It’s Friday! Woo-hoo! If you’re like me, one of the best parts of your weekend is curling up with a good book. Are you looking for something new and fun to read? Check out this scene (one of my favorites!) from my newest book – Romance, Reality, and Blog Writers. This picks up right after Mike and Amy meet one another on a reality dating show called He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not. Amy’s there to secretly gather research for a tell-all book and has absolutely no intention of coming clean about her intentions or falling in love either one. But she quickly figures out that there’s more to this reality show than hot tubs, bimbos, and ridiculous dresses with sparkly feathers…
~Amy~
Football.
Ahhh, football.
Amy had been telling Mike the truth when she told him that she didn’t watch it much. She’d played it plenty growing up, though. Her brothers, in the absence of their father, had done as good a job as they could in being the men in her life. She didn’t respect her father because of his poor choices, and she could always feel herself gravitating towards feeling this way about all men.
She’d probably hate men even worse if it hadn’t been for her brothers, doing what they could do. And about all they could do was play football. Loveable knuckleheads.
It was going to be a pretty loose game, judging by the scene on the field, where half of the girls didn’t seem to know what was even going on. Mike, dressed just like he’d been this morning, when they’d talked about everything over those donuts, was trying to get everyone into position.
“Amy,” he said, smiling over at her. “You can be my running back.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” she said, going over to him and snatching the football out of his hands. “I’m the QB.”
He laughed out loud, looking down at her with amusement. “What do you know about football?”
“Tons,” she said. “I have three older brothers. When those putzs got together to play football, who do you think they had to recruit to make an even team?”
They’d recruited her, of course, because she’d been there. At first, whoever got stuck with her bemoaned his bad luck because she was smaller than they were and couldn’t run as fast. But over time, they figured out that Amy could throw the ball, that she had a quicker mind than any of them, and that she was an excellent quarterback.
Mike didn’t know the half of it now as he grinned at her. “Well, then, by all means, Amy,” he said, his voice lowered, giving her a wink.
That made her blush. And the fact that she was blushing made her blush even more.
She’d had to remind herself more than a few times that she wasn’t here to really find love. This was just a job, just getting a story, and today was about just throwing a football around to kill some time.
These looks Mike gave her and the way her heart was racing… she couldn’t let these things get in the way.
“Get your head in the game, ladies!” Mike shouted, grinning all the while.
Yeah, Amy. Get your head in the game.
Everyone began getting into formation, following orders from Mike, or rather doing their best to do so when half of them didn’t seem to know which way was up and what was going on. None of them were wearing appropriate clothes for this, either, tromping around the field in flip flops and hot pants, with barely there tank tops. And one poor girl had on a football jersey with Robinson emblazoned on the back. She’d gotten Mike’s last name right, but that wasn’t his team or his number.
The stupidity in this place was astounding, quite frankly. Almost as amazing as the level of cruelty that Amy had witnessed earlier, watching Laney fight back tears after Taryn and her cohort had done their best to belittle her.
“Now, Mike, be gentle with me! This is my first time!”
Speak of the devil, there Taryn went, suggestively getting into position right in front of Mike, bending over in a stance that was most unbecoming of an NFL linebacker as he did his best to avert his eyes.
“You ready, Amy?” he called out, looking over to her instead.
Before she could nod and tell him that she was so there, Taryn spoke up again. “She’s got it, Mike,” she squealed in that affected voice of hers. Then, with a lowered voice that Amy could still hear, “After all, she’s built like a football player with that huge butt of hers.”
Amy had intended to be mature about things and play nice before then. Sure, they’d made her new friend cry and were making life hard for Mike by flouncing around and talking his ear off. But Amy was going to take the high road and be better than that.
Until that comment. Her butt wasn’t tiny, but still.
Game on, witch.
She got down into position, ready for the snap, eager to get the ball and take care of this problem. Just as soon as Mike counted down, the ball was in her hands and she was running backwards, looking for the perfect moment to launch it in a perfect pass. There Mike was, open and ready, with Taryn prancing around beside him like an overexcited kangaroo. “Amy! Right here!” he called.
Perfect.
Amy threw the ball, just like her brothers had taught her, knowing that it would hit its target as it flew through the air. And then, it did, smacking Taryn right in the nose with such force that she went down like a limp rag doll.
“OWWW!” Taryn screamed theatrically. Or maybe that was a legitimate, real life response, as her nose began to bleed rather profusely.
