Mom and I exchange fast glances and I can tell she’s trying to decide how best to “direct” this. I give her a quick nervous smile, as if to say, it’s okay … let it go … we can cut later if necessary. She barely tips her head in a nod.
“So are you saying that you haven’t been romantically involved with Dylan Marceau?” Paige’s expression is dead serious, as if she’s suddenly turned into a prosecuting attorney. “Are you saying that you haven’t been having an affair with him? Do you claim that all those rumors are simply that—rumors?”
Eliza shrugs, but her lips curl into an icy smile. “Really, Paige, your questions seem a bit out there. Tell me, is this business now, or is this personal? Because I do not see how my relationship with Dylan Marceau has anything to do with your little TV show.”
“Oh, but it does, Eliza. This is hot fashion news. My viewers know that I’m engaged to the famous designer Dylan Marceau and they will be very interested to hear whether or not the gossip sheets are reporting the truth. Please, Eliza, set us all straight. Have you been sleeping with my fiancée?”
Eliza snaps her fingers toward the cameras. “Turn those off. Right now, before I call security.”
“But we were invited here.” Paige turns to Rhiannon, who looks slightly blindsided. “Right?”
Rhiannon nods, her eyes worried.
“And my show would like to get to the truth in this matter, Eliza. Please, for the record, set us straight. Are the tabloids right? Have you been having an affair with my fiancée?”
Eliza glares at Paige — looking as if she’s tempted to pick up her silver letter opener and slit my sister’s throat. I wonder if I should remove the potential weapon, but Eliza doesn’t move and her lips seem to be sealed. I’m afraid this has turned into a standoff.
“Shall I take your silence to mean that it’s true then?” Paige asks in a sad tone. “That you really did go after Dylan? You pursued him knowing full well that he was engaged?” She shakes her head. “I honestly hoped you had more character than that, Eliza.”
Eliza suddenly gets a smug look, like she thinks she’s won this round — or perhaps the whole match. “Seriously, Paige, I hardly see how it reflects on my character if Dylan prefers me to you. Perhaps you just need to cut your losses and move on.”
Paige seems to be at a loss for words, which is unusual.
“Think of it this way,” Eliza continues in a self-satisfied way. “At least you weren’t married yet. In a way, you really should thank me.”
“So you admit that you slept with Dylan in the Bahamas?” Paige demands point blank. “You don’t deny it?”
“I neither confirm nor deny it. And I’m sure it’s quite troubling to you, Paige, but really, it’s not public business.”
Paige glances at me with a puzzled expression, almost as if she wants me to give her an answer, but I’m literally gape-mouthed now, waiting for her next move—and hoping she has one.
Paige turns back to Eliza. “You say your personal affairs are not public business, Eliza, and yet you’ve helped thrust this into the public eye.”
Eliza actually smiles now. “Well, you know what they say about publicity.”
“I do know. And I happen to know something else about your life that’s not public business, Eliza. At first I thought it was random, but in some ways it helps to explain how you’ve acted toward Dylan.”
“What are you talking about?” Eliza narrows her eyes.
“There was another time you entered into an impulsive relationship with a fairly well-known man. Another time when you showed a lack of discretion, Eliza.”
“What?” Eliza stands up, her chair flying backward.
“I’m talking about a little episode that occurred in the south of France. Your family tried to keep the story quiet, but I found—”
Eliza’s face has paled considerably. “Turn off the cameras,” she seethes.
“Why?” Paige asks innocently. “I thought you appreciated publicity?”
“Turn off the cameras,” Eliza repeats in a flat tone. Paige looks like she’s considering Eliza’s request and then she turns to JJ and Alistair. “Yes, please, do turn them off, guys.”
JJ and Alistair look seriously reluctant, but Mom waves her hand at them. “Turn them off, boys. Cut.” They lower the cameras and we all wait. “What do you want?” Eliza asks quietly. “The truth,” Paige tells her. “About Cannes?” Eliza looks scared. “No … I already know about Cannes, Eliza. I want the truth about the Bahamas—and Dylan. Not for the show, but for me. I want to know what really happened.”
With a dark scowl, Eliza folds her arms in front of her. “Nothing happened!”
Paige looks skeptical. “Really? Nothing happened between you and Dylan? Are you saying that when he stayed in your room during the hurricane nothing happened?”
“That’s right. Nothing happened.”
“Then why didn’t you just say that from the beginning? Why have you dragged us all through this muck and mire and innuendo?”
She shrugs.
Paige seems stumped—or maybe she’s just finished. She looks at me now, like she hopes I might have some brilliant idea or a way to wrap this up. And suddenly I do.
“Eliza?” I step closer. “How about if you say the same thing for the cameras now?”
“Forget it.”
“No, listen.” I use a coaxing tone. “Right now you look like a total skank in the public eye. Paige’s fans are going to hate you. The fashion industry is going to suspect your integrity. If you have any self-respect at all, you should want for people to know the truth. Do you really want everyone thinking you tried to steal someone else’s fiancée?”
“She’s right,” Rhiannon confirms. “Not only that, but your image is important to our business. You need to be honest, Eliza—for everyone’s sake.”
