Reality Girl: Episode One

by Jessica Hildreth

  “I swear.”

  She began to rub her temples with the tips of her fingers, and her eyes fell to the floor. “Give me a minute.”

  She looked up. “We need one more scene. A departing scene. We can fix the rest.”

  “When will he be gone?”

  “After his outburst last night? I can have him gone tonight.”

  “Just something like an I can’t wait to see you, and I hug him or something?”

  “Something like that,” she said. “I’ll coach you through it.”

  “And, then he’s gone?”

  “Never to be seen again,” she said.

  “Okay.” I sighed. “Let’s do it.”

  “I’ve got another question,” she said.

  I met her gaze. “Yeah?”

  “Is there someone on the side?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not hooking up with anyone, really.”

  “Okay.” She smiled and nodded. “Now, all we have to do is fix this fucking mess.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  After a lengthy discussion, Kelli decided I only had to spend one more night with Rhett. The following day he would leave the set, never to be seen again. I couldn’t have been happier. To be rid of him and his shitty attitude would allow me proceed with the show – and with my life – as if he never existed.

  I realized it had only been a few weeks, but I felt that the progress I had made was monumental. Driven primarily by the money, and partially by the fact that I – like every other single woman – wanted to find someone to love me, I clung to the first guy that was smoking hot and had a great smile.

  What a huge mistake.

  I learned quickly – but only after we had sex – that chiseled abs, bulging pecs, and alpha male tendencies were meaningless. What I now found to be crucial in choosing a significant other was who a man was, not what he was.

  “So, here’s the veggies.” I slid the cutting board across the island and smiled at the thought of Rhett’s hatred of all things veggie.

  “Thanks,” Rhett said.

  He began scooping the peppers, onions, and basil from the board and then dropped them into clumps on the pizza. Watching him was aggravating for many reasons.

  The vegetables weren’t evenly spread about; they were in clumps. And, it was all one big lie.

  He grinned as he lifted the pizza from the countertop. “Let me get this thing in the oven, and then we can enjoy it.”

  I took a drink of my wine and glanced at Kelli. She smiled in return and pointed to a button on her shirt.

  I wrinkled my nose.

  She unbuttoned it, and then pointed to me.

  Dressed much differently than normal, I was wearing pants, a button up blouse, and had my hair in a bun. Although I wouldn’t normally have my top buttoned up to my neck, eating dinner with someone I detested wasn’t typical for me.

  I downed my wine and unbuttoned a button.

  She mouthed the words one more.

  Reluctantly, I unbuttoned another, and while the camera was trained on the oven, poured my glass full again.

  He slid the pizza into the oven and reached for his beer. While the camera panned to me, he downed the can of beer. After a moment, and only due to the insistence of Kelli, he picked up his glass of wine.

  “Here’s to fate,” he said, raising the glass.

  Are you fucking serious?

  I glanced at Kelli, and then at Rhett. The thought of him made me sick. I lifted my glass in false toast. “Hear, hear.”

  I glared at Kelli until she met my gaze, and then rolled my eyes. She shot me a look and then turned away. I took a drink of my wine for the camera, and then glared at Rhett. “It’s going to be a while, let’s go sit down.”

  I walked past him, and toward the door leading into the living room. As I passed, he slapped me on the butt.

  You motherfucker.

  I didn’t bother turning around, or shooting him a shitty look. It would only cause us to reshoot the scene, and that would require me to spend more time with him. Instead, I sauntered into the living room and sat down where I decided I’d be sleeping until he was escorted out.

  The couch.

  “That pizza’s going to be good. That was fun cooking it together,” he said as soon as he entered the room.

  You dick.

  I can’t wait to watch you choke down a piece, veggie hater.

  “Yeah. I can’t wait to watch you eat it.” My mouth twisted into a smirk, and then I cleared my throat. “I mean I can’t wait to eat it.”

  After what seemed like forever, the oven’s timer sounded. I jumped to my feet, ran into the kitchen, and grabbed the oven mitts. Anxious to see Rhett eat what his dumb ass considered to be repulsive, I pulled the pizza from the oven, paced it on the countertop, and wafted the smell toward the doorway.

  Rhett was right behind me, and upon walking into the kitchen and getting a whiff of the vegetable-laden pizza, reached for his mouth and appeared to barf.

  Do it.

  Puke, you pussy.

  He feigned barfing for a moment, and then took a sip of his wine. After he took the drink, his eyes shot wide. Apparently not much of wine drinker, he fought to swallow the sweet Moscato.

  “Let’s get this baby sliced up. I can’t wait,” I said.

  I sliced the pizza. As the camera crew filmed us from every available angle, I plated up the pizza and sat down at the breakfast table. Rhett soon followed, with a beer on one side of his plate and his glass of wine on the other.

  After picking all of the vegetables off the pizza, he took a cautious nibble. I, on the other hand, bit one-third of the slice away at once. After his initial bite, a look of surprise washed over his face, and he began to eat the pizza with vigor.

  The camera panned back and forth as we ate and drank our wine. I realized my time with Rhett was very limited, and as much as I wanted him to vanish, I felt I needed to get back at him for his phony behavior the night we met, and for being a controlling prick.

