Jackson, Jay, Jake or whatever his name is
12 months ago, give or take.
“Hello, who’s this?”.
“Oh good, you’re awake. Good morning, how are you today?”
Bloody receptionist obviously doesn’t understand the word emergency. As in, “do not disturb unless it’s an emergency”. Which this isn’t, unless someone has died which I highly doubt judging by my sister’s tone of voice.
“Who’s this?” I ask, stalling.
“Jay! It’s me, your favourite sister!”
“I only have one sister” I reply, grumpily. I glance at my phone, which is on silent. To NOT be disturbed. I see I have several missed calls from Rory. I also notice it’s only 5AM.
“Ye-es, which automatically makes me your favourite. How are things in Lala land? Is it sunny today?”
“What do you want, Aurora?” I grunt.
”Who says I want something? Can’t a big sister phone her little brother for a chat?”
“Rory, it’s 5AM. You didn’t call me to talk about the weather. Out with it”.
“You’re no fun” she sighs. “Alright then, I need a teeny-weeny favour”.
I close my eyes and rub my neck. When my sister says she needs a teeny-weeny favour, it doesn’t mean she needs a dinner suggestion, or a file or something. Nope. She needs a MASSIVE favour.
“I’m not going to like this, am I?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“Well……” she starts. “You know how we started S four of RP, and how six girls and guys went into the house on Monday, with another two girls and two guys joining them soon?”
“Yes” I reply tersely. “I know how the show works.”
“We got a lot of comments last year about lack of diversity. So, this year we have an Indian, two blacks, a Welsh and two Scots. Oh, and a girl who swings both ways so that ticks the LGBTQ+ column quite nicely. We looked into getting a disabled one, but that required a whole lot of extra Health and Safety stuff, so for now that’s on the back burner. Luckily, Gerry got us the next best thing. A fat girl”.
“I’m sorry, what???”
“Fat” my sister deadpans. “Well, not grossly obese, more plus size fat. You do remember Gerry from casting, right? Gerry’s friend of a friend sent in this audition video, which was, for lack of a better word, different. One of the girls inconveniently got engaged to her on-off boyfriend so they got this fat one to replace her”.
“And?” I say, confused by the who’s who and not quite sure what this has to do with me, as I don’t handle that side of production. “Get to the point, I’m busy”.
“Busy with what?” Rory laughs. “You just said it’s 5AM. So unless you have a hot blonde in bed with you, what can possibly be more important than helping your favourite sister with a small little thing?”
I decide to ignore her comment about a hot blonde or my bed, because my sex life is none of my sister’s business and quite frankly, it’s been a while since I have shared my bed with anyone else besides my neighbour’s cat Theo, and that’s only when I’m home and currently, I’m not. I groan inwardly and wait for my sister to continue, which takes less than a second because when Rory is on a mission, you cannot get a word in unless she deliberately gives you the silence.
“The girl is in as a mole. She’s befriending the others and getting inside information we can use. She’s not like anyone we’ve had before, and we weren’t sure how the public were going to react. Yvonne and Michael had their doubts, but I knew she’d be a success, and of course I was right because the public love her! Social has gone mental, but now there’s a bit of a problem: there isn’t a suitable guy for her. Viewers are questioning her chances to find love, saying it’s not fair on her and we are purposely setting her up for a failure”.
“Okay”.
I can see how that would be a problem. The success of the show is based on there being someone for everyone. We deliberately cast them with potential matches in mind. And every season needs a controversial candidate or two, because nothing gets the public going more on socials than a good villain. It becomes a problem when the public love a character, but it’s obvious there is not going to be a match. The solution is to bring someone in specifically for that person. I am about to remind my sister of that, but she is one ahead of me.
“So, we found an actor who said he’s not too fussy about looks and for the right participation fee and exposure he is prepared to seduce the fat girl and keep the public happy. He travelled to Paris yesterday so he could catch a flight to Paradise asap but last night he had a run-in with a stag party, and someone ended up in hospital. Our guy got arrested so there is no way he’ll be able to go in on Monday”.
“Sounds like a real charmer,” I say dryly. “Might actually be a lucky escape for us”.
Rory ignores my comment and continues. “That means I need you”.
“What for?”
“I need you to fly out to Guadeloupe and take his place”.
I bark out a laugh. But her reply is silence. I realise she is serious.
“Are you mental?” I ask.
This time she is quick to answer. “Of course not”. Rory sighs impatiently. “I-need-you-to-fly-to-Guadeloupe-and-take-his-place” Aurora declares in a tone that sounds like she is asking her 3-year-old to put his shoes on.
