by Leslie North
“I’ve been thinking about this.” Melissa rubbed her toe in a line on the driveway. “I think I need to defer to Frank. I’m too close to the situation.”
“And when do you plan on doing that?”
She gnawed at the inside of her lip, finally looking back up at him. “Either in a few minutes or never. I hadn’t decided yet.”
He snorted. “Let’s call him. Together. I’ll help.”
Melissa nodded, getting out her phone. Excitement burbled in his chest as she called Frank on speaker. He answered on the fourth ring.
“Frank, I have something really big to tell you,” she blurted.
“Go on…” he urged.
Melissa faltered, glancing at Donovan. “I’m pregnant. I just found out.”
“Well, congratulations!”
“But there’s a potential conflict here.” Melissa paused. “The baby is Donovan’s.”
A long silence stretched from Frank’s end. And then finally he let out a low hum. “I don’t know if I would call that a conflict as much as a gold mine.”
Melissa furrowed a brow. “Come again?”
“We can really work this to the show’s advantage. Can you imagine?” Frank laughed. “Holy shit. If this pregnancy is part of the show, it’ll really add a dramatic twist to the entire concept.”
Donovan’s stomach sank when he saw Melissa pinch her eyes shut. “I don’t know…” she began.
“As far as I see it, you have a couple options as the producer on this show,” Frank said. “Either you pony up and get on the show yourself, allowing the pregnancy to form a part of the background story, or you quietly excuse yourself from production. I think the only way the pregnancy is gonna fly is if it’s in the open. You can’t be on the sidelines carrying his kid. It’s not gonna stay quiet. Believe me. You know how rough and tumble the rumor mill is.”
Melissa pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Besides, it’s bad juju for the cast. I know we’re scripting entertainment here, but it’s still very off-putting. Holding this pregnancy over their heads, pretending it’s a secret. It’s not going to end well. I’ve seen it happen before.”
Donovan squeezed her arm then, wanting the contact. For her to know he was there. She nodded, sniffing.
“Okay. So, I’ll be on the show then,” she said weakly.
“Great choice, Melissa. You take your time to figure out how to break the news and incorporate this new aspect. I’ll be around if you need me.”
After she swiped the call off, the two of them stared at each other for a long time.
“Great,” Donovan finally said.
“Yeah,” Melissa said, but there was no conviction there. “Just what I always wanted. A televised pregnancy.”
“Then don’t do it,” he said.
“I have to, Donovan.” She sent him a mean look, one that told him he had no fucking idea. “Don’t you see? If I want the job, I gotta do it this way.”
She walked off, that frown returning to her face. Donovan’s fingers twitched with the urge to go after her, but he stayed put. She needed time to figure this out. He would only get in the way.
7
Melissa wasn’t sure which was stranger: being in an OB exam room with Donovan, or the two cameramen filming the whole thing.
She drew a deep breath and squeezed the edges of the exam table she sat on. Every inch of her burned with discomfort. This was an intrusion—plain and simple. But it was the best course of action. Because she didn’t have a partner, and she needed her job, so why the hell not sell herself—and her baby—out to the world?
She rubbed at her face. The hormones weren’t helping the guilt. Or the stress. Or anything, really.
Donovan rubbed her back. She hated that she couldn’t tell if it was for the cameras or not. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” She sniffed, rallying herself to remain positive. She was in control of the production. Which meant she’d make damn sure that this pregnancy stayed in the background of the show. Already they’d filmed Donovan’s surprise announcement about being an expectant father. And she couldn’t deny it was going to be ratings gold. Already the editing team was swirling with teasers and clips that they were preparing to release into the wild. The tight shots of Donovan’s grimacing face, the outrageous shock of the girls, and then the booming announcer voice asking: “What is his secret?”
It was almost too good. And maybe this, of all things, would seal her bid for the executive producer position.
“So what do you think we’re having?” Donovan asked.
She smiled. “A baby?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re real funny, Hampton. I want a boy.”
“You would.” She sent him a playful look. “Someone else to game with.”
“I need an heir for my empire,” he commented.
“And what about my television empire? Who’s going to inherit that?”
“Guess we’ll just have to make a second one.” Donovan reached for her hand.
A surprised laugh shot out of her. Looking at the cameramen, she said, “We’re definitely editing that out.”
“Oh, come on, it was a joke,” he chided.
But she wasn’t so sure with him. She wasn’t so sure about anything anymore. Donovan was so easy to be around, so light with his words and his smiles and his laughter, that it was easy to take whatever he said at face value. But this was all for show. He was a bachelor addicted to the limelight with throngs of women vying for his attention. He didn’t actually mean a single thing he said. And she needed to stay as far away from the spotlight as possible
Or else she’d go under.
“Your future wife won’t like hearing that one bit,” she finally said, trying to keep her tone playful. “And then where will the show be?”
“Stuck in a drama loop?” he offered. The doorknob turned, and the doctor came in. Donovan straightened, offering his hand like a well-behaved, involved partner should. The doctor didn’t even flinch at the cameras—she’d been briefed beforehand, and besides, this was California. Any doctor of note had been invaded by a camera crew at least once in their career. And if not, then maybe they weren’t worth going to.
