I stand there, growing more and more frustrated by the second. This asshole has no idea what’s really going on with his own damn show. “If you would just—”
“That was a perfect opportunity and you just wasted it,” he roars. Pacing across the floor of his office in the back of the studio, he gestures wildly. So dramatic. I wonder briefly if he tried acting before he became a producer. Because his melodrama is so over the top it’s laughable.
“What did you expect me to do? Let them duke it out forty thousand feet in the air?” I barely resist rolling my eyes.
“What you were supposed to do was tape that shit on your phone. That’s what people tune in to my show for. Not to watch people be sappy and sweet and fall in love. They want to see fucking and fighting. That’s what this show is about. And you fucking wasted
a perfect opportunity for the next episode to get higher ratings.” He turns and glares at me, as if I’ve singlehandedly sunk his show.
“This show isn’t a fucking MMA fight,” I grit out between clenched teeth. “Someone could have been seriously injured. Then what?”
He scoffs. “There are two things that sell. Sex and violence.” He ticks them off with his stubby fingers. “That’s how you make it in this business. That’s what people want. And we’re going to give it to them.” He stops pacing directly in front of me and points his fat finger in my face. “You better get one or the other for me for this episode. Sex or violence. You hear me? No matter what you have to do.”
I want to slap his hand away because that shit’s just not cool. What does he think I am, a three-year-old child who needs reprimanding for sneaking cookies? But I refrain. Barely.
“Look,” I say, going for a rational approach. “The ratings have never been higher. Not in this season or any other season. They climb up with every episode. We have a killer cast with these three. People are tuning in to see them. They love Megan. Fucking love her. They want to see her win.”
He sneers at me. “Don’t be naive, Maya. People don’t want to see her win. They don’t watch this show for people to not have sex. What they want is to see her crack. They’re just waiting for it, watching every episode and buying online feeds so they can be there when it happens. So I’m telling you, she better crack soon and fuck one of these guys. And I mean soon.”
He turns and waves his hand toward me. Apparently I’m dismissed.
I spin on my heel, barely keeping my thoughts contained. What I want to tell him is that he’s absolutely clueless about what makes good TV, producer or not. I’ve spent my entire life wanting to produce, and I’ve worked damn hard to get to the position I’m in now. Production assistant on the country’s most popular reality show is a huge item for my resume.
I know what I’m talking about. They do want to see Megan win. And so do I.
But my boss wants to see her crack.
Because that would be good TV.
Well…two words.
Fuck. That.
I set my jaw, determined. I just have to find a way to work this out so everyone is happy. Where Megan is the winner. And hopefully not a broken mess by the time it’s over.
21
Megan
I stare at the ceiling, not really seeing anything. What am I doing? Is this really where I want to be? Is it really worth all this drama?
I am so not a drama queen. I avoid it if at all possible. It was easy to stay out of the fray earlier in the game, but that’s apparently no longer an option. Because I’m right smack in the center of it.
I can’t believe Tristan and Madden almost came to blows over me like that. I don’t like it at all.
My door swings open, and I don’t even look over. I know it’s Maya because my door is locked and she’s the only one with a key.
“Come with me,” she says brusquely, grabbing my hand.
I just lie there, not sure I want to do this right now.
“Seriously, Megan, we need to talk.”
She says it so low I can barely hear her. Sighing loudly, I push myself to sitting and look at her. “I don’t want to.”
Maya shakes her head and hauls me up. How can someone that tiny be so strong? But then she’s pulling me behind her into the bathroom, shutting the door behind us, and now I have no choice but to listen to her.
I cross my arms. “What?”