“Fine.” Eliza tosses the camera guys an aggravated look. “Go ahead and turn your cameras on.” She points to Paige. “Do not bring up Cannes.”
“I don’t plan to. In fact, I’ll ask for that part to be edited out.”
“Really?” Eliza looks skeptical.
“I’m not trying to humiliate you,” Paige says evenly. “I only want the truth.”
With cameras running, Paige questions Eliza—a bit more gently this time —and Eliza comes fairly clean as she relays her story.
“The hurricane was blowing pretty strong by late afternoon,” she says. “I wanted to pick something up on the other side of the island, and I convinced Dylan to come with me. Of course, by the time we got to the hotel, the hurricane was in full force. So I asked Dylan to wait it out with me. Really, it wasn’t safe to drive, and all public transportation was shut down by then.”
“And you just happened to have a room at this particular hotel?” Paige asks. “During Fashion Week, when all the hotels were solidly booked?”
Eliza makes a catty smile. “My parents have a timeshare there.”
“Handy,” I say from the sidelines.
“Anyway, we went up to the suite to watch the storm,” she continues. “And that was all that happened. I eventually went to bed. Dylan fell asleep on the sofa. He must’ve left sometime in the middle of the night, probably after the storm passed, because he was gone in the morning. End of story.”
“So Dylan told me the truth right from the start.” Paige shakes her head. “And this whole media frenzy was, as usual, much ado about nothing?”
“I wouldn’t say nothing,” I add. “Don’t forget that the gossip rags usually get a fragment of their story from some source, whether it’s accurate or not.” I look at Eliza, but she just shrugs like she’s innocent.
Paige turns to Rhiannon with a smile. “And now, back to why we’re here today. Please, can we continue the tour of your delightful studio? I believe you’ve got some models coming in to show off some of your designs?”
“That’s right.” Rhiannon nods. “On with the show!”
Mom and I exchange glances as we leave Eliza’s
office. I think we’re both proud—and more than a little impressed— with how Paige handled that, at the end, at least. I am curious as to whether or not any of that footage will actually make the show. But like Paige said, our fans probably have a right to hear the truth. So often the tabloid rags bury it. It’s refreshing when it’s allowed to surface and shine, kind of like taking a shower after a mud bath.
Chapter
10
After the success of our short New York trip, Paige and I both agree that Mom should come with us to Milan Fashion Week in September. I’m hoping that if Fran’s recovery continues as well as it’s been going, she might be able to come too — not with the heavy load of all her old responsibilities, but in a partnership with Mom. I think all of us would benefit from this combination. I plan to pitch the idea to Helen as soon as we meet again after our short hiatus.
It’s interesting that while our show’s cast and crew are on vacation, Blake and Ben’s new show has just gone into production. That’s because their network was so enthused over the idea that they wanted to launch it as soon as possible. Already there’s a good buzz going on about the new reality show.
“August would be the perfect time for you and Paige to make an appearance on our show,” Blake tells me as we’re on our way home following a movie premiere that Ben got him tickets to. The sci-fi movie was kind of ho-hum, but I have to admit it was fun being involved in the splashy premiere. Fortunately Paige played my fashion consultant, dressing me in a sophisticated Badgley Mischka cocktail dress in a cool shade of pewter. And it was amusing that cameras were flashing at Blake and me as we made our exit out of the theater.
Seriously, just one year ago I never could’ve imagined that I’d be involved in this kind of lifestyle. Although I disliked it at first, I guess it’s kind of grown on me, probably because I have a strong suspicion it will only be one short era of my life. It’s kind of like a rollercoaster ride—it’s fun while it lasts, but it’ll be good to get off.
“And just what would Paige and I do if we did make an appearance?” I ask Blake. “Would you send Paige, an engaged young woman whose relationship has been a bit bumpy already, on a blind date?”
“No, of course not. Like Ben suggested, Paige could do some fashion advising. It would be a great way to cross-promote your show.”
“Our show’s on hiatus.”
“Yes, but publicity is publicity.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“And you’re not engaged,” he points out.
Now for some reason the way he says this aggravates me. As if he’s not involved with me at all—like we’re nothing more than just friends. I honestly thought we were more than that. “That’s right,” I retort. “I’m not engaged. So do you want to send me on a blind date?”
He chuckles. “It might be interesting.”
“And who, might I ask, would choose this date for me?”
“The computer dating service. You’d fill out the questionnaire and they would try to find a match.”
“Have you done that?” I ask him.
“Sure, Ben and I both did it a couple weeks ago. How else could we go on blind dates?”
“Right …” Not for the first time, I’m questioning the sensibility of this whole thing. Is it right to go on a blind date for the sake of a TV show? On the one hand, like Blake says, it could be educational for viewers. On the other hand, what if hearts get broken? Like mine. “So have you gone on a blind date for the show yet?”
He lets out a long sigh. “Actually, I had a coffee date just last week.”
“Really?” I’m surprised. “You never told me.”
“Hey, it’s work. You don’t always tell me about your work.”
“I don’t date anyone at work.”
He glances at me. “Are you saying you’re jealous?”
