Scripted Reality: Formerly I Wanna Get Laid by Kade

by Ashton Johns

  “What’s that?” she asked, holding a hand to her throat.

  “That I can bring Brody.”

  The smile she gave me lit up not only her face, but the damn gray day, too. It was bright enough to blind me.

  “I can do that.”

  “Okay,” I said with an air of resignation. “Where do I sign?”

  Seven

  Daisy Ingles

  I think Kade must have seen the shock his agreement caused me. When I left my desk to come and talk to him about it, I nearly packed up my belongings and brought them with me. Never did I think he’d say yes.

  “You’re sure about this, Kade?” I asked him, needing to hear him say it just once more.

  “Well, I’ve consulted my busy schedule and I think I’m free for... just how long do we think this will last?”

  This was the reason he didn’t deserve to be on the streets. He’d thrown his hat into the ring of madness without even understanding what he was letting himself in for.

  “I’m not sure of the details. We’ll need to iron them out. The wicked witch of the west has said she’ll give you a cast-iron, believable back story.” Every extra detail I went into risked him realizing what he was letting himself in for and turning it down.

  “So, this would be the time to think it through seriously before I sign my exciting life away?”

  “How about I tell her that you’ve agreed in principle, but you and Brody would like to hear some more in the morning?” Giving Meredith some good news would keep me employed for just another day and giving Kade that extra time would help ease my conscience that he was only doing this because of my mom and pop. When I thought about it, he was really amazing. This guy had nothing and if he ever fell ill, he would be done for. At least my family could afford some level of medical care, but Kade had heard the desperation in my voice and was willing to help give those more fortunate than him a chance at life and happiness.

  “I can do that,” he told me. “Me and Brody can discuss our terms and conditions tomorrow.”

  I stayed with him while we finished our coffees. Sitting out there with him was definitely preferable to being in the office with that shark. In any case, the longer I was out there, the more she would think I was having a hard time persuading him, and if it helped Kade get better terms, I was all for it.

  The minute my Chuck encased toes poked through the building door; Meredith was in my space.

  “Well?” she demanded from the spot where she’d been spying on us.

  “Shall we discuss this upstairs?”

  “No. I’m already here, and if you haven’t convinced that hottie to get on board then there’s no need for you to go back up there.”

  God, she really was a fudging bitch, and if I was going to make this work for Kade and still have some semblance of moral fiber left, I needed to play her game, too.

  “I didn’t say that. I just didn’t think you’d want to discuss your award-winning idea where others could hear it.”

  The spark in her eyes should have made me happy. Instead, it reminded me of when the T-800 Terminator robot kept refusing to die and the little piercing red eyes blinked signaling the evil death machine was coming back to kill someone.

  “Yes, yes, you’re right. Let’s move.”

  Walking faster than I’d ever seen her move before, she hot footed it to the elevator and continued the annoying toe tapping she’d been doing since first thing this morning while we waited.

  “Right, tell me what he said. Is he on board?” she demanded as soon as we hit her office.

  No small talk then. “He’s agreed in principle but would like the night to think it through. Kade will meet with us first thing in the morning to give you his final answer.”

  Meredith sneered back at me. “What is there to think through? I’m giving that vagrant the opportunity of a lifetime.”

  Yep. She was definitely a fudging bitch.

  “It would be a big decision for anyone to make. Like I said, he’s agreed in principle and has stipulated his first condition.”

  I watched as she halted her frenzied pacing behind the desk. Her actions were those of someone who was already working three steps ahead. Meredith was certain he was going to do this and she was plotting. A plotting Meredith was a dangerous Meredith, and she didn’t appreciate that the main pawn in her path to award success was being cheeky enough to barter.

  “And what would that be?”

  “Brody. His dog. If Brody isn’t allowed to come with him, it’s a non-starter.”

  I noticed the tiniest exhalation of relief. She was desperate for this and that boded well for making sure Kade got more out of it than she planned.

  “I suppose that’s doable. After all, it’s just another flea infested vagabond to help sell it to the public. It’ll probably bring in the do-gooding animal viewers. You see, he’s even helping us sell it.” Meredith started to chuckle and there was a touch of craziness to it. “I may even be able to get a two-for-one discount at the vets. They can clean Kade up at the same time as his mangy mutt.”

  Thankfully, she was too busy scheming and celebrating her own brilliance to spot that I was one small step away from clawing her eyes out. My jeans were skintight and the pockets small, but in the interest of not getting arrested for assault, I’d managed to stuff my hands into them to keep them under control.

  “Lydia,” she screeched into her intercom. “In here now.”

  A younger version of the witch herself appeared in the room, smoothing down a skintight dress that was suited more for a nightclub than an office. Knowing Lydia, it might actually have been her outfit from the previous night. It was the norm for TV wannabes to roll in still half soaked in Martini and wearing fresh coats of makeup.

  “What can I help you with?” she said superciliously, her shocking pink, coffin shaped acrylic nail poised over an iPad.

