His lip quirks in amusement. “So if you were in charge, what would you do?”
“I would just leave everyone to their own devices. People create their own drama without interference. I think that’s why the original Big Brother did so well. We like to watch how other people interact when left alone for long periods of time without outside distractions.”
“You don’t think times have changed and viewers want something more?”
“Maybe, but I don’t think the solution is more producer intervention.”
He lowers his voice. “You know I’m thinking of cancelling the show?”
I stare at him in dismay. “No!”
“This year will be our seventh season. We’re running out of ideas.”
“Surely the ratings are still okay?”
“Not as good as they could be. And I don’t know if I have the money or energy to spend on it anymore.”
“Does Ariel know about this?”
“No. And I’d rather you didn’t tell her. I’ll talk to her if necessary. She does know that ratings are down, but her solution is to do more producer intervention.”
I don’t say anything.
“Tell me what else you would do differently,” he says. “I mean, apart from just leaving everyone to their own devices. How would you structure the dates? Would you still let everyone vote off the least popular male and female from week seven on?”
I think for a moment. “You’re kind of putting me on the spot here.”
“Well, why don’t you think about it while we eat?” He signals to the attendant at the back of the plane and she brings over a delicious looking platter of Greek food.
I examine the array of cold meats, olives, falafel bites and feta cubes appreciatively. “Yum.”
“I take it you’re a Greek fan?” he says, noting my blissful expression as I pop an olive in my mouth.
“Yep. It’s one of my favourite cuisines.”
“Me too.”
We eat in silence. I’d like to say it’s relaxing, except my mind is spinning at a hundred miles a minute, trying to formulate a strategy for MultiDate that doesn’t sound juvenile.
“Okay…” I say after a few minutes. “If I was planning the show, I would go back to basics. I’d cast a wide variety of people from all different backgrounds, because the beauty of that environment is introducing guys and girls who wouldn’t normally meet elsewhere. But I think it’s important to find people with matching values, because you do want them to end up together at the end. Your success rate is currently only about one in six for each season. But wouldn’t it be amazing if four or more couples had a happily ever after? You could change the format of the show slightly and spend less time on the manufactured stuff, and more on the evicted couples in the outside world who wanted to keep dating.”
“Where does the conflict come in?”
“From the surface differences between the cast. And maybe the odd love triangle or two.”
“Would you still get the cast to vote each other off?”
“I think so. And the paranoia from that would also create drama. But you could possibly open up the contest, so the public can vote for their favourite evicted couple too, and they also get a romantic getaway in addition to the official winners.”
“Sounds expensive.”
I pull a face. “Come on. I know you guys already get discounts in exchange for advertising the airlines and hotels you use.”
He laughs. “Yeah, okay. You got me there.”
“But, I do think you need to spend more money on the show. It’s obvious you’ve been cutting corners and staying in Australia more and more, even once the show leaves the villa.”
“We didn’t think anyone would notice. Besides, Australia is pretty special. We should be exploiting its natural beauty.”
“That’s just being lazy. People want to be swept away by new and exotic locations, not watch five dates in a row on the Gold Coast.”
He nods thoughtfully, but doesn’t say anything else. I begin to wonder if I’ve overstepped the mark.
“Please feel free to ignore everything I’ve just said,” I offer. “Obviously, I am highly unqualified and talking nonsense.”
“Don’t dismiss yourself like that. You’ve raised some really valid points. And some great suggestions. How many episodes would you say you’ve watched?”
“All of them,” I say without hesitation.
“Do you remember what happened in the first series?”
I think for a second. “Jesse and Kaitlyn were the final couple, but Travis and Brooke also stayed together afterwards. Oh, and there was that controversy with Jeremy sleeping with three girls in three weeks.”
“And season two?”
“Oh, I really liked that because it felt the most natural. Three couples stayed together after that one. And two of them are together even now.”
“What did you think of season five?”
I frown. “That’s when it started going off the rails. It was obvious one of the producers wrote that stupid letter to Marissa so she’d think that Dustin was into her. That was lame.”
“And the most recent one? Last year?”
“I thought it was the weakest of them all, but it also had Alex and Mandy, who are my favourite couple of all time. So overall it just passed for me.”
“Would you keep watching it, even if it continued in the same format?”
“Probably. But I would like myself a little less,” I joke.
The attendant comes over to clear away our platter and quietly advises Patrick that we’ll be landing soon. He seems surprised that we’ve arrived so quickly, and looks out the window as if to check the attendant was telling the truth. He doesn’t say anything further, and I’m suddenly feeling a bit shy.
Once the plane stops, he stands up. “Thank you, Lauren. I really enjoyed our conversation. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
I blush again. Patrick seems to have that effect on me. “No problem.”
“Do you have a way to transport all your stuff back to your house?”
“Oh, actually, I was just going to go to the rental counter inside and get another van.”