“No”.
“Jackson….” My sister says in a warning voice.
“Aurora” I answer, in the same voice. “I am going to assume that you have temporarily lost your mind. Because you know there is no way I would EVER do it. Plus, even if I wanted to, I have budgets to sort, meetings to attend and I am about to close a deal with a studio here. I cannot possibly get away right now”.
“Nonsense! Andy can handle the budgets, and your assistant is perfectly capable of closing the deal on your behalf. You told me it’s just the contracts left, right?”
I groan internally. “ALEXA, remind me to not share information with my sister again”.
Rory laughs.
“You’re so funny little bro. Anyway, like I said, we need you to …….”
“Aurora, no. We made a deal when we took over the business from mum and dad. You’re the face of the business; I’m the brains behind the scenes. Unless I really must, I don’t do public stuff anymore”.
“Jay, all you must do is show up, be nice to the girl, enjoy the sunshine, palm trees and relax. You can ignore the cameras. Once the three weeks are up, you fly back home and get on with your life. It’s what normal people call a holiday. When have you last had one of those, brother?”.
“RP is not a holiday! If I wanted a holiday, I would not spend it with a bunch of fame-hungry wannabes. Been there, done that, and got the hangover!”
“Jay, oh for God’s sake. Stop being a drama queen. Sure, when what’s her name fucked you over and broke your heart, I totally got why you withdrew and took time to lick your wounds. That’s only natural. What’s not natural though, is that we are five years on, and you still refuse to act like a normal human. You avoid all contact, even with those who care about you, and when you do show up you are a miserable sod. We’re all worried about you, but no-one dares to tell you because whenever we try you rip our heads off. It needs to stop!”
I am silent. Have I been that bad? Surely not?
I think about the last few family meetings I have attended. Okay, I missed the annual Christmas party, but I was there for Christmas Day. I even played that stupid game they wanted to play on the Nintendo. And I brought a cake. Well, I had one delivered from Harrods. My assistant has great taste.
Rory takes my silent stewing as permission to continue. “Time to come out of hiding” she declares in an upbeat voice, as if it’s easy to do.
It’s not. When The Bitch pulled her stunt and left me, the last thing I wanted to do was smile at photographers shouting questions at me. My friends and family looked at me with pity in their eyes whilst acquaintances and strangers whispered about me behind my back.
“Listen, I know that going on RP isn’t your first choice”.
“Or my last” I mutter.
Rory ignores it.
“Really not my thing Ro”.
“Please Jay” she says in a pleading voice. “I really need you”.
“Why me? Surely there are hundreds of hopeful wannabe reality TV stars who cannot wait to get their chance in the limelight” I ask.
“Can you just trust me for once, little bro? Don’t say no just yet. I am going to re-send you the episodes we’ve aired so far, because I doubt you will have seen them with your super busy schedule, and I will include the bio and audition video of this girl. Watch them, then decide. I will give you a call later.”
“Okay” I sigh. If watching them gets my sis off my back for a few hours, I am prepared to do that. Still not going to Paradise though.
No fucking way.
*****
Rory is quick, as I have the files on my drive within minutes. I bet she had them ready and waiting, only needing to press the upload button.
There are two folders. One is called RP S4 eps, the other one is simply labelled “Becky”.
I open that one first, and it contains a video and a bio. I click on the video.
“Yo, this is Becky! Listen up big producer guy, because if you don’t you will be sooooryyyyy”.
What. The. Hell?
I watch in stunned silence whilst a very drunk girl rambles on about how Romance Paradise needs her as it was a shitstorm last year (she is not wrong there) and she is the only one who can save the show (doubtful). With her are four other girls and behind her I can see a dimly lit bar and a whole lot of other people in various stages of inebriation. The video ends with the girl saying: “So vote for me, Rebecca Elisabeth Howard!” and the people around her cheering for her.
I am dumbstruck. In all my years working in TV, I have never seen an audition video like it.
And they ACTUALLY hired this girl?
I groan, rub both my hands over my face in exasperation and silently curse. I don’t have any actual words, apart from the fact that we can forget about a Romance Paradise season 5 renewal, that’s for sure. Because there will be NO CHANCE in hell we will get sponsors or investors to secure the funding if this is what we allow on our show.
And what is my sister thinking, suggesting I should romance this…. this drunken ass bird.
Even IF I was considering answering her plea for help, this has tipped the scale firmly into the NO FUCKING WAY category.
