7. 5.
5.
Callie
The huge flower bouquet falls into his lap, and I cross my arms over my chest.
“If you have a girlfriend, Riggs…”
He laughs, showing off the perfect column of his neck. Taking the card, he reads it before passing it on to me.
Good luck breaking Vera’s heart.
-Maverick
I read it and then read it again. I can’t believe it, even as I blink at the words printed in front of my face.
The absolutely outrageous words!
Because it’s impossible that he’s eliminating Vera first and even more ridiculous is that he’s telling his friend and getting flowers about the spoiler.
I tear the card apart in desperation. I don’t care what Riggs has to say, but he doesn’t even see it. He’s gone already and I have to jog to catch up.
He passes the bouquet to a P.A. as he smiles at her, making the poor girl trip over her feet. I suppress a groan. That damn Englishman charm! That damn smile and the accent. I’m so angry at him, I refuse to find him charming.
“Are you eliminating Vera?” I hiss as soon as the P.A. is out of earshot.
He only spares me a glance.
“Are you allowed to tell me that?”
“I’m not telling you. I read about it!”
Sebastian looks from one side to the other, and I follow suit. When it’s clear we are relatively alone, he lowers his voice.
“It’s just Maverick.”
I wiggle my finger at him. “Do you understand what can happen if anyone knows you’re sharing information?”
“I’m not sharing information. I don’t even have the information to share.”
“This is information.” I point to the general area where I was when I read the card. “It’s not possible you think it’s ok to do this.”
He winces. “I know, I know. But I needed to talk to someone. I’m telling you, I don’t have information .”
Sebastian says the last part like it’s a code he’s trying to convey. I find myself crossing my arms in front of my chest. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know these girls, Callie.”
The way he says my name makes a chill go up my spine. I don’t know if he ever said it before. I don’t care about the way it makes me feel. And I hate -hate- the delicious sound the syllables make in his mouth.
Because I’m Callie Sosa and I refuse to dwell on how a man pronounces my name, I force a reply through my dry mouth. “You knew the drill.”
I hate myself the second the words are out. We all know the first elimination is based on appearances only. Sure, we can edit enough interactions and interviews to weave some kind of narrative, and the public will know a little about the girls and hopefully get their favorites. But the people who are here in real life?
The days are long, but they don’t have time to talk organically. I know Sebastian probably can’t tell the girls apart or remember all their names.
It’s an overwhelming experience, and the thing is, we want him to be overwhelmed . This show is a game. It toys with the girls, and it toys with the Eligible.
The only reason I’m ok with it is because of what I just told him. He knows the drill. Each one of them is a consenting adult of sound mind who has watched many seasons of The Final Rose before.
Sebastian looks away from me, raking his fingers through his soft-looking hair. “I just rang Maverick to make sense of things.”
I nod. It’s not exactly a crime to want to talk through it with a friend, but to the network’s lawyers, it is an infringement of the NDA.
“I get it. But if you do it again, your ass will be sued.”
He lets out a raggedy breath and I almost pity him. “I know, I know!” His palms are up in defeat. “I’m just…”
And I do the unthinkable. I feel bad for the hot guy.
“You can call me next time.”
Sebastian’s eyes raise to fix on mine, his expression as surprised as I feel when the words escape my lips.
What an idiotic suggestion.
I’m ready to back out of it when something crosses his eyes. A little twinkle. “Would you answer my call?”
“I just said that.”
“It was late at night.”
I groan. “How late?”
“Late. It was an ordeal.” He can’t hide his smirk.
“I’m regretting it now. Forget what I suggested.” And to break eye contact, I resume walking.
He follows me, though. “Don’t think I can forget such a heartfelt offer.”
“It was heartfelt. I’m helping you avoid a lawsuit. I’m probably your best friend.”
“I don’t doubt it. Maverick only sends me flowers. What good does that do?”
I press my step forward toward the back of the mansion. “I’ve been thinking about that. I don’t think flowers are good for anything.”
“Aren’t you the most romantic? Now tell me, wouldn’t your boyfriend be cross if I call preposterously late every night?”
I laugh, shaking my head, “Shameful, really.”
“What?” he asks with a straight face.
“You’re trying to pry into my life.”
“I’m only trying not to step on anyone’s toes.”
“The only toe you’ll step on is mine, if you call preposterously late.”
Sebastian claps his hands in an animated fashion. “Well, it’s settled then. I’ll call you next time I need to make a decision.”
I halt to a stop. A decision. Yes, the wrong decision he made of thinking about eliminating Vera of all people.
He stops with me, a crease coming between his brows as he watches me chewing on my lip. Everyone is betting on Vera. Just by the first impression the crew had of her, she’s the nicest by far. It’ll be so easy to make her the princess of this season. Beautiful, intelligent. You can’t get much better than Vera.
