Bellamy's Redemption

by Holly Tierney-Bedord

  “Okay.”

  “Does that sound good to you?”

  “Sure!”

  “When you watched the show, did you feel like you had a special connection with Bellamy?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “Great. Are you currently married, married but separated, cohabitating in a sexual relationship, or dating anyone who you are seriously intimate with?”

  “What? No, of course not.”

  “Great. How many children did you say you have?”

  “None. None!”

  “Would you be willing to step away from your career for up to ten weeks or longer, if it meant the possibility of finding true love?”

  “Yes,” I said, trying to sound confident. Was I really willing to do that? I couldn’t think; the questions kept rolling:

  “Are you at a place in your life, where, if you met the right person, you feel you are ready for marriage?”

  “Yes.”

  “Great, Emma. You’re doing great. Do you feel that you would be comfortable having television cameras on you twenty-four hours a day for up to ten weeks?”

  “Will they follow us into the bathroom?”

  “Well, the cameras are everywhere, but footage collected in the bathrooms would not be used unless atypical happenings occurred in the bathrooms.”

  “Eww.”

  “They would only use that footage if, say, there was a fight that happened in the bathroom.”

  “Oh. Ugh. Okay. Then sure,” I said. I couldn’t picture myself punching anyone, so I figured I was safe.

  “Emma, I’d like to email you another questionnaire and have you return it to me as quickly as possible. Is this a good time? Do you have a few minutes?”

  “Sure.”

  “Okay, I will send this file to the email address you provided. It should be there any moment. I’d like you to complete it and return it to me as quickly as you can. I will let you know when I receive it, and then I will give you a call right back as soon as it’s been reviewed. Okay? Got it?”

  “Sure.”

  “Alrighty Emma, it’s been sent. Have you received it?”

  “Umm, yes! It’s here already.”

  “Fabulous! Fill it out, send it right back, and we’ll talk again soon. Good luck,” said Christine, hanging up.

  I opened the email and discovered an eighteen page document attached to it. There were questions about everything I had ever done in my life, beginning with grade school. What sports had I played? What instruments? What were my teachers’ names and contact information? Had I been arrested? Had I ever done porn? I began typing, finishing the questionnaire two hours later. I emailed it back to Christine and just fifteen minutes later my phone rang.

  “Hi Emma. We’re reviewing your answers, but so far, it all looks great. We’re going to be delving in a bit deeper using the information you provided, and don’t be surprised if we contact some of your old jobs and acquaintances. I’m sure it will all check out fine for you. No worries! Now we’d like you to come out to our headquarters here in California for the next step in this process.”

  “Great, fabulous,” I said, realizing I was already starting to adopt her vocabulary and enthusiasm. It is strange how catchy attitudes can be.

  “We are actually fairly far along in the selection process, but we have a few more spaces available on Bellamy’s Redemption. And, again, if that opportunity completes itself, we have so many other great shows that I think you’d be excellent on. But let’s shoot for getting you on Bellamy’s show. Alrighty?”

  “Sure!” I said. There she went again, acting like any show would do.

  “Okay, fabulous!” Now she recited instructions, a merry lilt in her voice: “I will be emailing your flight information, hotel reservation, itinerary, and several important waivers shortly. We encourage you to have your lawyer review the waivers with you if you have any questions, but of course that is up to you, and we really cannot offer you legal advice, so that is a suggestion, not actually a recommendation. You can expect to see these emails arriving within the next ten to fifteen minutes. If you don’t see them, check your spam folder. If they are not in your spam folder, call me right back, but only after at least fifteen minutes have passed and you have checked with you internet provider to make sure the problem does not lie on your end. Once you receive the documents, please read them over carefully and return them, completed, to me by five o’clock Pacific time today, and bring printed, signed copies with you as well. Got all that?”

  “Um, sure!”

  “Super! Get cracking little lady! You’ve got homework to do! It’s been great speaking with you Emma. I can’t wait to meet you. See you tomorrow morning. Buh-bye.”

  And she was gone. I set down my phone, feeling shaky. Had she said she’d see me tomorrow? I went over to my computer and sat down. I felt shocked. Dazed. I checked my email. Nothing yet. And then, a split second later, a message arrived. ‘Welcome, Emma!’ it said. I clicked on it.

  Emma,

  We at Slice of Reality Studios would like to wish you a warm welcome as you join our family of reality television stars! We recognize what a special, warm, kind person Bellamy Timberfrost is, and we whole-heartedly understand why you are excited to have the opportunity to meet and fall in love with him! By receiving this invitation, you should be aware that you are part of a select group of women who will ultimately be narrowed down to the twenty who will join Bellamy on his search for his one true love! The in-person interviews that you will be a part of will help us determine who is best suited for Bellamy and for the rigorous and demanding opportunity of reality television! This in-person interview process will determine whether or not you will earn a place on Bellamy’s Redemption, and more importantly, in Bellamy’s heart! This is your final step in the interview process! Congratulations on getting this far and good luck with the rest of this process! It may not always be easy, but it is worth it!

  Thank you and we look forward to meeting you in person!

