Chapter 9
A lmost eight hours of holding a crying baby, consoling a sobbing mother, and trying not to cry-while-filling-a-page-in-my-colouring-book later, I end up in Zurich, Switzerland.
Well, now in Lucerne.
“This is… unexpected.”
One jarring, unsolicited throb pulses near my ear.
The other woman and I ended up in front of the picturesque house at the same time. According to the email they sent us, all contestants had different timings but apparently ours overlapped.
She’s stunning. Short, cropped hair that hits right below her ears. Her sharp mono-lids find my eyes and there’s no awkwardness in her smile. We exist in the world around her, not vice versa.
Irene Dolores is exactly as I remember, but with more professionalism.
Beautiful, elegant, and she smells otherworldly .
“Looks like I’ll need to have a word with my team,” she moves to the side and widens the door of the lovely two-story home. “Please come in.”
After taking an extra strength Aleve, putting my headphones on to dark noise and crashing out in the train (moving endlessly and trying to find the perfect spot to try and sleep but failing endlessly), I woke up somewhat okay and scoured Pinterlog for aesthetic houses in Lucerne.
Most of them were earthy and majestic, but this is what I talked to imaginary friends about as a five-year-old kid. Modern. Embellished. For the rich.
As soon as we enter, we’re met with an open foyer that leads into an even larger living space.
A white couch with pink and purple pillows set up in the middle of the room and above is a skylight shining directly down on it.
Air particles float around us as people shuffle with filming tools, adjusting the height, speaking into their mic-things, and returning my fully furnished smile with half ones.
“Ignore the crowd,” Irene settles down at the very end of the couch and points for us to do the same. “First days on set are hectic.”
“The rest of the days are too,” the other woman with a shiny smile says. “Filming is hectic overall.”
Irene laughs and goodness, even her laugh is rich. “You’re right. When I pitched this idea to my team, you should have seen their faces.” She looks directly at me with a welcoming smile. “They were ready to quit.”
That invokes a laugh.
Or two.
“Hina Mayumi,” a thick British and masculine voice channels from behind us.
I turn my head to see a man walk down the stairs.
His auburn hair is styled in perfect waves and his eyes have an overly friendly tinge to them.
“And Nova Rivera,” he looks at me with the same kindness.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you both. ”
Irene audibly sighs. “Always the dramatist.”
“Kind of have to be, darling.” He winks at Irene, but she simply rolls her eyes.
“This is Austin Kane,” saying with an arched brow. “I’d warn you to stay away from him, but he makes that impossible. He’s also the assistant producer of Love? Check! ”
Austin’s smile slips for a second. “I’m looking forward to season 3.”
He walks around the couch to greet both of us with an extended hand. Except he kisses the top of each.
The first thing I notice about him are his odd shoes.
Brown loafers with dark green laces.
What happened to buying normal shoes? All for the unique energy, but the colours don’t match. It looks like a dead root that failed to grow into a tree.
Sunny would be grossed out if she was here.
Heck, she’d probably punch the man.
“ Kissass ,” Irene mutters and it makes me choke.
“Only for yours,” he smirks. He undoes the button of his suit jacket before settling down on a loveseat. “As Irene was saying, we’re working together to produce a show that values complex relationships.”
“But our top priority,” Irene emphasises. “Is to make sure you’re as comfortable as can be.”
“If there’s something we don’t like, we can tell you?” Hina asks with the utmost boredom. She may have done this before which is why she seems disinterested in all of this.
My insides are jittery and even though I read the instruction paper more than fifteen times on the plane, I’m nervous as crap.
The space between Irene’s brows are pushed together when she says, “Of course. You can let me, or Austin know, and we’ll make sure that it doesn’t happen again, or we’ll delete the scene from airing.”
“And what about both of us showing up at the same time?” Hina tilts her head. “That has to be your fault.” I didn’t even think of that.
“It is,” Austin calmly says. “Sometimes mistakes happen, but I apologize. How about we make it so the two of you have never met before?”
“You want us to act?” I rub the back of my neck. “Doesn’t that sort of go against this being authentic?”
Austin laughs.
Am I missing something?
My cheeks burn. This is the perfect time for the couch to swallow me up.
“You’re absolutely right, Nova.” Irene offers another welcoming smile. “But sometimes we have to alter moments for entertainment. That can mean giving you guys scripts or directions for how we want the stories to go. Does that make sense?”
Azar’s right. All of this is a performance. Even if I wanted to find love, I can’t do it here.
Two migraines in less than a week isn’t unheard of, cue the third.
Twenty minutes later, I’m sitting on the couch alone and Irene is standing behind the camera. Austin took Hina with him to another room while we filmed my interview.
I’ve met a couple of other staff members who introduced themselves with a name. I made a note of each in my notes app.
There’s nothing worse than someone forgetting your name when you hoped they’d remember.
Irene explained how the bucket list idea works but told me the rest of the rules will be revealed while filming to show our real reactions.
This feels… weird.
I’ve always been the person behind the camera.
Taking pictures of my family, videos on everyone’s birthday, and capturing the candid moments for everyone to remember.
Not once have I been the one on the other side.
If there is a memory like that somewhere in my brain, it’s not memorable enough to be on the conscious side.
Don’t get me wrong, I love being the camera person. It’s fun and less exposing.
In simpler, more coherent words… I feel out of my element.
