Love Reality Page 3

  “So where did it go wrong?”

  She hated feeling stupid. “It wasn’t until the kiss, when he fed me that line. And you know, if I hadn’t heard the radio interview, or had other guys spit that same shit to me, I would be telling you how great the date was, how connected we were, like some kind of moron.”

  Larissa chewed her bottom lip. “Have you considered the other possibility?”

  “What’s that?”

  “That he could totally be into you?”

  Mia raised a brow. “Do I have a T-shirt that says ‘I’m with stupid’ and an arrow pointing up at my face?”

  Her friend laughed. “I’m just saying. Maybe it wasn’t all pretend, like David. Okay?”

  Today, the mention of David didn’t bug her as much. Probably because she was too pissed to be hurt. Maybe she was finally getting over it. He had dumped her over a year ago and, truthfully, his words had hurt worse than their breakup. He’d said he didn’t love her and didn’t think he ever had. As if she’d forced him to be with her all through college. She would never get over the lesson David had ground into her. A lesson she should have learned when she was a kid: when it comes to love, guard your heart like it’s the queen of the chessboard. Never mind that she’d felt alone and unloved for most of her formative years. Love was the enemy.

  Larissa knew her better than that. “I still think you should have let me torch his car.”

  “This isn’t a movie, and I’m not Angela Basset. Trust me. I’m fine.”

  They put a halt to their post-date speculation as soon as Love Reality’s Executive Producer, Jamie Lee strode in with her characteristic take-no-prisoners march. She’d had the kind of write-your-own-ticket career that Mia dreamed about. It also didn’t hurt that her father owned TVN. But, regardless, Mia wanted to be her when she grew up.

  Jamie beamed at the crowded room. “Welcome back to the dollhouse, everyone. I hope you’re prepared with your best ideas because I want to shake things up a little this season.”

  Larissa nudged her, and Mia struggled not to roll her eyes and laugh. Mia and Larissa had both interned on the show through college and had been working for the show for a year and a half. Every time, Jamie insisted she wanted to shake things up, but as always, things stayed the same. The Prince Charmings were all caricatures of jocky, rich boys that John Hughes movies made fun of. And the Cinderellas were vapid, fame or money-hungry women, who were willing to do anything to get their guy.

  The Cinderella seasons were marginally better. At least the Cinderellas were smart…at the very least media smart. Their goals were to find a husband and make America love them enough to be interested in them long-term for hosting gigs and talk show opportunities.

  Jamie paced in front of the room. “So let’s hear it, guys, I want to get some ideas flowing.”

  Someone near the exit called out, “Maybe we do an all-doctors show.”

  Someone else called out. “Maybe let the audience participate in the selection process for the guys to get on the show?”

  In the front, someone else said, “Maybe we do something like the other shows and have someone with immunity who can’t be voted out or sent home one week.”

  A redhead near the exit shook her head. “Yeah, but then that means that the poor Cinderella is stuck with some guy she maybe doesn’t want to go out with just because he’s good at getting immunity. It’s too much like real life. Aren’t we supposed to be selling the fantasy?”

  Several girls in the back snapped their fingers. Larissa chortled next to Mia. Where were they? A sorority house?

  Jamie waved her hand. “This is good dialogue. Come on, let’s get some more ideas flowing.”

  “Might be nice to actually get some diversity on the set,” Mia muttered to Larissa.

  Larissa snapped her fingers making Mia giggle.

  Jamie pinned both of them with a glare. “What was that you were saying, Miss Donovan?”

  Oh hell. Mia’s skin prickled with heat. “Uh, nothing.”

  Jamie pursed her lips. “No, if you have something to say, everyone wants to hear it.”

  “Well, I was just saying, maybe it’s time for a little diversity. I mean, we haven’t had a single Cinderella of color. Maybe it’s time to shake it up that way.” Her face flamed, and a lonely bead of sweat rolled down her back underneath her bra strap.

  There was a long beat of silence, and her coworkers gawked as if she’d said something so outrageous they couldn’t even fathom it.

