A First Date with Death (4 page)

INT. LIBRARY DAY

Bruce is looking directly at the camera. Behind him are some nondescript bookshelves and a small low table with a lamp. He is about thirty, wearing a green polo shirt with khaki pants. He has a few days’ stubble on his checks and his hair is slightly long and unkempt.

CHERYL (O.S.)

So tell us, Bruce, you’re a Silicon Valley guy?

BRUCE

(
smiling
) Yup, yup. Living the California dream. I have a high-tech company in Palo Alto. We design video games. Our latest release is Mad Bees. Have you heard of it?

CHERYL (O.S.)

No.

BRUCE

(
sitting up straighter and jiggling his legs
) Oh, sure, sure. Not everyone’s heard of it. But, you know, we’re exploring the plight of the bumblebee.

CHERYL (O.S.)

Like in
Fantasia
?

BRUCE

No, no.
Plight
, not
flight
. And anyway,
Fantasia
was . . . uh, never mind. The point is the declining population of the bumblebee is alarming—

CHERYL (O.S.)

Bumblebees or honeybees?

BRUCE

Both, really, but our first merchandise release was about the bumblebee. It was more of a marketing decision rather than ecological, I’ll admit. Bumblebees are brighter yellow and our focus groups consistently kept picking the bumblebee over the honeybee, and, hey (
flashes a winning smile
), you gotta listen to focus groups, right?

CHERYL (O.S.)

Right. Right. So, your business is doing well. You said you’re living the dream?

BRUCE

Business is booming, yes. More than I’d ever imagined. But there
is
something missing in my life.

CHERYL (O.S.)

Let me guess. You’re on the show to find love.

BRUCE

Now, that would be a dream come true.

•   •   •   •   •   •   •   •   •

T
he crew ushered us to the back of the mansion, poolside. The sun was setting lower in the sky, casting a romantic feel around the patio. Everyone was handed a fake cocktail by a crew member and told to mingle and smile.

My drink was blue-colored soda water with a lime on top. Cheryl had positioned herself behind me, within earshot but out of camera range. I sipped at my drink and tried to clear my head, finding it difficult to concentrate with Cheryl breathing down my neck.

The men were clustered around, talking to each other. When Edward saw me alone, he broke away from his group and approached me. “Can I steal you away for some chitchat?”

“What are you hoping to get out of this?” I asked him.

I heard Cheryl snort behind me.

Battle-ax.

Edward smiled. “Love, of course.”

Well, they were all going to say that, now, weren’t they? They weren’t going to tell me to my face that they were in it for the money. No wonder Cheryl had snorted. I was an idiot!

Edward gazed at me and I felt a mild nervousness.

Were those butterflies in my stomach?

A huge splash came from the pool. Edward and I turned toward it. Nathan had flopped into the pool and now was climbing on top of his surfboard.

“Come on, guys. I need some waves,” Nathan yelled.

It didn’t take much; within seconds Bruce and Mitch were in the water splashing about and causing a tidal wave. Nathan did a backflip off his board with a great wallop.

“Someone is going to crack their head open on the side of the pool,” Edward said.

An involuntary shudder coursed through my body, as images of Aaron slamming into the bay filled my mind.

Edward placed a soothing hand on the small of my back and I was vaguely aware that the cameras seemed to zoom in on us.

I swallowed past the horrific images in my head and said, “It’s a good thing we have a doctor nearby.”

Edward laughed. “Guys will do anything to get your attention, right?”

I shrugged and took a deep breath. “Tell me about yourself.”

“I’m from the Bay Area. I graduated from Stanford Medicine two years ago and now I’m an intern at UCSF.”

If he was from the Bay Area and had lived and worked in San Francisco, then it was possible that he knew about my humiliating departure from my job as a public information officer. My termination had been all over the local news. I stuffed down the feeling of disgrace that threatened to surface and focused instead on the butterflies.

Edward was kind and warm, and I already knew his bedside manner was appealing.

Before I could speak, a crew member thrust a towel in my hand. I watched Nathan climb out of the pool, his wet shirt clinging to his chest. He made a point of disrobing and tossing the sopping clothes aside.

I broke away from Edward and tossed the towel to Nathan. “Here. You’re all wet behind the ears.”

Nathan laughed. He made no move to catch the towel; he simply let it hit him in the chest and slither to the floor.

We locked gazes, him daring me with his incredible blue eyes to pick the towel up from around his feet.

“Unfortunately for you, I stoop for no man,” I said to Nathan.

He lunged at me and gripped me around the waist. “Unfortunately for you, I love being wet.” He lifted me in his arms and jumped into the pool. We went under for a moment, and I struggled to break his hold, but he held tight as we surfaced. I shook my wet hair out of my face and was ready to scream when he planted a kiss on my lips.