Suddenly I feel set up, or cornered, or something. I just shrug. “Not exactly. I guess I’m more curious. Was your date a match from the computer?”
“Kind of. We started out with a small pool of daters … you know, for the sake of the show.”
“Like people from Malibu Beach and friends of Ben?”
“Yeah. The dating service matched us up from that pool and that’s how the show begins.”
“Do the viewers know this?” I ask. “Or do they think you went out with a girl who was pulled out of a million potential dates?”
“We don’t mention the small pool, but I think viewers will figure it out when they see the same people going on other dates … but the pool will get bigger and bigger.”
“Kind of a pyramid pool?” I tease.
“We have to keep it interesting.”
“Yeah, I can imagine. So is it going to end up being like The Bachelor?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, people drinking too much, making out, going to bed?”
“No—at least I don’t think so. Not with me anyway.” “But with others?”
He shrugs. “That’s not the focus of the show, but I suppose it could happen.”
Now, call me old-fashioned (and plenty of people do), but that just aggravates me. I don’t like it that Blake is involved in something like this.
“So, are you saying you wouldn’t go on a blind date?” he persists. “Just for the fun of it?”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“Because it would be interesting, Erin. Wouldn’t you like to see what kind of guy the computer matches you with?”
“Out of your small pool?” I frown. “What if I ended up with Ben? Ugh!”
“Ben’s not the devil, Erin.”
“I know. But I couldn’t stand to be stuck on a blind date with him. What would happen if I agreed to do this and hated the guy and walked out?”
“That would be your choice. No way are we forcing anyone to do anything. That’s what makes it interesting.”
“Right …”
“What if you agreed to a blind date and the computer matched you with me?” he asks in a hopeful tone.
I laugh. “That wouldn’t exactly be a blind date … or anything that your viewers would be interested in.”
“Maybe not.”
Suddenly I feel like calling his bluff. Not that it’s a bluff exactly. But since he’s jabbed me in a jealous spot, I decide to jab him back. “You know, Blake, it might be interesting after all.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I do wonder what kind of guy the computer would match me with. I mean, I’d be totally honest in my likes and dislikes. Maybe I’d meet a really cool guy.”
“Maybe …” He sounds uncertain.
“I would only agree to do it if you let me be part of the big pool of daters. Not just the handpicked ones.”
“I guess we could arrange that.”
“Okay. If you do that, I’ll give it a try.”
“I’ll talk to Ben.” Blake sounds a little doubtful, and I suppose I feel a bit smug, like I have him over the old proverbial barrel. I like that.
Although I follow Blake’s direction by registering with the online dating service the following week, I go for almost two weeks without hearing a word. Really, I’m relieved. By late August I’m thinking I was nuts to even agree to anything so ridiculous. But Paige and I did accept the invitation to guest star a couple of times in order to offer fashion critique and suggestions.
Actually, I played my old role as “Camera Girl” so we could get some footage for our show. Meanwhile, Paige handled the actual consultations with the girls who were getting ready for their big blind dates. I’ll admit it was kind of fun, but I know I wouldn’t want to be in their shoes — It’s obviously nerve-wracking. Not only are they putting themselves out there with guys they’ve never met, they’re doing it in front of the whole world. Not my cup of tea.
So when the producer of their show calls me after Labor Day to say that the online service has matched me with someone, I’m quite naturally hesitant.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I tell him. “
I think maybe I’ve changed my mind.”
“But wait until you hear more,” he says eagerly. “We decided to play up the angle that you and Blake are involved with each other. I know you’re not in an exclusive relationship or anything like that. Still, you have dated. So what we want to do is send the two of you on a double blind date!”
“A double blind date?”
“Yes. We’ve found great matches for both you and Blake and we want to send the four of you out on what we call an über-date.”
“An über-date?”
“Usually, our dates are budget dates. Sometimes just coffee, sometimes lunch. But an über-date is when we pull out all the stops and send you to some new hotspot for a fantastic evening. Surely, you can’t say no to that, Erin?”
“And Blake thought this would be a good idea? A double blind date with him and me?”
“Absolutely.”
Okay, while I’m somewhat irritated, I’m also intrigued. The producer continues to pitch this double blind date as the greatest thing short of winning the lottery. Finally, my curiosity gets the best of me and I agree. He fills me in on the details and the big date is set for Saturday, only four days from now. But as soon as I hang up I’m questioning myself. Have I completely lost my mind?
Naturally, Paige thinks this is hilarious. “I’ll bet Blake set himself up with a total babe, Erin. And you’ll be stuck with a loser.”
“Blake assured me he has no control over the selection of the dates,” I tell her.
“And you believed him? Erin, this is reality TV. Get real.”
“Well, I’ve already considered that possibility,” I admit. “And even if I’m paired with the nerdiest guy imaginable, I’ll treat him politely.”
“Good for you. It’s always best to take the high road.” She grins. “And just in case you get punked with your date, you need to look absolutely stunning. So you’ll let me help, won’t you?”
I shrug. “Why not?”
“We should make a deal with Celebrity Blind Date to use some of the footage of your date in our show.”
“I don’t know about that. If I end up looking stupid on their show, I’m not sure I want to do it again on ours.”
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