“Uh, okay.”
“You look like a woman on a mission,” he observes.
“Oh, not really.”
“You just couldn’t stay away, huh?” he teases.
“Something like that.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here. I missed you. Do you know how crazy that is? I don’t miss anyone.”
I blush. It’s nice to have such a profound effect on someone like Patrick.
But then I think about what Finn just experienced with Emma and I get paranoid. How does Patrick classify our relationship? We definitely have not had that talk.
“Where do you and I stand?” I blurt out.
Instead of answering, he moves away from his side of the counter and wraps his hands around my face, kissing me deeply.
I collapse against his chest and kiss him back.
“Stop trying to distract me,” I murmur between kisses. “Are we officially dating?”
“I’m not trying to distract you. Do you want to be officially dating?”
“I…uh…I think so?”
He laughs. “You don’t sound like you really know what you want.”
“I’d like to know how you’re feeling.”
He starts gently pulling me in the direction of what I assume is the bedroom. “Let me show you how I’m feeling.”
I resist. “You’ve said that before.”
He smirks. “Are you trying to say I’m unimaginative?”
“No. I just wonder if you like to avoid talking about difficult subjects.”
In response, he pushes me against the wall and yanks down the sleeve of my blouse, kissing my shoulder. “But this is so much more fun. There’ll be plenty of time to talk after.”
I waver. I’m not sure I’m falling for his act this time.
“Hang on,” he says. “Can you wait right here?”
I nod uncertainly.
He hurries off into the bedroom, leaving me confused. What is he doing? Tidying his room? Retrieving a gift to bribe me into bed?
I might just quickly get a glass of water. It wouldn’t hurt to make Patrick wait for me for a moment.
I creep back out to the kitchen and hunt around in the cupboard for a glass. I hold it under the cold tap before taking a large sip.
That’s when I see Patrick’s phone on the counter lighting up with a message. I don’t mean to read it, but it’s right there in front of me.
Book sales are well above our…
Book sales?
A heavy feeling settles in my chest.
I can’t believe it! Patrick wrote the book about the show? That’s pretty fucked up. But when I think about it, it all starts to make sense. If he was going to cancel the show anyway, he probably figured he’d cash in while the final season was running. And what better way to ensure failure than to hire a stupid, naïve twenty-three-year old to ruin it for him?
I hear Patrick’s footsteps heading towards the hall. I frantically look around to locate my handbag and snatch it up.
I grab my shoes at the front door and quickly exit the building. I run down the stairs and out onto street, not stopping until I’m several blocks away.
And then I burst into tears.
THIRTY-TWO
I sneak back home and hide in my room for the rest of the night. I feel horrible. Not only have I been sleeping with a complete traitor, but now I have to avoid my roommate too.
I stay awake most of the night, staring at the ceiling. And when the sun comes up, everything seems even worse. I just want to curl up in a ball and disappear.
I’m tempted to call in sick, but it’s only my second day back at work. Not that I should care about the show anymore. Chances are there won’t be another season after this. Why should I make any effort at all?
I hear Finn leave just after seven, so I crawl out into the living room and lie on the couch. Is this what my life is going to be like now? Am I going to have to draw up some sort of schedule so Finn and I can alternate the use of common areas without having to be in contact with each other?
I had switched off my phone last night, but curiosity gets the better of me and I turn it back on.
A series of beeps greet me. One is a voicemail from Patrick asking where I got to. He genuinely sounds confused, and possibly a little hurt. Good.
I also have a text from him.
What happened?
Not going to reply to that one.
And then I have a thought. What if the message on Patrick’s phone wasn’t actually about that book? It could have been from one of the people at the studio. It’s quite likely that at least one star from another show at NBS has written a book recently.
I start to panic. What if I just made a huge fool of myself? Right now I could be sleeping in Patrick James’s bed and enjoying that amazing view of the harbour.
I need to know for sure.
I stab his number into my phone and hit send.
He answers immediately. “Good morning.”
“Hi.”
“You left in a bit of a hurry last night.”
“I did.”
“Care to explain why?”
“Did you write that book about the show?” I demand.
Silence.
I guess that’s all the answer I need. I hang up.
The phone rings again, but I ignore it. Screw Patrick James.
I flop backwards into the cushions. I don’t know whether I’m more sad or angry. I glance at the clock. I need to start getting ready for work soon.
It feels like only a couple of minutes later when the doorbell rings. Shit.
I cautiously creep over and peek around the side of the wall.
Yep. It’s Patrick. And he probably saw me through the glass. I still don’t want to let him in.
He rings the doorbell again.
Okay, fine. He wants a confrontation? I’ll give him one.
I stalk down the hall and yank open the door. “What do you want?”
His face is pained. He genuinely looks upset. “Can I come in?”
“No.”
“Can I explain?”
“What? That you hired me because you wanted to fuck me? Or because you wanted to ensure the demise of your show? Or maybe you thought you’d kill two birds with one stone?”