He pressed against me and the kiss lasted longer than I expected, sending a chill throughout my body.

He grabbed at my boobs and I pulled away, angry.

He grinned. “I guess you don’t mind getting a little wet, either.”

I disentangled myself from his arms and swam to the side of the pool. My eyes caught Paul’s, shooting daggers at me.

Pietro was standing at the edge of the pool with a towel. I reached under the water and freed my feet from the beautiful designer shoes. I handed first one and then the other to Pietro. He grabbed the shoes and made a cute little pout, saying, “Poor Sergios.”

I laughed.

Earlier in the evening I’d thought a close-up of the shoes would have been nice, but now everything seemed hopeless.

I hoisted myself out of the pool, the halter dress dripping and clinging to me.

Pietro wrapped the towel around me and whispered in my ear, “Georgia, we need to find a place to speak without cameras or microphones. I have urgent information.”

I tensed.

Pietro made a fuss about rubbing my back. “Oh, you are cold! We must go inside and sit by the fire.”

“Cut,” Cheryl yelled.

The cast seemed to move about quickly, more or less disappearing immediately. Pietro gave me a discreet look to make sure I’d understood him. I nodded.

The only remaining people on the set were myself, Cheryl, and a cameraman.

The towel fell from around my shoulders and slipped to the ground. As I reached for it, I noticed my breasts protruding rather scandalously from the dress.

“Crap,” I muttered to no one in particular. “I’m practically falling out of this dress.”

Cheryl raised an eyebrow at the cameraman. “Maybe she’ll make an okay bachelorette after all.”

C
heryl gave me curt instructions to get back to my RV and rest. The reshoot of my first date would take place early the next morning.

I was happy to be done for the day; my head seemed ready to explode. I wrapped the towel tight around my shoulders and walked around the mansion toward my coach. As I walked, I thought about Pietro’s comment. What could he need to speak to me about that was urgent? Did it have anything to do with Aaron? Perhaps he had seen something, but if so, surely he’d have told the police.

I heard my name called and I turned to see Becca running down the walkway toward me. “Hey, Georgia, the scene was great! Cheryl is very happy.”

“Really?”

“Hell yes. Your boobs flew out of your dress when you jumped into the pool. How could she not be happy?”

“What?” My hands instinctively flung toward my chest. My cleavage seemed intact. “No,” I said, relieved.

Becca nodded emphatically. “I was monitoring camera one from inside the studio. The girls showed up. They’re already editing the scene for the promos.”

“But it’s impossible—it’s some phony camera angle or something.”

Becca laughed. “Oh, please—”

I opened my towel and showed her my dress. “Come on, how could my boobs fall out of the dress and then magically fall back in? I mean, I didn’t fix my—”

I stopped short, recalling my kiss with Nathan.

“What?” Becca asked.

“Nathan. I thought he was copping a feel, but he was actually—”

“Aww. How sweet! He was trying to protect your dignity.”

I buried my face in my hands. “Unbelievable! I’ll never live it down!”

Becca pooh-poohed me. “Ah, a little skin, so what?”

“Can you lose the scene?” I asked.

Becca looked at me incredulously. “What do you mean, lose the scene?”

“I don’t know, pour coffee on the film or something?”

“We’re digital—”

“Well, erase or delete or whatever.” I shrugged. “Come on, it happens all the time, I’m sure.”

Becca straightened. “We’re not cops, you know, who can just tamper with evidence any ol’ way they choose.”

“What? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Now, that probably happens all the time—I’m not saying you, but you know. Dirty cops. Like—”

I grabbed her by the arm. “Shh.” I glanced around us to make sure we were still alone.

Becca stood frozen a moment and then whispered, “I can’t lose the scene. I’d get fired.”

I nodded.

I knew what being fired was like. Regardless whether you’re innocent or not, it still sucks.

“Never mind. I’m sorry I asked. Of course you can’t do that. I wouldn’t want you to do anything that would get you in trouble.”

Becca nodded. “Thanks.”

“Speaking of trouble, though, Teresa Valens is here. She’s one of the makeup artists.”

Becca frowned. “Who?”

“Teresa Valens!” I whispered. “Do you remember? I put her behind bars for murdering her husband.”

Becca shook her head, confused, then covered her mouth with her hand and spoke through her fingers. “I remember vaguely. Was she the lady who shot him dead and then stabbed him for good measure?”

I nodded. “That’s her.”

Becca suddenly looked frightened. “What is she doing out? I thought she got twenty years. And you think she’s here?”

“She’s the makeup lady!”

