8. 8
The flight from London to Italy was quick, and before I knew it I was walking through customs at the Naples airport.
“Poppy!” someone called out.
Looking around, I spotted Harry across the terminal, hands waving wildly in the air. To the unknowing airport goer, I wondered if it looked like we were friends meeting up to go on vacation.
Making my way over to him, I realized he wasn’t alone. A large, burly man dressed in all black stood by his side.
As Harry greeted me, he gathered my suitcases and passed them to the man.
“Security,” he said, answering my questioning gaze. “There’s nothing to worry about now, but since your name and picture have been released to the public, you can never be too sure.”
My breath caught in my throat. I didn’t know they would be releasing our names so early; part of me thought it wouldn’t happen until we were in the villa, locked away and already filming.
I fished my cell phone out of my bag, eager to see exactly what had been put out, but as soon as I had the device in hand, Harry reached out and snatched it away.
“Sorry Poppy, but this is the part where I take your phone. It’s best not to look yourself up anyway. That never ends well, no matter how positive the comments may be.”
I let out a barely restrained sigh. We weren’t filming yet.
What was the harm in keeping my phone for a few more hours?
But looking up at Harry, I knew he was just doing his job.
I didn’t want to cause trouble within minutes of being in Italy, so I let it go and watched as he powered down my cell and tucked it into the canvas tote bag slung around his shoulder.
“Now,” he continued, “we need to get going to the marina, where we will take a boat out to Ischia. It’s smashing, you’re going to love it.”
I had never heard of Ischia until doing my research on Bella Amore but being that it was an island off the coast of Italy, I wasn’t complaining.
Harry led us out of the airport and into a waiting sprinter van, the burly security guard trailing behind with my luggage.
We climbed in, and then were off, weaving through the streets of Naples and out of the city.
As we drove along the curving coastal roads, I was grateful that Harry took my phone when he did; I would have spent the whole ride Googling myself and missed the view.
Harry hopped out of the van as soon as we arrived at Porto di Pozzuoli, but when I went to follow him, he stopped me.
“You have to stay here,” he said. “It’s production protocol for you to be totally isolated until we arrive on the island. The higher-ups don’t want you photographed on the way there.”
I had a hard time believing anyone would actually want to photograph me, let alone be hanging around an Italian marina to do so, but I didn’t push it.
“Of course, it’s no problem,” I said to him.
He exited the van, leaving me alone with the security guard in the driver’s seat. I was about to attempt small talk, but he quickly pulled out his phone and began playing a game, so I kept quiet.
Having nothing else to do, I lay down across the back seat and tried to get myself comfortable.
I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew Harry was hovering above me, lightly shaking my shoulder.
“Sorry, I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night,” I said to him as I sat up.
“It’s okay. That took longer than expected. We actually have a bit of a problem,” he said.
“A problem?”
“The ferry is having mechanical issues and is out of service,” he explained, panic lacing his tone.
“Is there another one we can take?”
“That’s the problem. The next boat leaves in an hour, but another contestant will be on it.”
Harry stepped out of the car and started pacing, his words tumbling out as he did.
“You’re not allowed contact with any other contestant until you walk into the villa.
Not even a passing glance. We really have to build the suspense, you know?
It’s what makes the show work.” He looked up at me and I nodded back eagerly.
It didn’t seem right to tell him this was really not a big deal when he was clearly distraught by the turn of events.
“If Cecilia ever found out you crossed paths with another Bella and it wasn’t on camera, I would be in so much trouble,” he continued.
I leaned forward and smiled at him, putting on my most calming voice. It was the same one I had often used to get difficult actors to set on time.
“Is Cecilia going to be on the next boat?” I asked.
“No, she’s not arriving until tomorrow morning.”
“And what about any of the other senior producers?”
“They’re already on the island. It’s just the contestants and their individual producers traveling today.”
“So, then no one would really know which boat got us to Ischia, would they?”
I could see the wheels in his mind turning, debating the pros and cons of bending the rules.
“It’s too risky,” he said, but his shoulders had come down from where they had been hiked up under his ears, and he stopped pacing.
“Look, there’s nothing we can do at this point,” I told him. “Let’s just get on the boat that leaves next and you can hide me away so I don’t see the other contestant. You can sort it out with their producer when they arrive. It’ll be fine.”
He let out a resigned sigh and nodded at me.
“Fine, but you can’t tell anyone about this.”
