by Lucy Score
He looked offended. “I have never once flipped a work table.”
“Maybe not, but you’ve thrown plenty of hissy fits,” she argued.
“Hey, you’re talking to the guy who brought you the best pizza that Portland, Maine, has to offer last night.”
“And I thank you for your generosity, but I don’t think last night should happen again.” Paige looked pointedly around them, keeping her voice low.
Gannon’s eyes skimmed over her face to the neckline of her t-shirt and widened. He hooked a finger into the scoop neck, a deliberately intimate move. “You’re mic-ed.”
Paige felt the color drain from her face. The last line of their conversation rang in her head. I don’t think last night should happen again. They hadn’t even begun filming, and she’d already added fuel to the fire. She tried to push past him, but he caught her and spun her around to face away from him. “Relax,” he ordered.
He tugged at the hem of her shirt. And Paige nearly screamed. Why was he taking her clothes off? What the hell was happening?
“Mic’s not hot,” he said, pulling her shirt back down.
The microphone’s power pack was clipped on the back of her jeans and apparently not on. Relief had her forgetting to mind her words. “Jesus, I thought you were undressing me,” she gasped out and then clapped a hand over her mouth. One plane ride with him had her spilling her guts, filter-free.
Gannon’s expression changed subtly going from amused to something… darker, edgier. “Princess, when I’m undressing you, you’ll know it.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
True to their word, the Kings had cooked up a scheme to detract from the rampant speculation about Gannon and Paige getting naked. #NapsWithGannon was trending on Twitter thanks to Cat and the rest of the crew sharing photos with people napping on Gannon.
Paige’s personal favorite was the one of grumpy-looking Gannon cradling the two hundred and fifty-pound Louis in his arms while Louis pretended to sleep. The rest of Twitter began to respond with Photoshopped versions of the pictures, some of which ended up on the gossip blogs and a late-night talk show or two, fueling the fun.
Paige felt as though she’d dodged a bullet when requests for comments stopped piling up in her Facebook inbox. The network was still hell-bent on her being part of the show, but at least the world wasn’t still questioning whether or not she’d played a role in destroying reality TV’s hottest couple.
“One more season,” Paige chanted to herself until she remembered she was mic-ed. She continued to set up the interview booth in silence. She’d set up under a popup in the front yard so the house would provide the backdrop. The action in the background of swarming construction teams and volunteers combined with the interview should keep viewers interested.
Paige waved Carina over and ran through the questions for the interview with her. She didn’t want to risk upsetting her or Malia with an insensitive question or assume that Malia knew more about her condition than she did.
“These are all fine,” Carina assured her. “Honestly, Mal knows as much about her cancer as I do. She wants to be a cancer doctor when she grows up.”
Carina hadn’t said it, but Paige heard it all the same. The “when” in her statement was a conscious choice.
“Great. Just think of this as a platform for awareness,” Paige suggested. “We’ll go over the questions a couple of different times just to make sure we get the best answers possible.”
Carina nodded and called her daughter over. Paige got them settled on two backless stools, their backs to their house as it would be for only a few more hours. Felicia scooted in with the boom, and when Tony was satisfied with the lighting, they began.
Paige started with questions on how Malia was diagnosed, making sure Carina hit on the early symptoms. This episode was as much a public service announcement for pediatric brain cancer as it was one family’s story, and Carina was happy to treat it as such.
She was eloquent and sincere in her answers, and Paige knew Carina would connect with mothers everywhere. When Malia started to fidget, Paige knew it was time to get her involved in the conversation.
“Malia, can you tell me about your cancer?”
The little girl nodded proudly. “I have medulloblastoma cancer. I had it before, an’ it came back, so I’ve had two surgeries, radiation, and now I’m going through my last round of chee-mo-therapy.” She ticked off the treatments on her tiny fingers as blasé as if she was describing a field trip to the zoo.
“You’re very brave,” Paige told her. “Do you ever get scared?”
