“It’s not leading him on if you like him,” I reassured my reflection.
“So you like him now?” she said back.
“Well, isn’t it obvious?”
“What about Bellamy?”
“Bellamy is, like… not real.”
“He might be soon. Emma, think about it! He might be soon!”
“Yes, that is pretty crazy. Do you think you’re really going to meet him?”
“Yes!”
The door swung open. It was a new waitress. Someone we hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting yet. “Who are you talking to?” she asked. She looked horrified.
I looked around pretending I thought she was talking about someone other than me. The restroom was empty, of course, aside from the two of us. I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry, despite the many drinks I’d had. “No one,” I said, stuffing my perfume and lipstick back into my purse.
“I heard you talking,” she said firmly.
“I was talking into my… blue tooth device,” I said. I wasn’t entirely sure what a blue tooth device was or whether people even still used them anymore. Then I said, “Why is everyone who works here so incredibly rude?”
She went into one of the stalls and loudly slammed the swinging door shut. It bounced back open and she grabbed it again, locking it in place. “Crazy bitch,” I heard her mutter.
I returned to our table, trying to look composed. As soon as I sat down, our new waitress came back and set the bill on the table. Like our previous waitress, she didn’t budge. As Pete got out his wallet she yawned and then pulled herself together a little, brightly asking, “So how were your meals?”
“Very good,” said Pete, handing her some money.
“Thanks,” she said, turning sweet and addressing just Pete. “Have a super night.”
“Shall we?” he asked me.
“Yes, please.”
We went back up the little steps to street level and stood shivering in the cold, waiting for our cab. Before very long our driver arrived, and after a short ride, we were back at home. Our elevator was working again, so we took it up to our floor, both of us awkwardly silent. As we approached Pete’s apartment, he slowed his pace. “Would you like to come in?” he asked.
“I think I’d better get to bed,” I said.
“So we’re going to your place?”
“Funny, Pete. Very cute.”
We stopped in front of my apartment. I took out my keys, trying to hide how nervous I felt.
“I had a great time,” he said.
“Me too.”
“Sorry it was so weird.”
“With you, weird is good.”
And then it was happening. He leaned in, his eyes closing, his right hand gently touching the back of my neck. His lips touched mine, softly at first, and then urgently. I kissed him back, not caring about my friends’ opinions of him, or the potential of Bellamy, or the tiny particles of meat that were probably in his mouth. His left hand was on my back a moment later, pulling me close to him. I wished we didn’t have bulky winter coats on. I wanted to peel mine off, but I just kept kissing him. His lips and tongue, as crazy as it sounds, were like extensions of his soul. This wasn’t just a kiss; I had the dreadful, doomed feeling of a person falling in love. I pulled away from him.
“Oh my God, Pete,” I whispered.
“What? What is it?”
“I think I need to go.”
“Uh… Okay. Why?”
“It’s late.”
“Okay. Are you alright?”
“Yes. I’m great. But I need to get to bed.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Okay. Thanks for tonight.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. “Very welcome.” He leaned in and gave me one more little peck on my lips. It was soft, sweet. He lingered for a moment and broke away, leaving me tingling all over. A kiss like that from any other person in the world would have had zero effect on me. I fumblingly opened my door, gave him a little wave, and closed the door behind me. I leaned against it and then locked it, in part to prevent myself from running back out there. I listened to his footsteps retreating down the hall.
“Oh, no,” I whispered.
“Please stop talking to yourself,” I whispered back.
I put away my coat, kicked off my shoes, and changed into pajamas. My dress was still clean so I hung it up in my closet so it wouldn’t become wrinkled. I washed my face and brushed and flossed my teeth. Throughout it all, my heart raced. I could try to talk myself out of liking him, but my body clearly had other plans.
“You just like him because he’s stereotypically hot,” I said to my reflection as I dabbed on some eye cream.
“I don’t know about that. But even if it’s true, is that so bad?”
“It’s shallow. It’s just your hormones or pheromones or whatever talking.”
“So what are you suggesting?”
I didn’t answer myself. Instead, I crawled into bed. I would be lucky to get five hours of sleep at this point. I had a fleeting, nervous feeling just as I drifted off, that if I didn’t get my talking to myself problem under control, it could end up embarrassing me when I was on television. “If I’m on television,” I murmured aloud, finally falling asleep.
Chapter 8
The call came in as I was leaving my meeting with Mrs. Fillmore, queen of houndstooth. I was walking to my car, enjoying the fresh, brisk air after having spent the past several hours in her overheated, powder scented home. I fumbled with my phone, nearly dropping it as I pulled it from my purse. “Hello,” I said, trying to sound confident, indifferent, busy.
“Hello, is this Emma?”
“This is she,” I said professionally, instantly wishing I’d been flirtier and more upbeat.
“Emma, this is Christine. From Bellamy’s Redemption. Are you sitting down?”
“Uh, yeah,” I lied.
“You made it! You’re on the show!”
“Are you serious?” I stopped in my tracks and set my design portfolio on top of the snowbank next to me.
