Chapter 19
Time seems to stand still as I quickly assess my predicament. His words will have been captured on the microphone. My reaction will be recorded on camera. My mind is whizzing.
I am a teacher.
Therefore, I am resilient.
I am a quick thinker.
I am a beast when it comes to being put in impossible situations.
I weigh up all the information. Giovanni has noticed that I go to pieces every time the incredibly handsome and thoughtful, kind-eyed, mild-mannered and extremely competent producer is near.
How disappointingly perceptive of him. Fortunately for me, I have four years’ worth of telling bare-faced lies to school parents about their adorable little genius children under my belt.
‘Giovanni, are you deflecting your own insecurities?’ I say in a concerned voice. ‘Or is this because Mimi is pretending to vibe off Carlton just to make you jealous?’
I have used a simple trick of giving him a choice to make. Either choice is of no consequence to me. They simply serve to distract him from his original pursuit of the truth. It works like a charm.
‘Wait. What? Is she?’ His head whips round to find Mimi smiling enthusiastically at Carlton. Carlton is giving her the eye back. They both have very recent rejections in common. But right on cue, Mimi looks over her shoulder to check that Giovanni is watching her.
She smiles at him and blows him a kiss before turning back to Carlton and stroking his face.
My simple deflection is complete. Now to stoke the fire. ‘You might have to put the graft in to win her back. They look like they might be catching feelings.’
‘ACTION!’
* * *
Filming Carlton’s entrance, us pretending to be shocked and him pretending to lay eyes on Mimi, and them being instantly smitten with each other, takes only a few minutes as everyone is desperate to go back to bed.
The crew pack up their cameras at the speed of light.
The Islanders charge towards the main villa, and I pretend I’m going off to the outdoor kitchen to refill my water bottle.
I slip through the PANTRY secret door and slide along the wall.
I am beyond excited to see what Cam makes of me in this sultry outfit.
I feel like sex on legs. When he kisses me, I’m going to hoick my leg up like Mimi, so that he can fully appreciate that I am wearing stockings.
I’m hoping that he will slide his hand the length of my thigh, right to the top.
I’m hoping that his fingers will find their way underneath the rubber dress and stroke my behind.
Oh, my God, I can barely stand it any longer.
I wait a few moments, but Cameron doesn’t show. We agreed that two minutes is the maximum time we can be in the blind spot without raising suspicion. The two minutes is up.
Devastated, I slip back through the secret door, into the PANTRY, and hear hushed voices coming from the outdoor kitchen. I sneak a look, to see Porscha standing with her back to me, arguing with Cam.
I duck back into the PANTRY out of sight.
Porscha is telling Cam to make me sleep in the same bed as Giovanni tonight.
Cam is saying that he won’t do it. That I have every right to choose, for the sake of my well-being and the integrity of the show.
He is standing firm and will not violate his ethics.
‘This show doesn’t have any integrity,’ spits Porscha. ‘Why are you protecting the collateral? You like her. Don’t you?’ She sounds very jealous. ‘You like her romantically.’
‘No. Of course not,’ says Cam, which I have to admit does pinch at my heart a little.
‘From a professional point of view, she’s great on camera.
The public seem to love her, and she brings an extra dynamic to the show that the current contestants don’t.
She’s different. Do I like her being on the show? Sure. Who wouldn’t?’
The public love me? I take a beat to let this incredible piece of information sink in.
His soothing voice calms Porscha instantly. ‘Good. That’s, erm, well, that’s good to know. It’s just that if you did develop romantic feelings for anyone on the show… contestants that is… erm, there would be serious consequences.’
‘I know that, Porscha. You remind me every day. I’ve been producing this show for two years now. You have nothing to worry about.’
Gosh, he sounds so convincing.
‘You’re right. I just need to keep an eye on what’s what, so everything doesn’t spin out of control.
That production village turns into a hotbed of carnal activity at night.
They forget those trailer walls are paper thin.
It’s just that it feels like the whole crew are bonking away behind my back.
There’s more action going on in the village than with the collateral on the show. We should be filming them instead!’
So, we’re merely collateral instead of real people with feelings? Good to know.
Cam laughs. ‘Yep, you’re not wrong there.
’ There’s a silence between them. I wish I could see what they are doing.
Why are neither of them talking? ‘So, don’t forget we’re on camera,’ Cam blurts.
‘And everything you say and do may be taken down and used as evidence in a court of law.’ He emits a fake-sounding laugh.
