Lauren laughed, as if reading Bea’s thoughts. “You blogged about your Tinder date last fall.”
“Oh.” Bea flushed, feeling silly. “I thought maybe you’d hacked my phone.”
“No, definitely don’t put that past me. So it hasn’t gone well?”
“Are you on them?”
Lauren tossed her shiny hair. “Yeah, but you know, more for a laugh than anything else. I work so much, it’s nice to have someone around if I get bored.”
“You don’t have a boyfriend?”
“And spend my fifteen seconds of free time every week handling some man’s emotions because he’s not capable of dealing with them himself? Um, no.”
“I know. It would be one thing if I ever met anyone who made me want to settle down, but …” Bea trailed off, hoping this would put the conversation to rest.
“Do you want to get married at all?” Lauren asked.
“Am I allowed to say no?”
Lauren let out a bark of laughter. “Of course! I don’t need you to actually want to get married to be on this show—I just need you to be willing to say that’s what you want.”
“I mean, it’s not that I don’t want that eventually—marriage, kids, a family—I want all those things. It’s just that dating has been so bad lately, I’ve kind of sworn off it altogether. Doesn’t really seem like the best time for me to star on a dating show, does it?”
“You know what?” Lauren pondered, working something through, “I actually think this could work really well.”
“How?” Bea blurted despite herself.
“The most annoying part of my job is dealing with the mess of people’s actual emotions. All these desperate husband hunters—you watch the show, you know how high-strung and impossible they are. But if you’re not really looking for a relationship right now, we can keep this simple. You’ll meet your men, you’ll have fun with them, go on all the fabulous dates, but you’ll take things slow. We’ll monitor audience reaction and keep the most popular guys around, and toward the end, you can pick your favorites for the overnight trips, saying ‘I love you,’ and the engagement, obviously.”
“And, what? It’ll all be fake?” Bea tried not to sound scandalized.
“Why not?” Lauren asked calmly.
“Because there’s an audience of millions!” Bea was incredulous. “Won’t people know if I’m not—you know, not to be trite—if I’m not doing this for the right reasons?”
Lauren laughed, delighting in Bea’s naïveté. “You tell me. Do you think it’s a coincidence that half of our couples break up six weeks after we finish airing? How many of the relationships from the last five seasons do you think were actually real?”
The more Bea thought about it, the more she realized she had absolutely no idea.
“Bea,” Lauren intoned, “I’m great at my job. It’s good for both of us if the public buys your story. And if you actually find someone? Hey, so much the better—those wedding specials are ratings monsters. But if you’d rather play it cool and not take the romance side of things too seriously, then we can be straightforward with each other: We’ll make a great TV show. We’ll show America that plus-size women deserve to be the leads in their own stories. And you’ll be a fucking star. I’m not seeing a downside to this—are you?”
For the first time in the conversation, Bea had to admit she really wasn’t.
On her drive home, Bea decided to take a detour through Griffith Park. She put the top down on Kermit the Car and made her way through crooked residential streets into the parkland hills, where tall trees and long grasses rustled in the dry desert wind. She turned up the radio and thought about life before Ray. Was it better? Was it good? Or had this unhappiness been there all along, just waiting to be drawn into the light?
Not doing the show seemed like the safe option, but it wasn’t, really—it was just knowable. More weeks and months of missing Ray, making dates and canceling the morning of, feeling like her love life had been cursed with external misery, of hustling constantly and scrounging for advertisers to keep her business afloat, never able to rest easy.
Bea couldn’t know what would happen if she did the show—whether she would meet someone wonderful or be thrown headlong into a pit full of snakes, whether she’d be a hero or a laughingstock. All she could know for certain was that if she said yes, her life would change. In the end, that was enough.
