18. 16.
16.
Callie
After a week in Sebastian’s country house, Grace is eliminated in a long ceremony that no doubt will translate into a double episode to announce the top three.
Vera, Abby, and Maya.
The girls hug each other and Sebastian. The crew applauds what was our last night in England. Tomorrow the three girls and Sebastian are scheduled for a photoshoot in the gardens and then we are all heading to the airport, back to Los Angeles.
I breathe in and out, reminding myself it’s all under control. Sebastian asked me to trust him, and I want to honor that promise. But I also want to bolt.
Run far away. Run from my work, from Sebastian and all these cameras.
I remain still, though. I show little to no emotion as we finish up the shooting. I feign a headache to avoid another night of drinking with the crew. This time around people are going to a bar just in the village, but the idea turns my stomach.
I stay behind and I toss and turn for hours and hours in my bed. For a delirious minute, I contemplate coming after Sebastian to share my worries with him. When I decide it might be too risky, I get anxious, thinking he might be the one coming to me.
He never comes.
I barely have an hour of sleep and it’s time for the damned photoshoot.
I hate everything in the morning. The coffee tastes like tea, just like everything else in England. The mornings are impossibly cold, and the heaters make a weird noise when they heat completely and it always startles me.
I bury my nose in the scarf around my neck and pull my beanie down. I won’t be convinced this is not the worst of winter. But then I look and see some people are actually walking with just long-sleeved shirts and even a couple in regular t-shirts.
That annoys me as well.
I’m aware my awful mood isn’t anyone’s fault, so I keep out of everyone’s way, offering to do jobs that require the least interactions.
I organize our transport to the airport and call the cleaning crew, confirming their arrival later this afternoon.
I direct the assistants. I check the packed equipment and assemble a crew to film the photoshoot in case we need extra footage.
But during my third gross cup of coffee, as I yell to the assistants not to make a mess out of the luggage, I hear a throat clearing behind me and I know it’s time to face the music.
I’d expect to see Anya telling me off, reminding me this isn’t my job, and demanding an explanation. But isn’t Anya.
It’s Nessa.
She tilts her head, watching me with an expression I am not sure what to think of. She works in the industry too, so she’s literally my only friend left that won’t be upset when I miss another baby shower. Or rehearsal dinner or wedding.
It's hard to keep friends with this job and Nessa gets it. We are the lowest maintenance friends and that is already too much.
“Can we talk?” she asks, and I can’t stop myself from shifting on my feet.
I don’t want to talk. I usually jump at any chance to hang out with her, but I'm scared of what she’ll see .
I need work to occupy my mind away from the fact that the person who was inside me not that long ago is taking romantic pictures with other women.
But when I open my mouth to refuse, I end up closing back up and just nodding, leading the way from the luggage and my other random tasks.
We walk and put distance between the photo shoot and me. At each step, my heart feels lighter, and my head clearer.
“What’s happening, Callie?” She asks after five full minutes of silence.
I contemplate lying. Denying. Laughing it off. But the crisp, icy wind I was cursing just a minute ago now is actually clearing my head. The distance we put ourselves from the crew makes me braver.
And I turn to my friend and tell the truth. “I think I fucked up.”
Nessa doesn’t say a word as I tell her. Like a den, now that it is open, I can’t stop myself from confessing it all. I tell her how Anya told me to get closer to him, and how close I got so quickly.
I try to explain how easy it is with him, but I can’t put it into words. Something connected us from the second we met. It wasn’t on purpose. I need her to get that part.
For years, I got close to the contestants, kept control over the narrative, and remained professional. I knew better than to get attached. But when Anya called me to get my head in the game, I took it as a blow to my heart.
When I finish my mangled tale, Nessa doesn’t say a word for a beat. All I hear are our steps on the grass and a distant bird song. I take a minute to breathe in and out, tilting my head up to the gray skies and chanting a prayer.
“Are you going to do it?” She asks, finally breaking the silence.
I open my eyes and turn to her. “Do what?”
“Trust him to fix it.”
I stop in my tracks with a frown. “That’s all you’re going to say? I’m literally sleeping with the talent. This can ruin my career.”
“Oh, god!” Nessa rubs her face, looking frustrated. “They want us to stay at work all the time, and then it’s a surprise when we fuck at work, too?”
I can’t stop myself from widening my eyes. The harsh words aren’t her style.
“I’m tired of trying so hard to be a robot.” Her shoulders sag. “I gave my whole life to this place. I work hard just to have the privilege of hearing from my family how upset they are because I’m old and childless.” She rolls her eyes. “At some point I get lonely. We all do so--”
She doesn’t say more because I can fill in the blanks. She gave herself to this job. It's hard to keep friends with this job. We have very little free time and a lot of travel to do. We alienate everyone in our lives. Then one day you dare to connect with someone.
“I knew people were going to assume I was sleeping with Adam for the wrong reasons.” She admits being with the showrunner for the first time. “But we work so well together. It was so good, and I didn’t want the network to take anything else from me. I love my job, and I know you love it too, Callie. But there needs to be a line. We are women working in an unforgivable industry, but sometimes the call comes from inside the house, you know?”
I consider her words. “Do you think I am judging myself?”
She shrugs. “I know I judged myself a lot. I kept looking at Adam as the showrunner and not a single man who I liked a lot. A man who made me feel good and had a lot in common with me. I felt so ashamed, like I was truly sleeping to the top, but when I thought about it, if it wasn’t among the crew, when the hell would I have time to date?”
I nod and resume our walk. “You’re right. I get what you’re saying, but this is different. Sebastian isn’t one of the crew. He’s the reason for the show. He’s the Eligible. He's here to fall in love, and it’s not with me.”
Nessa rolls her eyes. “Again, we aren’t robots. Shit happens.”
“He has a contract.” I brace myself. “He needs to choose between three names. Abby, Vera, or Maya.”
“His contract says he needs to choose a name for the finale. No one can enforce that he actually carries on with a relationship afterward.”
I stop again. “You know better than me. It’s the show’s name rolling in the mud. He can’t turn a week after the finale and go out with a producer. I’m going to lose my job.”
“It’s not your fault you fell in love!” She puts her foot down like a badly behaved child.
I face my sneakers, green from all the damp grass stuck on them. Before, I wasn't brave enough to give a name for what I feel about Sebastian. Not when it feels like I’m out of control. Every day is a rollercoaster, fast, gripping me by the throat.
So yeah, maybe I am in love with Sebastian Riggs. But I refuse to say the words while our destiny is uncertain and I’m about to lose him at any second.