Chapter 39
Wes
As I approach the Green Valley Community Center with Morrie, I’m surprised to see how crowded the parking lot is.
When the producers informed me they’d be filming my family meet and greet with Harmony at a community center, I thought maybe they’d blown all their budget on flannel and had to downsize.
In my experience, community centers are usually heartfelt but ramshackle, rundown little places.
This place doesn’t fit into that category, though. It’s bustling and vibrant and feels like it might truly be the heart of the community.
I turn to Morrie, raising my eyebrows in surprise. “This place is hopping!”
“It’s supposed to be the best-kept secret of Green Valley,” he confides to me, like he’s someone who’s in the know about all the country’s hot spots and he didn’t just read this information on some blog.
(Don’t let his exterior fool you. Morrie is a blog fiend. For all the guff he gives me about my obsessions, I’ve never seen someone get more excited about an alert from Medium.)
“Claire McClure got her start here, you know,” Morrie adds, nodding at me meaningfully. No shade to whoever Claire McClure is, but unless she’s in a bagpipe band or stars in a TV series with dragons in it, I’m pretty clueless about the wider world of celebrity.
Seeming deflated by my lack of enthusiasm, Morrie goes back into business mode. He motions to my ear, where a small earpiece is hidden. “Let’s check it out one last time.”
On the off chance that I somehow wind up alone with Aaron Miller, we’re recording the conversation in case he says something incriminating. Hey, stranger things have happened, right? Just think about what Robert Durst admitted while he thought he was unmiked in the bathroom.
“Sure thing.” I wait for Morrie to round the corner of the building before clearing my throat. “You still with me, Papa Bear?” I murmur.
Morrie’s voice comes through on my end, sounding both clear and disarmingly close. “I’m begging you to stop calling me that.”
“Mama Bear it is,” I return without missing a beat. “Or would you prefer Baby Bear? I could shorten it just to Baby. Babe. Whatever makes you comfortable.”
“Shut up, Ackerman,” Morrie grumbles. “There’s something seriously wrong with you . . .”
We approach the doors to the community center, and I exchange one last glance with Morrie as ourselves, before we become Nate R.
and his producer, “Chris.” This is a big moment.
And looking at Morrie, I’m reminded that I’m not the only one who’s been putting my life on hold to try and bring Aaron Miller to justice.
For all our differences, I wouldn’t trust anyone but Morrie to be here at my side.
I can tell Morrie is feeling something similar, even though he’d never admit it in a million years. Underneath all of his grumbling, he really does love me. Sweet little Baby Bear.
“You good?” Morrie asks.
My heart is racing. My hands are clammy. But I nod. “Yep. Let’s do it . . .”
Morrie lets himself inside to alert the film crew we’ve arrived so they can get ready for the shot. After waiting a couple minutes as instructed, I step through.
It’s difficult to ignore all the cameras in my face, along with all the people staring.
Production crew, mostly, but there are also a ton of extras here tonight.
Onlookers who will be making up the crowd, as well as some musicians up on stage.
They’re all Green Valley residents, from the look of them.
I’ll give you one guess how I can tell. In the crowd are a few faces I recognize, like Lyle and Sienna and Rae and the woman from the bakery.
I try my best to tune them out and to focus on—
Harmony approaches in a whirlwind of pink, nearly knocking me over with the exuberance of her embrace.
I can’t tell how much of this is put on for the cameras and how much is really her—but hey, I guess I’m not one to talk about being your true self.
Pulling back, she squeals at the flowers I’ve brought along—one bouquet for her and one for her mother—and I get a better look at her outfit.
She’s wearing her trademark pink in the form of a pretty sundress, her long hair tied half up with a matching bright pink bow.
A gold crucifix hangs prominently around her neck.
She looks like Christian Barbie, if such a thing exists.
Good thing Nate R. is such a good Christian boy. I give what I hope is my easiest smile, aware of the cameras recording our interaction. “You’re a vision,” I tell her.
Harmony preens, faux shy. “Oh, you.” She shoves me playfully, before glancing over her shoulder to where her family must be stationed. “Are you ready for this?”
“I’ve been looking forward to it,” I say honestly. Because maybe after tonight, this will all soon be over. And then I can be with Nina.
