“They said I have the shoulders of a football player.”
Jane snorted over the phone. “First of all, that’s funny, but not at all true. I’m only laughing because you described Buzzy perfectly. I just found their Insta, and I’d say I’m sorry, but they do amazing work. They are one of the hottest wardrobe stylists now.”
I wasn’t allowed on social media now that the show was technically underway, but I was allowed to check in with Jane with a flip phone the show provided since she was running my business. Once they started recording the first episode, they were cutting me off from her and the rest of the world for at least two months.
“Well, maybe they didn’t come right out and say it, but apparently I have bad posture and walk like a Neanderthal.”
“Stop it. You’re graceful. They’re just used to dealing with red-carpet affairs and people who have been dressing for galas their entire lives,” Jane said.
I looked at myself in the mirror and straightened my shoulders, which forced me to push my average-sized boobs out. The strapless, sexy black dress I was wearing made me feel naked and vulnerable, which was par for the course, given that I was going to expose my heart on national television. Again. “I’ve been waxed in places I never imagined could be waxed.” I never thought the small hairs on my arms were noticeable, but Buzzy sent me to the waxer, who removed hair from my arms, legs, bikini area, and even the thin tiny ones above my navel. As offended as I was at the time, I had to admit that I looked fresh.
“I never noticed you were hairy except on your head.”
I leaned closer to the mirror. “They did compliment me on my eyebrows, but the waxer still found a few strays.” The facial this morning had felt wonderful. “And my face looks ten years younger. Remind me to spoil us at a spa once this is all over.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
“You deserve it for running my business for three months.” I’d given Jane my signing bonus to work more hours and find part-time help. We had enough inventory for at least a month with steady business. Jane knew how to make candles. She just didn’t have the experience or time.
“Don’t worry about the store. If things get crazy, I’ll sign on Lee from next door to help.” She’d already hired Andrew’s older sister, Annabeth, to work the afternoons until school started. Lee, their mother, popped over enough to know our business. She could slip in and help if things got too wild.
“Sounds like you’ve got this. Okay. They’re waving at me for hair and makeup. Talk to you later.”
“Right this way, Ms. Edwards.” Mandee, my hair and makeup artist, was the polite, very quiet break I needed after an endless round of tongue clicks, head shakes, and judgment-filled combination of English and German from Buzzy, my wardrobe magician. Their words, not mine.
“You have such thick, gorgeous, dark hair,” Mandee said.
“That’s probably the nicest thing anybody has said to me today,” I replied.
She shrugged. “Don’t worry about Buzzy. They are like that with everyone. Deep down, they’re harmless and a true pussy cat. Just wait until they flip the switch. You’ll notice when that happens.”
Mandee pulled up my hair on both sides in a half updo and let several waves of curls roll down my back. An hour later, it looked as though I were in a wedding. It was a spectacular effect. After spraying more product on my hair to keep it from moving at all, she started on my makeup. I couldn’t help but smile when she finished. I looked great and felt beautiful.
“Let’s get you over to your photo shoot.” We had several promotional teaser videos to make, but I was afraid to move or blink. Thankfully, everything happened at my mansion.
Denise Lawry, the director, explained we were taking a ton of photos and filming two promotional videos. One would show my back as I looked out at the ocean. The other one featured the inside of the house and ended on a blurry shot of me, focusing on a candle in my hands. Nobody knew who the next flame would be, and they were building up the reveal. They would start promoting the show next week.
Tonight, I was scheduled to sit down with Lauren and Denise and discuss the contestants—what to expect when meeting them and how to respond to the initial meeting if something didn’t feel right. Filming would start Wednesday so that the first episode would drop in a month. With a shortened season, they predicted the final ceremony in ten weeks. Seemed like a short time, but unlike The Bachelorette, this show didn’t necessarily end with a proposal.
“Put your hands on the railing and place one foot behind the other, like you’re toeing the ground behind you. Breathe normally and just enjoy the view,” Denise said.
