Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
S ybil
Time flies, and before I know it, it’s the first day of filming, and I’m a nervous wreck. Benton calls me early, asking if he’s doing the right thing.
“Think of your games,” I say, knowing I have to pep-talk the shit out of him so we can both get through this day unscathed. “Do you get nervous for those?”
“Sometimes.”
“How do you get past that?”
“I don’t let it get to me. I know how to handle myself. I’ve trained. I know I’m one of the best. I’m prepared. Am I prepared for reality television? Hell no.”
“Were you always great at hockey, though?”
He’s quiet on the other line for a long moment. “No. I had to work at it.”
“I bet you had setbacks, same as everyone else. It’s not how you win that makes you a winner; it’s how you lose.”
He snorts. “You sound like a coach.”
“Why’d you call me, then?” I laugh. “Come on, let’s get our butts out of bed and get ready. We have a big day ahead, but I promise I have your back. Think of me as your teammate. We’re all in this together. We all want the show to be great.”
“No offense, but it’s pretty obvious you don’t have experience working in reality television.
I’ve seen these shows. Drama pays the bills, and somebody’s got to be the villain, and usually that somebody doesn’t know they’re the villain until it’s over and keyboard warriors are sending them death threats.
” He sighs, but I hear him getting out of bed, so at least there’s that. “How do I know if I’m the villain?”
I snort. “That’s easy, Benton. Don’t do villain shit.”
He draws in a long breath, as if thinking it through. “Fine. Let’s do the damn thing.”
After we hang up, I’m motivated to push past my nerves and go in there like a boss.
Benton needs me, and so do the other cast members.
But I can’t help but think about what Benton said as I shower and get ready.
Do we need a villain for the show to be successful?
If so, how are we going to handle that? Who’s going to fit that role?
Perry will know what to do, but I wonder how far he’s willing to go to make sure Top of the World is successful.
I have a sinking feeling someone isn’t going to leave this show unscathed.
I arrive at set an hour before my call time, dressed in a cute black jumpsuit.
We’re calling the penthouse the “set” and Cooper’s new apartment a level down “basecamp.” The new apartment is three bedrooms, and Cooper has relegated himself to the primary suite, leaving the other two bedrooms, two bathrooms, kitchen and dining area to the show.
It’s selfless of him, but I can’t help but wonder why he doesn’t get a third apartment.
The man is practically made of money, so why live at basecamp?
An overwhelming flurry of activity greets me as I enter the penthouse. I find Cooper first. “How are things going?”
“Perry’s nervous,” he says, peering at me with a grim expression. “Not that he’ll show it, but look at the guy.”
Perry has gone into full-director mode, and a thin sheen of sweat lines his face.
“Yeah,” I say, “but that means he cares. He’s going to do great.”
“I agree.” Cooper leans in. “Fake it till you make it and all that. How are you feeling?”
“I’m nervous, too. Excited, though. All the feelings.”
Cooper bounces on his feet, a familiar move he used to do all growing up, and I wonder what that’s like for him now with a prosthetic. Does it hurt? Does he notice the difference?
“Same,” he says. “Only one hour until the first cast member arrives.”
And we’ll be rolling.
A middle-aged woman with a clipboard strides over to us, an earpiece visible under her short haircut and a take-charge gleam in her eyes.
“Hi there. I don’t believe we’ve met yet. I’m Perry’s production manager, Ricki.”
I smile and shake her hand. “Hi Ricki, I’m Sybil Laurence. I’m one of the producers.”
She nods. “Yes, I know. And you’re Cooper, right?”
Cooper shakes her hand, and something about Ricki makes me relax. She seems like she knows how to make a set run smoothly, and she’s not afraid to make a few people cry to make that happen.
“What do you need from us?” I ask.
“That’s up to Perry. I won’t tell you to do something unless Perry wants it or has delegated it to me to delegate to you. Sound good?”
Coop and I nod like schoolchildren.
She points between us. “You should act like omnipresent gods around here. You know, watch the shit happen, but don’t get in the way. Let the little humans figure it out, and only intervene if it’s life or death.”
I frown. “Perry told us we were going to produce the talent. Doesn’t that mean we have to talk to them, at least?”
She gives me a polite smile. “Here’s how it works. You talk to Perry if he’s not busy or you talk to me. We’ll tell you how we want you to produce your people. If we say you need to make them cry on camera, then you bring up their dead grandma. Got it?”
“Fuck,” Cooper groans. “Are you for real?”
“I’m for real, for real. Say it with me, ‘ drama is conflict, and conflict is drama .’”
