The maître d' seats us. I order the most expensive Chablis, knowing it’s what Liesa would want. She has expensive tastes, and as long as the show pays, she insists on indulgence. I hate Chablis. Even the best are too sweet. But I learned to go with Liesa’s flow.

She sips and we talk about a party we’ve been invited to and whether we want to go. Jeri, the director, thinks it would be good to go. Earlier, she tried to convince Liesa to find some guy to flirt with so we could argue about it later. I’d hated the idea but after seeing Kylie in the lobby, I’m trying to convince Liesa we ought to go, after all. Liesa seems distracted and sad under her usual big TV persona. Sometimes even she needs time away from the drama. I feel sorry for the way she is pushed and prodded. Most of her life is an acting job and I wonder when and if she ever gets to be authentic.

Liesa seems to be going through the motions as far as the show is concerned. She hasn’t said anything to me, but I know she hates the dog and pony routines Jeri insists on.

Liesa’s mother, Simone, was her usual sparring partner. Now, the focus is on us. We’d had episodes of getting together. Now we need a new direction, even if that means bickering.

Simone has been largely written out this season. She is having liposuction and a facelift in some European spa and doesn’t want the viewing public in on it. So the script calls for her mother sequestering herself at a spiritual retreat in Bali. As far as the TV audience and media knows, she’s doing the whole Eat, Pray, Love thing without the eating and loving. We know she’s basically praying she’ll stay young and beautiful and isn’t afraid to throw a fortune at the effort.

Liesa pecks my cheek, something I hate as much as Niles hates Democrats. “I’ve got to go to the little girls’ room.”

Kylie doesn’t peck.

She’d never say “little girls’ room.”

Stop comparing everyone and everything to Kylie.

I might feel bad for Liesa having to create all the angst and drama every week. But staged or not, dealing with her fits and big emotions, not to mention dodging Jeri’s ever more ridiculous plot lines, is exhausting for me, and I’m only a supporting actor. Although, if Jeri or Jonas heard me say actor, they’d drag me over hot coals. In reality TV, there were no actors, only people living real lives.

Liesa can’t want out of this circus any more than I do. But we’re both being held hostage and we need to work together.

To save Kylie.

As much as the memory of that shower and the moments I spent with Kylie never leave me, I hate remembering what happened after. Why I have to stay away from her. That only a few months ago I was sitting in Knightly’s office when it all came crashing down...

I sit in a padded chair opposite Jonas, across the expanse of his Cherrywood desk. He drums his fingers on the polished surface and grins at me. Although he isn’t a tall man, he has an athletic build, a friendly face, and a manner that brings everyone onto his team. Everyone who doesn’t hate him as much as I do. “You scored big on that one, amiright?”

Shit. I’d thought about sex as a game so many times, racking up points and winning. But Kylie is different. I want to punch Jonas for being so crude. I clutch the arms of my chair and don’t say anything.

Jonas jumps up and races to the bar along one wall of his plush office. “As I recall, you’re a G&T man.”

Ice clinks in crystal and a quoosh sounds as he opens a bottle of tonic. I stare out the floor to ceiling window behind Jonas’s chair. Palm trees wave in the breeze and the ocean stretches beyond the tony condos, widening into endless blue until it blends with the sky.

Another day in paradise.

All I can think about is Kylie and the terrible things I’d said about her.

Here and willing.

Like being with her wasn’t the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me.

Like it was about as life-changing as catching a bus.

I’ll never forgive myself for hurting her like that. At the time, I’d only been trying to keep Liesa from coming undone. When the camera popped up, my first thought was to protect Kylie. Now I’d created so much damage to Kylie it might never be repaired.

Jonas brings the drink over and hands it to me. I don’t want it but I take a long drag on it, anyway. Maybe I can numb myself.

“I gotta tell you, at first I was pissed. It’s like you threw an interception. Holy shit, you were supposed to be fucking Liesa. That’s what I’m paying you for.” Jonas settles back in his leather chair and pulls a gold coaster from his desk drawer to cradle his sweating crystal. “I thought about firing you outright.”

I wish he would fire me.

Niles and Mom had gotten fed up with my poor behavior and forced me to take this job with Jonas. If I succeed in deflowering the famous Virgin Bitch on TV, I’ll be paid enough money I can probably buy my own island. If I fail, I’ll lose not only the payoff, but forfeit my inheritance. I’ll be penniless, with one year shy of a college degree under my belt. That would leave me working my way from counter help to manager at McDonald’s. Not my idea of a great life.

Bob had his camera trained on Liesa and me that night and Kylie had slipped away unidentified. I’m not sure how I’ll get myself out of this. All I want is to run from this damned office and find Kylie. Maybe I can explain the show and my desperation. She has to believe me.

We’ll go away somewhere together. Other young people start out with nothing and make happy lives. We’re smart and ambitious and together, can conquer the world.

We don’t need money. Not his and not my parents’.

Jonas can go fuck himself.

So can my mom and dad.

And if Kylie won’t forgive me then I’ll slink away knowing that I didn’t let a couple of dickface assholes like my dad and Jonas Knightly get the better of me.

“Look—” I set my glass on his desk and plant my hands on the arms of my chair. “I just came by to tell you that I’m out.” I stand. “I don’t give fuck all about the money. Keep it. Cut me out. Toss me in the gutter—whatever. I’m done.”

Jonas watches me. “But then, I thought, hell, let’s run the interception in for a touchdown.” It’s like I never said a word.

Interceptions? Touchdowns? Does this guy even know how to talk in a straight line? “Did you hear me?” I lean over his desk and glare down at him. “It’s over. I’m out. Get someone else to play Prince Charming in your fucked-up fairytale.”

