Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 112961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“Uh-huh.”
Jess knows I’ve been avoiding social media and work emails like the plague, so she’s understandably skeptical. I elaborate: “My terms for the show landed in Hot Brit’s inbox this afternoon, and he’s got some questions.”
Jess frowns. “What did you do?”
“What do you mean what did I do? Why am I immediately the bad guy?”
“Let’s see,” Jess says, cupping her hands around her flat white and leaning closer. “There was the time you talked me into going to the nude beach for your birthday before realizing we were walking around naked on private property.”
“Blame GPS, not me.”
“You handcuffed me to the bed for research and then realized the key was back at your house.”
“You were only alone for, like, a half hour, and I made sure you had plenty of water!”
“Okay, how about when you set me up with the guy who was out on parole?”
“For tax fraud! It’s not like he killed anybody.”
“Really, Fizzy?”
“Well, it sounds bad when you say it all together!”
She waits patiently.
Finally, I nod because: fair. “I’m just trying to make a good show here.” The skepticism deepens and I remind her, “You didn’t want to hear about the TV show because you didn’t want information you’d have to keep from River.” Who, predictably, flipped out when I mentioned over burgers a couple of weeks ago that I’d been approached to star in a reality dating show based on his very serious scientific research. There was some intense staring down at his plate followed by some agitated pacing. I’d assured him that there was no way North Star Media would ever agree to my terms once they saw them, and River had been slightly mollified. But he’d also requested to hear no more about it.
Which means I can’t tell Jess anything, either, or she’ll internally combust over having to keep anything from her husband. And which is why she’s pretending to be uninterested.
The thing is, if you ask Jessica Marie Davis Peña what her favorite TV show of all time is, she’ll say Breaking Bad or Downton Abbey, because those are socially appropriate answers. No one says their favorite show is Married at First Sight, just like nobody says their favorite restaurant is McDonald’s. But somebody’s buying those 550 million Big Macs a year. Jess eats those shows up, feeling smugly entertained with a globe of red wine in her hand on her giant sectional in the living room. No matter what River wants to happen, Jess is intrigued by this. Dare I say she is secretly thrilled.
Which means I can count down to the moment when she breaks.
In three… two…
“I’m almost afraid to ask what your terms are,” she says, tapping a casual finger on the side of her laptop. “Knowing you, they’re insane.”
I lift my drink to my lips and realize it’s gone lukewarm. “Is this you asking?”
She adjusts her computer glasses. “No.”
“Okay.”
I glance down at my phone to find a new string of texts.
You want at least 2 of the heroes to have experience knitting?
I don’t understand the exclusion term re: poets.
Felicity, my understanding was that you would enter this negotiation in good faith.
Are you free to talk?
I giggle, typing as gleefully as if I’m sexting.
Sorry. I’m slammed at the moment.
When is a good time?
That depends. Are you in or are you giving up?
A plastic clatter echoes across the table as Jess tosses down her glasses in defeat. “Just tell me everything.”
“But it’s about the dating show. River might not like it.”
“He can cry into his giant bags of money.”
“You’re right,” I say in a burst. “Well, in case you didn’t realize this already: I am a genius.”
“And so admirably grounded.”
“Listen,” I tell her. “The more I get into this idea, the more I like it. The Hot Brit executive wanted me to do a dating show, right? Put me and twelve dudes in a house, roll me out in a push-up bra, and let the audience decide each week who should be eliminated.”
“Right,” Jess says, nodding.
“The gimmicky piece is, of course, that they’d use the DNADuo to find a range of matches for me,” I say.
She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Three weeks ago, you didn’t even want to date one man. Now you’re going to live with twelve?”
“Twelve prime-of-their-life dongs just walking around looking for a Fizzy to hide in? I am only human, Jess. How do I say no to that?”
She shakes her head at me over the top of her coffee cup. “Do you hear the things you say? Like, at all?”
I ignore this. “Real talk here: Twelve might be too many. Even for me.” I pause. “I can’t believe I’m saying that. But I am. So, I’m going to suggest cutting it to eight. I also don’t like the idea of being totally sequestered in a house with these guys for the duration of the shoot, so I told Hot Brit I’d give him four days a week to shoot, and during those days the Heroes and I will just… date. Each week audiences will eliminate a couple of them, and I’ll go on new, more elaborate dates with the ones who remain. We’ll get to know each other the way we would in real life, with the rest of life happening around us.”