All eyes were on Taryn, as were the cameras, but there was Chris, staring at Amy in shock and… was that appreciation?
“Oh, my!” Amy yelled dramatically, trying to feign remorse. Chris smiled even brighter. Great. Now he knew she was a rotten person, because it thrilled her just a little to hear Taryn screaming, “I’m gonna die, Mike!”
“Is there a doctor on the set?!” Kinsley shouted. “Please tell me that there’s a doctor somewhere?!”
Everyone looked around hopelessly. Amy took a deep breath and began making her way over there.
“I teach at a public high school,” she muttered. “I may have doctored a few bloody noses in my time. Move over.”
“I can help,” Mike offered. “I’ve had my share of them before.”
“Kinsley, go and get some ice, will you?” Amy asked, kneeling down next to Taryn.
“Sure, Amy,” Kinsley said, no longer as nasty and rude as she’d been so far during this show.
“Taryn,” Amy said, “you need to pinch your nose with your thumb and your forefinger, like this.” She demonstrated it. “Can you do that?”
“I don’t know why you’re expecting me to trust you,” Taryn hissed. “Since you tried to kill me just then!”
“She didn’t try to kill you,” Mike said. “She’s not that kind of person.”
Amy glanced up at him for a moment. Actually, she was that kind of person, but Mike smiled at her kindly, thinking the best of her.
“Tell me what I can do to help,” he said, looking over at her. “I’d like to help you.”
“Uh, well, you can convince Taryn that I’m not trying to kill her,” she said.
“Fat chance of that happening,” Taryn bit out sardonically. “Owww… my nose….”
“Go ahead and pinch it like Amy told you to,” he said, showing Taryn tenderness even now, when she clearly didn’t deserve it. “We need to stop the bleeding.”
Taryn did so, glaring at Amy all the while. “Mike,” she whined, her voice all nasal now, “I don’t know why she’d throw the ball at me like that, but I’m just glad that youdidn’t get hurt.” With this, she put her hand to Mike’s bicep and looked up at him, batting her eyes.
Oh, good grief.
“Well, I’m sorry that you’re… well, that you’re bleeding everywhere,” he said. Then, he smiled over at Amy, “But that pass. Wow. Where did you learn to throw like that?”
Amy shrugged, fighting back a smile. “Lots of practice,” she said.
“You play any intramurals back home?” he asked. “Any adult league?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t have time. You know, with my job and reading and…”
And that was about it. Well, apart from Eve Avenged.
“If you ever decide to join up on a team, I’ll come down to watch,” he said, grinning. “Seriously. I’ll hop on a plane to get to you.”
Taryn looked at him, her mouth hanging open. Amy was probably doing the same.
“Uh,” she said. “Thanks, Mike. That’s… sweet.”
He smiled at this response, and she thought it again.
Nice guy. Loved Jesus. Wasn’t being swayed by fake parts on overly eager women. Brought her donuts. Huh.
“Hey, Mike, can we get you over here to do a clip?” Chris called. “And we need to get some footage of Taryn lying on the grass.”
Like she was dying. Yes, that would make for dramatic footage.
“Yeah, I’m coming,” Mike said, smiling over at Amy one last time before getting up to go.
She followed him with her eyes, even as he went.
“Don’t look at him like that,” Taryn spit out. “He’s not interested in you with your huge butt and brainiac –”
“FYI, football players don’t have huge butts,” Amy hissed, turning on her, just as the cameramen were moving towards them. “And if you make Laney or any of the girls in the house cry again, I swear, we will all be on you, with our huge butts and everything. Real women look out for one another.”
Then, she shut her mouth, not wanting any of this unpleasantness to be on television.
“Oh, do they?” Taryn spit right back, still holding her nose, apparently not concerned at all about the show. “Because looking out for each other keeps you from getting ahead, Amy! You think your precious friend, Laney, wouldn’t kick you to the curb if she found out that Mike was interested in her? That it came down to the two of you?”
“I’d watch what you’re saying,” Amy answered her. “Because even now, there are cameras recording this whole conversation, and –”
“Cut.”
Amy turned to see Chris frowning at her.
“You,” he said. “Come with me.”
“And leave poor Taryn alone?” Amy asked, feigning alarm over the prospect.