“Which one? We have several, but no, no, we don’t have a Teresa Valens.”

“The one who does
my
makeup. She did my makeup today and yesterday.”

“That’s Florencia. Not Teresa.”

“She’s going by a fake name, then. I’m sure it’s her.”

“What do we do?” Becca asked.

“Can you look into her file for me?”

Becca grimaced. “You just said you weren’t going to ask me to do anything that could get me in trouble.”

“Sorry. Sorry, I know. Can you get me onto the Internet?”

As part of the standard contract for the show I’d agreed to have no Internet or phone access. Apparently, they didn’t want me spilling my guts to any media outlets before they could control the story.

Becca shook her head. “No. I’d definitely get in trouble for that. I’ll look her up.”

“And Aaron, too. Find out what happened. If he’s dead or in the hospital or what.”

Becca nodded. “Okay, let’s get you out of the wet dress before you shake yourself to death.”

She put her arm around me and I realized I was shivering.

I bundled myself tighter in the towel. “One more thing.”

“Crap. What?”

“Pietro—”

“Pietro, mm-mm. Now, he’s hot, isn’t he?” She steered me toward my RV. “You want some time alone with him, off camera, is that it?”

“He said he needs to talk to me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “After you flashed everyone I’m sure he wants more than just—”

“Can you arrange it?”

She sighed. “For someone who says she doesn’t want to get me in trouble, you’re certainly asking for a lot of favors.”

I cringed. “I know.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Becca said.

I held up my hand and placed my forefinger and thumb an inch apart. “And one more teeny tiny thing.”

“You want me to run to the liquor store?”

I laughed. “Weren’t you going to do that anyway?”

Becca looked at me through her lashes. “What else do you want?”

“I’d like to see the tapes from yesterday.”

•   •   •   •   •   •   •   •   •

T
he following morning I awoke to an incessant banging on the door to the coach. It was a production assistant, there to usher me into hair and makeup.

This time I was given a proper dressing room inside the studio where we’d refilm a new first date.

I was given the tightest jeans I’ve ever managed to shimmy myself into and then a top with a deep V cut. Clearly they were hoping to replicate the bosom sensation from the day before.

When I complained to Kyle, one of the stylists, he shrugged and said, “Girl, if you got it, flaunt it. Ain’t nobody ever made it in this town by being a prude.”

I hadn’t seen Becca all morning and now I was beginning to worry that I might have gotten her into trouble. Curiously, Teresa Valens was nowhere to be seen, either, and Kyle moved from my hair to my makeup.

“Where’s the other lady?” I asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. Fortunately, sounding nonchalant is practically mandatory for public information officers, so it was a skill I had honed over the few years I’d had the job.

Kyle shrugged and dabbed a small brush into a black tin and, sounding more nonchalant than I did, asked, “Who?”

Clearly, I hadn’t mastered the skill as much as I’d thought.

“The lady who did my makeup yesterday. Florencia, is it?”

“Close your eyes,” Kyle said, tipping my chin up with his hands. “Don’t know. Don’t worry, doll face, I can do makeup better than anyone.”

•   •   •   •   •   •   •   •   •

W
hen Kyle was satisfied with my “look,” I was taken to the set. There was a huge faux rock-climbing set over fifteen stories high; it was awe inspiring. The cast members were instructed to stand on a platform that was designed and painted to look as if we were outdoors, climbing the Marin Headlands with the Golden Gate Bridge in the background. We waited while the safety crew set out commercial-grade air cushions and a safety net.

I noticed none of the technicians helping us this time had been present during our bungee-jump fiasco at the Golden Gate Bridge.

Cheryl pulled me aside. “I’d like you to flirt with each bachelor before they begin the climb. You can go last.”

“If I’m a good girl, you promise you’ll let me live?” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I knew I’d said them.

Cheryl looked appropriately offended. “What?”

I shrugged. “Someone gave me a little shove off the bridge the other day. I sure am lucky my bungee wasn’t the one that failed.”

Her face turned beet red. “What do you mean? You were supposed to jump. We couldn’t wait all day for you.”

“It was you, then, right? A little push in the right direction?”

She leaned into my face and through clenched teeth said, “Listen, the authorities are looking into it. It was an equipment malfunction. The subcontractor is being served as we speak. Now, you’ll do as I say. Flirt, be cute and sexy, be someone America can love.”

I snorted. Someone America could love? I was barely someone a single man could love, let alone an entire nation.

Before I could reply Cheryl turned and started calling out places for the cast. Pietro was supposed to go first.

Pietro and I approached the faux rock wall. Silent fans were turned on and suddenly my hair was flipping about my face.