I order a strong pot of coffee as I have a feeling I am going to need it. Once it’s been delivered to my room, I poor myself a mug and settle back in bed with my laptop. I don’t bother reading the drunk’s bio, instead opening the video titled “Episode 1, meet the girls”.
It is exactly how I expected it to be. A parade of bikini clad, heavily made-up beauties with amazing boobs, arses and smiles. Each one of them will do well on the show, if you don’t dig too deep into their personalities. Just what the viewers love to see.
After they have introduced the first five girls, it’s the last girl’s turn. Despite having zero interest in her, I sit up straighter when she comes into view. Sober, she looks a lot more normal. My sister called her fat, but in broad daylight I can see she is not. Yes, she is no size skinny like the other girls, but I wouldn’t call her fat. Curvy is a better way to describe her.
Which is not bad for a woman. The Bitch was skinny, to the point of anorexic. She must be, or so she says, to get the modelling gigs. Every time we had sex, I worried she would break a rib or something. No, give me a curvy girl any day.
Curvy girl introduces herself as Becky and gives the camera a broad smile. She then makes a self-deprecating comment about her looks and rolls her eyes.
When she’s introduced to the other girls, you can see she feels like a fish out of water, and she hides it with smart-ass comments and funny facial expressions. The other girls don’t seem to catch on to it, apart from the red-haired Scottish one who appears to be sharper than the rest of them. There is a look passing between the two of them and I get a feeling those two together will be trouble.
My hunch is confirmed when redhead and Becky conspire to get Priscilla drunk on the first night. Good on them! I cannot stand that fake bitch and her rat dog and catch myself laughing out loud several times. I almost wish I’d been there to see how that played out. I bet Yvonne was furious.
I spend the next 6 hours watching everything Rory has sent me, including the dailies, BTS footage and diary room entries. And in every bit of footage I watch, there is one person who shines brighter than anyone else. Her laugh is infectious, her remarks sarcastic but right on point, and her observations razor sharp. She commands every shot with her presence. She isn’t what you would call gorgeous in a model kinda way, but there is something about her. Her brown eyes sparkle mischief, and she has a girl-next-door beauty that is so much more attractive than the big boobs, perfectly styled locks, whiter than white teeth and fake tan on the other girls. You just cannot help watching her, waiting with bated breath for what she is going to say or do next.
I can see why the public love her. And why they want someone for her. Because it’s so obvious that she is way too smart for the bog-standard pretty boys RP has on offer.
The thought of her hooking up with one of them gets me riles up. I don’t even know her, other than by what I have seen in the last few hours, but I know this girl deserves someone who appreciates her sense of humour, who can match it and who can give her what she needs. Not just pump her and dump her in exchange for their fifteen minutes of fame. And those fuckers currently there won’t appreciate a quality girl like her.
Whoa! Steady there, man. You almost sound jealous. What the actual?
I groan and rub my face. My eyes hurt from watching too many hours of footage on the small laptop screen. My mind is playing tricks on me. Because where did that come from?
I pour myself a stiff drink (yes, I know it’s not even lunch time, but it’s five o clock somewhere, right?). I freeze the screen on a shot of Becky in the diary room. I stare at her cheeky grin. Her brown eyes are the colour of caramel chocolate, and they sparkle under the lights. Her wavy brown hair looks like she has just rolled out of bed, and she has a sprinkle of freckles on her nose. Her plump mouth frames pearly white teeth. The sun has lightly tanned her skin, and it looks great on her.
She is everything I find attractive in a girl. There couldn’t be a bigger contrast with The Bitch. I wonder what kissing this girl Becky would be like. How her curves would feel under my hands. What it would be like to …...
My thoughts get interrupted by my phone ringing again. I pick it up and before Rory can say anything, I blurt out: “You know what? You’re right, I could do with a little break”.
“Brilliant. I knew you would come round to the idea. Stephan will be there in 20 minutes to pick you up” Rory answers.
“Twenty minutes? What the hell Rory? I am not even dressed yet!”
“Oh, are you not?” she replies in an amused voice.
I just realise I have admitted to her I was so engrossed in the footage, that I haven’t done anything else all morning.
Thank God she doesn’t say anything more.
“Just put some clothes on, don’t worry about packing stuff. Wardrobe will get you what you need. Now, I know you will be concerned with being recognised to easily, so they will also take care of your appearance. I have always wondered what you would look like as a blonde. Becky has a thing for blondes, or so I have been told by casting. Just bring your passport, and personal items you need. Oh, and your assistant has taken care of your appointments and will sort the contracts. Enjoy your holiday!”
When the line goes dead, I die a little too. OMG, what have I done?