The film crew would come in from the front door, glide through the living space, and pan in on me on the balcony. The drone would fly straight up but not show my face. I thought the technique was ridiculous, but they knew what worked in film and television. When I heard Denise yell “Action,” I took a few deep breaths and relaxed. I heard them move closer and closer until Denise yelled something else. We filmed three times before she was satisfied. I was instructed to turn around slowly and smile at the camera when she gave the command. I did that five times.
My first scripted word was “Surprised?” Then I was to act coy or smirk. That remark required more takes than I cared to count. I wasn’t as smooth as I thought I was.
“That’s a wrap for now. Mandee, take her over to the photographer, and we’ll get several snaps of her in this dress. Then let’s put her in something more comfortable.”
Three hours flew by, and after my stomach rumbled loudly for the third time, Mandee insisted on a quick lunch break. A part of me wanted to gobble everything in front of me, but the clothes Buzzy had picked fit perfectly, so I limited my intake to fruit, veggies, and a yogurt. I eyed the plate of carb-filled bagels like a starved eagle would a field full of unsuspecting mice but avoided it because my willpower sucked.
“We’re going to have you change into these yoga pants and this sweatshirt. I’ll fix your hair once you’ve changed.”
“Is this Buzzy-approved?”
Mandee hid her smile by turning to face the rack of clothing. I was sure she knew what a pain it was to work with Buzzy.
“Yes. They’re good with the look. I’m going to reapply your makeup so it appears more natural, like you’re just hanging out on a Sunday afternoon scrolling on your phone or watching romantic comedies.”
I snorted. On the rare occasions when I had downtime, I never wore a bra or makeup. Maybe I made it out of bed that day, but most of the time I stayed under the covers and got caught up on social media and different TV shows piling up in my queue. “Sounds good.” After removing my makeup and reapplying a fraction of what she just took off, she styled my hair in a bun and left a few tendrils down. “I might have to take you home with me after this.” I could never get this look on my own. I saw her blush and realized she took my words wrong. “I mean as a stylist. Your makeup skills are magical.” Her embarrassment gave way to my own, and I tried hard to stop the flush from blossoming on my cheeks. She skillfully worked around it.
“There. You look wonderful. Let’s get you over to Norman.”
I hissed out a deep sigh of relief and followed her to the other side of the house, where the show’s photographer had a small studio set up in the large library. Nobody was allowed in the room unless photos were scheduled. I sat and followed Norman’s directions to move my arms here, cross my legs this way, tilt my head up, smile, not smile. The lights were so blinding I didn’t even see Lauren slip into the room.
“Are we almost done here, Norman? We have a dinner meeting with Denise in a little bit.” She leaned over the laptop and scrolled through the photos that automatically downloaded to it. “By the way, your photos are incredible.”
Her voice made my skin tingle. I realized another reason they’d picked her besides her class and beauty was her soothing voice. And she was charming.
Norman fell under her spell immediately. “Okay, Ms. Edwards. We’re done for today,” he said.
Lauren winked at me over his shoulder. I relaxed my shoulders and rolled my neck. A break sounded wonderful. I couldn’t believe we’d been doing this for almost eight hours. Lauren pulled me up from my sitting position on the set’s floor. Her hand was firm and warm, and I instinctively took a step back because I was in her personal space. She was slightly more casual today, with her hair pulled back in a long ponytail and minimal makeup. Her outfit was still professional, and I wondered if she knew what yoga pants were or had ever walked on grass without heels.
“Do you have a preference for dinner?” Lauren asked. “Unfortunately, we can’t be seen out in public, or we’d blow our secret of you as the new flame wide open.”
“Right now, I could eat anything,” I said.
She waved me off when I grabbed the hem of the oversized sweatshirt to pull it over my head. “Just leave that outfit on. You look cozy. Plus, after being under the lights for so long, you’re probably slightly chilly.”
She wasn’t wrong. I sank back into the Supima-cotton softness and smiled. I hoped I was allowed to take some of the wardrobe home because I could live in this sweatshirt. “Seriously, anything with protein and carbs sounds delicious.” I was thinking cheeseburger, fries, and a milkshake but didn’t think that choice would be an option.
“Perfect. Josef with an ef, our chef, makes a fantastic citrus shrimp. It’s delicious.”
I should have checked my reaction before sharing it.