And the fool wants to eliminate her first.
“Why Vera?” I ask.
Sebastian shrugs. “I couldn’t remember anything remarkable about her.”
“She has a STEM job.” I hurry to say. “She cooks, she’s and…”
“Why Vera?” He turns it around on me.
“Excuse me?”
“Why are you advocating for her? And if I told you I was between Vera and Elliana?”
I bite my tongue not to scream Elliana’s name. She’s nice enough, but she’s not the horse we are all betting on.
“Listen, you said yourself, you know little about these girls.”
“And you do?” He challenges.
“I know Vera is nice. And you should wait a little. I think you’ll like her.”
He’s still not convinced. I’m not even sure he remembers who Vera is, honestly. As a collective, they’re all hot, shiny, and dressed in beautiful clothes.
But this narrative with Vera will work.
Five years ago, we would pair him with Kirsten. A kind, midwestern schoolteacher and British royalty. The unlikely pairing and all that. I still think she can be the runner-up, dividing the country a little. She has the charisma to pull it off.
But today, Vera is the image we need. She’s a woman of color working with science. She’s the role model I needed when I was growing up. And like Sebastian, I get the impression she’s here to find love.
“I can get you a group date, right out of the gate.” I bargain.
“A group date?”
“Four girls.”
“Three?”
Impossible.
“I’ll try. But one of them has to be Vera.” I say, lowering my voice.
Usually, I’m better than this. I’m great at nudging people in the right direction without them realizing it, but for some reason, I don’t think it will work with Sebastian.
He’s a man of direct words. Infuriating, really, but I can’t work around him. He just asks, point blank. And now? He’s asking why Vera.
“Do you really think I should give her a chance?”
I breathe out. “Yes, I do.” I’m not lying. It’s not because the writers are working on the angle, or because Anya is salivating over their pairing. I actually think Sebastian will work with someone like Vera.
“Group date,” he says again.
“Group date. You’ll get to know them.”
“All right.” He agrees, and when I move away, he doesn’t follow this time.
“We have a problem,” I say, flying into the producer’s trailer.
Anya is always ready for trouble, so she barely bats an eyelid. Her posture is lazy against the counter. With a flick of her wrist, she tells me to keep going.
I close the door gently behind me. “He was going to eliminate Vera.”
The room chills to the news. There are only a few here, mainly those who report to Anya but are below my role. All eyes are on me as I take a seat.
“Says he doesn’t know them enough to make an informed decision.”
“It’s week one.” Anya frowns. “Of course, he doesn’t know anyone yet. Has he ever watched the show?”
“They usually go for appearance.” One assistant, Miriam, interjects. “Maybe he doesn’t think Vera is attractive.”
For some reason, that bothers me. I’m probably a fool, but I really want Sebastian to be the real deal. I want to believe his words and he said the problem was about getting to know them.
“Either way, I talked him out of it.” I decide to say instead of voicing my silly beliefs.
“Who’s going now?” Anya wanted to know, a pencil between her fingers, she bangs against the table.
“Elliana.”
They all shrug, not very concerned. Which also bothers me. I’ve been doing this for years, but the idea of Sebastian thinking about this with care, while we simply change names on a whiteboard, feels… wrong.
“He needs a group date,” I tell them in one breath.
“Sure, let’s get the seven he calls first and…”
Anya is talking a mile a minute, but my mouth feels scratchy, and I clear my throat.
I know the show’s structure. I know how it works for the first two weeks. He’s supposed to be overwhelmed and the girls are supposed to fight for his attention.
“What’s with the face, Callie?” Anya is not even looking at me properly. It’s like she can feel it.
“Don’t you think maybe it’s best for a smaller group date this time?”
She turns completely my way, her eyes pinning me in place. “Why?”
Just that. Anya is a woman of a few words. She doesn’t waste her time beating around the bush.
Normally I’d tell the truth. They want us to form bonds with the contestants. It’s a way to know what’s going to happen before it does. My job is to know, to understand, and hers is to plan accordingly.
But then I think about Sebastian confiding in his best friend, worried about making the wrong decision.
I think of his promise of calling me instead, and for no reason whatsoever, I remember when he pried into my life.
My cheeks warm and I look down at my shoes because I don’t trust Anya not to read all the unsaid words on my face.
“Vera is quiet and shy. If we want her to shine, we need to give her a less challenging setting.”
It isn’t a lie. Vera won’t be the one talking the loudest, saying the most outrageous things to get extra camera time.
“If she doesn’t shine, maybe this isn’t for her.” Anya insists.
“It will cause jealousy.” Bay, an assistant, says at the back. “Throw them for a loop when they find out such intimate group dates are being given right from the start.”
