Unscripted (15 page)

Christine and I take our seats at the back. “Nice choice of vans,” she whispers as she takes off her jacket.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“On the way back, we’re riding on the fun van even if you have to sit on Knit Cap’s lap.”

Since we’re in such close quarters with the muckety-mucks, Christine and I sit quietly in the back, making occasional faces. I peek between the network guys to get a glimpse of Lisa. Twice in three minutes she’s leaned over, cupped her hand over Will’s ear and whispered something. Both times, she’s laughed flirtatiously. He, on the other hand, has smiled politely. Ha ha! Try cracking that nut, lady!

“How long will this take, do you think? I have to be at Truffle by 7:00,” asks one of the suits.

Lisa turns around, her elbow now resting on Will’s shoulder. “Truffle? Don’t even bother. My friend and I went there last week. It was such a disappointment. We had to wait thirty minutes to get our table, even though we had a reservation. But based on the Zagat reviews, we thought it would be worth it.”

She draws out the word
Zaaah-ghaat,
taking great care to overpronounce it. Christine elbows me in the ribs and I try not to smile.

“The food was inedible, disgusting. The waitress picks up our plates, she doesn’t even comment on the fact that we barely touched the food. So she comes and asks ‘Can I get you anything else?’ and I say, ‘I’ll have a cup of tea. Oh, and since you didn’t bother to ask why we didn’t touch our food, I’ll tell you right now, you are not getting a tip. While you are not responsible for our food, you are responsible for our overall enjoyment, and you failed in that regard. So we are going to sit here and drink our tea until your manager comes over and asks us to leave.’ You should have seen her face. And we ended up sitting there for two more hours, so she lost at least three tables’ worth of tips that night. Forget Truffle, go to The Ivy.”

“Good to know,” he says.

That was just a whole mouthful of crazy. I look out the window. This Lisa is getting scarier by the second.

We arrive at the location and the columned white mansion is straight out of
Gone with the Wind.
There are two terraces leading up to the house itself. One is an immaculate garden, which includes an old-fashioned hedge maze and gazebo. The other has an amazing infinity pool,
Jacuzzi and waterfall. Both levels overlook the ocean and are absolutely breathtaking. Lisa stops all of us by the pool.

“Okay, everyone. We’re hoping to get a lot of scenes outside. We may even plan a few dates out here because of the setting. Maybe a candlelit dinner for two? I don’t know. We’ll decide all of that later. But it’s a great location and the viewers will want to see skin. So the more we see of Katie in her bikini, the better.”

Lisa and Will lead us inside where we are instantly met by two ostentatious marble staircases leading to opposite wings of the house. Apparently, the guys will be staying in the east wing of the second floor, which itself is nothing special. There are four bedrooms, which will hold three guys in each. Katie will have the whole west wing of the house to herself. Except of course, when she’s awake, and then she’ll be sharing her wing with a bevy of cameramen and countless crewmembers.

The bottom floor consists of a beautiful cherrywood paneled library with floor-to-ceiling books, a living room that includes a large, stone fireplace with cozy, puffy chairs and couches, a formal dining room, and a sparkling granite-and-stainless-steel kitchen. There are two rooms at the back of the house that will be used for production purposes only. One room is already decked out with several desks and five monitors that will eventually be hooked up to the cameras, so that we can watch what’s happening in the house at all times. Will stops us here.

“Once we start shooting, we’ll be here full-time. I know it’s tight, and some of us will have to share desks, but we’re only actually filming for a little over four weeks, so hopefully it won’t be too bad,” he says.

Lisa continues, “And when you’re working out of these rooms, you need to make sure that you keep it down as much as possible. There’s a ton of marble in the house, so everything echoes. Also, we have hidden cameras in every room, so remember big brother
is
watching. Now are there any questions at all?” she asks.

A young girl, obviously a PA, raises her hand. “Every room? Even the bathrooms?”

“Um, that’s Production 101. The cameras are
everywhere,
since we’re here to capture
reality.
Any other questions?”

Thank God she didn’t hear my little “what’s a director?” discussion.

We shake our heads. We start to leave the room and Will stops me with a hand to my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Abby. We’re putting a photocopier in over there, just for you.”