  Larissa, bless her, came to her rescue. “Mia has a point. And honestly, when we pick women for the Prince Charming seasons, the color palette is bland. We’ve peppered in maybe one African American woman and two Asian women in the past several years I’ve worked here. Not to mention the last three Cinderellas have been blond.”

  Jamie nodded as she stroked her chin. “It’s something to be considered. Please stay after the meeting.”

  For the next thirty minutes, Mia waited nervously. When the meeting was over, Larissa gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

  Mia shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she waited for Jamie to speak. After a minute of just watching her, Jamie sat on the conference table in front of Mia. “You’re not easily intimidated are you?”

  Internally, she could be, but she had a pretty decent poker face so she shook her head. Fake it till you make it. “No. I’m not.”

  Jamie sat back. “That’s good. You’re a go-getter. I like that.”

  Not sure what else to do, Mia nodded. “Yes, I am.”

  Jamie smiled. “I understand you’re putting a proposal together.”

  “Yes. I’ve been working on it for a while now. I think I’ll be ready in time to submit.”

  Jamie nodded. “You think you have what it takes to be a producer?”

  “I do have what it takes. I’m resourceful, and I’m willing to work my butt off to get to my goals.”

  “So tell me, Mia, are you ready to take “Lonely Girl” to the next level?”

  Mia sputtered. “How did you know that’s my blog?”

  “I have some very resourceful people on staff. Look, I’ll cut to the chase. What you said in the meeting resonated with me.”

  Mia blinked in surprise. “Oh, wow. Glad I could offer up a useful idea.”

  “Well, it was better than an idea. It’s something we can change the landscape with. As a woman of color myself, it resonated with me. We are a top-rated show. On a top-rated network. We kill in our time slot, and I want to take that opportunity to step up our game.”

  “Well, it’s sort of about time, don’t you think?” Mia wondered why Jamie hadn’t pushed for it before, but she wasn’t going to ask.

  “Long past due. It’s too easy to do the same old thing.”

  “Do you want me leading point on casting?”

  “In a manner of speaking. I want you to be the Cinderella.”

  “Excuse me?” Mia tried clearing her blocked eardrums. Maybe she hadn’t heard that correctly.

  But Jamie was nodding enthusiastically. “I think you’re perfect. I looked up your file. You went to NYU for production. You’re smart. You think on your feet.”

  “Look, I’m uh, flattered. But no thank you. I’m not looking to meet anyone right now. Especially not on national television. I’m a private person.”

  Jamie nodded sympathetically as if she cared what Mia wanted. Problem was, Mia had seen that same tactic used on many an unsuspecting producer before. “Hear me out. I also want you to blog about your experience on the show as ‘Lonely Girl.’”

  Mia raised an eyebrow. “What?”

  Jamie crossed her arms. “Your blog is big. I want to make it bigger. With you on the show and me as your mentor, your show would be a lock.”

  Mentor? Jamie would mentor her through the process? That would be huge. But she had to think this through. “I—this is a little crazy. I want the opportunity. And having you as my mentor would be incredible.”

  “But?”

  “
But logistics. I work on the show. I can’t take three months off. I’m a private person; I don’t want cameras dogging my every step. And there’s the pesky little problem of dating and being involved with these guys. What happens at the end?”

  “All good questions. As for your job, that’s one of the formats we’ll be changing. We’re going to focus more on your personal life, get to know the Cinderella better. Let the audience see you for who you are so they choose better. And before you freak out, you’ll have the whole shooting schedule, so you’ll still get personal time. And as for what happens, no one will hold a gun to your head to marry one of these guys. Treat it like real life. If you meet someone great, fantastic. If not, then you don’t pick a husband at the end.”

  Her brain whirled through the details. If she did this, she’d get her dream come true. But she had to be careful. “Do I get veto on what you can shoot? If my best friend is having a crisis, I don’t want that on camera.”