  I carefully chose the slice of pizza with a huge wad of veggies on it, and then stretched myself over the edge of the table. Resting on my elbows with the pizza held firmly in my hand, I smiled for the camera and struck a cleavage inspired pose for the camera. Something they were sure to want to use.

  “It’s our last night together,” I said. “Let’s have some fun. I want to feed you, babe.”

  His eyes shot to Kelli. She nodded once. I watched his Adam’s apple raise and then lower as he surely swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat.

  He leaned forward and opened his mouth slightly.

  I shoved half the veggie riddled slice into his mouth.

  With both cameras fixed on him, he bit through the pizza. I pulled the remaining slice away, leaned forward, and kissed him on the cheek.

  I hope you choke on it.

  He chewed slowly, and then began to gag. I glanced toward Kelli, who was grinning from ear-to-ear. With both cameras still focused on his every move, I lowered myself into my chair, and then stood.

  I poured another glass of wine, took a sip, and then looked right at him. With my free hand, I covered my mouth and began to act like I was puking.

  He stood up, and his body began to convulse. No doubt partially due to his hatred of vegetables, but primarily because he didn’t take the time to spread them on the pizza evenly, he was gagging on a massive handful of half-cooked onions.

  With Kelli almost in tears from laughing, and the camera men standing in wait, he spun toward the sink, but didn’t quite make it.

  Not quite.

  And, he barfed.

  Repeatedly.

  I grabbed my glass of wine, downed it, and turned toward Kelli.

  Her face washed with disgust, she returned my gaze and shot me a what the fuck look. I raised my empty glass, winked, and turned away.

  My work here is done.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “What a fucking disaster,” Kelli snarled. “You slept while he packed
his bags, and didn’t even get out of bed when he left?”

  I set the curling iron down and shrugged. “I was asleep, I didn’t know.”

  I was glad he was gone. It was finally over. More than likely I would have a few days before the next person showed up, and I could spend them at the bar with Franky.

  “It’s too late to change it,” she said. “But we’ll need you to come downstairs for a few minutes of filming.”

  “Of what?”

  “Waving goodbye. A few solemn looks. Maybe a single tear. He’s the first. You’ve got a special attachment, and you’re sad to see him go.”

  I had seen The Bachelorette, and I watched it with the belief that what I was seeing was true, for the most part. I had no idea that scenes were assembled out-of-sequence, and that the entire show was a product of the producer’s making, not what actually happened on film.

  The thought of what the public’s opinion of Rhett and me would be – after the show was aired – almost made me sick.

  “Fine,” I said. “Let’s get it over with.”

  I followed her downstairs, and then to the courtyard.

  With Bobby shooting the complete lie, I waved toward a non-existent SUV.

  “Turn toward the house, hesitate, and then turn back to the Suburban,” Kelli said. “Give a long pause, and then turn back toward the house and raise your right hand to your eye like you’re wiping away a tear.”

  I cocked my hip and shot her a look. “Really?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Really.”

  I faced the street, waved again, and then turned toward the house.

  One, two, three.

  I turned around, gave my best pouty lipped look, and as I faced the house again, raised my hand to my cheek.

  “Cut,” Kelli barked.

  She reached into her purse, then extended her hand. “Here.”

  “What is it?”

  “Visine. Put a drop or two in your eyes, and we’ll get a shot of it rolling down your cheek. Sit down on the steps.”

  I was appalled. “You’re serious?”

  She nodded. “Two drops.”

  I walked to the steps, sat down, and tilted my head back. After two drops of the solution, I lowered my chin.

  And, as a false tear rolled down my cheek, the thought of lying to the viewers about how I truly felt began to make me feel ill.

  “Cut,” Kelli said. “That was perfect.”

  “It was bullshit,” I snapped.

  “Welcome to Hollywood, dear,” she said with a laugh. “Reality T.V. is all bullshit. Emotion sells. Sentiment gets reaction. Reaction causes buzz, and the buzz prompts more people to view.”

  “So, basically, you hired me to tell one big lie,” I said.

  “No,” she responded. “Six of them.”

  I wiped the Visine from my cheek and shook my head. “So, who’s next?”

  “The biker. Les Ketterman.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Is he a biker, or a wannabe?”

  “He’s the real deal,” she said. “You’ll see.”

  “When will he be here?”

  “Tonight,” she said. “Around seven.”

  The pit of my stomach felt heavy. The feeling of triumph vanished and misery began to replace it. “Does it have to be so soon?”

  “Time is money,” she said. “Alright. I’ve got to get to Anaheim, I’ve got a cancer-ridden pre-teen at Disneyland.”

  All of a sudden, my personal problems seemed insignificant. “Oh my God, really?”

  “No, not really,” she said. “But I’ll never admit it on the record.”

  I shook my head and walked up the steps. As I reached for the door, she shouted out.

  “No problems with this one, Lou,” she said.

  I pushed the door open slightly and sighed. “None whatsoever.”

  “I think we’re going to change the name of the show,” she said.

  I turned around. “To what?”

  “Reality Girl,” she said.