Malia nodded, her brown eyes wide. “I don’t like it when my mom cries. It makes me feel bad. An’ I don’t like the dark very much, so I sleep with a Ninja Turtle nightlight.” She wiggled her little butt on the stool and grinned at her mom.
Carina stroked her daughter’s head. “One of the nurses at the hospital got it for you, didn’t she?”
Malia nodded again. “Miss Jayne. Hey! Do you think Miss Jayne will see this?” she asked Paige.
“I think all of your doctors and nurses are going to see it.”
Malia launched into a personal greeting for each and every one of her medical team. It would never air, Paige knew, but she could get Cat to use the outtake on her blog. As far as she was concerned, men and women who worked with kids with cancer deserved all the shout-outs and thank-yous they could get.
Bringing Malia back to show-worthy sound bites, Paige asked Malia about how the cancer treatments made her feel.
“Sometimes barfy,” Malia said, her pert nose wrinkling. “’An’ sleepy, too. I hafta take more naps. Oh, and I don’t have any hair again. But it makes it easier to see my scars. I showed ‘em to Gannon, and he showed me some of his scars. He said scars mean you’re tough.” Malia flexed her tiny biceps at the camera, and Paige melted inside. “Do you wanna see my scars?”
“Do you want to show me?” Paige directed the question to Malia but looked at Carina. Carina gave her a wink and a nod.
“Sure!” Malia shrugged. “I only wear the scarf or a hat so no one thinks I’m in a zombie Halloween costume or something like that. I don’t wanna to scare someone when they’re ‘spectin to see hair.” She whipped off the purple scarf and spun around backwards on the stool. “See?”
The scars were red and ragged, a violation of her otherwise perfect mocha skin. Paige quietly blew out a breath. “Wow. Those are some scars. You really are tough.”
“That’s what Gannon said. He’s got scars, too, but none as cool as mine.”
Swallowing hard, Paige shuffled through her notes and scratched out another one to find out if there was footage of Gannon and Malia trading scar stories. She couldn’t imagine the inner strength that Carina had, dealing with this on a daily basis. Watching her perfect little angel of a daughter ravaged by a disease and suffering through harsh treatments? They deserved a hell of a lot more than a nice house.
They talked more about treatments and what Malia wanted to do when—always when—her cancer was gone.
“Let’s talk about what you and your mom are doing this week while we’re working on your house,” Paige said. “Usually our families go on vacation for the week, but you wanted to do something different.”
“We’re going to Washington, D.C., to talk to some people about more funding for cancer research. Mama thinks it’ll be hard for them to say no to this face,” Malia said pointing at herself. “And then we’re going to go visit a children’s hospital and play with some kids!”
“That sounds like a really important trip.”
Malia gave her an exaggerated nod. “Uh-huh.”
“Do you know what you’re going to say to the people about cancer?”
“I’m going to tell them that we need better treatments, and even if they can’t give us money that will save me now, we have a responsibility to other kids who might be sick in the future.”
Paige had to swallow hard to dislodge the lump in her throat. Carina looked surprised
by her daughter’s response. “Baby, where did you… We’re going to beat this.”
“Mooom, I know numbers. The doctors told you when it came back I didn’t have as good a chance. If I don’t get cured, I still want other kids to hopefully get cured.”
Carina grabbed her daughter in a tight hug, and Paige could see her willing away the tears that threatened to fall.
Paige wanted to look away. It was too raw, too personal. But it was also something that would make someone care and care deeply. She scrawled a note on her pad to identify pediatric cancer charities to highlight on the episode and blog.
Tony swiped the back of his hand under his eye, and Paige heard Felicia sniffle.
“Keep it together, guys,” Paige murmured into her headset as she fished a tissue out of the box she kept on hand for interviews and blew her nose.
A movement off to the side caught her eye and she spotted Andy, arms crossed with one hand covering his mouth. He stood next to Louis who was pointing his camera in her direction. “They wanted more behind-the-scenes,” Andy’s voice said in her ear. “Wrap it up, and we’ll do a quick one-on-one with you, and then we can move on.”
