The Boy Toy - Nicola Marsh Page 0,54

we’ve found it’s easier to have scripted reality than a free-for-all,” Sherman said. “But you’ll be filming in the outback for months at a time, so we’d be foolish to choose a host who couldn’t interact with the crew and contestants socially as well.”

“Makes sense.”

Rory grew uncomfortable under the scrutiny as both men continued to study him.

“You certainly have the look we’re after,” Allan said, staring at him with cool, impartial assessment. “Strong. Rugged.”

“Uh, thanks,” he said, as Sherman snapped his fingers.

“Don’t get us wrong, Rory, we’re not going to objectify you, but it doesn’t hurt when the host looks like you and wears tight T-shirts to draw in a greater female audience.”

He tapped his tablet screen. “From our research, this kind of outback reality show tends to attract predominantly male viewers, and we want to broaden our audience.”

Being told to wear tight T-shirts to accentuate his pecs and biceps sure sounded like objectification to him, but if it meant landing this role and a healthy paycheck, the tighter the better.

“It also helps that you have stunt experience,” Sherman said. “Where we’re filming, in far north Queensland, can be a challenging environment, and we want a host who’s . . . how can I say this politely . . . not too precious?”

He must’ve looked confused, because Allan added, “Some industry types, especially in hosting roles, can be all about ego, and we want someone down-to-earth.”

Rory nodded and bit back a smile. They could’ve been describing Benedict Dixon to a tee. He’d been dreading this informal chat at the start of it, but it looked like he’d impressed without trying or having to say too much.

“Do you have any questions for us?”

He’d prepared these carefully and rehearsed them out loud in front of the mirror so felt confident in asking.

“How soon will filming commence?”

“Location scouting will take place soon, with actual filming starting about six weeks later, though our timelines are fluid and prone to change,” Allan said. “Will that be a problem?”

“No, not at all.”

So much for spending more time with Samira. It looked like their fledgling romance was destined to fail no matter how much he wished otherwise.

“And how long will I be on set?”

“We expect the filming of all episodes to wrap up within three months, giving us time to do extensive editing before it screens.”

“Okay.” Rory nodded, trying to project enthusiasm when being holed up on a set in the middle of nowhere and forced to make small talk with crew for three months seemed like a life sentence. “Sounds good.”

When he didn’t ask anything further, Sherman said, “Great. Ready to read for us?”

“Absolutely.”

This, he could do. Relieved he’d got through the first part of the audition fairly unscathed, he strode onto the stage and faced the cue machine.

“Ready?” Allan asked, and when Rory nodded, he hit a button that started the cues rolling.

He’d done this very thing with Pia in her office, reading off giant cards, so he soon slipped into the role, injecting the right inflections into his voice, controlling his breathing, allowing the words to free flow without halting.

He had no idea how long he read for, but every time he glanced at the men, they appeared to be leaning forward, wearing matching approving expressions, so he took it as a good sign.

When the cues rolled to an end, he exhaled softly, surprised at how relaxed he felt. The tension had left his spine, and the slight viselike pain at the base of his skull had vanished.

Applause rang out and both men stood.

“That was great, Rory,” Sherman called out, and Allan added, “Impressive.”

“Thanks,” he said, stepping off the stage and heading toward them.

“We’re making a decision shortly, so you’ll hear from Chris later today.”

“Great.” He shook their hands. “Thanks for the opportunity.”

“I’m sure we’ll be seeing you again,” Sherman said, and Rory wondered if he imagined the meaningful glance the two men exchanged before he headed for the door.

He had a good feeling about this, but he wouldn’t be counting his dollars until he got the call from Chris.

Until then, he needed a distraction.

He knew just the person to provide it.

Twenty-Five

After lunch with her mom, Samira headed back to the health center. She had a stack of patient files to catch up on. Her most loathed task, usually; she’d much rather be treating patients than writing about them. But the monotony of it would be a welcome distraction after the chat with her mom. She really hoped she’d finally got through to Kushi,