  Sincerely,

  The Slice of Reality Studios Team

  Attached to the email were fifteen pages of legal forms. As I perused them, my travel plans and reservation numbers arrived in my inbox.

  I got myself a cup of coffee and sat back down at my desk. I reread the email. Every single sentence ended with an exclamation point. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. It seemed a little intense. I sipped my coffee, doubt seeping in. This was all moving a little fast for me. As I sat there, pondering my next move, my phone rang. I picked it up and looked at it. Peter Vincent.

  “Hi Pete,” I said.

  “Mind if I take you up on that cup of coffee? I can’t go back out there. I’m still not thawed out.”

  “Come on over,” I said. I dashed into my bedroom and switched into jeans and a t-shirt. I was brushing my teeth when I heard him knock. I spat out my toothpaste and rushed to the door, trying to look normal, calm, and less like a slob than I had in the hallway.

  “Hi,” I said. “Come on in.”

  “Thanks.” He had brought his own coffee mug. A travel mug with a metallic, aerodynamic look to it.

  “Nice mug,” I said.

  “It was a free add-on with the Cappuccino Genie. I have one in every color, if you’d like one.”

  “Do you have baby blue?”

  “You got me. I don’t have baby blue. I have dark blue or a bluish-green. Teal, I guess it’s called.”

  “That would be nice,” I said. “You know, my friends mentioned that you’re really hyper on television, but I don’t see it much in real life.”

  “You and your friends talk about me a lot.”

  “No we don’t.”

  “Haven’t you ever seen my infomercials?”

  “Just the part of that one I saw over at your place. But you changed the channel right away.”

  “You mean you aren’t watching me on You Tube?”

  “No.”

  “Wow, I assumed you were stalking me. A little, anyway. At least
as much as I stalk you.”

  “Sorry, Pete. Now I will, since you planted the seed in my mind. I want to see this other side of you that you hide from me.”

  “I’m not hiding it, but I guess I get it out of my system at work. It’s like I’m acting. That version of me is just a character I play.”

  “Interesting,” I said, filling his cup. “Cream and sugar?”

  “No thanks,” he said, taking it back from me. Our fingers touched. I pulled my hand away.

  “I need to talk to you,” I said, guilt festering in my stomach. I walked over to the sofa and patted a spot on it.

  “I can’t believe how nice you’ve made your place compared to mine,” he said, gazing around him as he sat down.

  “Thanks,” I said, grabbing a pillow off the sofa and using it as a cushion to dull the hot, metal top of the radiator. I perched on it with my toes balancing on the arm of the sofa. “I can help you with your place if you’d like. Although I think your style suits you pretty well. You wouldn’t fit in an apartment like mine.”

  “You don’t think so?”

  “It’s not a little prissy for you?” I asked.

  “Nah. Not at all. This is the look I was trying for when I dragged that old couch in from the street.”

  “I’d love to help you. Just tell me when you want to pick out your paint colors.”

  “I’ll take you up on that,” he said, taking a drink of coffee. His sleeves were rolled back showing the golden hair on his forearms. I hadn’t realized arms could be so hot… “Why are you way over there?” he asked me.

  “I’m not ‘Way over there.’ I’m right here. I’m just trying to keep warm.”

  “Okay,” he said, scooting over towards my feet.

  So much for trying to get away from him. Now, once again, he was close enough to kiss.

  “Nothing to film today? No new gadgets to push?” I asked him.

  “Nope. So that’s cool that you got another day off,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee.

  “It is, but I am going to have a lot of catching up to do.”

  “Just a couple of days’ worth.”

  “Well, maybe more…”

  “I think the snow is supposed to taper off tonight. You should be back at work tomorrow.”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Would you believe,” I swallowed, “that I heard back from the producers of Bellamy’s Redemption already?”

  Pete set his mug on the coffee table with a jolt, a dribble of coffee splashing out the sip hole and landing on my book of photographs of Paris. I refrained from wincing.

  “They got the video we just shot? Yesterday? Already?”

  “I overnighted it.”

  “But still. They got it and you already heard back from them? That was fast.”

  “I know. They called me and talked to me about it, and they want me to fly to California. It looks like everything is going to move really quickly.”

  “How quickly?” His face was pale. He looked a bit shocked.

  “They have already booked me on a flight tomorrow. They have my hotel set up and everything. I mean, this is really good news, right?”

  He looked at me blankly.

  “I guess I’d better call my boss. And my clients. It’s just one more day that I’ll be away from work. That’s not the end of the world, right? I will miss work tomorrow, but I will be back in town on Sunday. And Monday I will get back on track. So, yeah… it’s not a big deal.”

  “Wow. They’re going to fly you out there? They’re paying for all of this for you?”

  “I guess that is just how they do it.”

  “I don’t think so. They must really like you.”

  “Oh, Pete. I’m not even on the show yet. They’re just bringing me out there to meet me. To see if I’m a good fit for Bellamy. I suppose I probably won’t be.”

  “You never know.”