  “We can work on those kinds of things. Nothing is set in stone. Viewers will still be looking for the Cinderella to meet someone and fall in love. They like thinking they helped along the way. So they will need to see some of you, but we’ll be discrete.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “Why me?”

  Jamie put up her hands. “Look, I’m not going to lie. You’re handy, and you fit the bill. Young, ambitious, and you’ll look fantastic on camera. But you’re also smart. And you have a certain vulnerability that the audience will gravitate toward.”

  “Can I think about this?”

  “Of course. I need an answer by Friday though. If you say no, I’ll need to start casting sessions. I will be disappointed, of course. But this is your life.”

  Mia read between the lines. If she said no, then her chances for her own show decreased.

  Ten minutes later, in the proper tradition of best friends, Larissa pulled out a quart tub of Oreo cookie ice-cream from the mini freezer in their office and retrieved two plastic spoons from her desk. She dragged her chair over to Mia’s desk and dug into the tub. “Okay spill. Don’t leave out a single thing.”

  Mia laughed. “I didn’t realize this would require fortification.” She took a spoonful, relishing the sweet, creamy flavor on her tongue.

  Larissa spoke around a mouthful. “When Jamie Lee asks for a private meeting, that requires ice-cream” Larissa waved a spoon in her face. “I want my deets.”

  Mia sighed. “Jamie wants me to be the Cinderella.”

  Larissa’s mouth hung open, and the spoon fell out of her mouth. When she recovered, she sputtered. “You’re kidding right? Are you going to do it?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  Larissa blinked. Then blinked again. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again and sat back. “Before you commit murder by cookies’n’cream, hear me out. You’re obviously beautiful. And you’re smart. And ambitious but not in an obnoxious way. You’re unattached. And I hate to say it, but since you work here, they can control you in a way. Drive the outcome more.”

  “Cameras will be following me around.”

  Larissa beamed. “That just means you’ll get your own personal Glam Squad!”

  Leave it to Larissa to find the positive. Mia chuckled. “She pretty much said if I do this, then she’ll mentor me and help me with my pitch. She’s also going to be the Executive Producer of the show that wins.”

  Larissa whistled low.

  “I know.”

  Larissa took one more scoop of ice-cream and waited for Mia to do the same. When she did, Larissa capped the tub and stuck it back into the fridge. “This is going to be nuts production wise.”

  Mia pointed to Larissa. “Preacher,” then pointed back to herself and sang, “Hallelujah.”

  Larissa rolled her chair back to her desk and glared at her ringing phone, opting not to answer it. “So what are you going to do?”

  Mia crossed her arms. “I want my own show. And being mentored by Jamie is a dream come true.”

  Larissa chewed her lip. “Devil’s advocate for just a minute here.”

  Mia frowned. “Why are you advocating for the tiny devil in her Roberto Cavalli? She doesn’t need your help.”

  “I know. I know. But I’m just thinking. You get to prove yourself to Jamie and the world. When it’s over, the world will be your oyster. You might get offers to produce your show from other places. And it’s about time the show wasn’t so damned whitewashed.”

  “I don’t want to be anyone’s token.”

  “This is about you, Mia. You’re pretty kick ass, and anyone who knows you knows that. And you look damn good on paper too. So think about that.”

  What would it cost her really? So she had to go on some dates. She’d do that for “Lonely Girl” anyway. There was just one other problem. The whole public profile thing. “I hate being in the spotlight. You don’t know what it’s like to be the object of morbid fascination. I spent most of my life being gawked at. And not in a good way. Being a foster kid, then being adopted, gives people reason to stare. Luckily, when I finally got adopted, that changed. I like my quiet life.”

  “There is another thing to consider.”

  Mia quirked a brow. “What’s that?”

  “You could meet somebody you like.”

  “I’d rather meet a man the old fashioned way. You know, on the Internet where I could just as likely be talking to a hot entrepreneur as I could be talking to a serial killer.”

  Larissa giggled. “Yeah, well, consider me your cupid. I’ll weed out all the undesirable character flaws like mustaches and a penchant for only drinking craft beers. No hipsters need apply. Oh, and I’ll guarantee that his cologne does not offend.”

