Chapter 20
Nina
When I arrive on set the next morning, I worry about what Deja will ask me to do next. Groom the men’s chest hair? Rub them down with grease so they can fight each other in a mud pit? Stuff socks into their pants to make their bulges look bigger on camera?
I’m joking, kind of. I’m so, so grateful to have this job, to get the chance to work with all the pretty clothes and to escape from my uncle and aunt’s hotel suite. To do something that’s mine, even if it’s as simple as fixing a zipper or distressing flannel shirts. (So many flannel shirts!)
Instead, to my surprise, it’s Lyle who’s waiting for me down in the conference room instead of Deja. “You’re coming with me, dollface,” he says, taking me by the shoulders and guiding me out of the room before I’ve even fully stepped inside.
“But,” I protest, “the flannel! Deja!”
It’s more my surprise at this sudden change of plans that has me protesting than an actual desire to go back into the conference room.
There’s nothing wrong with the conference room.
It’s a nice conference room! But aside from trips to set and my one adventure into town, I have spent most of my time inside the Lodge.
So I don’t drag my feet too much as Lyle leads me out of the hotel and toward his car, parked at the curb. “Get in, loser. We’re going to make a TV show.”
Oh. Ow. That stings! I thought Lyle and I were becoming friends, so why did he just call me a loser?
My dismay must show on my face, because Lyle’s expression immediately morphs into one of contrition.
“Oh my God! I’m sorry, Nina. It’s a quote!
A famous quote. From a super popular movie.
Mean Girls? Well, not the part about making a TV show .
. . The point is, I was just making a funny.
” He gives me a quick, tense squeeze. “Come on. I cleared it with Deja. I need your help on a side project today.”
The side project turns out to be driving around one of the most beautiful lakes I’ve ever seen. Apparently it’s called Bandit Lake, and it’s one of the most highly sought-after places to live in Green Valley—though you can’t buy the property, only inherit it, according to Lyle.
Gazing out my window at the breathtaking bright blue water, surrounded by lush green trees, I can see why it’s such a highly coveted spot.
I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anything quite as beautiful before.
Imagine living in a place like this, no one there to bother you. Just you and the trees and the water.
I also have zero idea what this scenic drive has to do with my job. Raising an eyebrow, I glance over at Lyle. “Are there costumes out here or something . . . ?”
“We’re scouting locations for one of the events the guys are going to do next week. Think inflatable unicorns. That’s all I can say right now.” Lyle’s voice has its usual cheery intonation, but I notice he doesn’t quite look at me while he’s responding.
“But I’m not a producer,” I press. “I’m supposed to be helping Deja with the costumes.”
I know I shouldn’t be complaining. And I’m not!
It’s amazing to get out into Green Valley and see some of the beautiful sights.
But I can’t help but feel like Lyle is hiding something from me.
I’ve helped to raise a bunch of my cousins, after all.
I know when someone is being selective with their version of the truth.
Lyle sighs. “So . . . don’t panic, and don’t spiral about this, but the other executive producer is on set today.” His normally affable expression sours dramatically. “Perry.”
The pieces still aren’t quite connecting for me. “Okay . . . ?”
“Sienna and Rae may not have been totally transparent about hiring you. And he may or may not have decided that he’s going to fire you to save some of the budget costs.”
My heart plummets. I’m getting fired today?
No wonder Lyle is driving me out into the forest. This is just like that scene from The Fox and the Hound, and I’m the fox.
Okay, that’s ridiculous; I’m pretty sure Lyle won’t actually abandon me in the woods.
(Right?) But he probably brought me out here to soften the blow.
And it is a blow. I feel it land on me like someone’s hit me in the ribs, hard.
As much as I sometimes felt trapped inside the conference room, that experience was nowhere near as bad as being trapped in the suite with my family.
Cooking and cleaning and meal prepping and doing whatever other odd job they want me to do.
Nothing that’s for me. It’s all for them.
When I glance back at Lyle, his expression looks like he’s torn between sympathy and trying desperately hard not to laugh. “Nina. Darling. I’m not firing you. I’m hiding you from the guy who’s trying to fire you.”
He says all of that like it’s supposed to make any sense. “But can’t he still fire me if I’m not there?”