Damn it. She was not interested or willing to be part of the story, Paige wanted to rail at Andy. The focus should be on Malia, not cooking up some fake behind-the-scenes romance for ratings.
And, of course, they were going to get her on camera when her own eyes were glassy with unshed tears and the fresh pain of watching a hopeful six-year-old consider her own mortality.
Paige ended the interview on a high note, letting Malia talk about the pink bedroom Cat promised her and what she thought of being on TV. Sweet answers that would remind viewers that Malia could be any six-year-old from any family.
It was the last they were needed on camera, and Paige was surprised to find the production and construction crews as well as Gannon and Cat lined up to say their goodbyes. Seeing the little girl pull Gannon down for a hug didn’t do anything to calm Paige’s emotional state. Wouldn’t the network love it if she bawled her way through her first interview? That thought was enough to have her tightening the reins on her emotions.
“Let’s get this over with,” she growled at Andy and flopped down on the stool.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Catalina King was generally a sane, stable human being. Sure, sometimes she was flighty and irresponsible. But between managing her or Gannon into a productive, helpful mood, Paige would take Cat every damn time.
However, on the birthday Cat shared with her brother, the tables turned, and she became the unmanageable one. The whole crew took the opportunity to call it a night a little early on set and hit whatever hole-in-the-wall bar chosen by the network’s location manager who scouted families and towns prior to shooting. Massive quantities of beer, tequila, and nachos were consumed. It was a good mid-season break, provided no one got too shitfaced or too hungover, which Cat always did.
Paige never let loose like the rest of them. She considered herself to be Cat’s unofficial babysitter, and knowing that his sister was looked after, Gannon never went. Probably because Cat might use the drunken binge to pick up guys. And, while Cat enjoyed the birthday spectacle, Gannon preferred to celebrate in private… alone.
“You need to try this on,” Cat said, thrusting a filmy white button down shirt into Paige’s hand. They’d just wrapped up an offset shoot involving Cat shopping for the perfect princess bedding for Malia and, with everything under control on the set, hit a department store for some impromptu shopping.
“What would I wear this with?” Paige asked, wrinkling her nose.
“Black bra underneath, your cutie cute denim shorts that show off your perfect legs, and those brown leather sandals. Guys love it when things wrap up girls’ legs,” Cat insisted knowledgeably.
“You’re not trying to get me laid, are you?” Paige asked with suspicion, holding the shirt up in front of her.
“And what exactly is wrong with that?” Cat countered.
Paige thought about it a beat. It had been a longer-than-usual dry spell. But she wasn’t into the whole one-or two-night stand on the road thing. It was just awkward, weird.
Before she could craft her answer, Cat continued. “Look, this isn’t necessarily about sex. You’re nearing end-of-season exhaustion already and we’re only halfway through filming. I just want you to have a night off where you can slap on some makeup and a smile and enjoy yourself. Is that too much to ask?”
Paige sighed mightily. “No, I suppose not.”
“Good. Now bring the shirt, we’ve got bras to shop for.”
––—
Cat and her design sensibilities were right as usual, Paige thought, studying herself from the waist up in her hotel room’s bathroom mirror. She’d done a half tuck with the button down that she wore over the fancy bralette that had caught her eye with its lace back. Cat had talked her into a chunky belt and a layered necklace with a crescent moon and stars.
Paige had put some effort into her hair, giving some lift and texture to her short bob with strategic messy waves. She kept her makeup simple but pretty, and damn if she didn’t feel good about her reflection. Maybe, just maybe, with #NapsWithGannon trending and her first on camera one-on-ones behind her, things would start looking up.
Paige gave her hair a final fluff with her fingers and grabbed her bag. Checking that her phone was charged, she stuffed her hotel key in her back pocket and headed for Cat’s room.