Glaring up at me, he grabs his drink and rocks back in his chair, thudding his soft leather loafers on the shiny surface. “We get this girl, whatever her name is, to join the cast. I can—”

“No.”

Jonas’s lips turn up in amusement. “Bullseye.”

Shit. I shouldn’t have reacted.

“She’s just some chick.” Jonas smells blood, or ratings, and he’ll go after Kylie. I can’t let that happen. “Not someone we want on the show.”

Jonas sips his drink and studies me. “I think she’s not someone you want on the show.”

I shrug and try to act like it doesn’t matter.

He crosses his ankles propped on the desk. “Who is she?”

“I told you—just some chick.” My heart hammers against my chest. “I don’t know her name. Don’t know anything about her. It was one of those things.” Last week, picking up a girl for a good time was sport. I try to remember how I might have acted then. Casual, no harm, consenting adults, sex means nothing. Just trying to feel good.

A sudden surge of rage brands me. Here I am again, my heart twisted and wrung dry by some girl who doesn’t seem to care about me. First, it was Lexi, a girl I’d started dating when we were in high school. I thought she was the love of my life and we’d be together forever. Then she decided she wanted to date around. I thought I’d never love again. In fact, I was hell-bent on making my life one constant party. Drinking, fucking, waking up hungover, wash, rinse, repeat.

Then I fell into Kylie’s world, fucked it up, and suddenly, my heart came alive again. Then, I hurt her. Did and said some things I’ll never be able to forgive myself for. She won’t give me the chance to talk to her, tell her I’m sorry and explain I was only trying to protect her.

Can you blame her?

All you’ve done since the moment she laid eyes on you is make a mess of her life. And like the fact that you ripped her life apart wasn’t enough, you hurt her. Treated her like a cheap whore. Said she didn’t matter when the truth is she’s the only thing that does.

Jonas drops his feet and sits forward. “I can find out. I’ve got people who do this kind of work.” He starts to tap on his computer keyboard. “I’m sure I can make it worth her while to join the cast.”

“She said that was her last night on the island.” The lie springs easily. “Flying out the next morning.”

Jonas types and watches his screen. “Where does she live?”

“I don’t know. We weren’t much on conversation.” I try for a manly chuckle.

He stops typing and considers me. “You’re lying to me. I’m going to find this girl, with or without your help.”

I probably look like a deer in headlights. I have to protect Kylie from Jonas, no matter what. “Look, what do I have to do for you to leave her alone?”

He leans back, the springs in his chair squealing, and folds his hands on his chest. “My goal here son, is to make some serious bank on this show before the fickle public has enough of Liesa Temple for good. So, here’s the deal.”

I want to throw up.

“You get the ratings up 10% this season, and I’ll leave this little dish out of the mix.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

He raises his eyebrows. “You’ve already agreed to pop Liesa’s cherry, which, I will remind you, you haven’t succeeded in doing. But if you want me to stay away from Shower Girl, you bring the ratings up within the first four episodes in the coming season. How you do that is entirely up to you.”

Liesa returns from the restroom, creating a stir as the famous girl struts across the restaurant. She ignores Bob and Lurch. Instead, she slides into the booth and snuggles next to me. She kisses me, no doubt leaving a smudge of her signature peach lipstick around my lips where she’s mashed hers against me.

Quit wanting Kylie.

She squeezes my thigh, her signal to get me to go full-on Liesa’s Life. I throw my arm around her shoulder and lean into her, pinning her to the back of the booth and planting a Hollywood, tongue attack, kiss on her.

Make this Kylie.

She wriggles against me, little moaning and squeaking noises coming from her, all intended for good TV. Finally, she plants her hands on my shoulders and pushes me back.

In a display of irritation, I sit back and grab my wine. I take a sip and wince from the sweet, although TV viewers might assume the sour look is for Liesa.

She opens her eyes wide and by some magic she’s perfected, they filled with tears. “I’m sorry, Zach. It’s just, well….”

In the give and take and manipulation of viewers, Jeri and Jonas have decided to create sympathy for Liesa this season. Slowly, Liesa is revealing that all her earlier bad behavior was merely a smokescreen for a girl who is too sensitive and insecure.

Now, she’s supposed to fall in love with me. Be vulnerable, and together we’ll slowly make our way to the season finale of me carrying her into her posh, white, luxury bedroom, and close the door on the camera.

But before then, we have to up the drama.

I give her an obviously forced smile. “I understand. I want it to be right for you. It’s just.” Big, dramatic sigh. “It’s tough on me, you know. I want you so much. And I don’t know how long I can wait.” Saying this shit out loud makes me want to gag.

She blinks back tears. And here’s where she winds up to goes all feminist on me. “Are you going to give me all that bullshit about men’s needs? Because I don’t want to hear that crap.”

I look away from her. God, I hate playing this game, but I need to keep it up or Kylie will be the victim. “I’m being patient, Liesa. Because I really care about you. I just want to know you’re in this with me. Don’t play with me.”

She places a palm against my cheek. “I care about you, too. And I want you to be my first. Maybe my only.”

Oh my god. How do people watch this shit?

I kiss her forehead and practically hear every woman in America let out a collective, swooning sigh. “You’re so beautiful.” Because what else am I going to say? Jonas and Jeri are always riding my ass about not being good at improvisation.

She sparkles. “You know, I’m not hungry after all. Let’s walk along the beach.”

What? Maybe her insistence that we come here for scallops was all for the show, but it’s the one bit of tonight I’m looking forward to. She might not be hungry but my blood sugar is so low I’m one breadstick away from going full-on werewolf.

She slides out of the booth and tugs on my hand. I make sure the cameraman gets a good shot of my eye roll.