“Or whatever your nutritionist suggests,” Lauren said.
I sighed. “I know I have to watch my weight now, so sure, we can have that.” I was dying for a cheeseburger with fat, greasy steak fries, but I had a wardrobe to fit into, and Buzzy clicked their tongue enough at me when they had to adjust my dress every time I moved.
Lauren cocked her head as though she felt sorry for me. “I won’t tell Buzzy. Plus, it’s the first day of filming promos.”
Was she really this nice? I figured they paid her a lot of money to make sure the flames were comfortable, but was it a twenty-four-hour, seven-day-a-week job? “Honestly, I’d love a cheeseburger. I’m sure there’s something healthy about it, right?” I winced as I waited for her answer.
She crinkled her nose in the most adorable way before breaking my heart. “I promise Josef will cook something so delicious you won’t even miss the calories.”
I almost harrumphed, but at least she was trying. I already knew it would have to be sparkling water, so I didn’t even push for a milkshake. She’d probably suggest a sugar-free, almond-milk froth, if such a thing existed. “Sounds great. Lead me to the kitchen.” Surely, Josef with an ‘ef’ could throw something at me to nibble on while he hacked up some house plants for us to eat.
Denise was sitting at the kitchen island drinking a beer and writing notes on her tablet with a stylus. She was in her late fifties, with short, curly hair that had a dusting of gray close to the scalp. Her glasses were tight against her face, and she pulled them off when we approached. “What do you think of the place, Savannah?”
“This mansion is beautiful. Too bad it’s not really mine. I would love to live in Key West forever. Having a beach right outside is a dream come true.”
She handed me a longneck without asking, and I took it out of respect and, quite frankly, fear. She was intense.
“How was the photo shoot?” She looked at Lauren when she asked, and I wasn’t sure if I should answer or not.
“Savannah is very photogenic. Norman got some great shots.”
“I haven’t been this excited about the show since you came on board,” Denise told Lauren.
“This is going to be a wonderful season,” Lauren said.
It seemed impossible that somebody this sweet and nice was in the television business. I felt like a third wheel while they were having their moment.
Denise slid Lauren a beer when she sat in the high-back chair across from us. That put her two feet from me. She was truly a stunning woman. Her natural tan made her light blue eyes pop. A brush of mascara that lengthened her lashes appeared to be the only bit of makeup she had on. Her hair had natural blond streaks. She looked like a poster advertising the All-American woman. She was probably around my age, maybe older, given her resumé.
“How did Meador Entertainment convince you to join the show?” I asked. It seemed like a good starting point for any conversation.
Denise sat back in her chair with a sigh, as though she’d heard this story too many times, and Lauren gave a shaky laugh.
“Well, I was looking for something light after reporting overseas for CNN. One can handle only so much death and destruction.” She took a sip of beer and grimaced. “Also, I’ve given up on beer. I’m going to grab a glass of wine instead.”
She seemed nervous sitting with us. I watched as she expertly extracted the cork of a red and poured a glass.
“Anybody else want one?”
Since I wasn’t fond of the beer either, I nodded and slid my longneck away from me. Denise couldn’t be mad at both of us.
“It’s not the greatest, but it was cold.” Denise shrugged and finished her bottle with a final pull.
“Here, drink this.” Lauren handed her a cold water from the refrigerator. “Stay hydrated. New season, full steam ahead.” She gracefully poured a second glass that she put in front of me. Her nails were perfectly shaped and polished. She was camera-ready, too.
“You worked for CNN. That’s quite the accomplishment at such a young age,” I said.
“I was able to travel the world and got clout for covering stories nobody else wanted.”
“Why did you stop?” I asked. After a slight pause, her full lips touched the thin rim of the wineglass for a delicate sip. Was she always elegant?
“It was time to settle down.”
“I get that. I really do.” I clinked my glass against hers and couldn’t help myself from asking the obvious question. “Did you? You know, find somebody to settle down with?” Both women gaped at me. I held my hands up and leaned back. “Really? That’s offensive? I’m here so you can film me dating ten people for national television, but my questions are too much?” I held back a laugh. I didn’t want to offend them, but their reluctance to answer was pretty funny, considering how exposed I already was. “Isn’t this dinner the opportunity to get to know one another so we can feel more comfortable on set? You know everything about my love life during the last ten years. I’ve taken drug tests, STI tests, signed a thousand waivers, and that question is too much?”
