Chapter 18 - Scott
Beep, beep, beep, beep.
The alarm is like a kick in the teeth. I slap it quiet and fall back on the pillow, draping my arm across my eyes. I couldn’t get to sleep last night.
When Chelsea fell asleep in the Uber on the way home, I watched her. I can’t even describe how happy and peaceful that made me feel, just watching her. I really wanted to stroke her cheek—her skin must be so soft—and wake her up with a kiss. Of course I did neither.
Then I lay awake wondering how—if it would even be possible—to move our relationship in a more…I guess romantic direction. After dinner we seemed close to getting cozy on the couch. I really had no interest in the baseball game, I was just staring at it because if I looked at her, I might have tried something.
Then she started going on about herbs, and I realized I was way off base, so to speak. Even my offer to help her with the planting project was rebuffed. I sigh and drag myself out of bed.
“How did I get myself into this mess?” I ask my reflection while the water in the shower warms up.
I don’t have time to think about it. We have another long day ahead of us. Chelsea is sitting on the stoop waiting for me.
“I put in our order,” she says as we walk up towards Montague Street. “Since there’s usually a line.”
“Thanks. I can Zelle you the money. Or PayPal. Or do you want cash?”
She shakes her head. The sun makes her hair shine like gold.
“This one’s on me. I can’t wait to get my first check from the network.”
It turns out my guess was pretty accurate. 5K per month. Since we are a team—and a couple, I remind myself—that is for both of us. So, I’m not going to be taking any of that.
Which is how it usually works,I think. I don’t see the profit until the property is finished and sells. At least I’m not commuting from my parents’ house in Queens like I used to.
When I sold the condo in The Village and bought my first brownstone, I moved back home to save money. Longest six months of my life. My parents are awesome but once you have a taste of freedom there is something about being back home that just grates on you. Or maybe that’s just me. Either way, it felt like a prison sentence. And unfortunately, I’m starting to feel the same way about the show.
I should try to put in some work on other projects, even though we are filming. I turn to Chelsea.
“Do you think you could work up the designs for Bensonhurst?”
“Um, sure.”
“Good.”
I don’t want it sitting there. I need to treat this just like any other reno. I’m used to having multiple projects in various stages. Plus it will be a good distraction. Just keep busy until the show is over and then we can go our separate ways, no hard feelings.
It’s easy to find seats on the subway. Most people are heading in the opposite direction, into the city. She hands me my bagel. I unwrap it and look it over.
“Did I get it right?”
“Perfect.”
I take a big bite. I don’t want to look at her. I figured the fake fiancée thing would be awkward at first, but we’d get used to it. I didn’t plan on liking her so much and I definitely didn’t consider how it would feel to be around her all the time when those feelings were not reciprocated.
When we get to the house, we are told we are needed in a meeting in the basement apartment.
“Go,” I say giving Chelsea a little nudge. “I need to check how far my guys got yesterday. Cover for me. Five minutes, tops.”
“Okay.”
She heads downstairs and I head up. I do a quick walk through on the upper two units. They are completely demoed and broom clean. I pull out my phone to text George—they are on a different project today—but decide I better head downstairs.
Good thing too,I think, when I get down there. It’s not Vivien. Marie and Ken are there. And Chelsea looks…well, I can’t say for sure. She’s got a strange look on her face. All I know is it’s definitely not good.
“What’s up?”
I keep my voice casual, but something is obviously wrong. Marie made it clear she had no interest in being on the set.
“You won’t see us until it’s done,” she said. “Unless there’s a problem.”
“The joy of reality TV,” Ken said, in one of the many planning meetings. “Problems make for more drama anyway.”
“As long as it doesn’t affect the schedule,” Marie replied firmly.
On the way home from that meeting, Chelsea and I wondered if Marie ever smiles. About anything. We concluded probably not.
“We decided to change up the order of the show,” Marie says now. “Workshopped it with a bunch of producers.”
I look at Chelsea. I don’t know what that means, or why she’s so—it’s obvious now—upset. You can’t really renovate stuff out of order. It just won’t work.
“What do you mean?”
I’m looking at Chelsea. She’s looking at the floor.
“We want, need, more focus on the wedding. Make the viewers feel like they are a part of it. Really get them emotionally invested in seeing every episode.”
“Um, okay.”
Chelsea coughs. I walk over to her and take her hand, in what I hope is a fiancé-like way.
“We were planning on keeping that stuff private.”
Since none of the wedding stuff was actually going to happen anyway.
“Look on the bright side,” Marie says. “The network will pick up a lot of the cost. Starting with the wedding dress. Ken.”
“Right.” Ken looks at his tablet. “We budgeted 7K for it. Rather generous, right?”
“Seven thousand dollars?”
Chelsea’s voice gets higher with every syllable.
“Dress shopping is next Wednesday. We really need to get your family here.”
“What?”
“Just your mom will be fine. Don’t need shots of dad sitting there looking awkward. Do you have sisters?”
“No, I—”
“Best friend?”
“Sam, she—”
“She?”
“Samantha.”
“Okay, that’s fine. A guy best friend would have been more interesting. Just give me their contact info and I’ll set up the flights.”
“Scott—”
“The crew is ready and waiting.”
That comes from Vivien. She leans against the doorway, looking her usual annoyed self.
“Right. Thanks for sparing them for a few minutes. We’re done anyway.”
I can’t believe it, Marie actually sounds a bit contrite. At least that’s validation for Chelsea and me. We’re not the only one who thinks Vivien is scary as fuck.
“Scott—”
“We’ll talk about it tonight.”
“I need those contacts,” Ken says as he walks out.
“Maybe they can’t come. Maybe they are busy,” Chelsea calls after him.
He turns back.
“Don’t worry. The mom and the best friend are not going to miss you buying a wedding dress. Plus, a free trip to New York. It will be fine.”
“Make it fine,” Marie adds.
“We have a schedule.”
Vivien slaps the back of one hand into her other with each word.
“We’ll talk tonight,” I tell Chelsea. She looks on the verge of tears. “Please, let’s just film what we have to right now.”
“I’m going upstairs. If you two decide you are going to work today, I suggest you get up there. Fast.”
Vivien leaves.
“Scott.”
“I promise we’ll talk later,” I say miserably. “But right now.” I motion to the door.
In spite of the bomb they’ve just dropped on us, filming goes remarkably smoothly. We don’t have to do any physical work today. Chelsea acts like she’s showing me the designs for the first time. I make the suggestions I’m supposed to make in the script.
“Okay, see you later.”
I walk off. Vivien yells cut.
“Do it again. You’re supposed to hug.”
“Oh, right, sorry, forgot.”
When I hug Chelsea, she’s as stiff as a board. Not the least bit like I’ve imagined it, the thousand times I’ve thought about it.
“Relax,” I whisper in her ear.
We finish up before lunch. I have a quick conference with Vivien about the schedule for the actual construction work that needs to be done. I’m half expecting Chelsea to leave, possibly for Wisconsin, but she sticks around. I find her waiting for me out on the stoop staring at her phone.
“Hey.” She looks up. No smile. “Since we have the afternoon free, I’m going to go see my parents. Will you come with me?”
“What?”