Ryan
I stared out the window of the plane wondering exactly what Los Angeles would be like. I had never been to California, or even that far out of Indiana. I knew it would be warm, or hot, depending on the day, and I knew to expect a whole lot of people. Other than that, all I had were movies and TV shows to prepare me. Honestly, I would have stayed in a tree hut in Madagascar if the end result was five hundred grand. Of course, there I might leave with more than just a divorce, but no pain, no gain, right?
When the plane landed, I was one of the first off since the production company had been so kind as to book me a first-class flight. I had never ridden first class before, and the relaxation compared to coach was like night and day. I was so comfortable I was almost disappointed when the plane finally landed. I gathered my carry-on and headed down to the luggage claim, not too sure of where to go after I collected my bags. However, as I exited the escalator I could see a man in a chauffeur’s uniform standing at the front holding a sign with my name. I walked over to him and showed him my ID.
“Hi, I’m Ryan Carson,” I said.
“Very good, sir,” he nodded. “Right this way.”
“I have to get my luggage,” I said, pointing back at the turnstile.
“It was already picked up at the plane and is safely in the trunk of the car,” he smiled. “Two blue suitcases and a smaller red one, correct?”
“Oh. Yes, that’s right. Thank you,” I nodded, feeling slightly out of place.
There was a blacked-out Mercedes waiting for me out front, and the chauffeur opened the door for me to the backseat and headed to the hotel. We pulled up in front of the Hotel Bel-Air, which I had never heard of, but from the fancy décor and uniformed attendants, I could tell it was extremely high end. I had just enough time to put my things away and freshen up from the flight a bit, before back into the car I went to head to the offices of the production company.
When I arrived, I was escorted through the grand lobby and down hallways that looked more like the hotel than an actual workplace. I really hoped the whole extent of my stay wasn’t this grandiose. I was not that kind of guy for one thing, and I sure as hell hoped she was not that kind of woman. We stopped at the end of the hall in front of a large mahogany desk. A short brunette, young with big blue eyes, sat behind it. She looked up at me and smiled, waving her hand at the open door behind her.
“Ms. Owens is waiting for you inside,” she smiled.
Nodding, I headed into the office, stopping in the doorway and tilting my head. There was a woman rushing around who was very attractive, but a bit of a mess. She turned at the sound of me clearing my throat and smiled, her arms full of binders and papers. Her ankles swayed side to side as she wobbled a bit, trying to keep her balance in the six-inch black stilettos she was wearing.
“Yay!”
She was more enthusiastic than I could handle.
She looked around the room, trying to find a place for her mess, finally deciding on a chair against wall. She dumped the pile into the chair and stood up, one hand on her lower back, the other swiping at a rogue strand of blonde hair that had escaped from the rest which she wore pulled back. She tugged down on her tight black pencil skirt and sauntered over to her desk, which was perfectly tidy.
“Sorry about that,” she laughed. “Trying to do a little spring cleaning.”
“Spring?” I chuckled. “It feels like the dog days of summer out there.”
“That’s LA for you,” she laughed. “Please, have a seat. Would you like a Perrier? Or a glass of champagne?”
“Uh, no, I’m okay,” I replied.
Until I met her, I had never encountered an attractive woman who was both clumsy on multiple levels, yet high strung at the same time. I could almost imagine her giving herself pep talks in the mirror every morning, working out on her stair stepper, while eating a donut, tears streaming down her face from the stress of her life. She was not my type in the least.
“How was your flight?”
“It was great,” I said. “The most comfortable flight I’ve ever been on. And the hotel is beautiful.”
“Good, I’m glad you like it,” she said, pulling out a bound, very thick document. “You will of course be moving to the house as soon as the wedding is over.”
“Right,” I said with a nod, feeling a bit nervous.
“So, this is the contract,” she said. “It looks daunting and well, I won’t lie, it is. Mr. Hubert, our attorney, is on his way up to go over everything with you. It’s mostly confidentiality stuff and then rights and pay, all put together in one over-worded legal document, of course.”
“Of course,” I chuckled, never having signed any contract besides the one to buy the garage I owned, and that was six pages long.
After a few minutes of her babbling on about the clothes and the house, as if I cared about any of that, the lawyer showed up and we moved into the next room where we sat at a large conference table. He went through the contract line by line, and though I was a pretty smart guy, I might have signed my soul over to him at that point, but I was too overwhelmed to notice. By the end I was just glad to put my signature on the dotted line and be done with it. I hoped that the girl and I at least had some chemistry. I could make it work that way, otherwise it might be a bit miserable until the day I decided to get out of there.