He waves his hand dismissively. “Let me take care of it. I’ll put it on my corporate card. I’ll tell my accountant it was payment for services rendered.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I say hurriedly. “I can afford it.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t. But please, let me.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
He makes a quick call and then hangs up. “All set. I’ve even got someone who will load and unload your boxes so you don’t have to worry about your wrist. Just wait outside the main exit and the van will pick you up on the way through.”
“That’s very sweet of you.”
He looks at his watch. “I’d better go. Thanks for keeping me company on the flight. I really appreciate it.”
“Don’t be silly. You’ve been incredibly generous to me.”
“Call it even. I’ll see you again soon.”
And then he’s gone. It takes a moment for me to gather my wits and exit the plane too.
I head into the arrival terminal and out the main door. Patrick is nowhere to be seen.
Well. That was interesting.
Now back to reality. Or something resembling it.
SIXTEEN
It’s after 9pm by the time I get home. Finn comes outside when he hears the van, and offers to help the delivery guy bring my stuff in. I can’t believe I feel more wanted by Finn than Katie now.
Once everything has been relocated to the living room, Finn gets us a couple of beers while I start pulling the masking tape from each box.
He hands me my drink and then sits on the couch, drinking his. He seems happier than before I left.
“You look relaxed,” I observe.
“Do I?”
“Yeah, you do.”
“I guess I haven’t really been myself lately. Sorry about t
hat. It wasn’t anything to do with you. I think it’s just the strain of maintaining a long distance relationship.”
“I can imagine it would be hard.”
“I talked to Emma today. We’re planning a big trip overseas when she finishes her project. I’m also going to try and get away to Melbourne for a couple of weeks next month. I’m sick of only talking to her on Skype.”
“That’s good. So where are you going to go overseas?”
“I don’t know yet. But I’ve got this weird idea about visiting every continent.”
“What? All in the one trip?”
“Yep. How cool would it be to pick a few destinations in each place? And while I want to see the big cities like Paris and Tokyo, I also want to go to countries that you wouldn’t automatically think of. Like Laos, or Ghana.”
“What about Antarctica?”
“I want to go there too. Probably on a cruise, though.” He picks up his phone and opens the browser. “Check this out.”
He shows me a picture of a luxury cruise ship with huge suites and views of the ice outside. It looks amazing.
“Wow. That’s impressive. But I can imagine a trip like that wouldn’t be cheap.”
“No, but I don’t spend much, and my job pays pretty well. If I save hard while Emma is away, I can afford to pay for me and most of her share if she wants me to.”
“She’s a lucky woman. Is she excited about the trip as well?”
His face clouds over. “We haven’t had much of a chance to talk about it yet. That’s why I’m looking forward to seeing her in person. That way, we can start planning and be ready to go by the time she moves back to Sydney.”
“It sounds like you have it all worked out.”
I start moving some of the boxes into my room and look at the time.
“Have you had dinner?” I ask. “I was maybe going to call out for pizza.”
“I could go pizza. What flavour do you like?”
“Hawaiian. Is that okay?”
“That’s perfect.”
“You like Hawaiian?” I ask happily. “My brother is the only other person I know who likes pineapple on their pizza.”
He gives me a look as if to say it’s weird I only know one other person with the same taste. “Pineapple is the best!”
“You know what? I think we’re going to get along just fine.”
He laughs. “Me too.”
When our food arrives, we serve it up on plates and sit in front of the TV.
“I haven’t seen some of the newer Brooklyn Nine Nine episodes,” Finn says. “You want to watch one with me?”
I stare at him. “Really?”
“Yes. Why? Why is that weird?”
“No reason.”
“I’ll take that as a yes, then?”
“Yes!”
He smiles and turns on the TV. He shoots me a quick glance, which I interpret as pleasant surprise that Jules picked a pretty good roommate for him.
Well, my life in Brisbane might be over, but I have to say, I’m not at all upset about how this new one in Sydney is shaping up.
It’s possible this move could be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
***
Back at work, Jules and I are like a well-oiled machine. And at home, Finn and I have…I wouldn’t exactly say a cosy relationship, but it’s definitely an easy-to-manage one. Apart from our mutual love of Hawaiian pizza and Brooklyn Nine Nine, we also discovered we share an obsession with nineties grunge music. The living room speakers are now permanently blaring Nirvana, Pearl Jam and Smashing Pumpkins. Katie never used to let me listen to any of that stuff when she was around, because she thought it was too depressing.
It’s now been four weeks since I flew on Patrick’s jet, and I haven’t seen or heard from him since. I don’t know what that means, or if it means anything at all. It crossed my mind that maybe I was just a novelty and now he’s bored with me, but that’s fine. I’m just grateful I have a job at his studio.
On the second Monday in September, I finally get an opportunity to visit the set of MultiDate properly.
Jules is normally given the job of setting up all the catering for auditions, but he knows how much I worship the show, so he allows me do it instead. I’m a little scared of seeing Ariel again, but that isn’t enough to keep me away.
