by Lia London
“Hey, I do my own stunts!” Victory. I came across as a total doofus. His bad showing greatly improved his mood.
“Hopefully the X-ray guy at the airport lets you back into Portland,” said Amaya with a skeptical shake of her head.
The next segment featured Amaya. Milo watched while admiration and guilt battled in his gut. They hadn’t had time to talk alone since the Fourth of July. Of course, the lengthy phone silence should have been a clue to her that he had chosen Jill, but with nothing actually happening in the Ripley-Halsey bliss department, he wasn’t sure what to say. Hi, opted for the girl who thinks of me as her sidekick, and right now we’re barely on speaking terms. It’s not you. It’s me. I’m an idiot.
Milo shifted on his stool and focused on the monitor with extra effort. Parker had opened the featurette with the dance. Onscreen from the proper viewing vantage, it took his breath away even more than before. For twenty seconds, Amaya’s silhouette showed grace and power that had the whole group slack-jawed. The shot cut to a still of a gap-toothed ballerina photo with Amaya’s voice over. “When I was a little kid, I always wanted to be a dancer. I’d dance everywhere I went—the grocery store, the park, even down the aisles at church.” Back to more of the dance, then to her sitting on the edge of the stage talking about growing up in north Portland without much hope of making it big in the performing arts because resources and opportunities were scarce. Then came her monolog and a scene with her and Brock swooning over each other until she accused him of cheating on her and splashed champagne in his face.
“Brilliant!” Milo peeked at Amaya sideways.
She was covering her mouth and nose with her palms pressed against each other, tears trickling down her face.
“You okay, Amaya?”
“Better than okay.”
Milo beamed. “I told you Parker would do you right.”
“Yeah, she did,” agreed Amaya. “I don’t need more than this! This is more than I could have hoped for!”
Jill bobbed her head with approval all through Chieko’s segment, which made her out like a Fortune 500 CEO. Her accidental cliff dive played thrillingly after editing. Parker had clearly pegged her as one of the tycoons in the new series. If that woman walked into a board room, heads would roll.
When Jill’s featured section came on, Milo leaned forward and gave her a tense smile. Her stomach tightened when she saw what Parker had created. Instead of looking all soggy on the picnic table, Jill’s interview became a voice-over while a montage of action shots played out: riding up on the Harley, talking to Milo with the words “He’s the only one,” and kayaking through the fountain in slow-motion. Ned had even caught the moment when she came out of the water, sunlight playing off the wet skin on her legs. Crap. I was going for drowned rat, not water goddess. Parker saved the Brock bedroom scene for last, and Jill stifled a grin when she saw that her stinging lines made the final cut.
“Girl, you’re nuts,” muttered Amaya, shaking her head. “You just burned America’s tabloid heart throb. How’s he going to sell magazines now?”
Jill shrugged. “Ads for Viagra?”
Amaya shook her head. “I don’t understand a thing about you, killing your chances like that.”
Jill ignored this and linked her arm through Antonio’s. “Good luck. I bet Parker made you look great.”
As his featurette began with a little of his life story, the images cut to him in the waiter scene with Chieko and Crawford, but they’d zoomed in on him, then cut to his monolog. He talked some more over a montage of him playing soccer with his brothers in the park, and both praising the care he provided them.
Antonio leaned over to Jill. “Thanks again for the kids’ shoes and everything.”
She smiled, still watching the screen. “My pleasure.” The shot changed to his star-power scene with Evangeline Erricks, staged with her sitting in a negligee in front of her vanity mirror. He came up behind her wearing a crisp, white button-down shirt … buttoned down.
“I know you think I’m just your chauffer,” he said, standing behind her like a King Cobra ready to strike. “But I can take you places you’ve never been without ever leaving this room.” He placed his palms on the vanity, wrapping her in a spicy hot embrace. Evangeline tried to play it cool, but when he brushed his lips on the back of her neck, her eyes fluttered.