Lyle laughs and shakes his head. “That is the beauty and the chaos of Perry. He has the attention span of a goldfish. No, worse than a goldfish—a Gen Z who was raised by an iPad.” Clearly still seeing my confusion, he elaborates, “Perry likes to throw his weight around, remind Sienna and Rae that he can make decisions. Some of them have been very detrimental to the vision our two queens have for the show—the fantastically meta take on reality dating shows that embraces everything bonkers and empowers our Mountainettes in the process. Perry just wants it to be another hookup show with a bunch of influencers making out and having threesomes in hot tubs.”
Again, my face must show my exact thoughts about both those scenarios because Lyle holds up a hand.
“Don’t worry, that’s not going to happen.
Most of us producers on the show are Hollywood veterans at this point.
We know how to give the runaround to studio guys who think they have an amazing idea that would actually be an absolute dumpster fire.
You have to occasionally give in to him on the little things so he thinks he’s winning, then save your real fight for the stuff that really matters. ”
It makes sense, kind of. I’ve never put it in so many words, but don’t I do the same thing with Uncle Aaron and Aunt Hope?
If I don’t push back on things like my clothes and my chores and my food journal, then I get Tuesday night Pizookies with my friends.
I give in on little things to get what’s most important to me.
But spelling it all out like that makes me realize just how infantilizing the whole process is. Why should Rae and Sienna have to pretend to change their vision for the show just because some guy from the studio thinks he’s a reality TV genius?
Why should I have to wait to get permission from my uncle and aunt to spend time with my friends?
I’m twenty-five years old. I’m an adult in every sense of the word.
I can vote. I can buy alcohol. I can rent a car!
I’ve always just assumed my uncle and aunt must be right about everything because Uncle Aaron claims to be so close to God. But Uncle Aaron is a liar.
So why should I have to listen to him?
It’s an earth-shattering thought, one that I’m afraid to poke at too hard because I can already sense the consequences will be life-changing. And to be honest, I don’t know if I’m totally ready for that yet.
Instead, my thoughts circle back to what Lyle has been explaining to me. “So,” I say slowly, “shouldn’t you sacrifice me? Let Perry fire me, so you can save your pull for when it really matters?”
Lyle gives me some serious side-eye. “Didn’t I already warn you not to be a martyr?” Shaking his head, he fixes his eyes back on the road. “Besides, you are something that really matters. To me and Sienna and Rae. And Deja too. We all want you here.”
The answer makes me soften. Dear Lyle. I feel like he’s adopted me ever since I got to Green Valley and he insisted I go into town that first day instead of staying cooped up in the hotel suite.
Now, he’s become my ride to work when I want to go straight to set instead of staying at the Lodge.
The rides to set are usually the best part of my day.
We sing along to Disney songs and Broadway musicals.
He tells me about his dreams to someday be a famous film director, and we gush about which Met Gala outfits are our favorites.
He’s become an insta-friend, and someone I am so, so grateful for.
I know what I’m getting out of my friendship with him. He’s fun and witty and helps pull me out of my turtle shell. But I have no idea what he and the others are getting out of keeping me around.
“Why?” I’m not fishing for compliments here.
I’m genuinely perplexed. It’s not that I think I’m a terrible person or anything—well, not most of the time anyway—it’s more that I always feel like I’m wholly forgettable.
So why is this group of strangers willing to stick their necks out so far to keep me around?
“Because we like you, doofus.” Lyle winks at me. “Don’t worry about Perry. He gets distracted easily by shiny things. He’ll forget you even existed by next week . . .”
We drive in silence for a while, just enjoying the serene beauty of the lake and the majestic forest surrounding it.
It’s obvious we’re no longer scouting any filming locations, we’re just enjoying the view, but I’m not complaining.
The music is good, and the company is even better.
We’ve both been singing at the top of our lungs to The Sound of Music, music up, windows down, and my heart feels full and happy in the absolute best way.
But as much as I love the film, The Sound of Music is a loaded musical for any ex-nun. Julie Andrews had it so easy once she left the convent. Well, aside from the Nazis, I mean. She found her captain and her new family, and it only really took a song or two for them to realize how amazing she was.