When the food and drinks arrive, I start carrying them through to a big table at the back of the set. I overheard someone calling the main casting area ‘the cauldron’ and I don’t know how I feel about that. The smaller rooms are now properly set up with the decorations I helped transport on the day I sprained my wrist. There are two chairs in each, and I know from watching the show that this is where they do the early interviews to introduce each cast member.
I’ve just finished putting all the food out when Ariel swirls in, intimidating as ever. Today, she’s wearing red cigarette pants with a matching eighties-style jacket. Underneath the jacket is a Playboy t-shirt, presumably worn for irony. Her hair is smooth and shiny, and her trademark glasses are in place.
She doesn’t acknowledge me, even though we’re the only females in the room. A couple of cameramen are testing their equipment in the corner.
“Eli, Kevin, the women will be arriving in about five minutes. You ready?”
“Yep,” they reply.
“Make sure you’re rolling before they come through the door. Last time, we missed that f-bomb from Carly when she slipped on the rug and we could have dubbed it in later when she had that meltdown over Davey.”
“Got it.”
I hover near the food, wondering if I could somehow stay to watch the casting without being seen.
“You,” Ariel snaps, turning to me.
“Yes?”
“Is there alcohol on that table?”
“Uh, no. I was told to set up the catering that arrived. There wasn’t any alcohol.”
“Damn it. I told them to send over a few cases of champagne. Never mind. There should be some upstairs. Ask Jules to tell you where it is—make sure there are thirty glasses and at least two dozen bottles back down on this table ASAP.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I hurry off.
“And don’t ever call me ma’am again!” she yells after me.
I run over to Jules in reception. “I need champagne. Lots of it, apparently.”
“Oh, right. It’s in the kitchen next to the boardroom on level three. You need a hand?”
“I think I’ll be okay for now.”
“No worries, honey. It’s a quiet morning, so do whatever you have to.”
I smile gratefully and head for the elevator. Thankfully, the champagne is easy to find. I carry a box downstairs and return to get the second one, along with some glasses on a trolley.
Once everything is set up, I let Ariel know. She looks around as if searching for someone.
“Where’s the bartender?”
“Um, I’m not sure?” I don’t know if she actually expects me to answer this, or if it’s a rhetorical question.
A small procession of tall, beautiful women enter the room. Ariel shakes her head. “Never mind. You’ll have to cover for him. Get over there and start pouring champagne for the auditionees.”
“Uh, okay.” I hurry over to the drinks table. I’m not sure whether I’m supposed to encourage them to drink, or just wait until they approach me. I prepare half a dozen glasses just in case, and try to look friendly.
Two women who seem to know each other totter over in their sky-high heels.
“Can you make, like, a sugar-free mojito?” one of them asks me.
“I’m afraid not,” I say regretfully. “All I have is champagne. But I think it’s vintage.” I have no idea if that’s true, but it sounds good.
Both women’s eyes light up. “Perfect.” They snatch a glass each and wander off. A few others come and take a glass too. In between serving, I watch as Ariel and the cameramen finish setting up. A couple of other people who look like show staff wander in, and Ar
iel claps her hands.
“Okay, people. We’re ready to begin. If you haven’t already got champagne, please get some from the bar and take a seat in one of the chairs here.”
The women all oblige. Apart from a couple of brunettes, the rest are blonde. They are all Caucasian, size six, well over five feet eight, and have immaculate grooming and style. It just reinforces my suggestion to Patrick about casting a wider net to find contestants. I’m sure I read there are around half a million Chinese people in Sydney. The show should at least represent them.
“I want you to all introduce yourselves,” Ariel says. “Start with your name, age, job and how many people you’ve slept with.”
I blink. Did she really just say that?
The women aren’t fazed. One puts up her hand. “I’ll start,” she says eagerly. “I’m Crystal, I’m twenty-four, I work as a back-up dancer for a couple of local pop acts around the country, and I’m not actually sure how many guys I’ve slept with. Do you mean intercourse? Or does oral count too?”
Ariel snorts. “Why don’t you give us an estimate of both?”
Crystal thinks for a second. “Um, I guess…” She counts quietly on her fingers. “At least fifty for sex and another thirty just for oral.”
“Excellent.” Ariel writes something on a clipboard. “Next.”
“Uh, hi. I’m Kellie and I’m twenty-two. I’m a dental hygienist and I’ve only slept with one guy.”
“Huh.” Ariel writes another note. “Next.”
I can’t bear it. This is disgusting. These women are being treated like objects. Which I guess I shouldn’t be surprised about, but still. Can’t Ariel be a little more respectful?
I sneak out and go back to reception. “Are you managing okay without me?” I ask Jules.
“Yeah, fine, sweetie. How’s it going in there?”
“Horrendous. Have you ever watched casting?”
“Nope. Not interested.”
“They’re asking really invasive questions.”
“Of course they are. They’re making a TV show. They also psychoanalyse everyone and do a full medical to make sure they don’t have any mental or physical illnesses that will ruin filming.”
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