“She’s fine. Leave her in the grass,” Chris said, walking her away from the cameras as they continued shooting Taryn and the finest acting she’d done so far.
Amy followed him several steps, stopping when he did.
“Amy,” he breathed out, holding the bridge of his nose. Just like Taryn. “You know how this reality television thing works, surely, right?”
“I’ve got an idea or two,” she said, shrugging.
“Then you know that it makes it far less realistic if every time I’m turning around, you’re saying something about the cameras,” he said. “Each and every time you mention the cameras, we have to go back and edit that little bit out. Which makes for a lot of editing. Which makes for a lot of stress.”
“Got a lot of stress in your life, huh, Christopher?” she asked, studying him.
She barely bit back a smile at this and at the way Chris rolled his eyes.
“I don’t think you’re taking me seriously,” he said.
“I know I’m not taking you seriously, Christopher,” Amy said, shrugging.
“Why are you even on this show?” he asked. “You’re the only woman who looks bored here. The only woman who doesn’t want to get involved with the activities. The only woman who would rather read a book than be here. Why are you on the show?”
Because I’m going to write a book about this. Because even now, my agent is posting blogs out into cyberspace about what I’ve imagined this show will be like. Because right now, at this very minute, people are flocking to Eve Avenged, and it’s going to make it that much easier to sell them whatever thoughts I have on this whole thing after it’s over.
But she couldn’t say any of that. And as she saw Mike out of the corner of her eye finishing up his interview and smiling as he glanced over her way, she came up with a better excuse that bordered on the truth.
“I’m here because I like Mike.”
~Mike~
“We’ve got a problem.”
Mike looked up from the shirt he was buttoning up, fresh out of the shower, only mildly alarmed to find that Chris had just let himself into the house without knocking and that he was now sitting at the table, frowning at his phone.
“Well, hey, Chris,” he said. “Welcome to my home.”
“There’s a leak.”
Mike blinked for a second, glancing around the kitchen, wondering where there might be a leak in the house. “Is there?”
“Not a water leak, you dumb jock,” Chris said. “A leak on the show. We have a mole.”
Mike still continued to look at him.
“Oh, wow,” Chris said, rolling his eyes. “And every word that she wrote is true, based on your reactions right now.”
“What are you talking about?” Mike asked, concerned now.
“There’s a blog out there,” Chris muttered, still scrolling through his phone. “It’s called Eve Avenged. And it’s some lady who’s got her panties all in a wad about being kept down by the man or whatever. Who knows.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“She’s here,” Chris said, looking up at him, sliding his phone across the table to Mike. “She’s one of the girls. She’s part of the crew. She’s on the production staff. I don’t know where she is or who she is, but she’s writing about the show.”
Mike picked up the phone and looked at the browser Chris had left open. A blog. Eve Avenged, just like Chris had said. Mike scanned a few of the paragraphs from past posts, taking in the content. Pretty basic stuff about women’s equality, fighting for the rights of women worldwide. Nothing really bad, except…
“And the guy all these women are fighting for,” he read, “is a real piece of work. It’s like the network went and found the most clichéd version of the modern man out there. Tall, handsome, confident, and supremely aware that he’s the object of the affection for ten women, none of whom appear to have any good sense. He spends his days smiling for the camera, ogling the contestants, and drinking like a fish. Is this the best you have to offer us, America? Is this the modern version of Prince Charming? Or is this just your typical man? I’m over it, basically. So over it.”
“She sounds like a real piece of work herself,” Chris muttered. “And there was a post before this one. Even worse.”
But Mike’s mind was hung up on another detail. “I don’t drink, Chris. Not anymore. This can’t be about me.”
“This is about the show,” Chris said, adamant this time. “That detail is wrong, but this is about the show. And it’s written by someone who’s here.”
“Aren’t there confidentiality agreements, though?” Mike asked, handing the phone back to him.
“There are,” he said. “No one is supposed to be communicating anything about the show to the outside world. And the women don’t even have any possible access to a way to do that. Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Unless it’s a crew member or part of the production staff,” he sighed. “Or one of the women is working with one of them. I don’t know. Mike, I’ve even suspected you! Are you writing a feminist blog about the show that’s making us a laughingstock to the whole nation?”
“I wouldn’t even know how to do that,” Mike argued. “And we’re a laughingstock now?”