The in-office pregnancy test confirmed what Melissa had discovered two weeks ago. She was pregnant, roughly eight weeks along. Dr. Madsen was an even-tempered older lady who didn’t seem fazed by much and smiled frequently. She answered all of Melissa’s questions about vitamins and physical activity and foods to avoid. She answered questions that had no answer, like did she think it was a boy—Donovan’s question—and questions that made no sense, like if it was safe for Melissa to have sex. Also Donovan’s question.
There wasn’t much else to do now except wait and grow this baby.
Outside, once the camera crew had packed up and left and it was just Donovan and Melissa getting into his car, she sighed.
“Thanks for the ride,” she said. “It was nice to have you there. Even if the cameras came along, too.”
“You don’t like the crew?” He turned the car on. “I’ve come to expect them. I barely even notice them.”
“Yeah, well, I can tell you’ve been filming a reality TV show, all right,” Melissa grumbled, fastening her seatbelt, making sure it sat low on her belly even though there was no bulge to protect yet. “You were asking the most ridiculous questions in there. You’ve been primed for drama.”
“What ridiculous questions did I ask?”
“Um, like whether or not I can have sex?” She scoffed.
“Well, it’s valid.”
“You don’t need to worry about my sex life, okay?” She stared out the window as he drove down the palm-lined boulevard. “Whoever I choose to sleep with will be informed of this situation beforehand.”
Donovan was quiet a moment, the blinker clicking dully as he waited to hang a left. “I meant if we could have sex. I wasn’t talking about other guys.”
Melissa rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, come on. You really wann
a add a pregnant lady to your line-up back home?”
He had enough of a line-up, that was for sure. Donovan hadn’t slept with any of the contestants yet—at least not that she’d seen from the footage in the rooms—but it was headed there. It had to. The ratings depended on it. Besides, once sex entered the picture, that was when things really took off for viewers. As it was, this far into filming, Donovan’s lack of shacking up was concerning. He’d made out with all the girls plenty. But it needed to go a step farther. Even if the thought made her already-weak stomach sicker.
“I’m not really feeling any of them,” he said, shrugging. He leaned back in his seat, a terse sigh escaping him. “I mean, I know it’s the show. Gotta do whatever for the ratings. But…”
“You’re gonna have to pick at least one of them,” Melissa said, trying not to let his hesitance sink into her. To let it mean something. “That’s what this whole show is about.”
“I know. I know.” Donovan squeezed the steering wheel. He didn’t say anything more, but tension lined the air. As if he wasn’t quite finished.
They drove a few more blocks before Donovan heaved a sigh. “Why don’t you just become a contestant?”
The idea had occurred to her. As her worst nightmare. “I don’t do the spotlight very well.”
“Why not? You’re in television. There’s gotta be some part of you that just…wants it.”
Melissa toyed with brushing off his curiosity. She had a reason. One she didn’t share with very many people. “I kinda come from a spotlight family. If you catch my drift. I grew tired of it at a very young age.”
Donovan nodded. “What kind of spotlight family?”
Melissa picked at her nails, wondering how much to reveal. Why not just admit it? She trusted him, despite everything. “You ever heard of The Mesmerizing Bellinis?”
“I think…they were that married couple traveling the country or something? Circus tricks?”
“Yeah.” Melissa sniffed, watching without really seeing the scenery passing around the car as they headed back to Donovan’s house. “That’s my mom and dad. They’ve been a fixture in Vegas since…God, I don’t even know what year they started there. Before I was born.”
Donovan looked over at her, a surprised smile creating his face. “Holy shit. You guys are famous.”
“They are. I only ever worked in the background. I learned real quick I wasn’t suited for the limelight.”
“Aw, come on. I can see you on a trapeze or a unicycle or something.”
Melissa smirked. “Hardly. I did one show with them and completely ruined my skit. After that, I swore never again. I only ever helped on the sidelines. Ran their clown college for a couple years, just the production side of it. I’m good at production. That’s what I do. All the rest—forget it.”
“But reality TV is different.”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “It’s worse.”
Back at the house, she and Donovan walked into a mess in the front hallway. A lamp lay in shards, and loud voices drifted from the living room. They walked in to find three cameras filming an all-out brawl between Jasmine and Tara.
“Hey,” Donovan barked, immediately leaping into the fray. “Knock it off. What are you doing?”
He inserted himself into the shoving and hair pulling easily, pushing them apart while they glared daggers at each other.
“This bitch thinks she’s better than the rest of us,” Jasmine spat.
“I’m just trying to keep it real,” Tara insisted. “If Donovan wants to have anybody’s baby after hers,” a few sets of eyes swung Melissa’s way, “who do you think it’s gonna be? The nice blonde girl? Or the snarky, sleazy brunette who can’t even put away her plates after every. Single. Meal?”
Jasmine leapt for Tara again, and Melissa sighed, setting her purse down on the table in the hallway, being careful to sidestep the broken lamp.