  “Then, if I actually somehow get chosen, I’ll be gone for ten weeks. Well, up to ten weeks. Ten weeks would mean I won, and let’s face it, that’s not going to happen. But I will worry about that if it happens. Not that it’s going to. When do you think I should say something to my boss, Pete? I mean, that’s a dumb question. I will wait and see how this weekend goes. There’s no sense in even mentioning it if things don’t go well.”

  “No. I wouldn’t say anything yet,” said Pete. Was it just me or did he look irritated?

  “I’m glad you’re here,” I told him. “This whole thing is happening so fast! I am freaking out a little. It’s obvious, right? I needed someone to talk to about this and having you here has really helped me.”

  “So you’re not really on the show? You’re just going out there until Sunday, and then you’re coming home?” he asked.

  “No, I’m not on the show. Not yet, anyhow. That’s why I’m going out there. So they can pick the right girls. For Bellamy,” I added, quietly. I was beginning to forget the point of all this.

  “So, you’ll be back on Sunday night?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Well, I can work with that. I will take you out when you get back if you’re up for it.”

  “Sure,” I said, surprised he was still negotiating dates with me. “I’ll bet I will have a lot to talk about.”

  We both looked at each other awkwardly. Pete picked up his coffee mug and wiped up his spilled coffee with the corner of his t-shirt. “Sorry about that,” he said.

  “It’s no big deal.”

  “I’m going to head back to my place now,” said Pete, standing up, “so you can call your boss, and your clients, and pack.”

  “That’s probably a good idea. I suppose I have a lot to do between now and tomorrow morning. I think they’ve got me on an early flight.”

  “I’ll be around, watching TV later, if you get done and want to stop by,” he said.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “And if I don’t see you, have a safe flight.”

  “Thank you,” I said. I couldn’t help myself; I stepped forward and gave him a hug. He was rigid, practically non-responsive. The warmth I’d seen in his eyes before was now shut off.

  He made his way to my door and he stopped as he reached it, turning to me. He began to open his mouth, but then he closed it and raised his coffee mug to me in a little salute, and was gone.

  Chapter 6

  It was not even seven o’clock in the morning, and I was already in flight. I’d barely slept all night, afraid I was going to somehow sleep through both alarms I’d set for 4:30 a.m. The paperwork had kept me up until midnight, and I never had gone over to Pete’s. I checked my puffy, exhausted expression in the mirror of my compact and immediately snapped the compact closed. The producers were going to be very disappointed with me if I showed up looking and feeling like this.

  I smooshed myself against the window and pulled the thin airline blanket around me, trying to fall asleep.

  “Business or pleasure?” asked the man next to me, leaning into my comfort zone.

  “Ugh,” I moaned, ignoring him.

  He pulled away and removed the Skymall catalog out of the pocket in front of him, pretending to be engrossed in it. It made me think of Pete, of course. All those gadgets and goodies…

  “Look on the bright side,” I told myself, “You haven’t been to California since you were a kid. Now you’re getting a free trip. Look at this as an adventure. Expect nothing. Worst case scenario, it won’t work out, and you’ll have had a free, exciting weekend.”

  My pep-talk actually made me feel a little better. I closed my eyes and dozed, waking up much more refreshed as the plane began its descent.

  I hadn’t checked any luggage, so it was just me and my carry-on. I was wearing a pearl gray pantsuit from Ann Taylor with a royal blue sequined top beneath it. I thought it made sense, since I wanted to be sparkly and effervescent, yet was, effectively, on a job interview. I’d suffered coatlessly in Chicago so I could show up in California looking as streamlined as possibl
e. I’d brought my smallest handbag and now it was stuffed tidily into the side pocket of my carry-on. I hoped I came across as classy and sophisticated.

  I looked around me, unsure of what was going to happen next. I’d been told that someone would meet me there, but I saw no one who seemed to be for me. I strolled about a little, enjoying the important clicking of my heels on the floor. I touched up my makeup and brushed my teeth in the restroom three times. I went over to a Starbucks kiosk and bought myself a cup of coffee and a little bag of trail mix. I sipped and nibbled as delicately as possible, waiting.

  “Maybe you should try to call someone,” I said to myself. Out loud, apparently. The woman sitting a few seats from me looked up from her book like I was crazy. At that same moment I saw a short, thin girl who looked like she was about twelve or thirteen years old running around, holding up a sign that said Emma Van Elson.

  “Excuse me, I must be going now,” I said haughtily to the offended woman, wheeling my carry-on over to the kid.

  “Hello! Emma! You look just like your video! I’m Kenna. Pleased to meet you,” she said, holding out a tiny hand. She wasn’t a preteen after all. She was probably my age or older, and very, very small. “Sorry I’m late. L.A. traffic is so crazy. Let’s get your bags and we’ll be on our way.”

  “Nice to meet you. I have just this one,” I said.

  “Oh. Oh! Wow. Okay, well that makes things easier. Cool, very cool. Come on with me. Let me take that for you,” she said, grabbing the bag and pulling it behind her. It came up past her waist.

  “I can take it if you’d like,” I said, feeling like she was overexerting herself.

  “No, no. You just relax. I’ve got it,” she said.