A CONTRACT
WHEREAS Beatrice Schumacher (hereafter referred to as the MAIN SQUEEZE) has agreed to appear on the television program Main Squeeze (hereafter referred to as the SHOW),
WHEREAS the MAIN SQUEEZE agrees to participate in principal filming to commence on March 2nd and remain available for at least ten weeks, with a tentative filming completion date of April 20th, as well as a reunion special tentatively scheduled for May 18th,
WHEREAS during filming, the MAIN SQUEEZE will meet, “date,” and ultimately choose one of twenty-five SUITORS for a long-lasting and romantically satisfying relationship, and where “long-lasting” is defined as no shorter period than such a time until six weeks after all episodes of the SHOW are broadcast,
WHEREAS filming will begin with a LIVE PREMIERE SPECIAL, continue with episodes broadcast each Monday night that detail the events of the previous week, and end with a SEASON FINALE where the MAIN SQUEEZE will choose a “winner” for an engagement or similar,
WHEREAS the MAIN SQUEEZE will not disclose details of filming to any person or persons not appearing on or employed by the SHOW or the American Broadcasting System (hereafter known as the NETWORK), particularly not members of the press or digital media, including entertainment magazines, gossip magazines, or “bloggers,” any unsanctioned interaction with whom will result in legal action for breach of contract and immediate termination of said contract, until such time as all episodes have aired,
WHEREAS the MAIN SQUEEZE agrees, to the best of her ability, to explore deep, soul-searching love in complete honesty and without any “emotional walls” (though if she is experiencing the aforementioned “walls” she is encouraged to discuss them and their potential origins in detail with production crew), through intense interpersonal communication and, as often as needed, physical connection, including physical intimacy if determined appropriate by the MAIN SQUEEZE and her Producers,
WHEREAS the MAIN SQUEEZE agrees to defer to the Producers in all matters that may affect the overall quality or outcome of the SHOW,
WHEREAS the MAIN SQUEEZE agrees to incur any financial burdens borne by the SHOW or the NETWORK if they are in direct consequence of her actions or breach of contract,
WHEREAS the NETWORK retains exclusive first rights to published photographs and other materials relating to any future Weddings, Honeymoons, and possible Dependents resulting from relationships formed on the SHOW,
WHEREAS the MAIN SQUEEZE will, if possible, find True Love, potentially resulting in an Engagement, Marriage, and Everything She’s Ever Dreamed Of,
Beatrice Schumacher will hereby fill the role of MAIN SQUEEZE on the 14th season of the SHOW, Main Squeeze.
Signed and dated,
Alyssa Messersmith,
Senior Vice President of Unscripted Programming, American Broadcasting System.
Beatrice Schumacher,
Beauty & Style Blogger, owner of OMBea™ and OMBea.com.
PRE-PRODUCTION
Los Angeles, California
——Forwarded Message——
FROM: Lauren Mathers
TO: Bea Schumacher
SUBJECT: RE: Contract and next steps
Bea! So thrilled contract and legal jargon is all squared (blech), attaching a few more things for you to look over—tentative production schedule, calendar of pre-prod meetings with camera, sound, makeup, wardrobe, PR, marketing, and I want to get you in a room with some of the other producers to give them a sense of what you’re like, what kind of men they should be scouting (can you tell us more about your type??), etc. Plus we’ve got a sta
ndard NDA for you to sign—please please PLEASE note that we are not announcing you as the next Main Squeeze until five days before air, so I just cannot impress upon you how careful we need to be to make sure the news doesn’t leak before then. This rollout is going to be spectacular, and I’ll frankly kill a man if that self-important motherfucker Reality Stefan scoops our mutual coming-out party. So please, take the NDA seriously!! (Sorry to be a shit about it, but you know. It’s for the good of the show!)
——Forwarded Message——
FROM: Bea Schumacher
TO: Lauren Mathers
SUBJECT: RE: Contract and next steps
Hey Lauren! This all looks good (I mean, overwhelming, but good!). Re: my type of men, smart and funny and kind are the most important things, everything else is optional. And diversity is obviously a big deal to me!! Body-type, race, background—I want these men to bring a new look to the show the same way I am.
