CHAPTER FIVE
There was nothing like the first “action” of the season. They all felt it, the crew, the contractors, the family. The excitement of a new beginning for all. At its heart, what they were doing was storytelling, Paige thought as she watched Gannon and Cat roll up into the driveway in the tricked out Chevy, a stipulation of the very generous advertiser.
That storytelling, the validation of each family and their contributions was the reason Paige had stuck it out on the show. While the network and advertisers chipped away at the basic joy of the job, the families and volunteers and contractors they worked with made it bearable.
Gannon gave his trademark honk with the horn, and the Russes poured out of the front door with the enthusiasm of an elementary school recess. Andy was grinning, and that was a good sign.
They shot five more takes getting different angles before Andy was satisfied and they reset for the interior tour.
Brandon broke away from where he was sequestered off camera with the rest of the Clawson team and joined her under the awning. “You ready to get started?” Paige asked him.
He grinned down at her and patted the hammer on his belt. “I was born ready.”
Trevor ducked out of his mother’s grip and rushed up. “Paige! Is it time?”
“Perfect timing, Trevor.” Paige pulled his tool belt off her shoulder and helped him secure it around his little waist.
“Hey! Mine’s just like yours,” Trevor announced to Brandon.
Someone from the construction crew called Brandon’s name. “Sorry, kiddo, gotta go,” he said, ruffling Trevor’s thick hair, and the little boy’s face fell.
Paige spotted Gannon frowning over blueprints at a folding table under a pop-up tent. “Hey, how about we go tell Gannon you’re going to help with the tour,” she suggested.
“Yes!” Trevor grabbed Paige’s hand and together they scampered over to the man. Gannon King could be an ass with most people, but hand him a kid and he was charming, sweet, and funny. It was one of his very limited redeeming qualities.
“Hey there,” Gannon said, when Trevor stopped just short of running full speed into him. “Are you with Clawson Construction? Because I have a question about these blueprints.”
Trevor, eyes bigger than a Japanese anime character, shook his head.
Amused, Gannon raised an eyebrow at Paige. Too bad labor laws didn’t allow them to cart children around on set with them all the time, she mused.
“This is my friend Trevor,” Paige said, introducing the momentarily shy kid. “He’s going to help give you a tour of the inside of his grandparents’ house.”
Trevor found his voice and launched into an explanation of every plastic tool on his tool belt. Gannon listened intently, nodding without interrupting.
Sam’s Southern baritone came through her headset. “Okay, Beast Mode, your presence is requested inside and bring that handyman.”
Paige touched her ear and nodded toward the house telegraphing to Gannon it was time to wrap it up.
“You know, bud. I think your belt is missing something,” Gannon told Trevor.
Trevor immediately twirled the belt on his little hips looking to make sure he hadn’t lost any tools.
Gannon produced a carpenter pencil from behind his ear. “You’re definitely going to need one of these.”
“Whoa!” Trevor accepted it with the excitement of Christmas morning. “Hey! Mom! Look! Gannon gave me a pencil!” He took off at a sprint toward his parents.
“Thank God you didn’t give him something sharper like a chisel,” Paige breathed.
“Come on, princess. I believe we’re needed on set.”
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The first day of shooting went as smoothly as reality TV could. The Russes had been perfect on camera with their sincere combination of excitement and nerves, and Cat had glamorously made the same promises to Delia that Paige had. They would return to a family home ready to house decades’ more memories. Trevor leading Gannon around by the hand with his new pencil tucked behind his ear was guaranteed to melt hearts across the country when the episode aired.
They finished filming the tour by four, and Paige handed the family over to the production assistants to send them off with final reassurances. The Russe kids and some family friends had all kicked in to send Phil and Delia on a seven-day cruise.
By six, Paige was going over the demo plans with Mike Clawson while an army of volunteers packed away the rest of the family’s furnishings and belongings into storage pods.
“We can’t touch these rooms because we need the light to shoot the demo, and they’re usually the biggest bangs for the buck,” Paige told Mike, indicating the kitchen and bathroom. “But whatever your crew can do in the two guest bedrooms and the downstairs powder room overnight will help keep us on schedule.”
“I’ll let you know if any of our inspectors find any bad news when we start poking around,” Mike promised.
“I appreciate that. You have my cell, right?”
He did. And her email and her hotel room just in case.
Paige cut Tony and Louis, checked tomorrow’s call sheet that she’d distributed after lunch, and had Sam set up the interview “booth” before sending him and Mel home for the night. Rico and Felicia would stay and help her get a couple hours of volunteer interviews. She consulted her list. She had ten interviews to do. She liked to start them on the first night when everyone’s energy was high. That way if she uncovered a story that deserved more screen time, they had the rest of the shoot to work it into the storyline and expand upon it. It always made for a long day, but the end results were worth it.
She set up shop under a pop-up erected outside the craft services and show sponsor tent. She found that shooting at night gave the feeling to the audience that everyone was tired and more vulnerable than in the bright light of morning. She was just getting ready to track down her first interview when Gannon stormed up.
“What the hell is this?” he demanded, shaking papers in her face.
She took them from him, perused them. “It’s tomorrow’s call sheet.”
“Why aren’t we having Clawson demo the main bath tonight?”
“Because of the magic of TV,” she said calmly. It was an old argument. Gannon was an actual contractor, which meant the ass backwards timelines of shooting a TV show about home renovations was ridiculous.
“We’d be a hell of a lot farther ahead in the morning if we have them demo it tonight. Do we really need to see Cat carry out another leaky toilet or me break another fucking mirror?”
“If you wouldn’t do such a good job at it, the audience wouldn’t want to see it. The Kings doing demo is a highlight of the show, and for continuity’s sake it looks better in the episode when we do the tour, and it looks like we start the demo immediately after.”