“We’ll start with a couple of simple questions,” Irene writes down on her iPad and looks up to read my face.
I mask it with the perfect level of confidence, which is an overly wide smile.
“Like why you decided to be on the show, what’s on your bucket list, and a core memory you have of doing something with someone else that changed the trajectory of how you view life. Sound good?”
“Sounds great,” I answer.
A younger woman—Amirah—dashes towards me with some kind of palette. She holds up a brush to my cheek and pats away with quick speed.
Others are setting up props on the coffee table in front of me.
Plates full of desserts, a cup that gives the illusion of a drink, but it remains empty, and half eaten cake that isn’t mine next to it.
When the red light goes on and Irene says, “State your name, age, and occupation.”
“I’m Nova Rivera. I’m twenty-four. And I’m currently working as an editor at Berkenlin Publishing.”
“Nova, can you tell us why you joined Love? Check! and what you’re most excited for?” My leg fights the urge to fidget.
Instead, I clasp my hands over my lap.
“I joined Love? Check! to experience the world in a different way,” I don’t sound like myself .
“I’ve been in a nine to five job since graduating university and as much as I adore the routine, I haven’t been able to do anything for myself.
” My hours are my own. I haven’t worked a nine to five in two years .
“I think I’m most excited to meet someone who I can have fun ticking off my bucket list items with.
” I’m not here looking for love. Friendship, sure.
Despite what the show is for, I’m here for all the wrong reasons.
I care about becoming someone somebody else deserves, not just being with someone who I might deserve.
The lies spill out of my lips and taste intoxicating.
Each person in the room eats up my words.
I can see the wheels in their brains twisting and turning.
All of this is a lie.
I’m a con-artist only here to win money to feel safe in my own life again.
“Speaking of bucket lists,” Irene speaks. “Can you tell us about your five items?”
“The first on my list is finding an Umbel Pennycress, it’s a rare flower that can only be found in Switzerland.
I wo—well, love flowers. And it’s been one that I’ve been hoping to find.
” A crew member yawns in the corner. I can feel my pulse in my throat.
“The second is going pottery making—and you might be thinking why Nova? Honestly, I don’t know.
It’s an art that I’ll never master, nor have I ever tried.
It seems worth learning.” Another member whispers something in Irene’s ear.
I bite the inside of my cheek. “The third one…” What’s my third one? I remember writing them down.
“Seeing a live orchestra and then a fancy dinner,” Irene’s smile drops.
Suddenly the walls are closing in around me.
“Right!” I exclaim. “I grew up in a small town and live orchestras weren’t a thing.
The most I’ve got to experience was the fishermen’s voices blasting through my school windows.
” I tuck my hair behind my ears even though I didn’t need to.
It looks better in front. I pull the strands back out.
“The next is attending a lantern festival, which is every Tangled lover’s dream.
I’m afraid I am a victim to that as well. ”
Another person pulls out their phone.
Last one, Nova.
“The final one is going to a masquerade ball,” I think of something to say. They’re not looking at me anymore. The camera’s running, my mic’s still on, but no one is paying attention. Even Irene is focusing on her iPad and not on me anymore. “I want to experience a sexy rendezvous.”
This gets the room’s attention.
“Imagining a dark ballroom and dancing with a man who whisks me away into a secret garden and undoes parts of me is… thrilling. I know it may not happen in real life which is why I added it to my bucket list for this show. You’re able to make these items come true and if you make it come true then I finally get to put the boring, good girl act to rest and have a minute of rebellion for myself. ”
Attending a masquerade ball was to experience the romance of being whisked by someone. To have the opportunity to hear a loving whisper in my ear. Or the secretiveness of not knowing who’s holding my gloved hand, who wants to peel it off of me and profess their undying love.
Is it too much to ask for romance to be romantic?
The camera light turns off.
“Perfect,” Irene excitedly hops over to me. “That last part is going to make you popular, I know it. I’m already thinking of your character arc,” she quickly takes a seat beside me and creates an imaginary rainbow with her hands. “Good girl gone rogue.”
I’m here for the money. I’m here for the money. I’m here for the money.
“That sounds…” terrible. Awful. Disgusting. “Amazing,” I cheer. “It’s exactly how I’d picture my ow n arc to be too.”
“Awesome,” Irene’s eyes shimmer with excitement.
My answer pleases her, and I can’t take that away from her.
From any of them, really. They’re starting to like me, and they think they’ve misjudged me earlier.
Their perception of me is changing for the better and if I can keep it that way then it’s perfect.
“Thank you for sharing that with us, I know it’s difficult being honest when you’re in front of cameras. I appreciate your effort, Nova.”
“Thank you,” I blush. I’m lying to them, to the world now, and it’s too late to take it back.
It’s a small lie, but why do I feel like I’m shrinking in size?
“That’s all for your interview today, you’ll get a message every time you need to come in for one.
” Irene continues talking, pulling her hair into a side braid at the same time.
“You have two hours before we start filming the first episode so if you’d like to rest for a bit, you can take one of the rooms here or you can follow Gbenjo over there and he’ll tell you how to set up your microphone for later. ”
She wants me to go with Gbenjo.
“It’s better for me to go with him. I can’t for the life of me do technical things without messing it up.”
The lines beneath her eyes crease, “Perfect.”
At least I did one thing right.