Page 42 of Playing With Matches
The curveballs keep coming today. First Alexis shows up, and now this request. But it all makes a weird kind of sense. I trust that Rob knows what he’s doing.
“Marco does not need to pretend,” Marco says. “Marco is a huge fan of Ms Fairfax.The Mystic Matchmakeris my mama’s favorite series. And you know what my mama says? She says, ‘Marco, why can’t you bring home a nice girl like this beautiful English rose?’”
He’s looking at me with such pure puppy dog devotion that I’m not sure if I should laugh or cry.
“I’m sorry, Marco. You’re a very handsome man, but I’m not really looking for a relationship right now,” I explain to him. Then I turn to Rob. “Are all your reality shows fake like this?”
“What do you mean,fake?” Marco protests. “This is reality for Marco! Just give me the chance, mi amore. Marco will prove it to you! Marco will put a tattoo on this body, right here. It will say your name. There will be no other author on Marco’s chest.” He pounds his naked chest and pouts. The gesture is totally ruined by the chocolate milk mustache above his upper lip.
I take a deep breath, trying not to laugh at how preposterous this all seems. I can’t believe this hunky model suddenly thinks he’s in love with me.
“What have you done to him, Rob? Did you drip a love potion in his eyes?”
“This has nothing to do with me, I assure you, Isla. The idea wouldn’t have even occurred to me if this poor bloke hadn’t confessed to me what a massive crush he has on you. We work with what we have in reality TV, you know. We ‘sculpt’ it.” Robs shrugs. “I’m open to your ideas if you have any better ones. I just want the show to do well for all of us.”
I picture my agent’s face. I need this show to cement my place in the U.S. market. I don’t want to blow it. At least Rob is being totally upfront with me. And Marco? My gut is telling me he is genuinely infatuated with me, which is both flattering and ridiculous. This man could probably have any girl he wanted. A million women would kill to be in my shoes. They’d literally claw each other’s eyes out for a date with the supermodel. I watched it happen every week on thePazzi per Amoreshow.
But of course, like all overindulged men, Marco only wants the thing he thinks he cannot have - the author that ducked out the back door of her own book signing, without even getting a single shot with the supermodel, let alone his sharpie signature on her left breast.
Marco continues to stare at me with blind adoration. I have to resist the urge to pat him on the head like a prize spaniel. Rob hands him a napkin and points to his lip.
“Fine, I do see your point, Rob. I don’t have a problem with a little lighthearted flirting, but let’s be clear,” I make eye contact with both men, “it is just for the camera, okay?”
“Okay, it’s a deal. And thank Venus,” Rob says. “To be honest, I’m not feeling one hundred percent confident about the combinations Jackson’s software suggested. I’m not seeing the chemistry. We need to give people a reason to tune in and see what happens next on the show, you know? The two of you are such avatars in the world of romance, and having you both on screen at the same time is powerful. But having you both onscreen at the same time with the hint of a possibility that there might be a little something more going on?” He opens his fists by his head in the “mind blown” gesture. “This is going to be great, Guys. Great for the show and for both your careers.”
* * *
Jacksonand I are sitting crammed together in a sweaty, crowded pop-up tent, along with three crew members. We’re all waiting for the filming to begin. The tent, which is loaded with equipment and monitors, has been set up as a control room a little ways away from the shaded, beachfront gazebo that’s been styled as an outdoor living room.
At first I was relieved to hear Jackson and I wouldn’t need to be on camera today but now I feel a little jealous that we’re in here and not on the set. The gazebo looks dreamy on the monitors. The backdrop of the brilliant blue Caribbean is perfect. The three women are lounging on colorful pillows on the daybed to the right of the camera, and the men are all seated on the oversized sofa to the left. Gauze curtains float in the breeze. They’ve placed three massive fans just off-camera to keep the gazebo cool and bug-free.
There’s an atmosphere of hushed anticipation in the tent, and it’s hot. Super hot and stuffy. I’m grateful for the personal mister fans I found in the swag bags. Alexis packed mine with ice from the bar earlier. Thank goodness for that. I mist my face and decolletage with icy water and switch on the fan.
“Mmmmmphhh,” I can’t help but breathe out with relief at the instant cooling effect.
Jackson turns away from the monitors to stare at me, eyes traveling jealously from the fan to my damp cleavage. I realize that I offered to share the swag with him, and here I am hogging it all up for myself.
“You want me to do you?” I hold up the fan. Jackson tips his head down and raises his eyebrows.
“I was wondering how long it would be till you propositioned me again,” he smirks.
Just for that I spray him in the face without warning.
Rob chooses that moment to poke his head into the tent and address us. “Thanks for hanging in there, you two. I see you’re both mic’d up. That’s great. I appreciate your standing by in case we need you for anything. We’re just about ready to get started.”
Rob gives a thumbs up to the crew members, and they all jump to attention, rushing to don headsets and check their assorted equipment.
“Okay. Buckle up. This is where the games begin,” Jackson says. I turn sideways to study him. He looks so serious, staring at the monitors.
“Is that how you think of it?” I ask. “Love is a big game?”
“Hmmm,” Jackson considers this. “Sometimes. Other times it’s more like a battlefield.”
“With winners and losers?” I ask. I’m still trying to understand his theories about relationships.
“I mean, yes, and no.” Jackson’s brow furrows as he considers my question. “We’re all trying to be winners in life and that includes love, but it’s not necessarily aboutbeatingsomeone else, so much as doing the best you can do for yourself, given the hand you’ve been dealt.”
“Okaaaaaaaay,” I somewhat reluctantly agree. I have to concede that this makes sense. It’s not even all that different from my own philosophy about relationships. “So what’s your personal game strategy?”