  Mia giggled. She could just see Larissa in the casting room, insisting every single candidate take off his shirt so she could count his abs and then proceeding to sniff them all. “You know, I appreciate your willingness to take one for the team. I do.”

  “My pleasure. So what’s it going to be?”

  Despite her misgivings, this was a fast track to what she wanted. She could do this. “Bring on the glam squad.”

  Chapter Five

  Outside the doors of the TVN building, Ryan’s phone buzzed. Anxious to go in and get this shit over with, he answered without even checking the display. “This is Ryan.”

  “Oh, thank God, I was afraid, you wouldn’t answer.”

  There, on the sidewalk, in the middle of the foot traffic, with the sun beating down on him, he froze. Despite the five years that had passed, the voice was nearly as familiar to him as his own. He’d spent the last several years trying to forget it.

  “Alana, what do you want?”

  Crowds bustled around him on Fifty-Seventh Street, jostling him as they passed.

  “Ryan.” Her voice was soft, lilting. “How are you?”

  “Are you serious, right now? You want to know how I am? Why don’t we cut the shit. You want something from me, and you’re calling to get it. This isn’t a fucking social call.”

  “I know you don’t believe me, but I never meant to hurt you.”

  The ringing in his ears only grew louder, and he massaged his temple. “Maybe I wasn’t clear. What. Do. You. Want?”

  There was a beat of silence, and he hoped she’d just hung up. But then he wasn’t that lucky, at least not when it came to her. “I’d like to see you. I’ll meet you anywhere you want.”

  Now she wanted to see him. Now she wanted to talk? “Do you remember when I last saw you, Alana? It was at your country club. I begged you to come with me. To trust in me, to believe in me. Do you remember what you said to me?”

  “Ryan—”

  He didn’t let her finish. “You told me I could go fuck myself. So right now, I’m going to extend the same sentiment. Don’t call me again.”

  The last thing he needed to think about was Alana. Not when he was about to see Mia again and have to convince a producer to put him on the show. He dragged in a deep breath to steady the hum of electricity
flowing through his veins.

  It was all about the lies Ryan could tell himself, and right now, he was telling himself a hell of a whopper. Like: I’m not here to see her. I’m merely returning her property. Truth, he could have just messengered the tablet over.

  Next lie: I’m killing two birds with one stone. If he was here to meet with producers, he might as well give her the tablet back. Truth: he could give a shit about the producers’ meeting, he wanted to see her.

  Another lie he told himself: I don’t care that I’m going to see her. Truth: he’d put on the same cologne from Friday night. He’d be plenty happy to relive the moment when she leaned into him and inhaled deeply. As if she wanted to stay and snuggle in his arms forever.

  Lie: I’m not anticipating seeing her at all. Truth: he hadn’t been able to sleep all weekend thinking about those eyes of hers.

  Lie: I don’t want her. Truth: a whisper of a thought of her was enough to make him hard.

  The guy at the security desk issued him a visitor’s pass and directed him past the desk down a hallway to the right. To his right, a tiny Asian woman with glossy black hair berated someone. He only caught a snippet of the conversation, but his innate curiosity made him want to stay and listen. All he heard was. “I don’t care if it’s more difficult, everything hinges on Lonely Girl being the next Cinderella.”

  Lonely Girl? The blogger? His body tensed. That woman irritated the hell out of him. She was so clueless about the real world and how dating worked. No wonder women were wiping up the floor with guys these days, turning them into whipped puppies begging for some ass.

  She might irritate the hell out of him, but even he had to concede that sometimes she had a point. Her advice wasn’t overly emotional. For the most part, she was rational, if not naïve. She kept it simple. And when women wrote in whining about things they should not be whining about, she called them on it. His favorite was one woman who whined about how her boyfriend had a standing poker date and ignored her on those days. Lonely Girl told her to get a hobby. That it would make her more interesting. He’d laughed for days about that one.