“I’m completely serious! Congratulations. We get started filming on Thursday, but we’d like you out here Wednesday. I will be emailing your tickets and all the details to you. See you in a couple of days, Shar!”
“Shar? This is Emma.”
“Oopsie. Sorry about that. I got ahead of myself on the list. See you in a couple of days, Emma.”
“Okay. Thanks,” I said weakly. I picked up my portfolio and numbly continued to my car. I got in and sat there, taking it all in.
“You should call someone,” I decided aloud. But who first? This was huge news.
I called me mom. She answered right away. “Emma! I was just thinking of you! How’s it going, Bug?”
“It’s good, Mom. How are you?”
“Oh, you know. Not much new around here. Your dad is in the den trying to put a bookshelf together. He’s going to have a heart attack if he doesn’t take it easy.”
“Tell him to be careful.”
“I will. He’s not going to listen though.”
“Guess what?” I said.
“What?”
“There’s a new show that’s going to be filmed soon called Bellamy’s Redemption, and I’m going to be on it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m going to be a contestant on it.”
“Oh. A game show? Like Jeopardy? That’s great, Honey. What kind of questions are they going to ask you?”
“Not that kind of show. It’s a reality show about finding love.”
“You’re going on a reality show? Why would you want to do that?” she asked. I could tell I was in trouble.
“It’s a show about finding love,” I repeated weakly.
“Love?”
“Yes. Love.”
“I didn’t think you were interested in love.”
“Everyone is interested in love!”
“Those shows don’t work.”
“They sometimes
do.”
“It’s not one of those shows where young people are getting busy with strangers, is it?”
“No! No way, Mom. Nothing like that. It’s not about, you know, sex. It’s all about love. I’m probably going to end up married once it’s over.”
“Oh. Well that would be nice.” She’s been worried about my marriageability ever since I hit twenty-four. “When is this going to happen?”
“Um,” I pressed my phone against my neck and quietly said, “in a couple of days.”
“I didn’t hear that,” she said.
“I leave on Wednesday,” I admitted.
“This Wednesday?”
“Yep.”
“Why didn’t you mention this sooner?”
“I just found out.”
“What about your job?”
“I am going to take a leave of absence,” I said.
“If this doesn’t work out, I hope you know that you’re too old to move back in with your dad and me.”
“The thought never even crossed my mind, Mom.”
“I mean, I guess we could make an exception…”
“You won’t need to, Mom.”
“Alright.”
“Aren’t you excited for me?”
“Well, golly Bug. I don’t know what to say. Sure, I’m excited for you.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Good luck. Uh oh, your dad’s yelling for me. I’d better go see what he wants. Call me if you need anything, Honey.”
“Thanks. Bye.”
“Bye, Bug. Love you!”
“Love you too, Mom.”
I wiped a tear from my eye, feeling strangely guilty as I sat in my cold, silent car. I felt a knot in my stomach, as though I’d just lied to my mom. But I hadn’t. I didn’t know where this overwhelming, negative feeling was coming from. To brush it away, I called Betsy.
“Hi Em, hang on a second,” she said. “Okay, I’m back. How’s it going?”
“Betsy! I’m so glad you answered. I have big, big news.”
“Wait, don’t tell me… You got a subscription to some decorating magazine at an unheard of rate, reserved just for you because you’re special.”
“No. It’s bigger than that.”
“I give up.”
“I’m going on Bellamy’s Redemption!”
“What do you mean you’re going on Bellamy’s Redemption?”
“I’m going to be on the show.”
“Like, you’re going to a filming of it?”
“Huh?”
“I’m not understanding what you mean.”
“I’m on the show, Betsy. I’m going to be on the show.”
“You,” she said slowly, “are going to be,” she paused, “on the show Bellamy’s Redemption. For real?”
“Yes!” I screamed.
I waited for her to scream too. Instead there was silence.
“Are you there, Betsy?”
“I’m here.”
“Say something.”
“Are you sure? I mean, no offense, Emma, but are you sure?”
“Yes!”
“Getting onto a show like that probably takes a huge amount of interviewing, paperwork, you know. All kinds of stuff. Do you mean you applied to be on it? Because if that’s what you mean, I already guessed you were going to.”
“Betsy, you’re not listening to me. I am on it. I leave Wednesday. We start filming Thursday. I’m serious. I thought you’d be excited for me.”
“Emma, do you remember when you joined that CD club and you thought that Jason Mraz was going to come to your house because he was in an ad that said ‘How would you like Jason Mraz in your living room for just one cent.’ Do you remember that?”
“Betsy! I was a kid! Please!”
“You were not a kid. You were, like, eighteen. You should have known better.”
“I wasn’t eighteen. Anyhow, that is irrelevant. You are ruining this for me. I really thought you’d be excited for me.”
“If it’s really happening, I’m happy for you.”
“I want to kill you right now.”
“Emma, you really shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Goodbye. I’m calling Rachel. Or Lauren. Or one of my other true friends.”
