Chapter Four #2
“You could use your own broker, but considering we start shooting in ten days, you should probably just use our guy. He should be able to get it done for under two Gs, depending on any pre-existing conditions.”
Two thousand dollars. Fuck. I knew it was too good to be true.
“I’m sorry, I don’t have that kind of money.”
Gabby gives me a sympathetic smile. “Is there a way you can get it?”
I think of my Visa, which I’ve just managed to get to a not terrifying balance. But two grand would put me back into overdraft.
“Unfortunately, no.”
Tyler laughs, another empty ha ha. “Listen, Cleo, not to be crass, but do you know how much money you stand to make from this show?” Gabby starts nodding enthusiastically.
“Like, it’s going to be massive. Even if you’re the first person sent home, your DMs will still be blowing up with offers.
We’re gonna make reality TV history, and trust me, you’ll want a piece of that. ”
I swallow. I’ve seen those reality TV influencers, with their brand collabs and their sponsored posts. Tyler’s right—there is money to be made, even if I don’t win.
They’re looking at me, expectantly. I wrack my brain for solutions. If not this, then what? There’s nothing I can do—nothing legal, at least—that will make me any real money in a hurry. And it’s just two Gs. A drop in the bucket, in the grand scheme of things.
Tyler glances at his watch, like he’s getting bored. Gabby’s smile has slipped a tiny bit. They’re growing weary of me right before my eyes.
“Okay, let’s do it,” I say, the words rushing out of my mouth. “I’ll figure out the insurance. I’m in.”
Tyler punches the air. “Yes!” He comes to his feet, crosses the room with his hand outstretched. I shake it, trying to match the strength of his grip.
Gabby comes behind him. She gives me an awkward hug. “We’re really happy to be working with you,” she says into my hair.
They send me away with a stack of paperwork, including my contract, the NDA, and a Code of Conduct, as well as a list of cosmetic improvements to do before we start shooting.
“Spray tan,” Tyler says. “Definitely a spray tan.”
“Definitely,” Gabby says. “And maybe some highlights?” She takes a lock of my dishwater-coloured hair in her hand and grimaces.
“Good call. Also, lash extensions.”
“Yes. And maybe a little baby Botox, just between your eyebrows.”
“Totally. And a mani pedi, obviously.”
“Pilates every day.”
“Cardio, too.”
“And teeth whitening.”
“Yep. And don’t forget waxing.”
“Mmm, upper lip for sure.”
“Underarms.”
“Legs.”
“Chin.”
“Bikini line.”
“At least. You might be more comfortable with a full Brazilian.”
“Everywhere, get waxed everywhere.”
“You won’t regret it.”
“We just want you to be at your most confident and your most beautiful,” Gabby says, taking my hand.
Tyler nods. “We’re going to make you a star.”
I’m strangely calm on the bus back to my mom’s house. But as the bus leaves the shining lights of the Strip behind, I’m hit with a sense of impending doom.
Oh god, I’m going to be on TV. And not in the way I’ve dreamed about, but rather as myself, or rather, some new and improved version of myself, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
To be perceived, to be judged, with no control of the narrative, subject to the whims of the producers and the voting public.
This is a huge mistake. What if it all goes wrong?
But even as I spiral, there is a voice in the back of my mind, reassuring me. What if ? it says. What if it all goes right?
What if is not going to cut it. It has to all go right.
There’s just one thing I have to take care of, first.
Back at home, I’m relieved to find my mom still awake on the couch. All of the lights are off, but the glow of the television lights her profile.
“I had to stay up, it’s the finale,” she says, her eyes glued to the screen, where the three remaining girls of Love Island are trying on formal gowns.
“Did you eat anything? Mom?”
“Uh-huh.” She gestures to a plate on the coffee table. It holds the remnants of a sandwich.
“And you took your meds?”
She nods, irritably, holding her finger up to her lips to shush me.
“Okay, catch me up,” I say, sinking into the couch beside her. “What’s happening?”
She fills me in on the drama. As anyone who’s ever watched one of these shows could guess, the Girl Next Door and the Fuckboy are favoured to win.
“Oh, look,” she says, pointing to the beautiful people on the screen, “aren’t they perfect together?”
The two walk out, arm-in-arm—her long, silver dress shimmering like a mirror ball, and him grinning like he’s already won the greatest prize of all. They do look really happy.
Each of the top three couples is given a retrospective of their “journey” together, and then they line up by the pool for the big moment.
The Girl Next Door rests her head on the Fuckboy’s shoulder and bites her lip, her pretty face rigid with nerves.
She flinches when a firework explodes behind them, and their names are called as the winners.
The Fuckboy picks her up and spins her around, laughing and kissing her.
The third-place couple sprays them with champagne, and they all take off their mics and jump into the pool fully clothed.
The final shot is of all of them, soaked and happy, waving to the camera from below, as it zooms out to show a shot of the full villa, lit up like a Christmas tree in the night.
My mom sighs contentedly. I reach for the remote to mute the TV.
“Mom, I need to talk to you about something, okay?”
She pulls her robe tighter around her. “Okay.”
I take a deep breath. “I’ve been given the opportunity to go on a show like this.”
She blinks several times. “Love Island?”
“No, but a show like it. It’s called Camp Couple-Up. It’s new.”
“That’s wonderful, honey!” She claps, looking truly delighted. “I didn’t know you were looking for a boyfriend.”
She looks devastatingly hopeful. If only she knew I’ll be running the biggest scam of my life. “Yeah, we’ll see. There’s some prize money on the line.”
“Oh, well, that’s nice, honey, but the biggest prize would be to fall in love.
” I study her face. It’s wide open with genuine enthusiasm.
Love is one hell of a drug. This is a woman who has been abandoned by a man, had her whole life irreparably disrupted, and her greatest wish for me is still to fall in love. “So, are you going to do it?”
“I don’t know.”
Her brow wrinkles. “Why not?”
“Because—” I can’t be the one to burst her bubble, to let her know how cynical I’ve become. So I tell her another side of the truth. “Because I’m scared to leave you alone.”
She gives my arm a light slap. “Oh, honey, I’ll be fine. I’ve loved having you here, but I’ve lived alone for a long time.” Her nonchalance seems genuine. She squeezes my hand. “I’ll be fine, I mean it. You can’t miss an opportunity like this!”
“Do you really think I can do it?” I feel like a little girl, looking for my mom’s reassurance.
“I think they’re going to love you.” I know she’s biased, but it’s comforting that there’s at least one person on this earth that believes in me. “Go find the man of your dreams.”
She wants this for me. For all the wrong reasons, maybe, but she wants me to do this, and so does Cori. If my mother and my best friend both want me to do something, then that’s got to mean something. What am I doing, anyway, working at that shithole bar? There’s got to be something better for me.
I think of the girl Cori knew from high school.
I won’t make the same mistake as her. Not only will I make a guy fall in love with me, I’ll charm all of them—the producers, the camera guys, even the other campers.
I’ll make myself indispensable, impossible to get rid of.
I’m going to go to this scam camp and I’m going to fool all of them, everyone, the whole damn country.
And I’m going to win.