“Okay,” Evelyn said, clapping her hands. “Let’s go into the next room.”
“All right,” I said, shaking hands with the lawyer, not at all sorry to see him go.
We walked into the back where there was a blue backdrop drapery with a stool on top. Evelyn flipped on the lights and pointed to the seat. I nodded and walked over, sitting down. I felt uncomfortable already and knew this was just the beginning.
“So, we’re going to do a brief introduction here,” she smiled. “I just want you to relax, look into the camera and tell us about yourself. You can just act like you are talking to me in a normal conversation. Make sure to smile and relax your shoulders, you look like a robot.”
I cleared my throat and rolled my shoulders, trying to let the nerves go. She smiled and nodded at me as the cameraman lifted his head. He held up three fingers and counted back, pointing to me when it was my turn.
“I’m Ryan Carson, I’m from small-town Indiana where I own a mechanic shop,” I said, pushing out a fake smile at the end.
“Cut,” Evelyn said, smiling broadly with that fake laugh that may turn out to be her trademark. “Okay, let’s do this instead. Tell me where you’re from, a little about your shop, what you do in your time off work, what your interests are, and what your future goals are. Okay?”
“Yeah, sorry,” I said, sitting back up in the chair.
“And relax your shoulders,” she winked.
The cameraman gave her a side glance and adjusted the camera before giving me the same count down all over again.
“Hey, I’m Ryan Carson from small-town Indiana,” I said, with enthusiasm. “During the day I run my own mechanic business. I’m into football, family gatherings and anything to do with cars. In the future, I’d like to have my own mechanic shop empire.”
Evelyn clapped her hands and headed back over to me, looking me up and down. I felt like I was for sale, and she was the potential buyer.
“I think the tux we got you will fit perfectly, but just in case try it on when you get back to the hotel and if it needs alterations just have the concierge send it over to me here at the studio,” she said. “Other than that, I will brief you tomorrow on the ceremony and in two days you will be the first ever star and husband on our new series!”
I smiled, unsure of what to say.
“So, dinner is on us tonight, anywhere in the city, or you can always do room service if you prefer. Your choice,” she said. “If you need a ride, call the front desk and they’ll have a car and driver at your disposal. We are so glad to have you on the team, Ryan. Call me if you need anything, otherwise, I’ll talk with you tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” I said, as she raced out of the room.
The cameraman gave me a pitied smile and nodded. “You’ll get used to her.”
I chuckled and nodded my head, looking over at the secretary who was waiting to escort me out. I jumped down from the stool and followed her to the car which drove me straight back to the hotel. Everything was moving so fast, but at least I had a decent place to stay for the two days before I said, ‘I do’ to a perfect stranger. I still couldn’t believe I’d agreed to do this, it wasn’t like me in the least.
When I got back up to my room there was a tux hanging on the back of the door. It was Armani and looked just like something you’d see on a movie star on the cover of some magazine at a store checkout. I was pretty sure the suit cost more than my first car. Carefully, I took it off the hanger and, piece by piece, I put it on. Evelyn was right, it fit perfectly, like it was made just for me, and I wondered if it just might have been. I stood looking at myself in the mirror feeling regal, fitting in perfectly with my surroundings. I looked like a rich bastard, and I had to admit it looked good on me. Just then, my phone rang and I picked it up, smiling what I saw it was Miles.
“I’m wearing an Armani tux right now,” I answered.
“Already tying the knot?”
“No, not for two more days but I had to try on the tux to make sure it fit right,” I explained. “I look like James Bond right now.”
“And you probably smell like Gold Bond,” he laughed.
“Very funny,” I scoffed.
“Seriously, when I did this, I really intended it as a joke,” he chuckled. “I can’t believe that you actually took the bait and are going to be a reality TV star. Seriously, I’m just gonna start calling you Snooki. Are you gonna get one of those really bad fake tans?”
“Make fun of me all you want,” I said, straightening my bow tie in the mirror, as I realized I hadn’t actually tied it correctly. “You are the one who put me in this position in the first place. And, man, they dangled six figures in my face and now I’m stuck. I am going to be someone’s husband in two days.”
“Watch, we’re thinking she’s gonna be like Jessica Rabbit,” Miles said. “But she might end up being Roger Rabbit.”
“Hey, for five hundred grand, I’ll sign the damn dotted line and then erase my memory afterwards,” I laughed. “How hard could it really be?”