Unscripted (25 page)

Another twenty painful minutes later, Lee walks back into the room. I try for a sympathetic look. He is completely unfazed.

“Hey, Peaches, here’s your rock back.”

“Sorry, Lee. Amy is waiting outside for your final interview.”

“Save me a dance at the wrap party.” Full of bravado, Lee saunters outside.

Don’t count on it, Shitter. Cast ain’t invited.

Soon after, Ryan comes in. My breath catches. Even though I know he’s a bit of a slime, you can’t argue with those looks. The suit fits perfectly, his hair is glossy and smooth, and damn, he even smells heavenly.

“Hey, Ryan,” I say, trying not to gush. I feel my face heating up as I hand over the ring.

“So, will I do?” Ryan smiles as he does a half turn.

“Yeah. You look great.”
Bah.
I’m all gushy.

Ryan looks in the mirror and straightens the small red rose in his lapel. “This show better do well. I turned down
Big Brother
for this.”

“Oh. Well, good luck.”

“Thanks.”

I watch as Ryan walks confidently into the living room. I’m thinking he might have been better off on
Big Brother.
At least there they win money. All he’ll end up with on this show is a stuck-up, petulant ginger.

It’s 10:45 p.m. and the crew is finally breaking down all the lights and equipment in and around the house. This is the first time I’m actually going to get home before midnight. Of course, since it’s my last day here, it doesn’t really count as any kind of major triumph.

I look around and notice that for once, nobody is moving at a breakneck pace. The sound of yawns and shuffling feet permeates through the back office as the producers gather up their notebooks, laptops and files for the last time.

“I’ve got everything. Do you want to go and wait for the van?” I ask Christine. She nods her head, and we head outside.

A little group is standing by the craft service table munching on brownies that were left over from earlier in the evening. I grab one of the last pieces and gobble it down in two bites.

“Hungry or something?” asks Christine.

“Hell yes. I was starving and of course no one thought to bring me dinner during my three hours of solitary confinement.” I grab a handful of mini Snickers and immediately start to unwrap one.

“We weren’t allowed in, remember? Only the
Chosen One
was supposed to be in there.”

“The ‘Chosen One’?”

“You!” She laughs.

“What are you talking about?”

“Will didn’t want anyone else in that room but you. That’s a pretty nice compliment if you ask me,” she says, grabbing a bite-size Snickers out of my hand and popping it into her mouth.

I begin to involuntarily smile at the thought of being Will’s favorite. But I know Christine has it wrong. This is our second show together. He trusts me. That’s all it is. I shake my head and roll my eyes. “It’s not a big deal. Trust me.”

Christine gives me a blank stare.

“Seriously, it felt like a punishment in there. Not a reward.”

“Whatevs,” she smirks.

“Ladies,” Knit Cap says as he grabs a stick of licorice from the table. He tears open the wrapper with his teeth and places the licorice between his lips like a cigarette. He then proceeds to assault the poor candy, sucking, biting and licking in one repulsive motion. The smell of strawberries and cheap cologne wafts over me. I’ll never eat licorice again.

“So, a group of us are headed to The Cantle Ranch for a little pre-wrap party
par-tay.
Can I count you two in?” he asks, chewing with his mouth open.

Of course, Knit Cap would pick The Cantle Ranch,
the
destination for weak drinks, tourists and former reality stars.

“It’s too late to drive all the way to West Hollywood,” Christine says tightly. “Can’t we go somewhere in Santa Monica? The Cantle Ranch is so gross, anyway.”

“Are there bars in Santa Monica where hot chicks ride a mechanical bull?” he asks snidely.

Christine rolls her eyes.

“What about you, Abs? You up for a little rodeo?”

“No thanks, not my scene. But have fun.”

“You two don’t know what you’re missing.” He grabs another piece of licorice and walks away.

A few minutes later, I notice Ryan and Katie making their way over to us. They’re still decked out in their ceremony clothes and Katie is wisely carrying her heels rather than wearing them. This is the first time the cameras have not been attached to them in six weeks and they both appear a little dumbstruck.

“Hey, guys.” Ryan flashes us his game-winning grin. “Anything good left over? I’m starving.”

“So are you guys happy it’s over?” I ask as I hand him a brownie.

“So happy,” sighs Katie. “I can’t wait to be normal again.” She tugs uncomfortably at the top of her gown.

“Are you going back to Florida, Katie?” asks Christine.

“No, I’ve decided I’m going to move here. I mean, for one, this is where Ryan lives,” she says, grabbing for his hand territorially. “And anyway, I’m sick of real estate. I think I want to be an actor.”