“I don’t think she’s acting,” said Jill with a wink.
The time had come to parade Team Northwest into the blinding lights and deafening roar of the Dolby Theater. Jay rambled and delayed, and introduced each contestant one more time, and delayed some more.
At last a stagehand delivered an envelope with the results while the cameras focused on the line-up. The lights dimmed to two spotlights, one on Jay, and a wider one on the team. Instinctively, they all held hands. Milo had Chieko on his left and Amaya on his right, both a little sticky with nervous sweat. And then Jay went to commercial break.
Milo grunted with frustration.
“I hate this.” Amaya, looking like an ebony angel, wiped her palms on the shimmering blue dress they’d given her to wear.
“It’s almost over,” said Chieko softly.
“Positions!” cried the stage manager. “This is it!”
A camera rolled in close, panning from one side to the other. Were they supposed to look away? Smile and wave at Mom? Milo decided to steal a page from Brock’s book and look intensely at nothing much.
The next few seconds sounded like he was underwater in that bad middle school dream where he had to get his locker open but kept floating away.
“… will the men please step forward?”
Huh? Oh. Right. Milo took a few paces forward with Antonio.
Jay flourished the envelope a few times before opening it. “Advancing to the national competition to be judged by American viewers will be …”
Theme music. For the love of peanut butter, Milo was going to die of old age before they finally freed him from this stupid show.
“Antonio Seneca!”
The crowd cheered as Milo back-slapped Antonio with genuine enthusiasm.
Antonio gasped. “De veras? De veras?”
Jay ushered Antonio over to the other side of the stage in a new circle of light. Milo slipped back into the shadows, relieved.
“Ladies, are you ready? One of you will advance to the national competition and fight for the right to be in the pilot of Angels & Tycoons. We’ve seen tonight that you …”
Blah blah blah blah.
Amaya stood tall between Chieko and Jill, holding their hands. All three of them were stunning in their very different ways. This would be close.
“… and the winning woman of Team Northwest is … Jill Ripley!”
Scene 16: The Unwanted Part
A door banged open, and Parker strode into the green room dressed in a shimmering, short evening dress. “Guys, I’m so proud of you!” Team Northwest fell into a weeping group hug, and Parker gave sincere and specific words of praise to each contestant, assuring both Chieko and Amaya that good things would come of their brief stint on television. “Everyone with eyeballs saw how good you were out there. Don’t let this get you down.”
Draping an arm around Jill, she pulled her aside. “So … not what you expected, huh?”
Jill dabbed at her nose with a piece of tissue she had snagged from a make-up station. “Not really.”
Parker folded her arms loosely at her waist and waited patiently for Jill to regain her composure. When Jill finally looked up, Parker’s smile was sad. “Were you trying to lose?”
A lump climbed up Jill’s throat. Had it been that obvious? “Not at first.”
“But later?”
Jill nodded, guilt crushing her into a slouch. “I’m sorry.”
“Just tell me why.” Nothing in Parker’s tone or stance seemed angry or disappointed. “I thought you really wanted this.”
“I did.” Jill’s eyes followed Antonio to where he and Amaya stood laughing together. �
��And then I saw … I don’t know. Stuff I didn’t like.”
“The pressure for the sex?”
Jill shrugged. “That, too.”
Parker’s brow shot up. “Something else bugged you?”
Wiping her cheeks dry, Jill searched for the right words. “It felt … rigged. Stacked against certain people.”
With a subtle gesture, Parker guided Jill behind a bank of mirrors. “Talk to me.”
“Well, Antonio. I mean, they made him a waiter who got fired … and a criminal, and …”
“He won,” offered Parker.
Jill met her eyes, undeterred. “Because Milo screwed up his scene and Crawford screwed Kamilah.”
Parker’s cackling laughter startled Jill, and she looked around the room to catch the reaction of the others. No one noticed, all engrossed in their own conversations.
