“Stop! Madden! Tristan!” I look at Maya, panicked. “Do something.”
She sticks her fingers in her mouth and lets out a shrill whistle, standing and placing a hand on each of their chests. “What the hell do you two think you’re doing?”
Now that she’s intervened, she’s all business, putting them in their places, pushing them back on the seats to either side of me. Normally I’d find it funny, a short little thing like Maya bossing around these two huge and powerful men.
But there’s not a damn thing about this that’s funny.
What the fuck just happened? Is this really all about me? It seems crazy to think so, but I can’t see what else it could be about. I want to be angry about the things they just said, but I’m so worked up and confused that all I can do is hide my face in my hands.
This has gone to shit, real fast.
“Megan,” Tristan says, placing a hand on the small of my back and rubbing gently. “I’m sorry.”
Not to be outdone, Madden starts kneading my shoulders. “God, Megan, I never meant to upset you.”
I can practically feel them staring daggers at each other over my head, and I can’t take it anymore. I push up from the loveseat and go sit by Maya, ready for this plane ride to be over so I can just get the hell away from this mess.
I have no idea why that just went down, and hell, I know it makes for good TV, but I didn’t sign up for that shit. Having them use the things we did together as a way to take a jab at the other. Fuck that.
They both try again to apologize, but I just hold up a hand. I can’t even right now.
I remain silent for the rest of the flight, and when we land, Maya has already ordered three separate cars to take us back to the apartment. How could my perfect dates have come to this? Now I’m even more confused than ever.
Maya
“What the fuck were you thinking, Maya?” my boss spits out at me. Literally. Spit is flying from his mouth as he rages.
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 clim
b 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.