  “The tramp has all but agreed. You need to start the search for an off the beat mansion we can hire. It needs to be secluded with no chance of outside paparazzi intrusion. Think ‘Big Brother’ private times ten.”

  “Yes, Meredith.” The nail clicking on the screen of Lydia’s iPad was grating on my nerves.

  “I’ll also need a plethora of females for audition. Shallow, vacuous Barbie creatures, a bit like you. I want them hungry for this, but believably interested in marrying into wealth.”

  At first, I thought Lydia hadn’t noticed that she was being lumped into the same bucket as the Barbies we were going to need, but her smile increased just a smidge. The talentless tart was proud of her generation’s ‘this world owes me something’ mindset.

  Meredith was on a roll now. “Make sure a couple of them have a few skeletons in their closets. You never know when you might need to turn the heat up, and the possibility of last-minute twists and turns will swing that award in my direction.”

  This was vulgar.

  Lydia stopped typing and waited for further instruction, only to receive the bark we were all used to.

  “Why are you still here? You have work to do. Get on with it!”

  “Yes, Meredith.” Lydia complied, but as she got to the door, she was stopped as Meredith continued.

  “And remember, not one word of Kade’s real status leaves this room. That knowledge is the key to the success of the show. We’ll reveal it when the time is right. That means he can’t come here for the discussion tomorrow morning. Daisy, find an alternative meeting place-preferably one where he won’t have to sit too close to me.”

  That was it. I was done. With my fisted hands still in my pockets, I nodded at her and followed Lydia out of the door, praying I wasn’t selling Kade down the river.

  Eight

  Kade Sutton

  If I was going to get this much amusement out of working with Hennessey the Hag, perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad gig.

  I’d taken the night to think things through like Daisy suggested, in the comfort of a bed, because the shelter had kindly offered me and Brody anot
her night of warmth. We arrived and I showered pondering the possibility it could be my last night of sharing a room with twenty other guys or be back on the streets for a while. Brody wasn’t going to know what had hit him. Regular food and a roof over our heads—he was going to think he was in heaven.

  When Daisy arrived at the office the next morning, she told me Meredith wanted to see me to firm up the deal. Because of my current status, being the real hook for the show, the meeting needed to happen away from the office. I agreed to meet them at Kirby’s Cafe in hour and we’d negotiate from there.

  She looked tired this morning, beautiful but tired. I didn’t know her that well, but I imagined she’d had a sleepless night worrying about what she’d gotten me into.

  Kirby’s was one of the places I frequented if it was raining too hard to stay outside. I’d use some of the money that Brody had attracted and get a hot drink or two. It was pet friendly so the fact they had water bowls and blankets by a radiator for my best boy to relax on was just an added bonus. The owner of Kirby’s seemed a good guy. He didn’t kick me out in favor of customers who had washed. He just politely explained that if the place was busy, I might need to sit away from others, so he didn’t lose customers. I could respect that. At least he was honest. Something about him hinted that he’d known hard times in his own life and was trying to pay it forward when he could.

  “You’ll need to sign this contract,” Hennessey barked and threw the document across the table. She retracted her hand just as quick, in case there was any cross-body contamination. It appeared she didn’t want to be here with me and being in a place like this was her idea of hell.

  Decision made-I was going to drag it out as long as possible.

  “I think I should read it first,” I commented and flipped over the first page, putting my finger under the first word. “Th... Th... Th...isss. This,” I began, rolling my tongue around the word and rubbing my dirty finger under the first paragraph, wondering how long it would take to break her.

  “Jesus Christ,” she finally muttered in frustration. “Give it here. I will read it to you. This is a binding contract,” Meredith continued and proceeded to read the details of the first few sentences. When she hit the first line of the next paragraph, things got interesting.

  “You will be paid the sum of $250,000 on completion of the filming.”

  “$500,000,” I countered, causing her to look up and glare across the table at me. Meredith was perched on a chair, touching as little as possible as if she was worried that she’d pick up a deadly strain of Ebola from the Formica table tops.

  “That’s double the amount stated in the contract.”

  “I think you’ll find it’s only $100,000 dollars more. The contract says $400,000 dollars. It seems you need to take notice of your own show’s hook line.”

  “Excuse me?” she asked, confused, while Daisy struggled to hide a smile behind her hand.

  “The ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’ thing.” I waited for the penny to drop.

  “You can read!” she forced out through gritted teeth, clearly unhappy about being busted.

  “I can. Pull that shit again and I walk. Now give me the damn contract.”

  Meredith handed it back to me, taking extra care not to risk making physical contact. The contract was simple enough. They wanted me to live in a big flash house and pretend to be someone of wealth and status. The production company would give me a legend and expect me to be available for filming twenty-four/seven. I’d be expected to regularly evict a girl from the mansion to whittle them down before finally committing to dating the last girl standing. After our final date, they would reveal my true status to her on a live show where they could televise the fall out. I would also be required to attend any talk shows and do PR for as long as the show remained current and aired on the TV network. Finally, the contract would be voided in the event of me revealing my true status before the show’s finale.

  “What do you think, Mr…?”

