The Final Rose

3. 1.

1.

Callie

Who will the famished viewers devour this year? And which women will be dumb enough to sacrifice themselves in the name of love?

Lost in my own thoughts, I tap my nails against the ceramic mug. It reads Sosa Knows Best , a present from a cameraman last Christmas. It’s my absolute favorite way to have my coffee.

I breathe deep the fresh air of a new season all around me, and I can’t stop the sly grin growing on my lips.

I love my job.

When Jeff took over as the director in season five, we changed our location permanently to this mansion. A ten-acre piece of real estate that you can even rent off-season if you can afford the ridiculous price per night.

I leave the kitchen and sip my coffee. They hired my favorite caterers again after last year’s disaster with another company. I practically lobbied to get them back here, and I’m relieved it worked. It’s the best coffee in town, and I should know, I’m Colombian.

When I step outside, I’m overwhelmed by our mess. The crew is everywhere, shouting and demanding. Gary and Troy fix the front lights and Tiff screams about the red carpet. I should hustle. It’s seven in the morning and, like every day in the entertainment business; we are late.

“Sosa, get your ass over here!”

I glance up, protecting my eyes from the sun just in time to catch Anya barking from the balcony, her red hair cascading over her shoulders. “Sure thing, boss!” I yell back, but she’s already turned away.

Being careful with my hot coffee, I trail through the main house, up the stairs to the left-hand side where only crew is allowed. I open the door and find them all there.

Anya, with a snarl, and Jeff, with a smile. Devi, Jeff’s assistant, Vanessa the casting director, and the big guy, the showrunner himself, Adam Cork.

I glance over to Nessa, who jumps from one foot to the other, shaking her pigtails as she does. They’ve been keeping it all under wraps this season, so I know nothing about the casting. Nessa came over the other night for a face mask, boxed wine, and B movies sleepover in my cramped apartment. I thought she was going to spill the beans, but no. Adam made her promise to keep it quiet.

Adam tugs at one of Vanessa’s pigtails affectionately. “Calm down. You can tell her now.”

These two are fucking, for sure . Nessa never said it with words, but I’m not dumb. I actually wish they could hide it better.

Anya’s grimace amps up from that little tug on Nessa’s pigtails. She disapproves of work relationships. Essentially, Anya disapproves of everything that isn’t unwavering work devotion. But no one is asking her opinion, much less Adam-fucking-Cork, so she’s forced to keep it to herself.

I smile at my friend. “I’m here now.”

Vanessa walks toward me, “I wanted to tell you, but you know…” She glances back at them with a pout. “I told them you can keep a secret.”

“It wasn’t about Callie.” Jeff interrupts. “You know this, Nessa.”

She opens her mouth to argue again, but I interrupt before she gets too far. “Tell me already, then!”

It’s a waste of time trying to argue my way into the inner circle. I have enough on my plate as it is, more than just a field producer should have, anyway.

Vanessa takes my hand and tugs me to the back of the room, where I can see the whiteboard with a white sheet of paper glued to the middle. A few scribbles are dotted to the side, sticky notes with ideas and other things that definitely came from Diego and Sonja - our senior writers. I’d recognize their handwriting anywhere.

I look at the paper and raise an eyebrow at Nessa. I’m glad she works in showbiz because my girl is dramatic. She holds my shoulders and stops me there, instructing me to stay put. Adam chuckles, but Nessa doesn’t care about him. She backs up to the whiteboard and pinches the top of the white sheet, bringing up just a little to show me she’s ready for the big reveal.

“This year’s most eligible bachelor,” she starts, and Adam fakes drums tapping on the table’s surface. Nessa sends him a sweet smile. I laugh, which only causes Anya to roll her eyes. “The heartthrob that will soon be the wet dream of millions. The man who will pick and choose between the country’s most beautiful women is…”

Adam’s drumming intensifies. With a flourish, Nessa uncovers the picture and the paper flows down, revealing the photo underneath.

Piercing blue eyes stare back at me. A star's smile and perfectly tossed light brown hair. Under the most gorgeous headshot I’ve ever seen is his name in black ink.

Sebastian Riggs.

My eyes grow big.

“Sebastian Riggs?” I choke, still holding my mug. I almost strangle it.

“Oh yes, baby!” Nessa is clearly proud of herself.

I blink slowly at the man in the picture and shake my head. “He’s the closest you can get to British Royalty.”

That’s true. I have no other words when I turn to Nessa and she’s jumping up and down.

“Can you imagine that accent on screen? It will melt panties all over the country!”

Adam clears his throat. Nessa winces and mouths an apology. They definitely need to hide it better.

I reach for Sebastian’s picture, taking off the board, tape on the back and all. “How the hell can we make him swear on TV?”

My tone breaks the big smile off Nessa’s lips. I’m not trying to destroy her big reveal. Getting someone like Sebastian Riggs on our show is a tremendous accomplishment. Everyone always wonders if Reality TV is for real, especially the dating kind. Even though we have eleven seasons behind us, and the couple from the very first season is still together with three children, but there are skeptics out there.

Sure, dating on a TV show is unconventional, but so is online dating, and last year alone I went to three weddings from people who swiped right. Sebastian Riggs as our Eligible is a huge tick to our pro column.

I can’t believe the picture in my hands. The Englishman is a CEO, a philanthropist and easily the most desired bachelor in the world. He’s serious, and respected, and it’s a game-changer to have him bring that kind of credibility to The Final Rose . But still - still - we are making a reality show here. And there’s no way someone as distinguished as Sebastian Riggs will bring the kind of drama people expect.

“I have a plan, kid.” Anya breaks my thoughts.

“Sebastian will bring a lot of publicity.” Nessa guarantees, chewing on her bottom lip. I feel bad my reaction wasn’t jumping up and down like she clearly envisioned.

“I’m sure.” I smile brightly, trying to reassure her. “This is huge, Nessa.”

A calming sigh escapes her, and I feel more like an asshole than ever. “I’m just worrying he’s not a potty mouth like the rest of our singles,” I smirk. “But I heard British TV can be a shitshow just like ours, right?”

Jeff chuckles, “Not everything is The Great British Baking Show , no.”

“Yeah, I’m worrying about nothing,” I tell Nessa.

“Oh, no, you keep on worrying.” Anya interrupts. “We have goody two shoes over there.” She nods at the picture of Sebastian I am holding. “But we have twelve ladies coming, and they are not even a little like royalty.”

I smile at Anya. She’s a tough nut to crack, but I like her style. It’s hard to find someone like her to mentor you. A hard ass and a good boss at the same time.

“What else do you have, Nessa?”

My friend beams at me and grabs a tablet resting on the table and for the next hour, I hear about the twelve women who hope to make Sebastian Riggs fall in love.