I stifle a giggle and feel the blood rush to my cheeks. What was I so paranoid about? I’m a freak.

Lisa immediately turns to Will. “What’s that about?” she asks through a fake smile.

“Private joke,” he replies.

Lisa whips her head around and shoots me the most bloodcurdling glare I’ve ever seen. I unconsciously start to scratch my arm.

Shit, is that a hive?

“I don’t know if you’re going to get all of them up there. I mean, can’t it make guys, like, infertile or something?” Christine asks.

“I doubt that highly. Actually, maybe in this case, that’s a good thing.”

Christine shrugs her shoulders as she takes out a Sharpie and writes WIRE WORKING on a blue index card.

For the last two weeks, we’ve been in pre-production mode here at the offices of
Second Time Around.
This is the time where each producer and their segment producer come up with different ideas for our cast to do such as excursions, dates, planned parties at the house, etc. For the days when Christine and I are not technically producing, we’ll be back at the house, following the guys around who weren’t chosen for that day’s dates. My guess is, we’ll be watching them get drunk off their asses and then interviewing them about it later.

Soon, Christine and I will be filming six days a week for four weeks straight. No breaks. No early nights. I’ve never worked on a big show like this before, so I’m hoping the “we’re all in this together” mentality will make up for the amount of youth that will slowly be drained out of my body during these upcoming weeks.

For the last four days, Christine and I have been brainstorming new ideas for group dates for Katie and her suitors. I’m borrowing the idea of wire-working from one of the dates I planned when I worked on
Matchmaker.
Basically, you’re taught how to fight while being suspended in the air by wires. Think
Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.
It’s not exactly original, but it will look cool and may cause some friction between the guys if one of them can’t do it well. The fact that I’m using the same idea twice isn’t really an issue in this business. With this many dating shows on the air, everyone recycles ideas and locations a bit.

“Lisa’s just going to knock it down you know,” Christine says as she pins the index card on our bulletin board.

“I know.” Out of the ten index cards on the board, nine are branded with a big red
X.
I’m sure my wire-working idea is next to go.

Every afternoon the teams pitch our date ideas to Lisa in a group development meeting. If she approves the dates, the team who came up with the idea will organize all of the particulars, such as finding a location, getting approval from the owners of that location, working out the time schedule, obtaining insurance and filming rights, etc. Then that team will be the ones on location to produce the segment. However, up to this point, Lisa has hated every idea I’ve had.
Every idea.
She’s approved ideas from every other team but ours. At the last meeting, I had Christine pitch a few, hoping it would change the outcome, but Lisa just shook her head the whole time.

So today, Christine and I have a
private
meeting with Lisa to pitch our ideas. Unless we can come up with something she likes, Christine and I will be stuck producing Lisa’s crappy ideas. And let me just say, her ideas
bah-low!
I’m talking wine tasting; I’m talking picnic in the park; I’m talking horse-and-buggy ride. Snore. Like I said before, a little recycling is fine, but Lisa is taking it to a whole new level.

Christine runs off to the bathroom and I return to scouring singles sites on the internet for date ideas. I look up to find Will standing in the doorway. He looks very rumpled today, but in a good way. His green V-neck sweater, pushed haphazardly up to his elbows, really brings out the green flecks in his hazel eyes.

“How’s it going in here?” Will asks.

“Will. Hello. Things are going…swimmingly. It’s good. We’re good. How are you?” There I go, slipping back into my psycho formal mode.

“I’m very well, Abby,” Will says, seemingly amused by my formality. “How’s the date process going?”

“Uh, it’s okay. We’ve just been brainstorming a bit, getting ready for a meeting with Lisa today.”

Will walks over to our idea board and starts to read the index cards. “Wire-working, scavenger hunt…a masked ball?” Will asks as he takes the index card off the board and turns it in his hands.

“Since half the guys are people she’s dated, I thought we could maybe put them behind masks in the first episode, to keep the mystery going for a while. Just an idea…” An idea that Lisa absolutely hated.

“What’s with all the
X
’s?”

Looks like Lisa never presented any of these ideas to Will. How to phrase this delicately without being accusatory? “Lisa didn’t really think they were right for the show.”