“I don’t know what you see in any of them,” Jasmine said, once she’d been pulled off Tara for a second time. Her eyes were wild—clearly she was gunning for a fight. She wandered toward Melissa, hackles raised. “And least of all this one.”
Melissa stifled a groan. Jasmine was more than playing a part, and this was exactly what Melissa had hired her for. Still, best to not get involved. No reaction. She didn’t want to be a part of the show.
But Donovan apparently hadn’t gotten the memo. He swiped at Jasmine, tugging her away from Melissa.
“Don’t you talk about her like that,” he growled, his voice low and threatening. Real surprise moved over Jasmine’s face. And it had to be written all over Melissa’s too.
A stunned silence shivered through the room. Donovan said more with his tone, his tension, than with his words.
Donovan released Jasmine and stormed out of the room, brushing past Melissa. She offered a small smile to the girls in the living room, offering a thumbs up.
“Really great content,” she whispered, then ran off to her office.
This whole thing was becoming exactly the clusterfuck she feared.
And it wasn’t just her getting pulled into the muck. It looked like Donovan was right there with her.
8
Melissa had just hit ten weeks pregnant when the first three episodes of the show aired to the early screening test audience. She waited with bated breath for the results, hopeful for a hit but not naïve enough to expect it.
When the results confirmed her suspicions, she was relieved. Elated. A puddle of gratitude in her arm chair at home.
But what she hadn’t expected was the feedback.
Melissa and Frank talked over the results on speaker phone. And one thing was clear: audiences were clamoring for more Melissa.
“I don’t understand it,” Melissa sighed over a pregnancy tea that sat steaming in her hands. “I consciously tried to stay to the sidelines.”
“Well, you know the masters we have editing our footage,” Frank said.
“Yes, but that’s the thing. Why does the audience care about me? I’m just…nobody.”
“You’re the baby mama,” Frank reminded her.
“Yeah, but that’s not interesting.”
Frank laughed, the disbelief ringing clear. “Is this some sort of side effect of the pregnancy?”
“I don’t follow.”
“You’re acting like you’re new to reality TV, Melissa. Wake up. Of course the audience is going to go after you. They’re hungry for the drama. And there’s nothing more dramatic than the baby mama in the midst of a search for a wife.”
He was right. She just didn’t want to go there. But the time to play dumb had come to an end. “I can’t contend. I can’t be a regular on the show.”
“You’re going to have to. At least more regularly than you have been. The audience wants it. And I thought you wanted success.”
She pinched her eyes shut, the mug in her hands the only thing that kept her grounded. Of course he was right. But how far was she willing to go for her own success?
All the way. She hadn’t fought this hard to get out from under the shadow of her parents only to shrink when the window of opportunity finally slid open a crack. To slide backwards, forever a junior producer with the stain of a failed show tarnishing her track record—the reality show that could have been great but just wasn’t. No, she wouldn’t let that happen. She was in it to win it.
“I do want success,” she told Frank. “And trust me, this show is going to be a success.”
“Then I suggest you get your ass in front of that camera and start stirring things up. This will all be over soon. You’ll be delivering after the show ends. It won’t be much longer.”
And that, at least, was a relief. Only three fourths of her pregnancy would be spent in this reality-competition misery. Maybe she could be eliminated ASAP. Do something to throw the audience off her tail.
But that was a long shot. It was hard to predict what audiences would respond to negatively. Certain things were guaranteed, but not everything. Babies alw
ays made good ratings, but women’s past dating lives were a crapshoot.
Men, on the other hand, could whore around as much as they wanted without so much as a negative review.
All she could do was just stay as small as possible and get through it.
Frank was right. It would be over soon.
Melissa got to work organizing some upcoming scenes that could include her with the least amount of discomfort—she’d increase her participation, but she wouldn’t become a contestant. For so many reasons.
The nursery would be a good place to start. Donovan had wanted to deck out a state-of-the-art nursery in the house. Their conversation about that would make excellent fodder for primetime television. Bickering and dissent would abound. And then the construction phase, complete with a grand reveal for the contestants. That way, they’d string along the audience for a few weeks as they awaited the completion of the nursery. Would it pass muster? What would Melissa really think? Would Donovan get the flat screen baby monitor he dreamed of? It was perfect.
Melissa sketched out a couple scenes in her notebook, pleased with the new addition to the upcoming scripts. She called the head writer of the show, spitballing the new ideas, then confirmed everything with Frank before calling it a night. As she headed to her bedroom, a text from Donovan arrived.
“Test audience loved it! Knew it was gonna be a hit.”
She grinned. They texted almost daily, usually quick little notes like these. Each message sent heat circulating through her. If Donovan missed a day, she noticed. It was hard to ignore how much she liked hearing from him. He was the only person in her life anymore who texted daily, without fail.
She tapped out her response. “You’re about to be famous, kid.”
“You too, Melly. Don’t hide in the shadows. The people are hungry for my baby mama.”
She snorted, letting the phone fall back onto her bed. While she washed her face and got ready for bed, her mind swirled with conversation. Wishing he could be at her house, instead of his. Thinking about all the things she wanted to say to him…and what his responses might be.
