Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 95609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
“Somehow I think they’ll manage,” Joe says. “We’re making history tonight.”
“People still want to take breaks,” Patrick insists.
Joe puts an arm around his shoulder as they start to walk out the door. It’s a fraternal thing, but Patrick looks uncomfortable. Not a huggy guy.
“That’s why I have you to deal with all the union drivel,” Joe is saying.
The door closes and Christy holds up what I can only describe as if a sunbeam was a dress. A way-too-short dress. It’s gold and made of sequins and glitter.
“Perfect,” she says. “And I hope you can walk in five-inch stilettos because I’ve got a pair of Louboutins that match this dress perfectly. You’re an eight, right?”
I’m not, but it won’t be the first time I give up comfort for style.
I sigh and pray I make it through the night.
Chapter Six
“He’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen,” a brunette says as she sips on the champagne production has so helpfully provided. “I can’t wait to see him in person. I’ve never met a king before. Well, I met the king of our local corn parade, but Dennis Dully doesn’t count. He’s not like historic or anything. His dad’s just rich. I’m Hannah. I like your dress.”
I stand in what’s serving as a green room. I’m last on the list to make my “entrance.” One by one each gorgeous woman has had her name called, makeup hurry around her to ensure she’s sheer perfection, and then she’s led out to meet her doom/possible true love. I’m feeling the doom vibe heavily. Hannah is the first person to talk to me. She’s maybe twenty-two and on at least her second glass of champagne.
“Thanks. I didn’t exactly pick it out, but it’s nice,” I admit. When I’d first walked in, about half of the contestants had been inside, each wearing some version of formal wear. One woman had obviously taken her cue from Kate Middleton’s wedding dress, complete with tiara. It was a whole bag of elegantly dressed cats. “Can I get you a water? I suspect there’s going to be a lot of booze at the cocktail party. They do that on reality shows to heighten emotions.”
It’s predatory, and the sober ones are usually the first ones to leave the show. Despite the true love aspect of the production I’m on, the king won’t be making all the decisions alone. The producers will “advise” him. They’re not about to let go of a scene-chomping villain before they absolutely have to.
“She should keep drinking because it’s the only fun she’s going to have tonight. There’s no way she makes it through.”
Yes, the villain is in the house.
“That’s Shelby,” another voice whispers. “She’s super mean. Ignore her. I’m Ashley. There are two other Ashleys, so I’m Ashley F. Did you take Brittany’s place? I heard she got the call to be a corpse on the new Law and Order and grabbed it with both hands. I would have, too. I heard the corpse is a sex worker. It’s the best corpse you can possibly play.”
I’m torn between asking why sex workers make the best corpses—sounds a little serial killer to me—and introducing myself to Shelby. I can probably fit my painful stiletto all the way up her ass.
But I’ve vowed to fly under the radar. “Hannah, why don’t you come over here? You’ve got a stray hair.”
She looks like she’s on the verge of tears, and that will send hair and makeup into a tizzy.
Patrick opens the door, pointedly ignoring me. “Shelby, we’re ready for you on set.”
The obvious villain of the group straightens up to her impressive height. She’s supermodel tall, with long dark hair and a patrician face. She could be a member of royalty and she knows it. There’s something cold about her blue eyes. “Time to meet my future husband. Good luck, girls.”
It is plain to see she thinks we’ll need it.
“Wow, she’s a lot,” I say because I can be charitable. When I’m working as an assistant again, I’m going to weaponize some incompetence when it comes to her. Also, I’ll be in the editing room if the director keeps his promise. I’ll find every time she looks constipated and make that her still shot of the day.
“Don’t mind her,” Hannah says, giving me a watery smile. She sips her champagne like a champ. “She’s nothing more than another mean girl.”
Ashley F shakes her head. “Nah. She’s like all the mean girls rolled into one skinny designer bag with supermodel legs. Everyone thinks she’s going to win. She’s nice to all the men on the production crew. She’ll be sweet to the king, and he won’t see what a massive bitch she is until it’s far too late. It’s a tale as old as time. She’s practically got the tiara on her head.”