Porscha clears her throat. I am imagining the worst. Her lunging at him with her perfect plumped-up pout, and hopefully, he is reminding her that the cameras are still on because he is not interested in the slightest.
‘Well, if you’re listening to this, you lot, keep your heads in the game,’ Porscha orders. ‘No more gratuitous loud bonking in the trailer park.’
I hear a crackle of a radio. It sounds like a walkie-talkie. ‘Roger that, boss. Message received. Over.’
Porscha laughs. ‘They’ll hate me even more now. You coming?’
‘I, er, I have to, erm, check on the…’
‘Leave it until tomorrow. There’s only one car left going back to the village and that’s mine. Take the lift,’ Porscha says sharply. ‘And you can leave the pineapple here. I’m allergic.’
* * *
The next morning, I wake in the Dog House to a knocking on the door.
My hopes soar at the thought it might be Cam.
I had a dreadful night’s sleep imagining that Porscha had him strapped to her bed.
She was administering all manner of unspeakable sexual favours to him.
Her plumped-up lips were sucking him dry while he was calling for my help, but I couldn’t get to him because Giovanni was standing guard, towering over me like a bronze statue, his muscles rippling in the moonlight, hair flowing in the breeze.
I’m breaking into a sweat just thinking about the sexual deviancy going on in the trailer-park hotbed of sin. Poor Cam. I hope she hasn’t taken him hostage. The knocking continues.
‘Libby, are you in there? You’ve slept through the klaxon. They sent me to get you.’
My heart sinks. It’s Giovanni. I pad sleepily to the door and pull it open.
‘Can I grab you for a quick chat?’ he asks my breasts. I am wearing the silky number.
‘Sure. Which one do you want to chat to? The left or the right breast?’
‘Oh, erm. Both,’ he says, his eyes darting to my face. ‘I mean neither of them. So, a chat, yeah?’
He’s so articulate. He should write a book or something.
‘What do you want to chat about?’ I yawn, looking him over.
He’s covered in sweat. It’s dripping down his arms over the copious amounts of oil he has slathered on.
He is bare-chested and wearing only tight Lycra shorts that, really, look like girls’ knickers.
It’s too much for this early in the morning. ‘Have you been to the gym already?’
‘No. Not yet,’ he says. ‘It’s just so hot out there.’
He looks soaked.
‘Look, no sling!’ he says, waving his arm in my face. ‘I’m on my way to the gym. Needed to strengthen my wrist.’ He starts laughing. ‘In case I fail to win you over and I need it later. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.’
I. AM. GOING. TO. VOMIT.
‘Fancy a workout with me?’ he asks.
Anything to get rid of him. I had enough of that last night, dreaming that Porscha was milking Cam like a goat, while they drove back to the village.
I’m on the verge of saying I’d rather stick needles in my eyes when I remember everything is being recorded and Porscha will be watching.
In a bid to throw her off the scent, I will pretend to take an interest in this oily buffoon.
‘I’ll meet you there,’ I sigh. ‘Give me a second to get changed.’
* * *
I make my way round the side of the huge property towards the outside gym, over by the pool area. I turn the corner and gasp as I take it all in.
Oh, my word. It’s breathtaking. It’s magical. It’s an explosion of colour. It’s like I’m in a dream.
I catch sight of a runner in an apron laying out breakfast in the outdoor kitchen. She looks up startled, as though I shouldn’t have caught her in the act.
‘It’s incredible. It’s like some sort of paradise.
’ I can barely take it in. I’ve seen the show on TV but in real life, in the bright sunshine, everything is a million times prettier, more colourful, more impressive.
‘Is any of it real?’ I shout over to her, pointing to the gardens bursting with tropical plants, vivid pinks, yellows, greens, blues, every colour imaginable.
There are neon archways covered in flowers, palm trees dotted across neat grass lawns, fairy lights built into every surface, climbing around every tree and strung across the whole of the villa, criss-crossing above us.
The deep green hedges are dotted with stunning pink flowers and trim every walkway, every wall, every balcony, every terrace.
‘None of it. It’s all fake,’ she says. ‘We have a whole team of expensive designers working round the clock for months to get everything perfect for you. Enjoy!’
I realise again just how bizarre being here is.
The outside gym is very well stocked and looks brand-spanking new. Giovanni wolf-whistles as I approach. All I could find to wear was a Lycra bodysuit in neon pink.