“I’m Angie,” she said, twisting a finger in her long, black curls. Her voice was whiny and she sounded like she might begin to cry at any moment. “I’m an administrative assistant for a law firm in Wichita. I just turned twenty-four. I come from a big family. There are nine of us kids. This is my first time being outside of Kansas. Except for Missouri. I have been there a few times.”
I could recall announcing my age back when I was a kid, but it had been years since it was part of normal introductions. To me, it seemed strange. Didn’t we all have some better way to explain who we were than to tell how many years we’d been on the planet? I decided I was going to civilly disobey the trend when it was my turn.
“I have a funny story to share with you…” Angie continued.
Mark shook his head. “Thanks, Angie. Moving along,” he said. But he said it so brightly and charmingly that it wasn’t offensive.
“Hi y’all! I’m Vanessa,” said the next contestant. I instantly sensed that she was the one to beat. She was super pretty with light brown hair and wide blue eyes. She seemed graceful in a way none of the others had so far. “I’m twenty-nine and I’m a pediatrician. I’m from Atlanta. I like running marathons, going to karaoke bars, and dancing. I’m a Meals on Wheels volunteer. Also, I have several utility patents pending. Oh, and I read to homeless people on Sundays after church. I can’t wait to meet Bellamy!”
Shar was next. She stood up, despite that neither Angie nor Vanessa had done so. “I’m Shar Shallahan. I’m twenty-three. I’m gonna have an on-air birthday party that is going to make you all sick. Just wait and see. I’m from Louisville, Kentucky. I say ‘Go big or go home.’ I am not afraid of anything. I have gone skiing down mountains that are so tall. Utah mountains. Like Vanessa said, I like to karaoke. Pat Benatar, Stevie Nicks. I tried to get on American Idol a couple of years ago but that show is rigged and they didn’t pick me. I think they just go with people they know. Mark, I hope we get the opportunity to karaoke. Like I said, I am not afraid. I hope you’re going to pick me because I think I am what this show needs. These other girls aren’t going to be memorable television. Especially her,” she said, pointing at me. “But I will jump in a pool with my clothes off, or go white water rafting. Like I said, I’m from Kentucky, so I can ride a horse really fast, if you need someone to do that. It doesn’t get any better than me.” Satisfied with herself, she sat back down and popped a petit four into her mouth.
“Let’s all get along now,” said Mark, smiling jovially. “You’re up,” he said, winking at the woman next to me.
“I’m Mylar,” she said before clearing her throat in a treacherous gasp and then recovering in nervous enthusiasm. “I know what you’re thinking, like the balloon, right? Yes, I get that all the time. I’m Mylar like the balloon. I’m twenty-six and I’m from Rochester, New York. I have a two year old little boy named Cason. Right now I’m just staying home with him, taking care of him. I hope Bellamy’s ready to be a daddy!”
“Are you divorced or what?” asked Shar.
“Uh, no. I was never married.”
Shar looked at Mark and shook her head in disgust.
“I guess I’m next,” I said. “I’m Emma Van Elson. I live in Chicago and I work as an interior designer. I really fell in love with Bellamy when I watched him and Alanna, and I think he’s a very special guy. I am thrilled to be here.”
Shar yawned loudly.
“How old are you?” asked Angie.
“Twenty-seven,” I said.
“Thank you, Emma,” said Mark. He turned to Freddie. I had noticed her swaying in the chair beside me, but I’d been too focused on my own nerves to pay much attention. Relaxing a little now, I turned to my side just as she slid out of her chair and crumpled onto the floor.
“Somebody grab a glass of water for her,” Mark yelled.
I jumped up, but Shar beat me to it, snatching a water bottle off the table, uncapping it, and pouring it over the top of Freddie’s head. Freddie’s eyes opened and she began to whimper, “Why did you do that?”
“That’s enough,” said Mark, putting himself between Shar and Freddie. He pulled a walkie-talkie from his belt. “We need a medic here. ASAP! Girl down. Stable but shaky.”