In this set, causing jealousy is a good thing, so I build on that. “It’s almost a star-crossed lovers story.” I start with a little more vehemence. “Vera and Sebastian go perfectly together. The public falls in love with them and then the group scenes are overwhelming, and they never get a minute alone.”
“Suddenly the whole country wants them to have a chance to be alone.” Anya waggles her pencil in my direction.
“Exactly.”
I tell myself it’s the best solution for all sides. Sebastian has time to get to know the girls better before another elimination. Vera has time to shine, and Anya is happy with our direction.
However, shame burns right underneath my skin. I don’t understand where it’s coming from, and I hate it. I love my job, and I have never had a problem with it.
Yes, it’s a little scripted, but the couples are real. There are The Final Rose kids out there! We can’t keep the show running unless it’s entertaining.
I leave the trailer. We’ve decided to choose the girls randomly at the end of the first elimination, throwing Vera’s name into the mix as a definite top choice for the date. We all agree it would be better if he ranks Vera high - so we have an excuse for putting them together- but we can come up with something else if he doesn’t.
I nod and say nothing, shaking myself off and burying my nose in my work where it belongs.
The lights are on Sebastian, and if he hadn’t confessed to me he was nervous, I wouldn’t know. He looks regal in his blue suit with a pink pocket square. His hair is perfectly brushed back and his blue eyes shine more than ever.
I bite my nails furiously. I promised I’d let them grow, but here we go again.
“Ready, Sosa?” Gary asks and I nod.
I have an earpiece to hear what they are saying, and my eyes won’t leave the scene. Our host, Andrea Fox, is gorgeous, talking to everyone and laughing loudly as she steals glances at Sebastian.
He doesn’t notice her. Squaring his shoulders, he checks his sleeves. Only when he’s satisfied with the state of his clothes, his gaze wanders. To the setting, to the loud host, the cameraman right on his face… To me.
Our eyes lock and I gulp. He smiles and I timidly return it.
I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me, but I have to stop. I look away before my cheeks warm or I do something stupid, and meet a camera pointed in my face.
“What the hell, Will?” I complain.
“You know I like to film pretty things.” He tells me with a wink.
I roll my eyes. Will loves filming the crew and usually puts together a little video of us at the end of each season as a job well-done gift.
“Places,” Jeff calls, and everyone straightens up right away.
My errant eyes find Sebastian. He’s looking at me, too.
“Welcome to The Final Rose, the show here to change how you see love,” Andrea calls as the cameras roll.
I hold my breath through the first section, but there’s no reason to do so. She approaches Sebastian and they talk easily. He’s a bright light on camera, and his accent is even better through the earpiece, like he’s murmuring to me. Each syllable is spoken in a purr. The hair on the name of my neck stands as he drags his vowels.
Of all the beautiful people in Los Angeles, I can’t believe this London boy is the one who can fluster me.
Andrea goes on and on as she usually does. When the cameras stop for a , she complains about the humidity and Anya yells for someone to turn up the AC—predictable .
In the next section, the girls arrive, and I’m chewing my nails. The first elimination is the one I look forward to the most. It sets the tone for the season and shows us a little bit of how our Eligible works. It makes or breaks television.
I used to love that kind of tension, lived for it. But as I watch the episode unfold like its most unwilling participant, I can’t recall why the hell I thought this was fun.
“Are you ready, Sebastian?” Andrea asks.
“Yes.”
“Sure of your choices?”
“They are all lovely ladies, Andrea. This little time together wasn’t enough, but I need to trust…” A beat. “My guts.”
I know it isn’t his gut that he’s trusting. His impossibly blue eyes are zeroed on me. Cheeks burning, I nearly bite off my entire thumbnail..
The second lasts forever. I want him to trust my judgment. I’m happy he listened, but at the same time, it dawns on me how much responsibility it actually is.
I know in my bones Sebastian believes in the The Final Rose circus. This man wants a wife. It’s simple like that. He wants a wife, and now he trusts me to find him one.
I know the word before it’s out of his lips. Andrea looks at the camera and asks Sebastian which girl he wants to see here next week.
My hand drops from my mouth, and I watch and watch and watch.
I should be happy that I steered him away from a bad decision.
But I’m not.
Because I’m wondering if I did it for the sake of a good match or ratings. Am I committed to him or the show?
I don’t know which is more insane. I want to grab the The Final Rose logo embroidered over the breast of my tee and rub it like a talisman. I have to be loyal to the show. Not some dude I just met.
The lights are bright. The set is a little cooler now, someone cranked up the AC so the talent doesn't melt. I close my hands in a fist and suddenly pray for him to do forge his own way
I don’t want the responsibility anymore. It’s not fun .
“The first girl I want to see next week is… Vera.”
Goddammit.