NDA signed and attached—full disclosure, I already told my best friend Marin about the show, and assuming it’s okay to share with my family? Truly not worth the headaches if my mother hears about this from anyone but me. Thanks again, talk soon!
——Forwarded Message——
FROM: Lauren Mathers
TO: Bea Schumacher
SUBJECT: RE: Contract and next steps
You haven’t told your mom yet?? BEA! Call her right now—and btw will you send me her contact info? We’re def gonna need to shoot some b-roll with your parents and figure out which week works for you to bring the guys home to meet them.
“Real TV? Like actual TV? The kind we get?”
Bea’s entire family was gathered in front of her stepdad’s desktop computer in the second-floor office—her mom, stepdad, three brothers, their wives, and assorted nieces and nephews all jostling for position in front of the globular webcam affixed to the top of the monitor.
All three of Bea’s brothers got married in their mid-twenties, and with the arrival of Duncan and Julia’s new baby just a month ago, now all of them had children. Bea’s parents—Bob and Sue—were both elementary school teachers who absolutely adored kids, and Sue in particular wasn’t shy about letting Bea know that she was eager for her to follow in her brothers’ footsteps as quickly as possible. Sue strongly believed that Bea was standing in the way of her own future marital bliss; she’d once read a book on self-sabotage by an author named Abyssinia Stapleton that she now quoted at Bea with the same regularity that other people’s parents quoted scripture.
“Abyssinia says that when you sabotage yourself in love, you dig two graves.”
“Mom, that’s Confucius, and he wasn’t talking about love, he was talking about revenge.”
“No, Beatrice, it’s different! Abyssinia means the graves as a metaphor.”
“Confucius meant it as a metaphor, too, Mom.”
“One grave for you, and one for the spouse you’ll never find.”
“If I never find a spouse, why does he need a grave? Isn’t that just wasteful?”
“Beatrice, that’s why it’s a metaphor.”
Bea wasn’t worried that her family would disapprove of her going on Main Squeeze—if anything, she was nervous they’d get too excited. But she’d put off telling them for two weeks, and it was time to let the cat out of the bag. So that Sunday night, she saddled up to break the news via Skype at their family’s weekly Sunday dinner. Since her brothers and their families all lived in Ohio, they all showed up in person every Sunday, and Bea was always expected to join them for ten minutes of video chat—which could be a real headache if she was traveling in Europe or Asia. Even when she got annoyed, though, it meant a great deal to her that her family always wanted her to be included.
“So what’s the show?” Bea’s oldest brother, Jon, asked expectantly.
“It’s, uh … it’s Main Squeeze. You know. Main Squeeze?” Alone with her laptop and a glass of wine, Bea felt a pang of wishing she were with them. It was freezing in Ohio, so her stepdad, Bob, had probably made a big pot of chili, and the brothers would all watch football while the wives gossiped and crushed a few bottles of Cabernet.
“What, like Main Squeeze, the real one? The main one? Are you going to be a commentator or something?” Bea’s middle brother, Tim, loudly snapped his gum.
“No,” she corrected him. “I’m going to be the Main Squeeze. The person who dates twenty-five people and chooses a winner.”
The family was dumbstruck, looking back and forth at one another and Bea’s face on the monitor, letting out errant gasps of disbelieving laughter.
“Holy moly, Bea, that’s a big deal!” Tim’s wife, Tina, was a petite brunette with streaky highlights and a singsong Minnesota accent. “Do ya think you’ll get married?”
“Oh my God, married?” Bea’s mother lit up, her initial skepticism now tinged with euphoria.
“They get married on the show? Do you have to?”
“No, not on the show, but she’s supposed to get engaged! That’s the whole point!”
“Is that true, Bea? You’re getting engaged?”
“Do you know who the men are yet? Have you met ’em?”
“Do you really date all of them, or do you just pick one at the beginning?”
“You’re not going to have S-E-X on TV, are you?”
“Mom, not in front of the kids, please!”
“Hi, Aunt Bea!!”
“Hi, JJ!” Bea waved to her oldest nephew, Jon Junior, who was now eleven and already a Pop Warner star, just like his dad had been all those years before him.