“I want to go home,” Freddie said quietly. Every girl in the room smiled or drew in a breath of relief, myself included.
“Are you sure?” asked Mark.
“Yes.”
“I heard we’ve got a case of the nerves,” said a big bear of a guy, appearing on the scene in periwinkle scrubs. He was pushing an empty wheelchair. I wondered what he would have done all day if Mark hadn’t needed him. He’d apparently been close by, just waiting for this exact scenario.
“That’s right,” said Mark. “Just a case of the nerves. Jett, this is Freddie. She could use some fresh air.”
“Hop aboard,” said Jett. He let Freddie settle in and whisked her away.
“We’re going to break for ten minutes so you ladies can use the restroom or get a drink,” said Mark as Jett and Freddie were leaving. “I know what happened just upset you all tremendously, but don’t worry about your friend Freddie. I have a hunch that she will be back. After your break is over, I’d like you all to meet me back here in this conference room, and you can look forward to your background screening and interviews with Detective Smith and Coco or Fran, who are two of our producers. There will also be another gentleman observing. Nothing to worry about, ladies, just be yourselves and answer honestly.”
Shyla wandered over to me, looking pouty. “I guess he didn’t even notice that I never got to introduce myself,” she said.
“I guess he got distracted when Freddie fainted,” I said.
“Do you think she’ll be back?” she asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“She looked really bad once her hair got wet. Didn’t you think so? Like a drowned rat! We need to do a ton of hot tub scenes, so they might want to think twice about keeping her around. She seemed boring to me, and boring is the kiss of death when you’re on TV. Have you gone to any acting classes?”
“No. It never even occurred to me. Have you?”
“Yeah. Sure,” said Shyla. “I took some here in L.A. with some lady named Brenda, and one back in Shreveport, but I don’t know if you can count that because I was just a kid. I think the classes with Brenda are going to help me out here. She helped me get rid of my accent, annunciate my words better, cry on command, and she even had a segment on dancing. She didn’t teach that part, though. That one was taught by a guy named Pablo. Do you know him?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Oh. He’s great. He taught me how to do the Roger Rabbit and a little bit of tap.” She demonstrated both for me.
“Those moves will probably make Bellamy like you better,” I said.
“Are you just saying that?”
“No way. I mean it. My interview video was full of stuff like that and they really ate it up,” I assured her.
Shyla smiled. “Let’s be friends. We’re going to need some friends if we get on here. I think it’s going to be a lot of mean girls.”
“Sure, that sounds like a good plan,” I said, feeling genuinely touched. It would be great to have a friend here.
She hugged me. “Sorry if I smell bad. I haven’t washed my hair since I last worked, so it probably smells like dogs.”
“I didn’t notice anything,” I said. Actually, she smelled a little like a wet rug.
“Whew! Good. Are you worried about being so old? We could lie and say you’re younger. I would do that for you. That’s the kind of thing friends do for each other.”
“I think the producers would have a problem with that. Plus, Bellamy is thirty-one or thirty-two, so I’m not really that old compared to him.”
“Right. Right,” said Shyla, smiling and nodding. She did not look convinced.
“No, really,” I said.
“So,” said Shyla, “if I don’t get on this, I would be really happy t
o be on that Sisterhood of Skank show. I heard that pays pretty well. This doesn’t pay anything, but it’s still a great career move. Did they tell you about that show? That Sisterhood of Skank show? I totally bet you could get on there too if you changed into something a little more normal. It might be fun if we were on it together, if this doesn’t work out. I mean, at this point though, it looks like this is really going to happen. Are you excited? I’m going crazy inside!”
“Emma Van Elson?” said a tall, thin man who looked exactly like the farmer from American Gothic.
“That’s me,” I said.
“Come along with me. I’m Phil Smith, and I am going to go over some things with you.”
