"I have to admit, I'd sure be interested to know what they all would be doing for a living."
"Absolutely not," Mom declared.
"Why?" It had taken everything I had not to whine my question at her. I actually had to remind myself that she no longer held the power to tell me 'no'.
"Because, that's not how you find a husband."
"Okay. Then tell me how I'm supposed to do it."
"You move back home, you go out to the-"
"No," Dad interrupted and pointed to the back door. "That door swings one way, out. Live here as long as you need, get your feet on the ground, and then once you move out, you're out. Unless your place burns down, or you're injured and can't stay by yourself, then you can move back temporarily. Come and visit as often as you can. But kids move out and stay out."
Chloe and I shared a smile.
"She didn't move out," Mom countered. "She just goes on extended camping trips in a trailer."
"She's also twenty-seven years old," he muttered before turning to me. "Em, where do you live?" Dad asked.
"Legally? In a post office box. Physically? I RV full-time. All my stuff is in my 'trailer'," I answered.
"And where don't you live?" he asked.
"I don't live here," I said, repeating the same routine he and I have a million times before because my mother just couldn't grasp the concept that my roots were mobile.
"Well, you could rent an apartment here. Your Dad and I have friends who have sons-"
"No! Please, we've been through this. I like living in the fifth wheel. I like moving around and trying out new places."
She sighed. My Mom had been born, raised, and continued to live, in a five-mile radius. And she liked it. My genetics had not lined up that way.
"So, living the way I do, how would you like for me to go about finding a husband?" I asked her.
"I don't know, but not this way! You do not date twelve men all at the same time. You do not kiss twelve men, all at once, on national television. You were not raised that way."
"Oh, Mom, please," Chloe jumped in. "We were raised to not sleep with a dozen guys all at once. You never put restrictions on kissing."
I burst out laughing.
Dad slapped his forehead and rubbed it, as he questioned his fate with daughters.
And Mom shot daggers straight out of her eye sockets.
"Mom," I said, laying my hand on hers across the kitchen table to reassure her, "I promise I won't kiss them all at once... I'll kiss them one at a time, and sometimes off-camera."
It was Chloe's turn to burst out with laughter.
That was it. Mom was done. Up and out of her chair she went, and off into the bedroom. It must be hell when your kid grows up and insists upon doing things her own way.
Dad sat down at the table and scrubbed at his face. "I hate that you're out there traveling the country by yourself."
"Which is why you made me get my permit and go learn how to shoot a gun. And then you made me get Goldie and go for dog training lessons."
"Yes, I didn't want you out there defenseless against guys looking for a vulnerable woman."
"And so?"
"And so I don't hate the idea of your doing the show."
Chloe's eyebrows shot up and I just smiled.
"If you're dating these guys on camera," he reasoned, "then you can't just up and disappear. You'll be supervised."
"Supervised?" I deadpanned.
"Yes. Or more like the guys will be supervised. Everything they say or do will be televised. I like that kind of accountability. And, hopefully, I've raised you to be smart enough to filter out the whack-jobs pretty quick. And, by the time the cameras disappear, you just might have yourself a decent guy for a relationship. If nothing else, I'll be able to sleep at night for a couple months and not worry about you being out there all alone."
"The lack of worry is all you care about, isn't it?"
"Someone will know where you are twenty-four/seven. And that, sweetheart, is worth its weight in gold to your old man. And, if you end up marrying this guy, I'll never have to worry to the same extent, again." He knocked his knuckles on the tabletop, to signal the end of him giving me his opinion, and stood to go outside and mow the lawn.
Chloe and I just sat at the table, looking at one another. That wasn't how we thought the talk with Dad would have gone down. In the end, we started giggling like we did any other time we got away with something and felt triumphant over it.
Chapter Three
The Interview
Chloe dropped me off at the local train station. I rode it into thirtieth street station and transferred to another train that rode straight out to the airport. Check in, security, and an hour of waiting later, I was airborne.
Landing at Los Angeles International Airport was interesting. It's huge. But, that's okay because I've gotten pretty freaking awesome at following signs. So I followed them all the way out to the meeting place where the guy holding the sign, and wearing the nametag I was supposed to look for, was waiting for me.
"Emmaline Jacobs?"
"That's me."
"Do you need to collect any baggage?" he asked, taking hold of my carry-on bag.
"Nope."
"Excellent. Please follow me," and off he went.
I followed him out to a black, four-door sedan. He held the door open for me. I sat, he shut the door, and he put my bag in the trunk.
He got into the driver's seat in front of me and checked his mirrors before pulling out. "My name is Trevor. I'm the only one assigned to driving you, so don't get into another car with anybody else claiming to be showing up to take you anywhere."
"Okay, good to know. Nice to meet you, Trevor."
"And I, you, Miss."
Yeah, no. I wasn't about to be called 'Miss' for the next two days. "Please, call me Emma."
"All right. I can either take you straight to the hotel or take you on the scenic route to acquaint you with the area."
"Scenic route, please."
He did a wonderful and informative tour of the area. And when he was through, he asked me a rather practical question. "Do you have thoughts about where you'd like for me to drive you for dinner?"