Lauren squeezed my hand. “You’re completely right. This is a chance for us to get to know one another better. I’m so used to being private that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to just have a chat with a normal person who isn’t trying to interview me or pry,” she said.
Her hand was warm and soft. I wanted to smile at her comforting gesture, but it was hard because I couldn’t remember the last time somebody touched me other than during a handshake. I ended up biting my lip to keep a frown from settling in. But just then a man arrived armed with two grocery bags and a knife roll.
“What’s for dinner?” Denise asked.
I’d forgotten she was in the room with us. Lauren stood to peek inside the bags he dumped on the counter. “What are you making us?”
He turned. “Hello, Ms. Edwards. I’m Josef with an ‘ef.’” I almost laughed, but he was dead serious. That detail was obviously important to him.
I nodded and ignored the sarcastic barb teetering on my tongue. “Nice to meet you, Josef.” I might have placed more emphasis on the “ef” than I should have, but he appeared not to notice.
“I have steak, asparagus, and a salad, but I can make you whatever you would like,” he said.
I quickly forgot the cheeseburger I’d so desperately wanted. “That sounds wonderful.” Also healthier.
In fifteen minutes, he blended a butternut squash and roasted red-pepper hummus and placed a healthy serving of it with pita bread in front of us. “This is while you wait for the grill to heat. How would you like your steak prepared?”
We gave him our order and moved into the sitting room for privacy. I wanted to hear more about Lauren, but Denise had blown past that conversation and started discussing the contestants.
“Whoever started calling them sparkettes on social media should be shot. It’s bad enough we have a candle ceremony, but trying to erase that name has been a nightmare.” She turned to me. “I’m very passionate about this show and have done everything in my power to change it from a fuck-party house to a solid, entertaining show.”
That remark ruffled my feathers. “Hold up. Don’t forget I was in the original fuck-party-house season. The idea was there, the execution was not. Also, we didn’t fuck, just for the record.”
Denise shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. The first season was a trial, and you’re right. It wasn’t like that. But the second and definitely the third and fourth seasons were.”
“I didn’t watch them,” I said. As a matter of fact, I didn’t watch any seasons, not even my own. I caught a few bits and pieces, but seeing it still stung.
“Those seasons were pretty bad. They were like Temptation Island, only sleazier, if that’s even possible,” Denise said.
“Worse than anything on MTV?” I asked. They both nodded. “Good thing I did only one season.”
“And that’s why you’re so popular. You were the sweet one, and it was obvious you fell in love with her-who-should-not-be-named,” Lauren said.
That remark made me smile. “A lot has happened since then.” Not really. At least not with my love life. But I had my own business, and while it wasn’t thriving, it was mine.
“Tell us about your company,” Lauren said.
I appreciated the subject change. “I make organic candles. Strange, huh? It started in college, for one of my entrepreneurial classes. Everybody loves candles, but most of them burn chemicals that aren’t healthy.”
“So, your project started before the show?” Denise looked at me with surprise.
I frowned. “Did you think I created the store because of the show? No. Truly one of life’s coincidences. And let me tell you, the candles for the show are horrible.”
“They have to last long and look good on camera.” Denise shrugged.
“I kind of have the perfect candle for you.” I fired off a text message to Jane, which took forever since it was a flip phone. “We’ll have them by Friday. And if we don’t use them, that’s okay, but if you like them, then it’s a win-win for all of us.” I was so proud of myself for pimping my own line to the show and not backing down, even when Denise rolled her eyes.
“It can’t hurt,” Lauren said.
Lauren sat back and stretched her long legs out. I couldn’t stop myself from glancing at them. They were perfect.
“Shall we talk about the sparkettes?” she asked. Her smile was borderline devious, and for a moment, I regretted my decision, but then she gave me a genuine smile. “Seriously. I think you’re going to like the contestants we picked.”