“Ah.”

Ah? That’s it?

“So we’re trying to come up with more…for our meeting with Lisa this afternoon.” I already said that.
Okay, stop talking now. You don’t have to fill every silence.
“So yeah, we’ll keep brainstorming…”

Shut it!

Before I can bang my head against my desk, Will’s cell phone rings. “Sorry, I have to take this. I’ll talk to you later, Abby.” Will hands me the index card as he walks out.

“What did Will want?” Christine asks as she plops back down onto her chair.

“Don’t know. He checked out the board, though. It was definitely the first time he’d heard any of our ideas.”

“I knew it. She’s totally tanking us. So did he like any of them?”

“As usual with Will, not sure. He got a call before he could say anything.”

“Well, they’re really good. They’re so much better than the ones Lisa came up with.” Christine pins the masked-ball index card with its embarrassing red
X
back on the board.

“Oh I don’t know. People never get tired of watching air balloon rides.”

“Or couples cooking classes.”

“Or horseback riding. God, we should just pitch a booze cruise and be done with it.”

“Yeah, she’d probably love it,” Christine says as she turns back to her computer. “But she’d still never pick it. ’Cause it came from you.”

Christine’s words are still rambling around in my head as we make our way over to Lisa’s office. I am not looking forward to this.

As freaking usual, she looks like she’s been visited by the stylist fairy. She’s wearing a cream-colored cashmere sweater and her hair is swept up in a loose chignon (showcasing
very
large diamond earrings). There’s a silk scarf with red flowers looped around her long, slender neck, something I could never pull off. I will say that she doused herself with a little too much Chanel No. 5 today, but that’s the only criticism I can manage. Damn it.

“So, what have you come up with?” Lisa asks as she crosses her legs and leans back in the chair.

I quickly rattle off my ideas, trying to sell them as much as possible.

Lisa purses her lips in disapproval. “Wire-working? I’ve seen that a million times. It doesn’t really leave room for much
romance,
does it? I think you’re making this too complicated. You two should just plan the horse-and-buggy ride and the cooking class.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Christine glance at me but I can’t look at her. No way I can keep the annoyance out of my expression.

“Okay.” I stand to leave.

“But a really good effort,” Lisa says with a small smile. “Keep coming up with those ideas, one of them will stick.”

“Thanks.” I nod, trying not to grit my teeth.

“What a bitch,” Christine mutters as we walk back to our desks.

“I know.”

Just as I’m about to sit down for my luscious, midmorning, half a Krispy Kreme doughnut snack (God knows why I make the pretense of only eating half), Lisa calls all of the teams into the conference room for a status meeting. Christine and I head to the very end of the table, as far away from Lisa’s chair as possible.

“Look at the board,” Christine whispers as we sit down.

I look over at the master board, where we track the progress of all of the dates. Miraculously, several of my ideas are tacked up there now, including wire-working. Lisa’s wine tasting, picnic, cooking class and horse-and-buggy ride are notably absent.

Ruh Roh.

Christine leans over to me. “Do you think Will…”

“I don’t know. I guess so.” Is it possible that Will really liked my ideas?

“I love it. But man, you are so screwed.”

“Oh God.” I rub my forehead. She’s right. I’m screwed. “I didn’t go over her head, he totally ambushed me.”

Lisa walks in and looks at everyone but us. “Hey, guys. I’m sure you’ve noticed some changes to the board. Will and I talked it over and we’ve decided to add a few new dates to the roster. Also, instead of the meet-and-greet cocktail party on night one, we’re going to have a masked ball.”

Ooooh, he liked the masked ball idea! Yep, it’s official. I’m fucked.

“I really appreciate all of the hard work you’ve put into planning the dates so far. But we’re going to have to change gears now. We only have two weeks to put these new dates together, and these last-minute changes will mean extra hours.” Lisa looks directly at me. “That said, I need everyone here tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. to hammer these out.”

Tomorrow is Saturday.
Son of a bitch.

“We also need to do one last round of brainstorming just to make sure all of our ideas are fresh. So tomorrow, pitch any ideas you have—” Lisa crosses her arms and glares at me, “— directly to me. Thanks.”