I followed him down the hotel hallway, into a room that was set up like an office. A large camera was pointed at the table and I noticed another camera affixed to the ceiling. A scary looking man in a suit was already seated at the table. He nodded at me but did not even get up or introduce himself. I felt like I was in an interrogation room from a cop show on television. Sure, it was a little nicer, but still intimidating. I looked around me and saw that one wall was a large mirror, and wondered if it was a two-way mirror. I found myself suddenly sweating and short of breath. I was beginning to wonder what I was getting myself into, and how much I would unquestioningly submit to before deciding this process was unacceptably invasive. I wasn’t entirely sure why I was going along with it, honestly. I guess I felt special for being chosen, and I wanted to see how far I could get. Oh, and because of Bellamy. It was weird how I kept forgetting about Bellamy.
Phil Smith cleared his throat and looked down at me. “Make yourself comfortable, Emma,” he said.
As if that was possible.
For five hours I was grilled first by him about details of my life, and then by a woman named Fran. It wasn’t until eleven o’clock that night that we were all done being interviewed. Freddie was gone for good. That meant there were six of us remaining, and they needed just five more girls. We ordered room service with an uncomfortable air of suspicion surrounding us: One of us would likely be an alternate. The rest of us had likely made it. The atmosphere was tense as my competition speculated on who was going home.
“It’s gonna be me, Shyla, Angie, and Vanessa for sure,” said Shar. “Either Mylar’s going home ‘cause she’s got a kid, or Emma’s going home ‘cause she’s too businessy.”
“Hello! We’re sitting right here,” said Mylar.
“I see you. What’s your point?” asked Shar.
I was too busy focusing on my meal to add to the conversation. I just kept telling myself that it was all about Bellamy, and that people can endure huge amounts of pain and torture if it’s for true love.
“You’re too quiet,” Shar said to me.
“I’m eating,” I said.
“Why’d you wear that suit?”
“Quit bullying me. It’s a nice suit. It’s from Ann Taylor.”
“Ann Taylor’s for old ladies.”
“Ann Taylor is for ladies. Young and old. I guess that’s why you don’t like it,” I said.
“If you make it on the show, which you won’t, you’ll be the first one he sends home,” she said to me.
“Do you really think this is all I wear? Do you think I’m going to wear this for elimination ceremonies and dates and hot tub scenes?” I asked.
She shrugged, turning from me and addressing us all: “Y’all might as well give up now.” She looked around the room, aggressively trying to lock eyes with each of us. “He’s going to pick me. I’m just saying. I’m not even trying to be egotistical, but look at me. I’m gorgeous, I have a hot body, and I’m fun. I’m not afraid of nothin’. I like horses, NASCAR, mudding, beer. I’m what every man wants but they didn’t even know someone like me existed. As far as I can tell, none of y’all are any fun.”
Angie pushed away her food and began polishing her toenails with her feet hooked on the edge of the table. A small flap of dead blister hovered over her half-eaten cheeseburger. The pungent aroma of feet and nail polish filled our surroundings.
“Ooh, I like that color,” said Vanessa. “Mind if I do mine as well?”
“Go ahead,” said Angie. “I have these blingies to stick on them when you’re done, if you want some.” She held up a plastic sandwich bag of pink crystal decals.
“Thanks,” said Vanessa, unfastening her super expensive looking shoes and parking her feet alongside Angie’s.
“I can’t believe we have to go back home soon. I want to meet Bellamy now and stay out here in California. This hotel is heaven,” said Mylar.
“Aren’t you in a hurry to get back to your kid?” asked Angie.
“Not at all. Cason’s doing fine without me. He’s with my parents. They’re crazy about him. It’s ironic, you know? They never liked me or my brother much, but now that they’re grandparents they suddenly love kids. Whatever. I’m just glad they like him so much because I really need a break sometimes. He’s a great kid, but ever since I had him, life has been pretty dull. I wouldn’t trade him in for anything, but I get depressed about him. He’s boring. He likes to read picture books and play with cars on the floor. It gets really tiring. Does that sound horrible? Do I sound like a horrible mother? Like, when I look back on my life, sometimes it seems like it has all been a bad dream. The last few years anyway. I miss being young. You know what I mean?”