“I don’t know,” Chris muttered. “I just know that ratings have gone up with this post. This Eve Avenged woman gets more page hits than the network does. And I don’t know if that’s good news for us or bad news. Because if we’re the ones projecting the ratings, we can spin the story the way we want to. But if an outside source we can’t trust is pushing things along… well, who knows what the world outside is thinking? And who knows how it’s going to affect our ability to work after all of this…”
Mike considered this, about what bad press would do for his future. That was the whole point of doing this show, after all – to get a better situation after this – and he wasn’t sure what he’d do if it turned out badly.
“I’ll keep my eyes open,” he said, “and try to figure out who’s doing it.”
“Please do,” Chris said. “We’re working to do the same. We’re going to figure out who Eve Avenged is and make her pay for what she’s doing.” He took a deep breath and attempted a smile. “But in the meantime, we have a show to put on. What did you think about yesterday’s football game?”
“Genius,” Mike admitted. “It really let me see a lot of the girls’ true colors in a way that all the activities so far haven’t been able to, you know?”
“And there are some characters here, aren’t there?” Chris laughed. “Tell me your take on Taryn.”
“Taryn is…” Mike paused for a moment, trying to think of a diplomatic way to say this, of a way to stay positive.
“A shameless opportunist,” Chris filled in, “and a raging b –”
“Okay, yes,” Mike sighed. “Both of those. She needs to go out on the next round because there’s just no way we’re at all compatible.”
“This isn’t about who you’re compatible with,” Chris told him.
“Fine,” Mike said, reminding himself again that this wasn’t about finding love or anything of the sort. Hadn’t they explained that to him? Hadn’t he been adamant that this wasn’t about finding long-term romance, only playing for the cameras?
It bothered him, though, playing this charade.
“Fine,” Chris said. “Then, it’s –”
“It’s about keeping the peace in the house and making it so that I don’t dread one-on-one dates, praying that she won’t get one,” Mike finished for him. “Taryn has to go.”
Chris smiled, ignoring this last part. “Peace in the house,” he said. “You know what that is, Mike? It’s boring. Booooo-rrrrriiiiinnnnngggg.”
Mike shook his head, knowing what this meant. “But I can’t –”
“Taryn brings the drama,” Chris continued on. “Did you see the way she freaked out when she got hit in the face? And that bit about her screaming that she was going to die, that we needed to call 911, that you needed to do CPR?”
Mike would never forget it.
“Well, we’ll cut out that part about CPR,” Chris conceded. “Because clearly she didn’t need CPR, being conscious and all. And that comment just highlighted how stupid she is. We’ll edit that out but leave in the part about how she was dying. Cut the footage and blend in a little montage of an ambulance pulling up in the night. Sound effects everywhere. Woo, woo, woo, woo! Even get one of the other girls to shoot an interview with big tears in her eyes, saying something like, ‘I honestly feared for Taryn’s life.’” Chris smiled. “Huh? You can see it, can’t you?”
“But that’s lying,” Mike said, as though it made any difference. Why would a show fabricated on lies shrink away from playing up these lies so spectacularly?
“May not be,” Chris shrugged. “Because back at the house, when Taryn was being her shining self, I did honestly wonder if that other chick was going to kill her. Oh, what’s her name? The one who hit her with the football?”
“Amy,” Mike said softly, thinking of how Amy had been the first over there with Taryn, calling out for an ice pack while the crew came in for a close up of Taryn’s nose bleeding everywhere, chiding the other woman with a “good grief, you’re not dying – pull yourself together, woman.”
“Yeah, Amy,” Chris laughed. “The camera doesn’t do that girl any favors, but she’s got more personality than half of these women combined.”
“I like her,” Mike said. “We need to keep her around. Keep her name off the petals.”
“You bet we’re keeping her around,” Chris agreed. “And Taryn. They’re going to be the final two, Mike, and we’re going to keep on amping up the drama where they’re concerned. Maybe they’ll actually end up killing one another.” The look of glee on his face at the mere possibility made Mike’s stomach turn. “We can turn it all into a somber, special episode. The ratings… wow, Mike, the ratings…”
Mike frowned at him. “Wow,” he managed.
“We gotta think about these things,” Chris shrugged, as if it was totally normal to imagine people dying on a reality dating show. “And we’ve gotta keep our eyes open for the leak.”
Mike nodded, wondering who it could be.
Want to read more? Go here to get your copy of Romance, Reality, and Blog Writers!
Jenn Faulk 