, just eyeliner and lipgloss, and she's wearing thin brown-rimmed glasses. Her clothes are more casual than Susan's—dark denim jeans and a cute, fitted green top, and, I don't believe it, sneakers! She must be an intern.

  “Charlie, I want you to meet Addison Baxter,” Susan says as she walks around the table. “Addison is going to be your main day-to-day producer on the show. She'll be your contact for everything going on here, and will keep you informed about filming, location changes, hours, camera stuff. You name it.”

  Wait. This girl isn't an intern? But she looks so… young. I eye Addison skeptically. She's going to be running our TV show? Somehow I naively thought Susan would be overseeing things. “Hi.” I try to sound friendly.

  “It's great to meet you, Charlie,” Addison says with a warm smile. “I can't wait to start working together. I don't want you to think of me as your boss, especially since I don't look old enough to be one.” She laughs. “Think of me as your assistant—a super one at that.”

  “Don't undersell yourself.” Susan looks appalled. “Addison is my protégé. I plucked her from the intern pool two years ago and have been grooming her ever since. She is more than ready for the job of producer.”

  “I would do anything for this woman,” Addison tells us. “She takes such good care of me. And I could not be more excited about this show. The way Susan has been describing it—a reality Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants focused on four best friends with you as the lead, Charlie—I just can't get enough of it. I'm so lucky to be a part of this.” She beams at Susan.

  “Is this the first show you've worked on?” I try not to sound as anxious as I feel. They're giving us a first-timer. What if she doesn't know what she's doing?

  “I look young, I know,” Addison admits, “but I've been an assistant on Surf's Up for the last six months and before that I helped with Firing Up! I promise, I know what I'm doing, and when I don't, I'll ask for help. I want this to be a great first experience for both of us, Charlie,” she adds.

  I can't help but smile. Okay, maybe I was wrong to freak out about her age. Addison seems cool.

  “Charlie, I hate to rush you out, but I want to make sure I meet with all of the girls this afternoon and I'm already late for a meeting,” Susan says apologetically. I glance at her phone. There are three blinking light now and her cell phone has been vibrating on and off for the last few minutes. “Addison will take you to meet with the lawyers and after that we'll start your interviews. Hopefully I'll catch you before you leave.”

  “If not, when will I see you next?” I ask.

  “Soon,” she says and glances at Addison. “I'll be checking in with Addison all the time.”

  “Will you be on set?” I'm confused. This project is Susan's baby, isn't it?

  “Someone has to man the fort here,” she says and knocks on her desk. “But don't be disappointed. You're going to be sick of me! I'll be around a lot. You have my cell number and can call me anytime. I'm at your beck and call. I'll get back to you immediately. That goes for you too,” she tells my parents. “But for day-to-day stuff you can rely on Addison. I'm not abandoning you, Charlie, I promise,” she says and winks. “We'll talk soon,” she promises, and holds out her hand to shake.

  Susan's office door opens and the receptionist leads in Hallie and her parents. Hallie looks like she's ready to burst, but there's not much I can tell her with all these people around.

  “Suze, I'll be right back,” Addison tells Susan.

  We move through the reception area and into the corridor, where I see Keiran arguing with her mom. I hear the words “babysitter” and “have to go,” which can't be good, but I pretend not to eavesdrop. Keiran's mom waves mine over, but Addison is still walking, so Dad and I follow. She leads us to a conference room where the lawyer our parents hired for the four of us is waiting, along with three guys in suits, who I assume work for the Fire and Ice Network.

  “Are you okay here, Charlie?” Addison asks. “I have to meet Hallie, but I'll be down after you sign and then we can spend some time chatting. I really want us to get to know each other.”

  “I'd like that too,” I tell her as I fiddle self-consciously with my wavy brown hair. I wanted to look nice for today's meeting, so I'm wearing black capris and a cute purple tank top that has small flowers embroidered around the neckline.

  Signing papers takes forever! Who knew there were so many things to sign off on? My lawyer tries to explain everything to my parents while I focus on the big stuff: I'm going to get $10,000 an episode, which is incredible, with an increase in pay if we agree to shoot a second season; I'm signed on for one season with the option of picking up additional seasons with our say, plus bonuses and appearance fees. I start calculating my paycheck in my head. Fifteen episodes times ten thou
sand dollars is ONE HUNDRED FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS! And that's for a few months of work! Almost enough for college, before taxes of course, and after this lawyer, who doesn't look cheap. But as Susan said, there will be other perks and money down the line. I can barely hold my hand steady as my parents sign and watch me do the same. I'm loaded!