Shaney’s Pub was exactly the kind of local watering hole that the crew favored. It had a menu full of deep fried delicacies and forty beers on tap. And it was packed.
Cat’s entrance brought with it the usual stir in the crowd, but as they most often found, locals of smaller towns were more respectful of her time and space. This suburb of Portland was no different. After a handful of polite autograph requests, everyone settled back into their Friday night routine.
Paige perched at a high-top table in the bar with the members of her team rotating in and out of the other seat. It was fun to see everyone cut a little loose, she thought, nursing her beer. And it said a lot about them that even mid-season they still chose to spend their down time together.
Felicia, in jeans and Steely Dan t-shirt, plunked down across from Paige and fished a cheese stick off of the appetizer plate. “So, how’s it feel to be talent?” she asked, biting into the melted cheese.
Paige groaned. “How long do you think they’ll play this out until they give up on it? I’m not bringing anything to the table with my scripted behind-the-scenes observations.” Yesterday she’d muddled through it, avoiding any emotional hotspots in her answers to Andy’s questions and guessed that she came across as more hostile than anything else.
“It’s all part of the game.” Felicia had been in the game for a good number of years more than Paige. She’d seen it all as reality TV evolved. “You know, just because the network is hoping for some crazy affair with you and Gannon doesn’t mean it’s a terrible idea.”
Paige gaped at her friend.
Felicia shrugged her broad shoulders. “All I’m saying is don’t let them pull your strings, and don’t let them scare you off of something that might be great. Just because they want it for ratings doesn’t mean that it wouldn’t be a good thing for you personally.”
“Me and Gannon?” Paige was still stunned.
“The way you two rub each other the wrong way? That’s all spark. You just might combust someday.” Felicia glanced over her shoulder at her name being called. “Looks like I’m up in darts.” And with that, she left Paige gaping after her.
She didn’t have much time to be shocked. The Friday night entertainment, a five-piece country cover band, was pumping out an enthusiastic beat. Cat spotted her and towed her out onto the crowded dance floor.
“Let’s see if your feet remember how to do anything besides stand all day,” Cat yelled over the music.
Paige gave up on trying to think or maintain her wallow and matched Cat�
��s footwork. Cat loved to dance when she was sober, and she became much more aggressive about her love when she drank. It was Paige’s job to keep her entertained and hydrated so she didn’t try to disappear with a stranger or drink so much that she’d be suffering the next day.
It wasn’t necessarily a hardship. Paige appreciated the chance to kick back during the back-to-back shoots. There was something about letting go of everything else and just following a beat with her body that felt good. It helped that she’d taken a ton of hip-hop dance classes with her girlfriends in college. Together, she and Cat were drawing attention, and since it had nothing to do with Gannon or her job, Paige embraced it.
Cat whirled off with a guy in a checkered shirt and cowboy boots waving over his broad shoulder. Paige turned to head to the bar on a quest for water when she found herself making eye contact with warm brown eyes and a cute smile. The man wore a golf shirt and cargo shorts. Preppy without going too far into the country club direction, he had short blondish hair and no wedding ring.
“Hi,” he said, almost shyly.
Paige smiled in response. “Hi.”
“Can I buy you a drink?” He wiggled the empty beer bottle in his hand.
“I’m on a quest for water,” Paige told him. It was as much the truth as a test. There was always the guy at the bar who “jokingly” tried to ply a single woman with alcohol even when she said she was just drinking water.
“I’d be happy to accompany you on your quest,” he offered.
Passed the test. Paige’s smile was even warmer now. “Sure.”
They made their way to the bar, a dark, sticky slab of wood similar to every other bar in every other town. There, Cute Blond Guy flagged down the bartender. He ordered “a water for the lady” and introduced himself as Marcus.
“It’s nice to meet you, Marcus of Hydration. I’m Paige.”
“So, come here often, Paige?” he grinned.
She laughed. “First time ever. I’m only in town for the week. Do you come here often?”