Of course you do.
Well, so much for the convincing speech she made to me during our first night on set. What was it that she said again? Oh yes, that she submitted her tape as a joke. And also, I believe, that she wasn’t one of
those
people interested in being on TV. Good luck, lady.

“I have a ton of appearances I have to do before the show airs. I’m doing promo spots on
Inside Edition
and
Entertainment Tonight
next week alone. Who knows what else the network has booked for me.” She grins widely. “I already have a head start on my career out here, so why not see where I can take it?”

“How about you, Ryan?” I ask, turning my attention to the lesser of two evils. “What are your plans?”

“Well,” he says thoughtfully. “Since Katie and I won’t be able to see each other until the last episode airs, I guess I’ll just hang out with my friends and surf. Then figure things out.” Ryan lets go of Katie’s hand to loosen his tie. After he finishes, he slides both hands slyly into his pockets. A look of brief annoyance flashes across Katie’s face, but is replaced quickly with a fake smile.

“We’ll see each other,” she says to him. “No one really stops seeing each other during that time. They just sneak around.”

Ryan shrugs his shoulders and opens a bottle of water from the table.

An uncomfortable silence fills the air. Thankfully, the van pulls up the drive to take us down to our cars for the last time. I say my goodbyes to Ryan and Katie and clamber into the van behind Christine and several of the other producers.

I give it six months before Katie is single and back in Palm Beach selling condos.

Ahhh, sweet nectar.
I take a long, slow sip of my lemon drop martini.
I’m sorry I’ve neglected you for so long.
This is the first one I’ve had since working on the show, and I have to say, it’s a little sip of heaven.

I turn away from the bar to survey the room. For once, I’m fashionably late. Tonight is an impromptu wrap party for the production team, and it looks like everyone’s had a two-hour head start on celebrating.

Christine wasn’t kidding when she said the party was going to be at a dive bar. So far, every surface I’ve managed to touch in the last five minutes is sticky. As I tread over peanut shells on the floor, I realize I actually prefer places like this. It’s the only type of bar in L.A. that you don’t have to worry about what you’re wearing, or what everyone else is wearing. It reminds me of the bars back home where my friends and I used to flash our fake IDs and never get caught.

Once my eyes adjust to the dark surroundings, I find Christine at the other end of the room and head over to her.

Bah,
she’s talking to Knit Cap; too late to turn back now. “Hey, guys,” I say, taking another sip of my drink.

“Hey, Abs, how you doing?” Knit Cap asks.

“I’m fine, Tom. You?”

“I’m good now that I’ve got this beer in my hand. Holla!” Knit Cap shouts, waving his hand in the air. “Well, alright there, pretty ladies, I’ll catch you later.” Knit Cap clicks his tongue and slinks off.

Well, I guess it’s official. His creepy crush for me has finally run its course. I turn back to Christine and pretend to wipe sweat off my forehead. “Phew, that was close. You can thank me now for rescuing you.”

Christine gives me a half smile then looks back over at Knit Cap, who has managed to wedge himself into a red vinyl booth of giggling PAs. “What are they all laughing at?” she says rather bitterly. “He’s not that funny.”

I watch as young Leslie, Katie’s PA, playfully hits Knit Cap on the arm.

“Who knows? They’re young and foolish. He’s probably giving Leslie some dumb come-on like, ‘Was your dad a baker? Because you have a nice set of buns.’”

Christine turns back around and slams her bottle of beer on a table next to us. “Whatever. I have to pee,” she says and storms off.

Rohhhh,
what did I say? Okay, I should go after her, but that would mean leaving my drink unattended and I’m having a love affair with it right now. I glance down at the beckoning yellow liquid swimming around in my glass, and finally make the difficult decision to check on my friend. The drink will be here when I return.

As I’m about to follow her into the bathroom, Will appears next to me. He looks disheveled, but in a cute way. His Levis are old and worn in and fit him just right. He’s got on a wrinkled, baby-blue, button-down oxford shirt, and is wearing a pair of tattered-looking sneakers. My heart begins to pound away, something it’s become accustomed to doing any time Will and I are alone together. I pick up my drink and take a huge gulp. He smiles at me.

“Hey there. So, you glad it’s all over?”

“Well,” I say, treading carefully, “I won’t miss the hours. But I’ll miss everyone for sure. How about you?”

“I’m relieved this part is done, but post will be brutal. We’re waiting on network notes for the first two episodes.” He looks down at his shoes and frowns. “It won’t be the same in the bays without you.”

That’s it. My heart has officially gone into cardiac arrest. I open my mouth to reply, but feel a heavy arm plop down around my shoulders. I turn and find the arm is attached to Grant. He reeks of whisky and tortilla chips.

“Hey, there’s my girl,” Grant says.