“My lips are sealed,” I assured him as I hopped out of the van.
We boarded the ferry, and Harry did a lap around the entire boat until he found an alcove with a small stairwell that led up to what I could only guess was an off-limits area.
A large red sign with a giant “X” on it hung from the door, with large block letters under it.
I couldn’t understand what it said as it was all in Italian, but the message was clear enough: Keep out.
I wasn’t exactly sure I was even allowed to be in this part of the boat, but Harry was stressed enough, so when he pointed to the space and told me the spot would be great, I quickly obliged.
“Wonderful!” I said as I sat down on the stairs.
“Stay here,” he instructed in the most serious voice I’d yet to hear him use. “I’m going to wait for the other producer at the dock and fill them in. The most important thing is to keep you contestants separated.”
“Got it,” I said, giving him what I hoped was a reassuring thumbs up.
Harry took off and I tried to get comfortable, but it was no use; the hard wood of the step dug into my tailbone no matter which way I sat.
As I fidgeted around, my curiosity about the other contestant grew.
For a moment, the green eyes at the end of the studio hallway flashed in my mind.
I was suddenly very glad I had kept that moment to myself; it clearly would have been a bigger deal than I thought if Harry knew I’d already seen one of the other cast members.
Soon enough, Harry was back and appearing much more at ease.
“Bang on, we’re aces! Ben, the other producer, and I were PAs together on another show last winter.
He’s great,” he said, the hint of a blush blooming across his cheeks.
“He agreed to keep this whole ordeal between us. We get the first level of the boat, and they’ll stay at the top. Problem solved.”
His relief was palpable, and I was glad for him that the fire had been put out. I knew what it was like to work for a boss who demanded perfection in imperfect situations.
“So,” I said to him, wiggling my eyebrows, “tell me about Ben.”
Harry blushed even more and ignored me.
***
If I could never again take a ferry to an island in the middle of the Tyrrhenian Sea, it would be too soon.
Harry disappeared after the boat left the harbor, claiming he needed to go over arrival logistics with Ben. He had been particularly coy about their history, but I had a feeling his departure had more to do with wanting to see him again and less with the details of us getting off the boat.
The weight of exhaustion from the long travel day pressed down on me, and yet any attempt to nap was impossible as the rocking of the boat made it difficult for me to keep my eyes closed for more than thirty seconds at a time.
Body aching from the uncomfortable piece of wood I had been perched on for what felt like hours, I stood up to stretch, bending over and touching my toes then leaning back to crack my back, my joints popping in relief.
The alcove Harry had tucked me away in was tiny, and I was beginning to feel the claw of claustrophobia at my throat, the need for fresh air becoming all consuming.
My hiding place was in the boat’s interior section, one door in a row of doors that must have been for cargo storage or whatever other nautical things a ferry was used for.
Cracking open my alcove’s door, I snuck a quick glance at the hall outside.
It was mercifully empty. Peering my head out even farther, I saw, just beyond the last door at the end of the hallway, the bright, beckoning blue of the sea.
I needed to be out there, needed to feel the fresh air on my face. Surely, it would be a harmless expedition. The ferry wasn’t that small, and besides, the other contestant was also being sequestered. We had clearly defined boundaries: mine, the bottom level, and theirs, the top; it would be fine.
Deciding to go for it, I quickly shuffled down the hall and outside to the walkway wrapped around the boat.
As soon as the warm, salty air hit my senses, any hesitation I had about leaving my designated spot disappeared. I leaned forward against the boat’s railing, feeling the sun on my face and the breeze whipping through my hair, and immediately felt more human than I had minutes before.
Looking around, I found the outer ledge of the boat was completely empty. The ferry’s passenger seating was on the second level, so the crew must have all been up there attending to them, leaving me down below. Totally alone.
That realization, coupled with the relief of no longer being cramped in a tiny stairwell, was reason enough for me to push my luck even further and do one quick lap around the boat.
It was wonderful being out in the fresh air, and I paused every so often to lean over the railing and take in the blue of the sea and the sight of the rapidly shrinking Naples coastline.
Making my way around the ship’s railing, I was almost back to where I had started. Turning the final corner to the front of the ship, I was reveling in the fact that I had gotten away with my little jail break when I looked up and immediately froze.
There, leaning against the railing, looking down at the sea below, was the guy I hadn’t been able to get out of my mind for the past twenty-four hours.
The guy with the green eyes.