Page 11 of Winging It with You

“No, Dalton…You’renot hearing me.We’ve got a situation with the ga…”

Our firecracker of a production handler has been on back-to-back phone calls from the front passenger seat. After Asher and I wheeled our luggage to the curb, she seemed dead set onpreventing us from stepping foot into the navy van,The Epic Trekwritten along the side in large, white block font.

“She was just going to sayWe’ve got a situation with the gays, wasn’t she?” I whisper to Asher from the back seat and his lips twist into the faintest of smiles. We’re still parked outside the pick-up zone.

What sort of equal-opportunity disaster did we just walk into?

“Don’t mind Jo,” our driver finally says, composed. She shoots him a look. I lean in my seat to peek in the rearview mirror and see he’s dressed in a black linen bowling shirt that’s unbuttoned at the neck, revealing a chest full of graying hair that seems to be stealing the spotlight from the thinning wisps atop his head. With one hand resting on the edge of the open window and the other casually resting on the steering wheel, he’s every bit what you’d expect of a television crew member. “This job is her life…but she’s one of the good ones,” he says, staring back at me through the mirror. “Arthur Davis at your service. Cameraman, designated driver, and not one for forced small talk.” I instantly love everything about his blunt honesty.

“Nice to meet you, Arthur,” I say, wishing I were able to shake his hand. “I’m Theo Fernandez and this is my…boyfriend.” That’s going to take some getting used to for both of us. “Asher Bennett.” I keep glancing up at Jo, who taps her watch, a nonverbal cue that prompts Arthur to start the van, pulling out of LAX’s bustling loading zone and into the afternoon traffic.

“Pleasure,” Arthur says politely. I keep glancing up at Jo, who’s slowly shaking her head in what I can only imagine is frustration. Arthur nods his head toward Jo, a smile growing across his face. “She’ll get you boys squared away. Don’t youworry.” Arthur’s got this wholeI’m not going to worry about things I don’t need to worry aboutattitude.

Just then, Jo turns in her seat, removing her sunglasses and hooking them on the neckline of her shirt.

“I’m sorry about all that,” she says after a painfully awkward silence. “I see y’all are already fast friends with my bestie, Arthur, but I’m Jo Bishop, your production liaison during filming, here to make sure that you”—she turns toward me—“both of youare set up for success throughout the competition. Care to explain to me how allthiscame to be?”

I raise an eyebrow in Asher’s direction.

He swallows. “Long story short? Clint, who you were expecting, decided he couldn’t dothisanymore, whatever that means when spineless men say such things. Insert Theo.”

Jo looks less than amused when I give a friendly salute.

“We met at the airport and after I explained my situation, Theo offered to pretend to be my boyfriend so that I could at least try to make it on the show.”

“I’m sure splitting the million-dollar prize had absolutelynothingto do with this selfless act, right, Theo?”

I choose to ignore her not-so-subtle character insinuation. “That and I just couldn’t resist the opportunity to use this experience to launch myself into being a full-fledged influencer. How does this sound,” I say, plastering the biggest smile across my face. “Swipe up for a ten-percent discount on this organic, all-natural facial cleanser. Use code THEO10 at checkout!”

Jo and Arthur crack a laugh at my best Insta-famous impression.

“There won’t be any issue with the…partner switch-up?” Asher asks after a moment.

“Yeah, about that.” Jo gives us both yet another once-over.She reaches beneath her seat and pulls out a thick black binder. “After talking it through with the rest of production, I went over your application paperwork and it appears we were thrown a bone.” Jo begins riffling through the laminated pages, her manicured brows pinching together in concentration. “Ah, here we go,” she says, pulling out whatever sheet of paper she’d been searching for. “It would seem that as long asyouare here and competing,” she says, nodding in Asher’s direction, “we’re in the clear.”

Asher takes the page she extends to him. “I’m not following,” he says, scanning the document.

“Cliff? Colin?” Jo starts.

“Clint,” Asher corrects.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jo says, and I can’t help but snicker. I like her too. “He filled out the paperwork with you listed as Contestant One.”

“Meaning?” Asher looks as confused as I am.

“Meaning,” Jo says, taking the application back from Asher to slide back into its spot in her binder, “that as far as production is concerned, you’re the only contestant liable for competing this season. ‘Asher Bennett and Partner,’ ” she reads.

“Liable?” he groans. I watch as Asher physically retreats into himself, putting his head in both hands. “This was a massive mistake,” he says quietly. I feel the urge to comfort him, but honestly, I don’t want to say or do the wrong thing when he probably just needs a moment to sort out his thoughts. I know I would.

“Liableis an aggressive word,” Arthur says, weighing in for the first time. “I think what Jo means to say is that as long as you and whoever your partner is”—he raises an eyebrow at me—“show up and fulfill your end of the contract with production, there won’t be anything to worry about.”

“Exactly,” Jo says, nodding in agreement. “Wedeliver a couple for our viewers to root for andyoudon’t get sued for breach of contract.”

Asher groans again, melting into the seat next to me as Arthur gives Jo a questioning look. He clearly is the more mellow one of the duo.

“And how exactly isthataspect of all this supposed to work?” I ask, finally sensing an opening in this conversation to interject. “The couple thing. How are we supposed to address the fact that we aren’t actually dating?”

Jo appears to mull over my question, her eyes pinched shut as she taps an index finger to her lips. “Here’s what we’re gonna do,” she says after a moment. “Truthfully, I’d be willing to bet that my boss wasn’t listening to a thing I was saying on our call. He just kept shouting at me to fix it.”

---