  Great, I’m a walking contradiction.

  “Sounds fucking perfect,” I lied.

  And I turned and walked away.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Franky picked up my empty glass and replaced it with another. “So, your entire attitude has changed?”

  “Entirely,” I said with a nod. I licked the rim, took a sip of the tequila laced mango beverage, and sighed. “The next guy is a biker. But this time it’s going to be different. Much different.”

  “To tell you the truth, I’m glad to hear it.”

  “The entire show is just one big fucking lie.”

  “I’ve never been one to believe much of what I see on T.V. anyway,” he said.

  “I’m a girl,” I said with a laugh. “We live in a fantasy world. Television, movies, books – they’re all real to us. They fill us with hope.”

  “Maybe you should become Reality Girl for real and start living in your reality.”

  I laughed. “I’m seeing the world through a different set of eyes now, I can assure you of that.”

  “We’ve known each other almost a month,” he said. “I’ve seen change in you, no doubt.”

  “You think?”

  He leaned over the edge of the bar and looked me in the eyes. He seemed different. Much different than the day we met. His hair was as messy, he was dressed the same, but something about him was different.

  Maybe it was that I trusted him, and, at that moment, I really didn’t trust anyone else in southern California.

  His eyes remained fixed on mine for some time, then, he responded. “I do.”

  I swiveled back and forth nervously on my barstool, wishing that the show was over, and that I had no more ties to Hollywood, Kelli, or the Reality Girl series. All I wanted was my $500,000 and my freedom.

  “Oh,” he said. “I almost forgot.”

  He fumbled around underneath the bar for a moment, and then handed me a small box. “Here.”

  Clearly marked Samsung Galaxy, it was the cell phone I had asked for.

  “Oh wow. Thank you. How much do I owe you?”

  “It’s a gift.”

  “Thank you.”

  “There’s two phone number programmed into it. One is Bar, and the other is Home. I didn’t want to put my name in it, just in case they found it.”

  I opened the box, took out the phone, and turned it on. “Okay.”

  “I’ll never send you a text first. And, I’ll only respond if you ask me to, okay?”

  It wasn’t much, but it made me feel like I at least had a portion of my life back. Being able to communicate with Franky whenever I felt the need would allow me to maintain some sanity, at least.

  I raised my glass. “I better finish this one and go.”

  “When’s the biker show up?”

  “Hour or so,” I said.

  He coughed a laugh. “Cutting it kind of close, aren’t you?”

  “I like spending time with you,” I said. “I’d much rather be here than there.”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and twisted his hips back and forth playfully. “I like seeing you, too.”

  “Dork.”

  He shrugged. “At times.”

  All things considered, Franky was great friend. As much as I wanted to attach myself to someone, he really wasn’t the one for me. I preferred the alpha male, the protector, and the man who made me feel like nothing in the world could hurt me.

  If I learned nothing else from my mistakes during the first portion of the filming, I needed to learn that waiting for the perfect man to come into my life was critical. Settling for anything short of perfection would be to make a sacrifice.

  And, I wasn’t prepared to sacrifice anything.

  I finished half the drink and slid the glass across the bar. “I can’t finish it. I need to go.”

  “Keep the phone hidden,” he said.

  “I will.” I slid from the stool dropped the phone and box into my purse. “I’ll talk to you later.”

>   He picked up the half-finished margarita and nodded.

  I turned toward the door, and then decided to make my newfound intentions clear. There needed to be no more illusions, no more lies, and no more mistakes. I pulled the phone from my purse, and as I walked, typed a text message.

  Thanks for being such a good friend

  I selected Home as the recipient and then pressed send.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  I sat nervously in the front room waiting for the phone call from the driver. He had been gone for half an hour, and according to Bobby, should be back at any moment. A phone call when he was ten minutes away was to warn us of his arrival so we could prepare for the arrival scene.

  After fidgeting in my seat for fifteen minutes, I picked up my purse, walked to the bathroom, and sent Franky a text.

  I think I’m going to barf

  Almost immediately, he returned a text.

  I’m outside

  I typed a quick response.

  What?

  I’m outside, he responded.

  Oh my God, how long have you been there?

  Twenty minutes

  Why?

  I want to see you really quick before he gets here

  Outside? Like outside the door?

  Yeah, kind of

  Gimme a sec

  I rushed from the bathroom, and into the kitchen. Bobby sat at the table playing games on his phone.

  “Nothing yet?” I asked.

  He acted uninterested, and didn’t even look up. “Nope.”

  “Okay,” I said with a smile. “I’m going to get a breath of fresh air. Be right back.”

  He nodded. “Okay.”

  I sauntered to the door, opened, it, and stepped out onto the porch.

  “Pssst!”

  I turned toward the sound. Hidden between the landscape shrubbery and the edge of the home, Franky was concealed pretty well.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered.

  “I needed to see you,” he said.

  “About what?”

  Wedged between two large shrubs, he looked silly. Silly and adorable. “Come here,” he said.

  I checked over each shoulder, saw no one, and stepped off of the porch and into to the landscaped area.

  Standing directly in front of him, I shook my head. “You’re a dork,” I whispered. “What?”