“Oh, Emma. Don’t be so pouty. Geez!”
“Bye, Betsy.”
I hung up. Instead of calling any other friends, I called my boss. To my slight disappointment and major relief, it went straight to voicemail. I took a deep breath and dove right in: “Hello. This is Emma Van Elson. I regret to inform you that I will need to take a leave of absence for personal reasons. I will be dropping off my portfolio regarding the Fillmore, Snell, Abernathy, and McCoy projects I’m currently working on, so that these projects may be completed in my absence. Oh, and there are notes on the Coolidge and Wu designs. I am pretty sure both of them will go with you if the bid is right. I regret that I was unable to give you notice of this departure, and I am sincerely sorry for the inconvenience it will cause you. I will submit a letter of temporary resignation when I drop off my portfolio. Later today. After hours. This evening, actually. Once you’re gone for the day. I hope I may return to my post when things get back to normal for me, but I understand if that is not possible. I could be back in as little as a week, or as long as ten weeks. I’m sorry I can’t give you any additional details. Um, thanks. Thanks for everything. Bye.”
I set my phone in the passenger seat. My hands were shaking. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned Coolidge and Wu. They could have been my first clients for my start-up company once I got kicked off the show and returned to find I had no job. Oh well, it was too late now. Hopefully, hopefully, hopefully things wouldn’t go so badly.
I really wanted to call Pete, but I didn’t. It suddenly occurred to me that I needed to get ready. I need to pack! I only had one full day to create a television-worthy version of myself!
Before leaving for work, I had printed a copy of Recommended Must-Brings for Potential Contestants on Bellamy’s Redemption, thinking I’d be able to sneak a peek at it while I was at Mrs. Fillmore’s house. I hadn’t had the chance though. So now I took it from my purse, reviewing it:
Welcome and best wishes, Finalist!
Are you ready for some fun? Are you ready for LOVE?
You may soon be embarking on the adventure of your lifetime, an adventure that may lead to love.
We wish you all the best.
A great, beautiful first impression is vitally important in winning a man’s heart. Bellamy, despite his kind heart and non-materialistic ways, is no exception to this rule!
Don’t let the beautiful backdrops of blue oceans, scenic mountains, and gorgeous landmarks upstage you!
Remember: If you are chosen as a contestant, you will be competing against many other beautiful women, and you will need to showcase your own natural beauty. Don’t let old, out of style clothing take away from your chances! Also, don’t be afraid to show your natural beauty with clothes that show off your figure!
We suggest if you are chosen as a contestant that you bring the following clothing and accessories along with you, as noted below. Please note, we are not responsible for purchases made in preparation for your appearance on Bellamy’s Redemption. You accept full responsibility for the wardrobe you bring, as well as the costs accrued in assembling said wardrobe. We suggest you borrow clothing from friends, family, or associates, whenever possible, in order to offset your expenses.
This holds true for shoes, jewelry and accessories.
Good luck!
You will be hearing more from us soon!
Beneath this was a bulleted list. It recommended I bring along:
ten evening gowns
seven sexy-sassy swimsuits
swimsuit cover-ups if desired
seven cocktail dresses
ten cute, casual date outfits
shoes suitable for rock climbing
appropriate sleep attire
workout clothing if desir
ed
clothing suitable for downtime
sandals and other casual footwear
a beach tote
a beach towel
a beach hat
a variety of handbags and clutches
one or two disposable outfits for a potential ‘helping on the farm’ scene
ten or more pairs of strappy, sexy heels
jewelry and other accessories, as needed
often overlooked items such as gel inserts for shoes or double sided tape
It recommended I not bring along the following:
t-shirts, caps, etc. bearing logos or sayings, in particular but not limited to sayings of political, religious, illegal, or sexually explicit content
clothing of a particularly risqué quality - use you best judgment
clothing bearing stains, marks, or tears that are not a part of the original design
clothing that is off-trend
clothing that could be considered conservative, comfortable, or dowdy
I reread the last line a few times, trying to decipher what was wrong with being comfortable. The components of my real-life wardrobe, sadly, did not resemble the suggestions on their list. My clothes were mainly a mix of very professional and very casual. That was my life: work or lounge at home. I was unsure what I was going to do. I looked at my instructions again, thinking perhaps if I kept reading I might figure out a plan.
I saw that it was also encouraged that we do any necessary “tweaking” to prepare ourselves, such as teeth whitening, breast augmentations, rhinoplasties, haircuts and colors, etc. Then beneath that it said that we were NOT being advised or encouraged to do these things; that it was entirely up to us.
Realizing I was freezing, I started my car. What was my plan? I had a couple of little black dresses and a few bad bridesmaid’s dresses hanging in my closet. Maybe two pairs of strappy heels. I sighed, calling Betsy back.
“Hi Emma,” she said flatly.
“I need your help,” I said.
“How so?”
“I need ten evening gowns, seven bikinis, seven cocktail dresses, and as many pairs of stripper shoes as I can find. Not the ugly kind of stripper shoes. The pretty, expensive kind.”
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