“What are you all looking at?”
“Were-seal,” I said, pointing over my shoulder to the lake. “Lee gave us a show, but he’s gone now. Probably off hunting trout or whatever the hell swims in lakes in Montana.”
Conrad looked uncertain a moment, then chuckled. “Nice try. But Lee’s just hiding in the woods. Right?”
I turned to Skip and the camera. “You can show him the playback, right?”
“Um, we’re not really allowed to do that,” he said.
I cursed Lee for his bad timing. We just needed Conrad to see the seal—so totally not native to freshwater lakes in landlocked Montana—to chip away at his smug skepticism. Was that too much to ask?
So that was the end of the picnic.
* * *
Every reality show had to have a bit where they got you alone and filmed you talking trash about everyone else on the show. It was too much to hope that we’d get through Supernatural Insider without it. So there I was, sitting in front of a camera, held by Gordon this time, with the great outdoors as a backdrop. Provost watched from behind the camera, egging me on. I fiddled with the personal mike clipped to my collar.
“Do I have to?” I said for the third time.
“It’s in the contract,” Provost said, also for the third time.
I sighed and pointed at the camera. “Is that thing on?”
“It’s been rolling for a minute now.”
There was no getting out of this. I wasn’t supposed to want to avoid this—face it, I was one of the biggest attention whores on the show. This bit was designed to give the stage to the attention whores, to give them ample opportunity to make idiots of themselves. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? No matter what I said, Provost and his crew would edit it to make me look like an idiot.
Being an attention whore was only fun when I was in charge.
“What exactly are you looking for with this?” I said. “If you give me some idea what you want me to say, I can just say it and save you some time trying to edit it all together.” I smiled with teeth.
He grimaced right back. “What do you think about some of your housemates? Anastasia, let’s say. Or Jerome.”
Predictable.
“Here’s the thing,” I said, leaning forward, making like I was going to dispense some gem of juicy gossip. “You want me to sit here and be catty about everyone else. See if I have any juicy bits of gossip to share. But I’m not going to do that, because the only chance I have of looking good when this thing airs is to be as nice as I possibly can. So you know what? I love everybody. I love them all. We all get along great. This is like summer camp.”
Provost gave me a level glare. I didn’t expect him to like what I said; but he couldn’t argue, because at least I’d said something. He finally said, “Is that how you really feel?”
I thought a minute, then said, “I think Conrad is stubborn.”
Gordon giggled but quickly shut up when Provost glared. But I’d decided that Provost didn’t have much of a sense of humor.
“Okay,” the producer said. “If we can’t go for dirt, how about blatant sentimentality? You miss your family? Anything you’d like to tell them? Your family’ll love it when they watch the show and know you were thinking of them.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to get that sappy any more than I wanted to be a gossipy jerk. My family knew I loved them—I didn’t have to say it on national TV. In the end, though, I did miss my family. I missed Ben especially. Things kept happening that I wanted to tell him about, ask him about. On this subject, at least, I couldn’t find sarcasm to throw at Provost. Mayb
e the guy deserved a straight line for once.
Again, I looked at the camera. “Being away from my family is the hardest thing about being here.” I pursed my lips and didn’t have to pretend to look sad.
I hoped that would play well enough on TV for Provost. He seemed happy enough and let me loose from the camera’s eye.
chapter 9
Toward dinnertime, a sleepy-looking, naked Lee, swimsuit in hand, came sauntering into the house. He waved a hello, then made his way upstairs.
The cameras tracked him, and the editors would probably have a great time fuzzing out the interesting bits.