Everyone must know I’m somehow responsible for this since those ideas have been sitting on my board next to my desk for days. I pick up my notebook and try to get lost in the crowd of disgruntled coworkers exiting the room.

“Abby, I need you for a second.” Lisa catches me as I’m almost out the door. Christine shoots me a sympathetic look and darts out of the room.

“I just want to make sure you understand the chain of command here.”

Crap.
“I totally do. Will was just walking by and saw my board, total coincidence. I didn’t mean…”

“Well however it happened, you need to work on your pitching skills. The way you described those dates to me was terrible. I had no idea what you were going for.”

Bitch.
She knew exactly what I was going for. Lisa high heels it out of the room, leaving behind a cloud of Chanel No. 5. I’m sure Will has no idea what he’s done.

I’m pulling up to a Malibu beach parking lot, ready for my first full day of shooting. This is where the production crew is supposed to park while filming at the house, and I’ve got to say, whoever planned this parking situation is a sadist. I mean, here I am, clambering out of my car, balancing a laptop, purse, clipboard and a large latte, while everyone else here seems to be gliding back to their cars carrying only towels, surfboards and a smile on their smug happy faces.
Why aren’t you people working? It’s Monday, damn it!

“Hey there, the van should be here any minute,” Christine calls as I approach her and about ten other crewmembers.

“Is anybody up there yet?”

“I think Will, Lisa and Grant are there. And probably all of the camera and lighting guys.” Christine turns her face toward the sun and closes her eyes.

“Got it.” I take a seat next to her on the curb where we attempt to enjoy our last moments of freedom before being shuttled over to the house.

The sun feels amazing on my skin, but before I can even enjoy the sound of the waves, a high-pitched honk jolts me out of my nanosecond of peace. Breathing a deep sigh of regret, I gather up my things and trudge toward the van.

“Are you excited about tonight?” asks Christine as the van makes a sharp left onto PCH, nearly hitting a guy on a bike.

I flinch and turn my face away from the window to face her. “I haven’t been excited about work since my first job as a junior camp counselor. And when you hit your thirties, you’ll probably feel the same way I do.”

Christine gives me a slight snarl. “Wow. Bitter much? I just meant that the whole opening sequence is your idea. The masquerade?”

“Sorry.” I sigh, attempting a half smile. “It’s just that I know we’re going to be here until at least 2:00 a.m. tonight. I kind of hate that part. But yeah, it’s very cool that they’re using my idea.”

“Lisa even said to me on Friday that she thought it was really cool.”

“She did?”

“Well, not exactly. But she said that she thought it was going to be a great first day of filming.”

“Hmm. Well, don’t get too close to that one,” I say. “She’ll steal your soul.”

“Ha! That’s a good one.”

You think I’m kidding?

Even though it’s only 4:00, I can already tell how amazing the house is going to look once it gets dark. The art department has decorated every single tree in the front with hundreds of fairy lights and there are little tea candles lining the entire walkway. Once everything is lit, it’s going to look gorgeous.

I haven’t even met half of the people walking around, but they all seem to have a very particular job or function that I know nothing about. I knew this was a big-budget network reality show, but I’ve never actually worked on one before, so I had no idea what to expect.

And that brings me to my next subject. I’m trying to look confident and like I know what’s going on, but I’m actually on the verge of a panic attack right now. Christine keeps
asking me what we should be doing, and I have absolutely no idea. The cast members don’t arrive until 7:00 p.m. so I have to figure out ways for us to look busy for the next three hours.

The other three producer teams are walking through each room, writing stuff down in their notebooks and so far, all Christine and I have done is hit the craft service table. Which I have to say, is every girl’s worst nightmare. The table itself is laden with every type of thigh-thickening food imaginable. And adding insult to injury, next to the table is a catering van, which I’m told will cook breakfast, lunch and dinner for the entire crew every day. And if we just want a burrito or muffin for a midday snack, they’ll provide that for us, as well.

“Check out your friend, Grant,” Christine says as she sucks on a Hershey’s Kiss. “He looks pretty confident out there directing all of those camera guys. It’s pretty sexy.”

“You think Grant’s sexy?” I ask, even though everyone thinks Grant’s sexy.