Not So Model Home - By David James Page 0,31
their balls off watching I Love Lucy.”
“Regina, what I don’t get is how all these people knew where I live. I guess I should be grateful for the adulation and attention, but at the same time, there’s a creepy side to it that I’m not sure I like.”
“You’re not used to fame, honey,” Regina said, laying her liver-spotted and bejeweled hand on mine for comfort and to assert her broad Hollywood experience. “You haven’t hit the big time until someone’s stalking you.”
“Maybe someone is. Regina, would you check behind that yucca over there near the wall?”
Regina turned her head for a second to look, then caught herself. Great big smile. I invited her in for coffee, but she declined.
“I just came over to congratulate you.”
“For the slap?”
“Yep, you’re on your way, honey. You’re gonna be a star.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of, Regina.”
CHAPTER 12
Would Someone Please Shoot Me?
I had a tiny breakfast that wouldn’t make my stomach stick out since we were filming again today. And the next day, and the next. With only weekends off. Today would be another pool episode, with those scenes that matched the previous day’s shooting edited to make it look like they happened yesterday, and those that moved the story noticeably forward would either be super-titled as another day or be saved for the following episode. Jeremy had told us we would take between three and five days of shooting for each episode—light speed for a reality show. We would follow the same schedule each week, pumping out material for the “post” people to craft into a half-hour program. The first episode would be ready in four weeks. Again, unbelievable speed for TV show production.
It was pretty much the same as yesterday, except that no one got slapped. There were a lot of posturing, tiny bathing suits, catty retorts, rumor spreading, and Aurora and Ian sitting there watching it all like spectators in a Roman coliseum. The question was, who was going to emerge the victor? A few more days and by Thursday, we would be done shooting for this week. This would go on and on for thirteen weeks, starting Mondays and finishing each Thursday—unless we were canceled.
Some of the rumors I overheard during the filmings were somewhat surprising, but not shocking. Aleksei had penile implants, Drake owned several pairs of leather chaps, and Ian routinely had boyfriends followed by private investigators. Other revelations later sent me to urbandictionary.com to look them up since I had no idea what snowballing, an Alaskan fire dragon, or a rusty trombone were. Trust me, you don’t want to know.
A month went by, filled with a little more drama each time. There was a drunken brawl between Aleksei and Gilles, Ian stormed off the set several times, and Drake destroyed a fair amount of household items those four weeks. Manufactured drama for the most part . . . just what I had predicted.
And before you knew it, the first episode was ready to air on Sunday night. In a really good time slot. The program schedulers at the network obviously had a lot of faith riding on their decision. They felt our little show was going to be a big hit. Alex and Regina came over to my house to celebrate episode one with a nice bottle of champagne and my new fifty-five–inch flat-screen TV.
“I’m so glad you got rid of that last goddamn TV, Amanda,” Regina said as I poured her another glass of bubbly. “This one is so much nicer.” Today’s T-shirt she wore read: FUCK ME, I’M FAMOUS.
“I wouldn’t talk, Regina. Yours is still housed in a Mediterranean cabinet. How old is it?”
“Twenty, twenty-five years old.”
“I didn’t think TVs lasted that long,” Alex remarked.
“Well, it’s not like this fancy one you got, but you can still make out colors and shapes on it.”
“Shhh,” Alex warned as the show came on.
The opening started with ominous music that slowly built over footage of Ian Forbes and his hair empire while a narrator laid down the premise of the show. This was followed, like any reality show, with blaring rock music to get people excited. After the titles, each of the show’s cast members got their five seconds of fame as they were highlighted. Some cast members turned slowly toward the camera like they were on a human-sized turntable. Some leered naughtily at the camera. Aleksei was shot toasting the audience with a glass of champagne.
Alex and Regina watched the entire show with rapt attention, amazed at how