“How’s it going, Grant?” Will asks.

“Can’t complain. Starting my new show in a few weeks. And I’m taking this one with me.” Grant shakes my shoulders, slurring his words.

“That’s great. Well, you guys have fun tonight,” says Will. “I’m going to make the rounds.”

Don’t go!

“Oh, uh, okay,” I say, attempting to shrink away from Grant’s death grip. “I’ll come say goodbye before I take off.”

Will gives us a little nod, and walks away. I want to smack Grant’s arm off my shoulder but can’t because he too has sauntered off.
Bastard.

Placing my drink on the table, I squeeze my way through the crowd of production people, stopping to say a few brief hellos, before heading over to the bathroom.

Inside, Christine is at the sink, reapplying her pale pink lip-gloss.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

Rubbing her lips together to distribute the gloss evenly, Christine looks at me through the mirror. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long six weeks.”

I frown and turn to face her. “Are you sure? You seemed kind of upset out there.”

Christine takes her hands and messes up her hair. “I’m fine. Come on, let’s get another drink.”

Hmm, fine with me. Nothing like drowning your sorrows in germy beer nuts and sweet alcoholic drinks. Now that the show is over, I’m really going to have to face the music and find a new apartment before the next job starts.

As we head back to the bar, I can just make out Will talking to Lisa in the corner of the room. She’s leaning against the wall next to him, her head tilted flirtatiously to one side. Thankfully, Will’s hands are placed firmly in his pockets, but that doesn’t mean anything. They could easily have been weaved lovingly through her hair minutes beforehand. He might have been pissy with her last night, but it seems like they’re getting along just fine now.

I grab Christine’s arm. “Look at Will and Lisa,” I say. “They look like a couple, don’t they?”

She glances over and shrugs. “Who knows. Maybe they had a locationship. Everyone else hooked up on set.”

That is not the answer I was digging for. “Oh well, who cares, right?” I swallow hard. “Wait, who else was hooking up?”

Christine doesn’t seem to hear me and orders another beer from the bar.

As if it’s not already loud enough in here, someone decides to put on really cheesy house music. The thumping of the bass is giving me a headache, and although I’ve pretty much just arrived, the music has almost sealed the deal for my early departure. I turn back around to try and catch another glimpse of Will and Lisa, but instead see a horrifying sight:
Knit Cap dancing.

Beside him is Leslie, dancing seductively in a pair of skin-tight black jeans and four-inch heels. At first her arms are draped around his neck as she gyrates to the beat. But as the music gets faster and louder, Leslie turns around, grinding her ass into his crotch. It’s a train wreck, a big, messy, yucky train wreck. What’s worse, Knit Cap is completely getting off on it. He’s trying to keep with the beat, but has absolutely no rhythm whatsoever. It looks as if he’s having some kind of seizure.

“Oh high holy hell,” I yell over the music at Christine, who’s also watching the debacle.

“I was going to leave early until I saw this. It’s just too damn good to miss.”

Christine’s eyes begin to take on a glassy effect, as if she’s about to cry. “I need a smoke. Will you come outside with me?”

“Since when do you smoke?”

“Whenever I’m drinking. Will you come?”

I look closer and see that she’s definitely getting teary-eyed. Something is seriously wrong. “Sure.”

Once outside, Christine lights a cigarette. I’m reminded of Zoë and her penchant for stress-smoking. Sadness rushes over me like a wave. I sigh to myself, and focus my attention on Christine.

“Seriously, what is going on? What’s the matter?”

Christine takes a deep breath, as one lone tear rolls down her cheek. “Promise me you’re not going to say anything to anybody.”

“What is it?”

“Swear to me.”

“I swear.”

“Tom and I were hooking up.”

I blink several times, and shake my head in confusion. “Tom? Please tell me you’re not talking about Knit Cap.”

Christine takes a drag, and turns her head to one side to blow out the smoke, nodding at the same time.

“Christine,” I say, drawing out both syllables.

Christine wipes another tear away with the base of her hand, and sniffs loudly. “I know. I know. You don’t have to tell me.”

“I had no idea. I never saw you guys together.”

Christine looks down at her feet ashamedly. “Remember when I asked you to get my purse from Katie’s bedroom?”

My mind takes a second to register, and then it all comes together. The variety pack of condoms in her purse, her absence during the stripper party…Good God. Were they the couple in the hedge maze? This explains why they were both so weird the night we cut the reel for Katie.

“He was different with me than everybody else. He told me he had feelings for me, he said I was special. I would never go for a guy like that, but he wore me down. He said he wasn’t happy in his marriage.”

“Did he ever tell you he was going to leave her?”

“No.” She sniffs again. “I know I was stupid. I know he used me, but I really thought I loved him.”