  “Sutton,” I barked, still looking over the paperwork. “I’ll have my lawyer look over the contract at our next appointment.” Hennessey the horror’s jaw plopped open in surprise, whereas Daisy burst out laughing. “I’m fucking with ya.”

  “Of course, of course. Can we discuss some of the expected detail?”

  “Knock yourself out. You may as well get them out now. Just in case we need to renegotiate that big number you tried to con me out of.” Reminding her of that again was funny. This woman had no clue about homeless people. The American movie stereotype had set her up to fail. Like many others, she’d assumed we were all bums, scurrying round the storm drains looking for our next fix. Not everyone was an uneducated miscreant. There were many people who could read and do math, and most of us had at least some basic schooling. It was only as we got older and life got difficult for us that we found ourselves sleeping rough. The number of ex-servicemen living rough would have shocked the shit out of most normal people. Guys who had come close to making the ultimate sacrifice for their country were discarded, perhaps when they needed help the most. I’d made friends with some of them and the stories they had to tell were heart-wrenching. It was no wonder they’d struggled to integrate back into society. Seeing do-gooders whose only experience of real conflict came from Saving Private Ryan or some other Hollywood blockbuster stand proud for the national anthem didn’t mean shit. It was an insult, and just looking across the table at this bitch reminded me of why they were forced to live the way they were.

  “We’ll need you to learn your back story. We’re toying with the idea of telling the viewers your real status but for the ladies you are living with, you will need to be believed. I assume you have no objections to us sprucing you up a bit?”

  “I don’t want some fancy trendy hairstyle,” I interrupted.

  “To a point, I can agree to that. Maybe we could trim it, but you have to at least look as though you visit a barber regularly, and an expensive one at that. Make it more designer than disgusting.”

  I nodded. I wasn’t against having my hair trimmed and tided up, but this bitch was not going to scrape away my individuality and make me some country club clone.

  “You’ll have a full wardrobe at your disposal and there will be a cook and staff at the Mansion to help maintain the façade of money, as well as the camera crew.”

  “Live in slaves. Agreed. Brody will need exercise, so the place needs to have enough space for him to wander. If he isn’t accommodated, I walk.”

  Meredith nodded in agreement.

  Kirby came to the table with a fresh round of coffees and it smelt amazing. Both Daisy and I thanked him and reached for a cup, while Meredith peered over the rim of the plain white mug as if she were being asked to drink poison. For the first time it hit me that all the women they put in the place would be like her. I’d have to be friendly and courteous to a bunch of bimbos who probably couldn’t read that contract for real. A glimpse of an idea hit me, and I had the duration of Hennessey’s prattling to give it some further thought.

  “You understand that this show will be all access?”

  “Consider me dumb and explain it to me,” I poked back.

  “Your waking hours will be spent in full view of the camera crew. Should you become very friendly with one of the women, we want it on camera. No full nudity or sexual activity will be filmed; that would get us kicked off the network. Bathroom activity won’t be included in the filming either.”

  “Your camera lackeys will follow me round unless I want a shit, shower or shave, and should I get lucky you want it on camera, although fucking isn’t acceptable?”

  “Yes, that’s it exactly.”

  Daisy was horrified that the discussion had gone into this level of detail.

  “Miss Hennessey,” I said, leaning in and emphasizing the ‘Miss’. “You see my face, the strong cheekbones and brilliant blue eyes?”

  “Oh, I do.”

  “You also see that, for a homeless guy, I’m in decent
shape, and you think that underneath these clothes I’m probably not bad to look at. If I wanted to fuck in a porn movie, I could have been doing it for years. I don’t. So, believe me when I say this: if there was any chance of me having sex in the house and I got even the slightest hint that it’d been filmed, you’d be looking for another damn stooge. And another thing, there will be no filming in my bedroom while I sleep, or if one of the girls is with me. If they’re as desperate as you hope, you’ll get your ‘movie action’ in other ways.”

  I watched as she contemplated what my declaration would do to her show and then forced a nod as her face lifted. “Are you prepared to sign the contract?”

  “Just one more condition.”

  “And that would be?” she expelled, unable to hide her irritation any longer.

  “Daisy. She’s a fake contestant in the mansion and you pay her as one, plus the amount you’ve already agreed to pay her.”

  Meredith’s jaw hit the tabletop the same moment Daisy dropped her mug of coffee. Her boss was outraged but I wasn’t sure whether it was because of my condition or the fact that her tight ass, cream wool skirt was now completely ruined.

  Living a life of luxury in a mansion with a host of beautiful women, should have been a dream come true. God knew I’d prayed for a miracle often enough while sleeping on the cold streets surrounded by junkies, drunks and perverts. Something told me though, that I might come to regret those prayers. Meredith Hennessey was a bitch and a snake, and I had the feeling she was no better than some of the johns on the street who enticed young homeless kids with the promise of a better life. If I’d made her right, I’d say it wouldn’t be only me who she’d manipulate and fuck with. The problem was I didn’t think I could do it without a friendly face by my side. I just hoped I wasn’t throwing Daisy under the bus too.

  Nine