She’s not here tonight, thank goodness. It’s going to be enough of a challenge putting on a show for Harmony’s family, the cameras, the crowd, and Harmony herself, all while trying to make a good first impression on Aaron Miller.
I don’t know how I could possibly concentrate if I knew that Nina was observing the entire thing.
Harmony takes my hand, squeezing it as she guides me deeper into the gymnasium/auditorium. “My family can’t wait to meet you . . .”
She takes me to her father first. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for, and I have to breathe through my nerves. Stay focused.
He sizes me up as I approach. His smile is camera-ready, wide but not especially warm. In his fifties, he’s still a trim, handsome man, and with his all-American good looks and almost blindingly white smile, I can see why so many people have been so charmed by him.
But I don’t think I’m imagining the hardness to him, too. Aaron Miller is very good at going through the motions of pretending to be approachable, but there’s a wall up between us. “Nathaniel,” he says, shaking my hand with a firm, too-tight grip. “Nice to meet you, young man.”
It’s a subtle move, but I clock it right away. The words sound nice enough, but that misuse of my name—Nathaniel instead of Nate—and the “young man” tagged on at the end are both designed to take me down a peg, put me in my place. Establish him as the top dog, the person I have to try and impress.
I do my best to mold myself into the person he so clearly wants me to be. Nate R. is eager to please, submissive. The kind of yes guy you might take under your wing if you were a shady criminal. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
Aaron clearly likes the sir if his smirk is any indication. He gestures to the woman standing just behind him. “This is my beautiful wife, Hope.”
Only after this introduction does Hope Miller step forward to greet me. I get the immediate sense that she doesn’t do anything without Aaron’s permission. Her smile is just as guarded as Aaron’s as she reaches out to shake my hand.
“Very nice to meet you, ma’am,” I say, handing her the bouquet I brought along for her.
I don’t miss the quick glance she gives to Aaron, or the subtle nod he gives back, before she reaches forward to take the flowers. “Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, Nathaniel.”
After that, Aaron introduces me to each of Harmony’s present siblings in turn: Isaiah, Merit, then Felicity.
I’m surprised to note that Harmony’s usually ebullient, vibrant personality seems muted in the presence of her father.
It’s not dimmed altogether, she’s still her bright pink self, but like her mother, she seems to follow Aaron’s cues carefully, not wanting to step out of line and draw his censure—or anger.
Once everyone has made their introductions, I look back to Aaron. It’s a tactical move; I want to take every chance I can get to acknowledge him as the head of the household, since I know that will ingratiate me to him. “Your family is a credit to you, sir,” I tell him.
Aaron reaches forward to squeeze my shoulder, too hard for it to be entirely friendly. Another assertion of dominance. “I look forward to hearing more about you and discussing your spiritual journey. But first”—he motions subtly toward the stage—“I have a few words to say.”
Ah, yes, the price of Nina’s internship on the show. Aaron somehow finagled his way into getting a few minutes of airtime for a short sermon. I do everything in my power to keep my distaste off my face. To look downright enraptured at the thought of getting to listen to Aaron Miller’s bullshit.
I ought to win an Emmy for this performance. Best Undercover Agent on a Bonkers Reality Show.
As Aaron moves toward the stage, a man stops him by reaching out to shake his hand.
Even from a few feet away, I can tell this isn’t a Green Valley resident.
He’s all Hollywood, with his too-tan skin and too-white teeth and vaguely oily exterior.
They converse deeply for a moment, gripping each other’s hands in that way dudes who like to pretend they’re macho alpha guys do.
Morrie must have noticed my interest from across the room. “Perry Seacrest. He works for the studio.”
Ah, now I understand why those two are looking so chummy together. Two snake oil salesmen admiring each other’s work. Nina told me about how this guy is trying to get her fired—yet another reason I’m glad she’s not on set today.
After another moment of schmoozing, Aaron claps Perry on the shoulder, then breaks away, moving again toward the stage. One of the cameras focuses on him, but I can tell by the look on the cameraman’s face that he’s just as excited as I am to listen to what’s about to follow.
Harmony squeezes my arm, leaning in closer to me. “Daddy really has a way with words,” she murmurs, loud enough so only I can hear it. “And it will mean a lot to him if you can talk to him about what he has to say afterward.”