Cooper rubs his hand over his mouth to hide his chuckle. I know that move, too. It’s also one he’s been doing since we were kids. “Drama is conflict, and conflict is drama.”
She points to me. “Your turn.”
Oh, she’s serious. “Drama is conflict, and conflict is drama.”
She pats me on the shoulder even though she’s a good six inches shorter than me. “Good. That’s what’s going to pay my bills.”
Coop and I exchange a look. What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?
Ricki claps her hands. “Alright. The talent each have different call times. They’re entering the penthouse in the order Perry thinks will create the best content.
We’ll have plenty of reactions for episode one the editors can play around with.
The cast are all superstars, so try not to be starstruck. ”
This time Cooper doesn’t try to hide his chuckle. “Not sure I can do that. Have you heard Audra Mason’s newest album? Pretty cool.”
I don’t know everything about Cooper, but I know for a fact there’s no way he’s listened to Audra Mason’s newest album.
Ricki’s eyes widen. “You can’t fawn over these people. They need to respect you.”
“He’s kidding,” I say, and she shakes her head like she gets the joke but doesn’t find it funny. “What about the three cast-mates who have already met?” I challenge. “How are you going to play it off like they’re meeting for the first time?”
Ricki immediately hushes me and looks around. “Don’t speak of that, okay? Just let the magic happen.”
Besides Perry, there are several camera operators, two sound technicians, a woman I think might be Ricki’s assistant, a lighting technician, and a couple of people for hair, makeup, and wardrobe.
That’s for production, and Perry says it’s a small crew.
Post-production will have editors, marketers, and more.
All with iron-clad NDAs, of course.
But Cooper and I still have to thrive in our day jobs. I’ll be producing Benton, as well as the international pop-star Audra and the supermodel Gloria. Cooper is assigned to the politicians Sloane and Dane Maguire, as well as the movie star hunk Justin Crawford.
“Don’t sleep with anyone,” Perry emphasized when we were assigned. “Ever. Ever. Ever. Got that?”
We both agreed, though I couldn’t help but wonder if Cooper would end up sleeping with one of the women, anyway.
Coop’s kind of hard to resist. The man has swagger, and he may not think so, but his prosthetic leg gives him even more appeal.
I’ve seen the way women look at him; it’s impossible not to notice, and the level of attention the man gets has only increased since his accident.
What can I say? Women love a tortured soul.
Ricki struts off to her assistant, and Cooper turns on me. “How well do you think your boy will do pretending to meet Sloane and Dane for the first time?”
I kind of hate we’re starting the show off with a lie, but I guess that’s show-biz. “Benton is good. What about the siblings? I mean, they’re in politics, so I’m sure that makes them excellent liars already.”
He snorts. “Nothing like starting a reality show off with some good old-fashioned acting.”
I smile. It feels like we’re edging toward being friends again.
“We’re starting with the siblings,” Perry announces at the front of the room, gaining everyone’s attention.
“We already filmed intro packages and interviews, but we need interaction of when they first meet. This is key material for our pilot, and as you know, that first episode is everything. There’s a screening room set up downstairs, so anyone who doesn’t absolutely have to be on set needs to head there now. ”
“Guess that’s us,” Cooper says.
I elbow him playfully. “Let’s go.”
We take the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. The apartment is smaller than the penthouse, but it’s incredibly beautiful, with killer views.
“The only quiet place in here is my bedroom, but that’s because I put a lock on it from the outside.”
I raise my eyebrows at him. “So you’re saying I can’t go in there?”
His dark eyes hold mine for a moment too long, and my stomach flips. “You can go in there anytime you’d like, Valentine. All you have to do is ask.”
The words are friendly on the surface but dripping in sexual innuendo.
It’s the kind of thing the old Cooper used to say all the time, and I know it’s a joke, but it still makes my cheeks warm. I need to cut it out. While Cooper might be okay with me using his bedroom if I need to step away, he’s not inviting me to join him in there for anything else.
Does it matter we once shared a toe-curling kiss? Nope. That was two young people making a mistake, and we aren’t those people anymore.
The rest of the unnecessary crew follow behind us, and that’s all I expect, but what I don’t expect is his father and my mother to come in shortly after, bickering already.
“Oh fuck,” Cooper mutters, bee-lining toward our parents. I’m right on his heels. Oh fuck is right. If there’s anyone who can throw a wrench into what needs to be a perfect day, it’s these two. Drama is conflict, and conflict is drama , that’s for damn sure.