Placing a finger over her lips to subdue the smile, Parker nodded. “That’s one way of putting it.” She sighed, back to being serious. “And very astute.”
“I know Kamilah doesn’t want taco trucks on her marina,” said Jill, stone-faced. “And like you said, anyone with eyeballs could see how talented Amaya and Chieko are. They were both better than I was.”
Parker shrugged one shoulder and eyed the other contestants. “All three of you had very marketable qualities, Jill. Don’t feel bad that you won, but don’t forget what you learned about them, either.”
“About who?”
“About the judges. About Amaya and Chieko and Antonio.” Parker tapped her temple. “Knowledge is power.”
Jill nodded and sniffed. “I just didn’t want to win.”
Parker inhaled slowly. “Maybe you need to redefine what winning means and doesn’t mean. The ten thousand dollars isn’t going to hurt, but there are other prizes that matter, too.” Her eyes flickered to Milo, who stood apart from the others now, scrubbing away at his make-up. Parker tilted her head in his direction with a knowing look.
Jill stared at the floor. “I think I already lost that.”
“Don’t give up yet,” said Parker. She took Jill’s shoulders in her hands and waited until they made eye contact. “And while you’re on this show, don’t give up on helping the underdog. You know what I mean.”
“Antonio.”
“And anyone else who doesn’t fit the millionaire marina mold.”
Jill searched Parker’s face. “Did you want one of the other girls to win? You made them look so good.”
“I want to make everyone look good.”
“But were you trying to favor them … to break that mold?”
Parker didn’t answer right away. “I took chances, and in the end, I think this will work out. But before you get too much further in this contest, you decide what winning means to you. On or off the show.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jill felt a smile bloom. “Thanks so much.”
“Now go hug Milo before he dies over there. He’s been fretting ever since you came off stage.”
“I doubt that.” However, her feet pulled her across the room, and she found herself face-to-face with Milo. Wordlessly, they sank into a tight embrace. She didn’t want to let go because when she let go, it would be over. He would go back to Oregon to school, and she would go on to Hollywood.
“I don’t know why they didn’t just schedule our return flights at the same time.” Jill pouted.
“Probably because they wouldn’t want contestants making a scene if there were sore losers on board with gloating winners,” suggested Milo. “It was nice of you to come see me off.”
They shuffled through the switchback lines leading to the security checkpoints, and he could tell it was hard for Jill, but she was clearly trying to make amends. His heart softened at her effort. With a twang in his gut, Milo remembered what Amaya had said. He had to choose one and then make it abundantly clear to both which he had chosen. Looking back, he knew he had never found the perfect moment to declare his adoration. The longer he had waited, the harder it got because she seemed to drift farther and farther away. Maybe it was his fault as much as hers.
“Do you think your parents will be okay about Carlos and Emilio staying longer?” asked Jill.
“Are you kidding? She’s thrilled.”
“The kids are missing so much school.”
Milo worked his feet out of his shoes without undoing the laces. “The kids will have enough bragging rights because of Antonio to last through high school. Don’t worry about them. They’ll be fine.”
“True. This is cooler than ‘My brother can beat up your brother.’” Jill sighed, folding her hands over her tiny purse. Her smile had faded, and he found he couldn’t bear to see her sad anymore. Unbuckling his belt, he gave her an over-the-top rendition of Slick’s voice. “See you when you get back, little starlet.”
She snorted. “You are so weird!” She laughed, though, and that was better.
Still, he felt empty. Like this parting was more significant than the last. “I have to get on this plane now.”
“Don’t let that lady frisk you.” She tossed her head in the direction of the security guard.
“She’s as big as Dad.” Milo chuckled and placed his shoes and belt in the gray plastic tub.
“Milo, why didn’t this work the way we planned?”
“It’s reality, Jill. You can’t always plan it.”
She frowned. “It’s not reality. It’s a reality show. Not the same thing at all.”