He tries to grab my hand, but I pull away.
“Please listen for a moment. It’s not like that.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Then enlighten me. What’s it like?”
He lets out a deep breath. “Yes, I have always been attracted to you. But as I said in the past, I hired you as a consultant despite that. And I saw immediately that you were making some positive changes to the show, and it confirmed I made the right decision.”
I don’t say anything.
“You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you? Okay, well you should know that the book deal had been arranged well before you came along. There was nothing I could do about it.”
“You should have told me.”
“But I knew it would look bad, no matter what I said. I promise I didn’t hire you to destroy the show. I saw your passion, and I already knew you were capable. And you helped make the best season yet. I’m not just saying that.”
“So, what now? You think I’ll just jump straight back into your arms?”
“I know it won’t be easy. But I want to make it up to you.”
“Wait. I need to know something. Did you actually try to stop the negative press the day the book came out?”
He looks like he’s trying to formulate a response that will satisfy me. And then something else occurs to me.
“Hang on. You outright lied to me when you said you had no idea Ariel was treating the cast badly. But you did! You wrote it in the book!”
He sighs unhappily. “I know. I’ve made a big fucking mess of everything.”
“Well, tell me this. What are you going to do with the show after this season?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” he says honestl
y. “But I’d like to keep it running.”
“You’d like to keep it running?”
He finally snaps. “I’m not the only one involved in the decision, Lauren. I can’t look like I’m favouring a failing show just to please you!”
I stare at him. “Right. So now you finally admit that I didn’t actually do anything of value. Thanks for coming by. You can leave now.”
He studies me intently for a moment.
“Okay,” he says finally. And then he’s gone.
I close the door and sink down to the floor.
I don’t cry this time, but I don’t move for a long time.
***
I’m late for work, but not by much—and Harry, my cameraman, doesn’t seem to mind. I committed to this season, so I’m going to see it out to the end, even though I now know the truth. I operate on auto-pilot all day while we interview our other recently reunited couple, Maria and Johnny. I barely even register what they’re telling me, but I do pay attention when they say they’re entering a twelve-step program together to address their alcohol issues. Apparently the show helped them finally realise they had a problem. I figure if nothing else, the show has had one positive outcome.
When I get home from work, Finn is out again, so I make myself a cup of tea and collapse back on the couch.
I look down at my phone, wondering if Patrick will try to call me again. I won’t be answering if he does.
At that exact moment, the phone does ring. Only it’s my mum.
Mum hasn’t phoned since she tried to convince me to join her side. I mean, she tried for a few days after I refused, but since then, there’s been nothing.
I’m in that perfect combination of emotions involving self-pity, curiosity and possibly wanting to make myself feel worse that I answer.
“Long time no speak,” I drawl.
“Hey, honey. I know, I know. I deserve that.”
“How long has it been? A year?”
“Not quite, but either way, yes, it’s appalling. I want to apologise. I should never have asked you to pick sides. I think I was just so angry by how easily the twins were brainwashed by your dad that I wanted to hurt him as much as possible.”
“By using me as a pawn.”
“Yes.”
I’m surprised she’s so honest about it. “Okay, so what’s the deal? Why are you calling now?”
“No reason, other than to apologise. And maybe come visit you soon.”
“Oh. I guess that might be okay.”
“Have you spoken to your brother lately? I tried phoning him, but he won’t answer.”
“You phoned him before me?” Way to make a daughter feel special.
“I didn’t do it on purpose. His was just the first name that came up in my contacts.”
“Did you try the twins too?”
“No. I’m not sure I have the energy to listen to how amazing their father is.”
“Well, I certainly don’t blame you for dad’s infidelity. But I do blame you for your behaviour afterwards.” I feel myself tearing up. “I thought parents were supposed to love their kids unconditionally.”
“Oh, honey, we do. I know it probably doesn’t feel like it, but your dad and I are very proud of you and everything you’ve achieved. And for you to have your life together despite everything that happened…”
Pfft. Yeah, my life is so together. It then occurs to me that Mum might not even know I work for NBS, but I don’t want to go into it now. I probably won’t be there for much longer anyway.
“So would you possibly be open to the idea of me visiting sometime? We could spend the weekend together?” she asks tentatively.
“Maybe. Just give me a bit of time to get used to the idea.” And allow me to sort myself out, so I actually have something to be proud of.
“Thanks, sweetie. It’s really good to hear your voice. I’m sorry I left it this long. I promise not to do it again.”
“Okay.”
“I should go. I don’t want to make you feel any more uncomfortable than you probably already do.”
“It’s fine. You’re not making me feel uncomfortable. But I do have some things to do.”
That’s sort of a lie, but I definitely have a lot of internal stuff to process.
“All right. We’ll talk again soon. I love you.”
“Thanks, Mum.”