  About an hour, two Perrier waters, and a fruit salad later, Addison comes back for me. She takes my parents and me down another hall. She walks briskly; I notice she does that a lot. Maybe I should wear sneakers more, instead of clicky slides, which I have on.

  “Susan told me you're on the school newspaper,” Addison says as we walk. “I was on the paper in high school and college too. I did features.”

  “I mostly do entertainment,” I tell her. “Where did you go to college?”

  “Northeastern in Boston,” Addison says. “Ever hear of it?”

  “Of course. It's near Boston University. That's where I want to go,” I tell her.

  “BU is so nice,” Addison gushes. “I had a lot of friends who went there. And Boston is beautiful. You'd love it. Do you know what you want to major in yet?”

  “Communications or journalism,” I tell her. “I really like to write. I just wonder,” I hesitate, worrying that this is too much information, “if doing the show will mess that up.”

  Addison shakes her head. “I doubt it. If anything, it could open a ton of new doors for you. Maybe they'll want to work a writing internship into the show for you.”

  “You think?” I gape.

  “You never know where you'll get your big break,” Addison points out. “I was going to switch my major to communications junior year and then I got a summer internship here. After that, I was hooked on TV. I do miss writing though.”

  Addison starts telling me about college and the do's and don'ts of freshman year. Do join some sort of activity to meet more than just your roommate. Don't do something crazy like try out for rugby. Addison says she practically broke a rib during the tryouts. Then we move on to talking about my other favorite topic: guilty pleasure TV shows (mine is, fortunately, The Secret Life of the American Teenager ; Addison's is Jon & Kate Plus Eight). We enter a large studio and I recognize it immediately. It's the Firing Up! countdown set.

  “What are we doing here?” I ask excitedly.

  “Your interview,” says Addison. “The show doesn't tape till four so we're borrowing the set.”

  “Are you serious?” I freak. Brooke is going to flip out.

  Addison laughs. “I had the same reaction the first time I was here. It's pretty cool seeing it in person, isn't it?” She walks me over to the camera crew, which is setting up in front of the funky pink leather chairs that are a signature on the Firing Up! set. The show's logo, bedazzled and sparkling, is in large letters on the wall behind the chairs. Autographs cover the walls—it's customary for stars to sign the wall when they come on the show—and there are beanbags littering the floor where the audience sits. Addison quickly makes the introductions. “You're going to be seeing these faces a lot,” she tells me. “This is going to be The Cliffs' crew—Hank, Phil, Kayla, and Steven. Sometimes we'll all be together, and sometimes we'll split up.” I guess Addison can tell I'm confused, because she explains. “If you four girls are shooting a scene together, we'll be with you. If you go to different places, the crew will break up too so that all of you are covered.” Addison looks at a duo standing nearby. “And this is Anthony and Bruce, two of our other producers.”

  I notice everyone looks a lot more relaxed down here. They're in jeans and tees, talking loudly, joking around. It reminds me of a party, except this one has video cameras and Cliffside's parties don't. I instantly feel at ease.

  “Charlie, we're going to be asking you a bunch of questions, based on interviews we've done with the other girls,” says Bruce, a stocky twenty-something who has short blond hair and a Bob Dylan shirt on.

  “I thought I was the first one down here,” I say.

  “Since everyone has been waiting for Susan, we pulled the girls down here earlier,” Addison explains. “We didn't get enough time with Brooke, so she'll finish up after signing contracts.”

  Anthony pulls me aside. “Do you mind your parents being here for this? Because we can find somewhere for them to sit if you want.”

  “Why?” I ask, alarmed. “What exactly are you asking me?”

  Bruce smiles. “Nothing too personal. School, friends, boys. That kind of stuff.”

  “We're not using any of this, “ Addison assures me, and pulls out her BlackBerry. “We just need it for background purposes.”

  “Unless you say something so spectacular that we have to use it on the season one DVD.” Anthony winks.

  “We're getting a DVD?” I ask excitedly. The thought hadn't even occurred to me. I picture my face staring back at me from the Netflix website.

  “Probably,” Bruce says. “Along with a lot of other things too, like TV specials.”

  My head is spinning. Wardrobe, salary, DVDs, TV specials, photo shoots. This offer just keeps getting better. “Um, maybe you could find my parents a coffee cart or something?” I ask.