"So you can stand outside and wait at my beck and call? No, thank you."
He chuckled. "It's my job."
"I understand, but I'd just feel the need to order something they don't have to cook and then scarf it down to finish, so you're not tied up waiting for very long. Does the hotel have a restaurant?"
"Yes. And room service. And there are two more restaurants on the same block, so it would be impossible for you to get lost walking to them."
"Perfect. Just take me to the hotel, then."
"Anything ordered from room service, or the restaurant, can be billed to the room. And, if you're interested, you can rent two movies on the television and the studio will cover the cost."
"Awesome."
Once he pulled into the parking lot, he grabbed my suitcase and escorted me inside. "I'll handle check-in for you. I have the company card and the reservation confirmation. Have a seat. I'll be back in a moment." He gestured to the waiting area, where several couches and chairs awaited for someone to set their tushies on them, and headed for the main desk.
He was back in a few moments and handed me my key. "I can carry your bag up to your room for you, if you wish."
"Um, no, thank you. You've been awesome."
"All right. If you have need of a ride, just call Elaine's office. You'll get her secretary, and she'll make sure the request gets to me. I'll be on-call for the next two days."
"Thank you, so much. I hope not to have to bother you except for getting to the studio and back. ...Um, am I supposed to tip you? I don't know the protocol."
"No, the studio takes care of my compensation. Though, the better the word you put in for me at the end, the better my bonus for the assignment will be."
"Ah."
"Yes. Well, unless you call, I'll pick you up here i
n the lobby at eight fifteen tomorrow morning."
"Yes, that's on the schedule Elaine's office sent me. I'll be down here."
"Very good. Good night, Emma."
"Good bye, Trevor."
On my elevator ride up the sixteenth floor, I mulled Trevor over. He had looked to be about my age, but somehow tried to act older. He floundered between trying to speak and act all stiff and formal, but then would slip back into a professional but more relaxed mode. I guess the more formal he was, the bigger the tips. It made me wonder how long Trevor had been doing the whole chauffer thing.
The room was plush. It wasn't very big, but it had a Jacuzzi tub, a king-sized bed, and a balcony.
Oh, I instantly had my night planned out. Order up a snack and a couple drinks for the rest of the day, work for a few hours out on that balcony, soak in the tub and finish reading the magazine I got at the Philly Airport, then order up midnight pizza and rent a movie in bed. Even if the interview went horribly tomorrow, this room and its perks were worth the trip.
The phone rang about twenty minutes later. It was housekeeping asking me if the room was all right and if I needed anything more for the evening. I told her, yes, how about enough pillows to bury myself. She chuckled and told me that the hotel would let me have a maximum of ten and that she would be right up with some.
Ten pillows. This was going to be damn good night. And that's when it hit me how very, very 'single' I lived my life. I shook myself out of that mind frame. Whatever. It's sunny and I have a balcony.
"Good morning, Emma," Elaine Brown greeted me when I stepped off the elevator for my meeting with casting and the producers.
"Good morning," I replied with a smile.
She and I had exchanged a few emails back and forth since her initial phone call. And she was all I had when it came to familiar faces, despite the fact that this was the first time we were meeting face-to-face.
"If you'll follow me, we'll go ahead and step into the meeting room."
I followed, and tried not to look too intimidated as I went along.
Pictures of the show's previous couples lined the hallway. And when I stepped into the room, the only true decorations were wedding and engagement portraits of the successful matches that hung on the front wall, on either side of the centered presentation area.
The table was huge. Six chairs lined each side, with three seats at the head. She sat me in the center seat of the head. It was an intimidating place to be. It gave the illusion that I was in charge, even though we all knew that I wasn't.
"Can I get you any coffee, or water?" Elaine asked.
"Some hot tea, please?"
"Certainly, I'll be right back."
It had to be a test. Putting me in the head seat would focus all attention on me, and they wanted to see how I handled it. Or maybe they just wanted me to feel like I had a say. Maybe that's how they got girls to agree to do this. Hmm, tricky.
Elaine's secretary came in to give me the tea and placed coffee pots, sugar, and creamer on a sideboard. I waited until she was done, then went over to grab a couple packets of sugar.
I was just about to sit back down when Elaine, the show's host, Troy, and twelve producers and casting consultants entered the room.
Elaine made quick introductions before we all sat, with Elaine to my right and Troy to my left.
I took a deep breath, let the inquisition begin...
"So, Emmaline, what exactly is it that you do? I see writer/author listed," number nine asked.
"Emma, please. I write articles for a travel magazine, and an RV magazine. I contribute to a blog for a travel website. I have my own author's blog. And, I write contemporary fiction novels. Three have been traditionally published, and I have a contract for three more. I also have eight novels independently published online. I hit a few book conventions and do some book signings throughout the year. There are also a couple RV shows where I man a table for one of the magazines I write for."
"So all of that allows for the flexibility for you to commit to this? Three months for filming, and then making the talk show rounds once it's all aired?" number five asked.