I hang up. I can’t bring myself to return the I love you so readily. Mum has basically abandoned me this year—and all because I wouldn’t participate in her stupid power games to get back at Dad.
I start crying. Why hasn’t Dad called? It’s like I don’t even exist to him anymore. What kind of parents do that to their kid? I’ll have to talk to Josh about how he manages to get by with minimal parental support. Maybe that’s why we both can’t find decent partners to settle down with. We don’t have any good role models to follow.
***
The MultiDate cast and crew return to Australia a few weeks later. I’m no longer even remotely excited about working on the show. Sure, I think my new segment following the evicted couples into the real world is actually quite good, but knowing Patrick will probably cancel it after this season means that I don’t have any motivation.
I make my way onto the set, where I know some of the final interviews will be filmed today. Ariel is sitting at a table in the cauldron, flicking through a folder.
When she sees me, she smiles, which is disconcerting coming from her. It actually seems genuine. “Hi, Lauren.”
“Hi. How was the rest of filming?”
“Good. Can you spare twenty minutes?”
“Okay…”
“I need a coffee. How about we go to the Starbucks across the street?”
All right, there is definitely something weird going on. Ariel has never invited me anywhere for coffee. I’m usually the one to buy it for her.
“Sure,” I say, maintaining a perfect veneer of calm.
She stands up and follows me out to the elevator.
When we get inside Starbucks, she turns to me. “Did you want a soy chai? I’ll order it if you want to grab us a seat.”
Who is this woman and what has she done with the old Ariel?
“Thanks.” I locate a small table at the back of the café.
A couple of minutes later, she comes over with the drinks and sits down opposite me. She studies me for a second, takes a sip of her drink, and then finally speaks.
“I owe you an apology.”
I almost laugh out loud. What is this? ‘Apologise to Lauren Week’?
“For…?”
“I guess for being so hard on you that first day. For dumping you in situations you weren’t qualified to handle. And for blaming you when I was actually mad at Patrick.”
“You found out about the book?”
She nods. “I read it while we were in Laos, and I knew straight away he was behind it. I really don’t appreciate how he threw me under the bus like that. If he cancels MultiDate, which is what I’m pretty sure he’s going to do, it’s going to be almost impossible for me to find another job.”
“It is pretty sucky what he did to you,” I say.
“And what he did to you! I don’t know what he was thinking! Tossing you in the deep end like that.”
“He tried to tell me he thought I had potential, but I’m pretty sure he just wanted to accelerate the show’s failure.”
“See, that’s just awful, and I hope it’s not true. But you know what? If that’s what he was trying to achieve, he got it wrong. Because you are really good.”
I can’t help smiling. This all feels very strange.
She traces her finger around the rim of her cup. “If I’m being totally honest, I felt threatened. When Patrick first brought you on-board, I thought you’d quit in the first few days. But you rose to the challenge and actually helped turn the show around. I’m not the original executive producer on the show, but I worked with him—this disgusting sleaze called Gary. And when he quit, I felt like I had
to prove to everyone that I could be just like him.” She shakes her head. “Over time, I forgot it was all an act.”
I drink my chai so I don’t have to say anything. I’m quite enjoying all this praise and honesty.
“And then you came along and reminded me it didn’t have to be that way. And I was jealous of how easily the contestants opened up to you. Plus, you were right about letting the drama build organically.” She pulls her phone out of her handbag and clicks play on a video. It’s a scene showing the moment Jill and Ken’s love story implodes because Blake works up the courage to reveal his true feelings for Jill—and she realises she wants him too.
“We’ve never had a scene contain so much raw emotion. It’s going to get a huge reaction when it airs.”
“I’m glad it’s working out.”
“If Patrick cancels the show, I’m going to make him give me something else. And I want you to be my go-to person.”
My eyes widen. “Seriously?”
“Yep. And who knows? One day you might take my role. When I voluntarily vacate it, of course.”
I laugh. “That’s very generous of you.”
“No. It will help me out.”
“Okay, I need to tell you something first. I did sleep with Patrick. Not when you thought I did, but in Uruguay.”
She nods. “I know.”
“You do?”
“Sweetheart, it’s my job to know these things.”
“Oh. So I guess you know it’s over now too?”
“Not explicitly, but I knew it probably wouldn’t last. Patrick is incapable of having any sort of meaningful relationship with a woman. His idea of a partner is someone he can keep at his beck and call and summon when he’s in the mood for company.”
“I think you’re right about that.”
“If it helps, I think he did actually try with you.”
“That’s nice. But he didn’t try hard enough.”
“Good for you, for staying strong. Anyway, what do you say about the job?”
“To be honest? I’m not sure I want to stay on at the studio in any capacity. Apart from not wanting to be employed by Patrick, I don’t think I have the stomach for managing the contestants.”
She nods. “Yeah, I thought you might say something like that. I mean, that’s not why I offered you the job, but you do seem like the kind of person who has higher morals than the rest of us.”
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