  Bruce nods. “We'll set them up in the green room. They'll love it. You can retrieve them afterward.”

  “Thank you.” I breathe a sigh of relief. I get the feeling it will be a lot easier spilling my high school horror stories and the other embarrassing moments I assume they're looking for if Mom and Dad aren't listening.

  “Charlie, I'll check back later with the other girls,” Addison tells me, listening to a message on her phone at the same time. “Keiran is with the lawyer, but all of you should be finished by four o'clock and then you can walk around the city or do whatever you want before dinner.”

  “Okay.” Kayla walks over and blots my face with powder and then adds a swipe of lipstick. I wonder if they'll be doing my makeup all the time.

  “Are you ready, Charlie?” asks Bruce a few seconds later. He has a headset on and is clutching a clipboard with what looks like pages of notes.

  I step onto the platform and make myself comfortable in the chair, wincing when they turn on a bright light.

  “Try not to think about the camera,” says Phil.

  “Even though it's right in my face—oops.” I can't help glancing at a huge camera on a rolling tripod that is inches from me.

  “Exactly,” Phil says as if it's the easiest thing in the world. “By the end of the first week, you won't even notice them.”

  “If you say so.” The heat from the light is already making me sweat.

  “Just stay focused on me and forget the camera is even there.” Anthony's voice is soothing. “Are you ready for the questions?”

  “I think so,” I tell him as my palms begin to sweat. Everyone is here to interview me. I'm usually the one doing the interviewing.

  “We'll start off easy; how did you get the nickname Charlie?”

  “My real name is Charlotte, which I can't stand.” I stare at the crease in his forehead to keep from looking at anything else around me. “It sounds so formal. I wanted my parents to change my name for a while to anything other than Charlotte. Charlene even, but they wouldn't budge. Brooke calls me Char sometimes, but I don't love it.” Was that okay to say? Too late now. “Not that I mind it too much. Then my friend Hallie started calling me Charlie Girl in tenth grade and then it was shortened to Charlie and it just sort of stuck. I like Charlie.”

  “Let's talk about your friends,” Anthony says, reading off a sheet. “Would you say you're very close?”

  That question is easy. “Definitely. They're my best friends.”

  “Who are you closest with?” he asks without looking up.

  I pause. I wasn't expecting that question.

  “It's okay, Charlie, it's just us,” Bruce says, reading my mind.

  “I guess Keiran,” I say slowly. “We've known each other the longest.”

  “How do the others feel about you being closest to Keiran?”

  �
��I don't know,” I admit. “We've never really talked about it, but if something major happens, I probably call Keiran first.”

  “How does Brooke feel about that?” Anthony asks. “Would you say it bothers her to be out of the loop?”

  Umm… I feel like I'm on a witness stand all of a sudden. I'm sweating and now I know it's not just the lights. It's like Bruce knows the answer he's going to get before I even say it. How does he know these things? Have the girls been blabbing in their interviews?

  The next few questions go the same way: “Would you call yourself the group leader? Do you think the others like you to be one? What makes you leader material? Would you say Brooke is difficult? Would you call yourself a perfectionist? Do you think you're better than your friends sometimes? How many boyfriends have you had? What did your friends think of them? What's your biggest fear? Describe your friends’ best traits and biggest flaws. Would some people say you and Brooke have the biggest rivalry of the group?” Other questions are easier and much more fun, like “What's your favorite breakfast food? Who's your celebrity crush? If you could live anywhere, where would it be?” Bruce and Anthony ask every question with the same calm voice, smiling as they read them, looking like my old pediatrician who used to swear a shot wouldn't hurt even as it stung my arm.

  I try to be honest with my answers, but sometimes the truth feels like a betrayal. At the end of the taping, I feel like I need a nap.

  “Super, Charlie, just super,” Bruce tells me, shaking my hand as I slide off the stool. “I'll have Kayla show you out to your parents and then after Brooke's interview, I think the four of you are all done for the day. We'll see you again before taping starts in the next few weeks.”

  “We can start up that fast?” I ask. I had thought Susan was exaggerating when she told us that.

  “Absolutely,” Anthony says. “Addison will probably be calling you next week with details about the first shooting week. She's very efficient. We call her the mini-Susan,” he tells me with a laugh. “She'll have this up and running in no time. You'll see how smoothly things go.”

 

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