“So Bea,” Jon chimed in, “does this mean you’re going to be, you know?”
“What?”
Jon made a weird sort of wiggling gesture with his fingers. “Famous.”
Jon’s wife, Carol, hit him on the arm. “Bea’s already famous! She has six hundred thousand followers on Instagram.”
“Yeah, but that’s Instagram famous,” Tina countered. “This is real famous.”
“Now, hold on just one minute,” Sue interrupted. “Are we going to be on television?”
Bea sighed. “If you want to be, yes, I think you are.”
At this, the entire family started hooting and cheering until one of the nieces jumped up and down and hit her head sharply on the computer desk, which caused a general commotion and premature ending of the call without a formal goodbye. All in all, Bea thought the whole thing had gone much better than expected.
But a few hours later, Bea’s phone rang—it was her stepdad, Bob, who’d stayed mostly silent on the group call.
“Hiya, Bean.”
“Hi, Bop.” Bea loved that she and Bob still used their nicknames from her childhood. “Everyone go home?”
“Ah, yep, it was a little too much excitement around these parts, the kids burnt themselves out pretty quick.”
“You mean you didn’t all have a calm, quiet dinner after I hung up the phone?”
“Bean, when has this crowd ever had a calm, quiet dinner?”
“Ha, you make a point. But …”
“What is it?”
“Really, though, what did everyone say after we talked? Do they think this is crazy?”
“Well, sure, it is a little crazy, isn’t it? Not every day someone in the family is going to be a big TV star. To be honest, I think Tina’s a little miffed you beat her to the punch.”
“What about you, Bop?” Bea asked softly. “Do you think I’m nuts to do this?”
“Bean, you’ve been charting your own course the whole time I’ve known you, and that’s since you’re four years old. Your mother about had a panic attack when you announced you were going to college in Los Angeles, and then a semester in France. You wanted a big life for yourself, and you’re making one. That’s not an easy thing to do either.”
“So you don’t think America is going to hate me?”
Bob laughed. “America makes all kinds of bad decisions—there�
��s no accounting for taste. But no, I think they’ll love you just as much as we do.”
“All the way up the beanstalk?”
“And all the way home, my magic Bean. You’re gonna knock ’em dead.”
As filming drew nearer, the demands on Bea’s time grew increasingly intense: prep work with a PR specialist to craft talking points for her impending media blitz, practice sessions with a media consultant to perfect the delivery of said talking points, endless test shots with wardrobe and makeup and lighting and camera, and network photo shoots that should have been fun but were mostly just exhausting.
“Can you smile a little bigger?” Lauren urged. “You know, like you’re about to find love?”
Bea did her best to look overjoyed, but from Lauren’s mutterings about “making her look happy in post,” Bea guessed she hadn’t quite hit the mark.
There was one part Bea loved, though—the time she spent in wardrobe with her favorite person on the Main Squeeze crew: a no-nonsense tyrant named Alison who looked like a mild-mannered English major who sold hand-knit scarves on Etsy but who ran her department with the efficiency of an elite counterterrorism unit.
Bea had been nervous that her stylist for the show would be some typical Hollywood waif without the first clue how to dress a body like Bea’s, but Alison was a surprise in the best possible way: She was absolutely stunning, with sea-green eyes and honeyed hair, her style was gorgeous and muted with soft textures and earthy tones. And she was a good few sizes larger than Bea. The two women burst out laughing and shared a tight hug the very first time they met.
“Bea!” Alison laughed with delight. “I’m so happy to meet you!”
“Oh my God.” Bea nearly cried with relief. “I’m so happy to meet you.”
“Not as happy as you’re going to be when you see the clothes I pulled.” Alison grinned. “I’ve read your blog for years; do you know how excited I am to dress someone who actually understands fashion? Who might be willing to wear, you know, pants?! I have such great stuff for you!”
One To Watch: this summer's must-read romcom to fill the Love Island-shaped hole in your life Page 5