I nodded. "As long as I have dates in advance. There are very few calendar days that I can't work around, and I've already sent those to Elaine."
"Why are you here? What made you fill out the application?" number two asked.
I explained my horrible dating life and lack of opportunity to do any better. I explained that I was ready. That I'd already tried getting a dog and it just wasn't enough anymore -that had gotten a chuckle out of them and officially broke the ice for me. Then I explained the opinions of my family on my life and their thoughts about the show.
"How old is your sister?" number ten asked.
"Twenty-two and about to graduate from college."
"Is she who you'll call for advice on these guys?" number six asked.
I smiled. "Yes. Not only will she demand it, but she sees things the same way I do."
"Did you attend a university?" number eight asked.
"I picked courses from an online writing institute, with the help of one of their advisers. Whenever I see a weakness in my writing, or I have one pointed out to me, I try to pinpoint a course that will help me refine the skill. Lately, I've been focusing on courses for editing. So, I have a number of credits, but no degree."
"And you support yourself?" number eleven asked.
"My parents had a small college fund set aside for me that I use for my courses. I had an inheritance from my grandfather that I used to purchase the fifth wheel. Other than that, yes, I support myself."
"What are you looking for in a husband?" number one asked.
"Well, he's got to be strong and flexible enough to maneuver his way around an RV of some sort. He must, must, must have a job. And that job must have him living in an RV. I'm not going to give up my mobility anytime soon. But, I don't have a problem with his job determining some of our locations, as my job will do that, too, from time to time. He has to be an American citizen. He has to be able to speak proper American English, I'm a writer, have mercy on me. And no kids -unless the mother is out of the picture- because it'll be too hard to balance getting the child back and forth between the two parents for visitations."
"What about race or cultural background?" number twelve asked.
"Bring it on. I'll take a variety. I love learning about different cultures and sub-cultures. I'm totally flexible. I don't mind regional accents, either, so long as I can clearly understand them. And if you all are going to mix it up, for the love of all that's holy, bring me a man in a kilt and throw him into the mix. And while I don't much care for full business suits, I love guys in uniforms."
"How athletic are you?" number three asked.
"I like to start my morning out with some sort of exercise. I change it up depending on what's available around me and where I am. Running, biking, swimming, hiking, a little boating. I figure all my travelling doesn't do me any good if I don't get out and see the area. I'm big on national and state parks. I just want all the comforts of home to return to, to do my work in."
"What kind of dog do you have? What's her temperament?" number nine asked.
"Goldie is a golden retriever. She's right by my side when I'm out and about, as much as the local guidelines will allow her to be. She's very well trained and obedient. And at some point, she has to meet the guys. If she doesn't like someone, there's generally a reason. I won't get too serious about someone she's going to growl at."
The questions went on and on and on, everyone taking more than a couple turns. I asked questions as well. We took a break at noon for a light lunch. Then Elaine whisked me off to a small photo shoot. They wanted me to try on different dresses and outfits and pose with them on so they could get a feel for what designs worked well on me and what my best angles were.
By three-thirty, I was done and back in the car with Trevor. I was told that I would have an answer within a week.
I was mentally shot
to hell.
"Would you like to get any shopping done before your return trip tomorrow?" he asked.
"In LA? I don't think my check book could handle that."
"How about LA shopping on a real-world budget?"
"What did you have in mind?"
"Did you know that LA has Goodwills? And that those Goodwills can be loaded with designer labels?"
"Oh? Do tell."
"I even know of a couple that don't jack up the prices much just because of a brand."
"You better not be lying to me," I warned with a sparkle in my eye.
"My mother taught me to never kid about a good bargain."
"Well, drive on, my good man. Take me to the Nirvana of Goodwills."
The call came in Monday afternoon.
Mom had spent the week cooking all of Chloe's and my favorites. She'd sent Chloe back to college with a bag full of leftovers. Now the woman was trying to rearrange and stockpile plastic containers in my small fridge and freezer.
"Is this really all the cold storage you have?" she asked. "I don't understand how you can live like this."
"Not everybody freezes everything, Mom. We don't all need an upright freezer and a chest freezer, like some people do."
"Hey, others can what they make, I freeze."
"Well if you canned you could stack some stuff on the passenger seat of the truck and your mothering wouldn't be so limited." I let out a heavy sigh before caving in. "If I open up the outdoor grill, there's a small fridge in there." I pulled the key out of my pocket and we walked outside and along the side to the grill area door.
"You're going to have to eat all the stuff in the fridges first, you won't have very long to enjoy them," she warned.
I stood behind her and rolled my eyes. I had half a mind to stop by my uncle's house and leave most of it in his freezer. My cousins would love it if I did that. At least then, I could stop at my favorite Mennonite farm market on my way out of town and stock up on all sorts of things I can only seem to get from around here.
On the upside, I wouldn't have to cook for myself for a while.
Dad pulled into the driveway, with a smirk on his face from whatever errand had him running late in getting back from driving Chloe up to college. He walked around to the passenger side of his pickup and opened the door. "Easter bunny brought you a gift," he said, and pulled out a funky looking cooler.
Walk of Shame Page 2
