Page 46 of Playing With Matches
By the time Isla and I came on board with the production, the casting director had narrowed our choices down to a few dozen men and a dozen women. All of them completed AI Swiper matchmaking profiles prior to that. At first, I was a little worried that we wouldn’t have any strong matches working with such a small pool. But I’d been wrong. I was surprised to see how many strong possibilities there were.
I was dubious about some of the contestant’s intentions, but the AI Swiper app is really more about predicting long term compatibility than it is about sussing out motives. I always like to say, you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make an ass drink.
Ass. AI Swiper. Asswiper.
I feel heat radiating from my face again, and I don’t think it’s because it’s six hundred and sixty-six fucking degrees out here. In the shade. At least the bugs aren’t sinking their tiny tubular fangs into me anymore. Isla’s herbal products seem to be working even better than the DEET spray that I packed in my lost bag.
Asswiper.
Something has to be done about the app name and about Marco. We’ll have to look into a last minute re-brand. In the meantime, I may pay a visit to the wardrobe tent. I’d like to rebrand the butt seam of Marco’s pants with a thread ripper.
I watch as Owen, the firefighter, steps up to the robot to play his choice card: Chloe.
But then Chloe picks Ryker.
Next Lacey picks Owen.
Darwin and Ryker both pick Lacey.
And in the end, nobody picks poor Paula, who has chosen Ryker strictly because “his accent sounds cute.”
How is it even possible that there are no matches amongst the choice cards and that only one person has chosen the same person that we wanted them to match with?
I do some quick math in my head. While it’s not statistically impossible that everyone could miss the mark so perfectly, it is rather unlikely. It just goes to show that nobody has a clue what’s best for them. Even when it’s standing right in front of their faces.
“I cannot believe it!” Marco says when the last member of the group sits down unmatched. “Can it be that Marco and Isla are the only fated mates on the island?”
I steal a sidelong glance at Isla who is sitting tensely beside me. She doesn’t crack a smile at his idiotic banter.
Good.
The robot is now making sad sounding beeps. Womp, womp, womp, beepity, beeps.
“Not to worry!” Marco throws the last envelope over his shoulder and pats the robot.
“It’s okay, Cupidbot. We will try again soon. In the meantime, why don’t you go plug yourself in and take a nice nap while we figure out what we do next. Maybe we have to send someone home?” He adopts a pensive, serious look and stares into the camera.
The robot rolls away and the camera pans over the anxious contestants. Chloe’s knee is bouncing. Lacey is twisting a lock of hair. Darwin is actually biting his nails.
Finally Marco speaks.
“Not to worry! We won’t be sending anyone home tonight. We will be sendingeveryoneon a group date instead! And tomorrow night, after a cocktail party we will have the first Shell Ceremony and find out who everyone’s ideal mate is. Will it be the person they have chosen or somebody else? Until then, ‘Suns Out and Buns Out,’ my friends. Every day you spend at the Peaches Resort is a sweet escape.”
“And that’s a wrap!” Rob stands up, clapping enthusiastically. He shoves some papers in his tote, and the crew rapidly surrounds him. Everyone is asking questions at once.
Isla and I step out of the tent. The air almost feels cool by comparison. We both wait while the participants give each other high-fives and hug. After a few awkward moments of standing around unsure what to do, Alexis makes an announcement.
“Come on back to the pool bar, Guys! Drinks are on me!”
Very funny at an all-inclusive resort.
She doesn’t have to ask the contestants twice. They all follow Owen in her direction, and she proceeds to herd them back towards the bar like sheep. Rob taps a cameraman to follow.
Spying us, Marco rushes over to Isla’s side. He tries to do the thing again, where he stands between us and gives me his back. But this time I kick out a foot, stealthily tripping him. I catch him before he falls and give him a good shove to one side, placing myself between him and Isla. He seems dazed by the maneuver. Dazed but undeterred.
“So, Bella, we will have dinner tonight, no?” He practically stands on his tiptoes, speaking over my shoulder.
“Isla’s eating with me,” I say. I don’t even know why I say it, but she nods and confirms this when I do.