“No,” said Shar. She flexed her bicep and kissed it like she was a professional body-builder. I prayed she would be the first of us Bellamy would eliminate.
“Your son has a cute name,” I said to Mylar, turning so I didn’t have to look at Shar. “I’ve never heard the name Cason before, but I like it.”
“Me too,” said Vanessa. “It’s such a cute name. Really sweet. Like Mason, but even better.” She flipped her hair back and smiled warmly, reinforcing my fear that she was going to be very tough competition.
“There’s kind of a funny story about his name,” said Mylar, brightening. “When I was pregnant with him, I wasn’t sure if his dad was my boyfriend Jason, or my other boyfriend Casey. They were both like ‘Are you going to name the baby after me?’ and I was like ‘Sure, Honey, of course I will’ so I named him after both of them, in a way. If he had been a girl, I had that covered too. I was going to call her Jasey. It’s so cool when you find a simple solution to a tricky problem. You know what I mean?”
I waited for Shar to say something mean, but all of us were silent. The pedicure atmosphere had ruined everyone’s appetite, even my own. I found my mind wandering to Pete. I wished I was back home in my own apartment or his, relaxed and comfortable. This room with these girls felt like the furthest thing in the world from who I was or what I wanted to be.
“You know, I think I’d like to borrow some of that polish as well,” Shyla said, scooting her chair over to Angie and Vanessa’s side of the table.
I got up and went out to the balcony to call Pete. Before he even had the chance to answer, the patio door slid open and Fran, the woman who had interrogated me, was standing in the doorway glaring at me. I don’t know how she appeared so quickly, but it confirmed the suspicion Vanessa had voiced earlier that we were already being thoroughly spied on.
“Who are you talking to?” she asked.
I shoved my phone in my pocket and turned to her. “Um, I was just going to call my neighbor. He’s no one important. Just a neighbor. I was expecting a package today and wanted to make sure it got brought inside,” I lied.
“No cellphones. Sorry.” She held out her hand to confiscate it. “You’ll get this back when it’s time to go home.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. Didn’t anyone tell you this already?”
“No.”
“Hand it over,” she said, continuing to hold out her hand.
So I did. And I went back inside, pulled up a chair alongside the others, and painted my toenails.
Chapter 7
“You sure you don’t want to go anywhere?” Pete asked me
.
“I’m positive,” I said, pulling the old blanket on his couch around my shoulders.
“So? Tell me about your weekend.”
I closed my eyes. It was Sunday night and I was exhausted. It felt like I’d been gone for a couple of weeks instead of just a couple of days. “Do I have to?” I asked, inhaling his blanket. “This smells like fabric softener. It smells like a summer cloud.”
“I washed it today.”
“It smells a little bit like violets. And a little bit like oranges.”
“Emma, what happened? Did you get on the show?”
I sighed. “I think so. I have a bad, bad feeling that I did.”
“When will you know for sure?”
“Probably tomorrow or Tuesday. They want to move really fast.”
“You don’t sound excited.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Tell them you changed your mind.”
“But this is my big opportunity.”
“If it was a big opportunity wouldn’t you be more excited?”
“I don’t know. I’m just tired.”
“What about your job?”
“I think they’ll let me take a leave of absence. If not, I was thinking I would quit and start my own design company after the show is over. It’s always been a dream of mine.”
“But you’re doing so well where you’re at. Isn’t that a little risky?”
“You don’t think I could start my own company?”
“Of course I do, Emma, but why do it already when you’re off to such a great start where you’re at?”
“It’s not a great start. I’ve been there for three and a half years. Thirty percent of the business is brought in by me, yet my name isn’t on the door. It probably never will be.”
Bellamy's Redemption Page 7