Milo forced down a lump in his throat. “Hurry home, if it will make you happy.” With a little wave, he dropped his keys and wallet in the tub and entered the gaping jaws of the metal detector.
***
At the gate, Milo had a few minutes to check messages before boarding. Loads of congratulations from friends and family. No one seemed to mind that he hadn’t won.
Just as he was about to turn off the phone, a text came in from Amaya.
NW Dance Project just contacted me! They want me to audition!
He had never heard of them, but the number of smiley face emojis she included told him this was a big deal. Great! So happy for you. Good luck!
“Now boarding flight 364 to PDX at gate 21.” The creak of vinyl releasing a pack of weary travelers sounded, and Milo paused, his thumbs hovering over the touchscreen. You are so talented. I am lucky to call you my friend. Gotta board now. TTYL.
She sent back a single heart, and Milo shut off the phone.
Jill massaged her temple to stave off the headache that threatened to bloom. “It’s not like it’s a job, Dad. I won the first round. There’s no guarantee—”
“Ten thousand dollars is plenty to start with. The average income in Oregon is around $50K, and you earned twenty percent of that in one night.”
“Not one night. A bunch of shoots.”
“And you have a bunch of shoots ahead. This is your time, Jill. Make bank. Do what it takes because …” His voice faded for a second, but Jill mouthed the words in unison when he spoke again. “It’s time you paid your own way.”
“I know, Dad.”
“Good.”
“You’ll have enough to invest in a business of your choosing, Jill. Your credit rating is great for someone so young. We made sure of that.”
Jill closed her eyes. She might have some capital, but she had no desire to start a business. She wouldn’t even know where to start.
Her father rattled on for a few minutes about some available properties he knew of, and clients with possible leads for start-ups. Through it all, though, she felt the sinking reality drag her down. She was really on her own now. No parents’ money. No Milo. Just her own capacity and an amazing opportunity in front of her.
“Okay, Dad. I’ll take that all into consideration.” His favorite line to use on her. She hung up and checked to see if the prize money had been deposited yet.
***
Three days later, Jill slumped into the couch in Antonio’s hotel room.
“That was degrading.” On the bed, Antonio
leaned back and stared at the ceiling.
“Charles W. Wynn-What’s-His-Face the Turd. What a condescending jerk. He makes Slick seem like the Dalai Lama by comparison.” Jill tried to shake of the dirty feeling she’d had all day. “As far as I can tell, he sees you and me as well-shaped transport for nipples.” Everything in the day’s shoot had revolved around chest shots, Antonio’s bare, and Jill’s only barely covered.
Antonio nodded. “And now the scenes are part of a story, so we’re stuck in those roles.”
“I can’t get fired fast enough.”
Antonio’s head jerked up. “Fired?”
“Voted off. Whatever. You know what I mean.” Hot tears pricked at the back of her eyes, but she covered her face with her arms. “I’m as guilty as anyone of enjoying a great body onscreen. I’ve got eyes and hormones. I notice. I appreciate. But …”
“But when it’s your own body…”
“Exactly. I feel like I need to apologize to all the movie star hunks I’ve ever slobbered over.”
“And all the guys you’ve made slobber over you?” He didn’t sound accusatory, but the remark stung.
Jill rolled her head to look at Antonio. “I’m sorry I slobbered when I saw your vids.”
He made a goofy dog-drool face and then settled back again with a sad half-laugh. “It’s okay,” he said. “But I’m not sure what to do. I don’t like being in scenes that Emilio’s too young to watch, y’know?”
“Tell me something.” Jill turned in the seat to face him better. “How are you going to do this show and take care of the boys?”
“I don’t know. I honestly didn’t think I’d win.” He gave a weak laugh. “I mean, I hoped I would, but I wasn’t thinking it through. Maybe I thought I’d just get some better tips at the restaurant if I was sort of famous.”
“Do you miss working there?”
“It wasn’t so bad. I was getting fat, though. Too much fried food.”