“It doesn’t make fucking sense to shoot it this way.” Gannon’s contractor sensibilities were officially in a bunch, but Paige had no sympathy.
“If you would look at the call sheet when it’s distributed, maybe we could do something about it, but since you can’t be bothered to review it in advance, this is what happens.”
“You’re just a network kiss-ass. You don’t care about doing things right, you just care about cutting corners and manipulating ratings. This is a waste of everyone’s time.”
Nose to nose now. “No, this is a waste of everyone’s time.” Paige was the epitome of calm on the outside. On the inside, she wanted to take the hammer out of his tool belt and smack him in the forehead with it. “Either shoot the scenes the way we planned, offer up a goddamn solution, or go throw your temper tantrum somewhere else so we can continue. We’re all on the same team, and we all work long hours, and holding up production doesn’t help anyone. Now if you’ll excuse me, some of us still have a couple hours of work to do.”
That was as good of an exit line as she was going to have. Paige turned and stalked away from him. Rico let out a low whistle as he playfully filmed her storming off.
“Yeah, go ahead,” Gannon called after her. “Walk away and find someone else to exploit, princess.”
She heard a thud and knew he’d thrown his tape measure into the tent wall. For whatever reason, his tantrum made her smile. Every time he broke and she didn’t, she counted it as a victory.
She busied herself with the remaining items on her to-do list and promptly forgot about Gannon and his asshole-ish tendencies. Darkness fell, and Paige blew through the interviews with a speed and efficiency honed by years of experience. She’d gotten her start as a production assistant on a dating reality show. She knew which questions to ask that would get emotional answers and build good stories. Most of it was a ratings ploy. Taking exhausted volunteers who had strong feelings for the family they were helping and pushing a few buttons guaranteed tears.
Paige’s personal challenge wasn’t to deliver the drama, it was to deliver the truth. It always rang differently than a Frankenbite story that post-production cobbled together. Tonight’s volunteers were more than happy to sing the praises of the Russes, and with the family’s background there was no shortage of backstory.
She sat off camera while Mariel, a woman who had been homeless for two years before the Russes coaxed her into the soup kitchen and then their job placement center, made herself comfortable on the stool. She wore her bright green Kings of Construction volunteer shirt over a sweatshirt to ward off the evening chill. Her dark hair was pulled back in a stylish bun—her work hair, she called it. She clutched a tissue in her hand. “For the inevitable waterworks,” she told Paige.
“Well, let’s start there. What about helping the Russes makes you emotional?” Paige began.
Mariel rolled her dark eyes heavenward. “What about the Russes doesn’t make me emotional? I was a very young mom, and when my children’s father left, he took every dime we had in our checking account. I had no savings. I was working part-time as a cashier in a drug store. It wasn’t enough to support me let alone me and three children. We were evicted from our apartment and living in our car when one day Phil Russe saw us in the library. It was cold, and we were trying to stay warm, and the library was quiet and safe. He asked if we were hungry—” Mariel’s voice broke, and Paige gave her a moment.
“My little boy, God bless his heart, said ‘Yes, sir. We’re always hungry.’ And my heart just shattered into a million pieces. My children were hungry.” Tears glistened in those beautiful dark eyes. “I was failing them. They should have been happy and warm and safe, and I was failing them.”
Mariel took a shuddering breath. “But Mr. Russe didn’t judge. He just handed me a business card and said he had a hot meal waiting for us.”
Understanding the rhythm of storytelling, Paige prodded gently. “How long did it take before you went to the soup kitchen?”
Mariel smiled. “I had to make sure he was on the up and up, you see. So I used one of the library’s computers to look him up. We left for the kitchen thirty minutes later. And when my kids were having cookies for dessert, Mr. Russe brought Mrs. Russe out to introduce us to her. And my kids were never hungry again.”
Paige led Mariel through questions about the soup kitchen and the job center. The Russes helped Mariel find a better paying job, got her enrolled in online college courses, and gave her money to help furnish her first apartment.
“I paid them back, every dime, and started making contributions to their endeavors,” Mariel said with pride. “It wasn’t much at first, but I’m a vice president at a bank now. My two oldest are in college, and I fund a scholarship for teens who have been homeless.”
Paige smiled and wrapped up the interview. “That’s perfect, Mariel. I’m so happy for you and your family, and I know the Russes are really going to appreciate you being here and sharing your story.”
“Do you know that no one I work with knows my story?” Mariel cocked her head to the side. “I used to be embarrassed about my past, but now? Now it feels like something I can be proud of. I fought my way out of poverty, and now look at me.”
“Now look at you,” Paige echoed. “You should be incredibly proud of yourself.” She reached out and squeezed Mariel’s hand. “One last question. You’ve been a big supporter of the soup kitchen and the job center. You’ve already given back to the Russes. Why are you here tonight?”
Mariel straightened her shoulders, a single tear escaping her eye. “My family owes all that we have and all that we are to Mr. and Mrs. Russe. None of us will ever forget that. And so I am proud to give back to them in any way I can for the rest of my life.”
“I think that’s the perfect sentiment to end on,” Paige said, clearing her throat. She nodded at Rico who gave her a wink and started tearing down.
“Thank you so much for being willing to talk to us and for volunteering.” Paige offered Mariel her hand but the woman reached in and hugged her instead.
“Thank you for doing this for them. I can’t think of anyone who deserves something beautiful more than those two.”
Paige packed up her headset and gave herself a few minutes in the shadow of the craft services tent to swipe at her damp eyes. It was real people like Mariel and the Russes that made the rest of her job worthwhile. She may be dabbling in “drivel” as her mother liked to remind her, but she was also telling the stories of the brave, vulnerable, and triumphant.
“Didn’t know you were human, princess.”