How she could love that balding troll is beyond my comprehension. I wish I could think of something comforting to say but all I can think of is why.
Why, for the love of God, why?

“So, what happened?” I ask.

“He said that he wanted to end things with me a few days ago.” She takes a deep, labored breath and then begins to sob. “He—he—said that he was going to try to work things out with his wife. What could I do? How could I argue with that? But then tonight…with Leslie…and the dancing. He’s such a fucker!”

“Christine, you can’t take this personally, you know the man is a lech.”
Not to mention, newly married and seriously repulsive.
I want to tell her that she got out by the skin of her teeth, and if she were still with him, I would tell her to run. Run like the wind! But that’s not what she wants to hear.

I’m really surprised by this. I know she’s naïve, but I didn’t think she was dumb. She not only hooked up with a married man, but she chose the worst man in the history of worst men. It was bound to end in tears, and, knowing Knit Cap, possibly a venereal disease.

She’s waiting for me to say something comforting, but I’m at a complete loss. I have no idea how to go about this without lecturing her. But before I can begin, the door to the bar opens, and out walks Lisa.
Great.

Automatically, Christine begins to wipe at her tear-streaked eyes, leaving black mascara smears down her cheeks. Lisa walks straight over to us. “Are you okay?” she asks in a concerned tone.

Christine begins to sob again, stumbling over her words. “N-n-n-o.”

“What happened?” Lisa asks, putting her hand on Christine’s shoulder in a strangely supportive manner.

We meet again, Lisa-Bot.

Christine drops her cigarette down on the floor and mashes it with the toe of her strappy sandal. “My boyfriend and I broke up a few days ago,” she replies, wisely not mentioning Knit Cap’s name. “And I just saw him with another girl. God, I’m such an idiot. I knew he was an asshole and I still fell for him.”

Lisa digs around in her Coach hobo bag and pulls out a discreet little packet of tissues, handing one to Christine. “I’m so sorry. The thing is, you cannot let this get to you.” Lisa touches Christine’s shoulder again. “We’ve all fallen for the wrong guys.”

Shit, why didn’t I say that?

“But you have to remember that you are a beautiful, strong, smart young woman.”

Or that…

“He obviously doesn’t deserve you.”

Uh, yeah, that would have been good too.
Okay, I am officially the worst, most judgmental friend on the planet.

“And the other woman you saw him with, he’s going to do the exact same thing to her that he did to you. So feel sorry for her.” Lisa smiles a sad smile. “No guy is worth it, Christine. Seriously. You are better than this.”

Christine stops crying but I’m not sure if it’s because she feels better, or if it’s because she’s in as much shock as I am. “Thanks,” she mumbles. “I feel so stupid.”

“Don’t. You’re not stupid, okay? It happens to the best of us.”

Christine blows her nose. “Thank you.”

And just when I think things can’t get much weirder, Lisa leans in and hugs Christine. The last time I saw Lisa show any kind of human emotion was with Katie, but I thought it was purely for show. Maybe Hitler does have a heart.

Lisa asks Christine if she’s going to be okay, and Christine tells her yes. Christine then tells us both that she’s going to take off.

“I’m not in the mood to party. I just want to go home, put on my sweats and eat crap. But seriously, thank you so much, Lisa. I really appreciate it.”

Lisa smiles warmly. “If you ever need to talk, you know where to find me, okay?”

Christine leans over to give me a cursory hug, and walks off toward her car.

Lisa heads back toward the bar. I know I have to swallow my pride and say something because she did exactly what I wasn’t able to do. She was, dare I say it? Cool.

“Hey, Lisa?”

She turns around and the warm smile she gave Christine is replaced by an icy stare.

“I just wanted to say thank you. That was really sweet of you. I think she feels a lot better. She needed to hear those things, and, well, you were really great. You knew just what to say. So, thanks for that.”

Lisa continues to glare at me for a second before shrugging her shoulders. “Uh huh,” she mutters, walking back into the bar, leaving the door to shut in my face.

Jesus!
What did I ever do to make this woman hate me so much?

I wait a second to compose myself before heading back inside. I look around and see little cliques of crewmembers chatting away. In an intimate corner, Knit Cap and his new victim are whispering and gazing into each other’s eyes. Christine had the right idea. Sweats and eating crap. That’s the only way to go.

After giving my goodbye hugs to the crew, I do a final search for Will, but he’s nowhere to be found. I find Grant standing at the bar, doing shots with one of the camera guys. “Hey, I’m taking off. Have you seen Will?” I ask.

Grant downs his shot, and follows it with a beer chaser. “Wooo, dude, that one was strong!” he says to no one in particular.