Pietro easily smoothed down my hair with his large hands, cradled my face, and looked me in the eyes. “
Cara mia
, I will climb to the top and proclaim your beauty for the entire world to hear.”

I smiled at him, completely disarmed by his handsome face.

“You promise me a glass of champagne, no?” he asked.

According to the producers, I’d have to eliminate someone that night at the cocktail party. In order for a bachelor to stay I had to offer him a glass of champagne. One man would not be offered a glass and would have to leave immediately.

“We’ll toast,” I said.

Pietro smiled, although he looked at me intensely. I nodded at him, hoping to reassure him that I’d find a place for us to talk.

He began his ascent up the rock wall.

My stomach clenched, despite the safety net below, and I had to look away. My heart pounded against my chest and I forced myself to calm down.

Pietro proceeded sure-footed up the wall, making it look easy. When he reached the top, he was greeted by two techs who pulled him onto the landing.

“That was amazing!” he said, his face flushed with excitement as he yelled down toward me.

“Cut,” Cheryl called.

“Can we do something about her?” Cheryl asked Kyle. “She looks green.”

Kyle shrugged. “Honey, I can fix green, but what about her expressions? I can’t do anything about that.”

I pressed my lips together to keep myself from shouting obscenities at them. Paul stepped into my range of sight. “Why don’t we film our moments with Georgia and then let her go have a coffee or something? She doesn’t have to watch us climb, right?”

Cheryl studied Paul a moment. She looked at him like a cat watching its prey: salivating and bloodthirsty. “Good idea, hunk. Let’s have her do her moments with everyone and then we can let the diva rest.”

I tensed. Did this mean I wouldn’t have to rock climb? The last thing I wanted to do was hover in the air, even over a safety net. At the same time that I felt relieved I was angry. Why did Paul have to speak up like that? Like I was some stupid little girl and he was my protector.

“I’m okay,” I lied.

Cheryl laughed. “Sure, honey, but what matters to the camera is how you look.” She held a hand up to ward off my argument. “And, listen, I’m being nice here. You don’t look
okay
.”

Scott, Edward, and Ty stepped up onto the platform.

“I think it’ll be for the best,” Edward said with a note of diplomacy in his voice.

“No one wants you to have another shock, sweetheart,” Ty said.

Paul crossed his arms over his chest, but only glared at me.

Scott shrugged and laughed. “I wouldn’t blame you for taking the easy way out.”

I stared at Scott. The easy way out? He was calling me a coward to my face.

“I’m not scared—”

Cheryl stepped in. “I make the decisions around here,” she snapped. “You all have your moments with her and then I want her off the set!”

The crew magically got into place and I found myself face-to-face with Edward. He made a bit of small talk with me and held my hand a moment. Cheryl ended the scene with Edward climbing into position on the rock wall.

Next was Ty. He said something about southern hospitality that I barely registered and then climbed onto the wall.

My scene with Paul was stopped and started several times because the techs were having problems with the wind fans. If they couldn’t get that right, what were the chances of everyone being unscathed from the climb? Safety net or not.

They finally had the fans back up and running. My hair was flying about my face and Paul reached out to pull a strand off my cheek. I grabbed his hand and, before I could check myself, begged, “Paul, please don’t climb it.”

He squeezed my hand and said, “Honey, I’m going to be fine.”

Hearing him call me honey constricted my throat and I felt a rush of emotion. I grabbed at his wrists, but he evaded me and climbed onto the rock wall.

Cheryl stopped the scene and called for Scott to take his place. Before he did she whispered something to him.

Scott approached me with the cameras still rolling.

“Wish me luck,” he said.

“Good—”

He reached around the back of my neck and pulled me into him. He pressed his lips eagerly to mine.

Was he only kissing me because Cheryl had told him to? When was she going to call “Cut”?

He released me. “Thank you. At least if I die now, I’ll die happy.”

Despite the fact that he was an awesome kisser, he’d definitely be the first to leave tonight. I couldn’t let his sex appeal distract me. Not to mention, he’d been callous about Aaron’s fall and likely he was probably in it for the money anyway.

Scott climbed onto the wall and made it halfway up before Cheryl ended the scene. He rappelled down the wall and stood next to me.

“I think we got what we need,” Cheryl said, looking to the crew for confirmation.

“We’ll film a picnic lunch later, where you all can celebrate your ‘amazing climbs.’” She made air quotes with her fingers, clearly wanting to emphasize how pathetic she thought we all were. She turned to leave.

Becca, who was huddled with a cameraman, called out, “Take a break, everyone.”

The cast and crew dispersed. I looked around for Pietro. Where was he? I hadn’t seen him since he finished the climb.

Scott joined me. “I’m sorry this isn’t actually a date. I’d love to spend more time with you.”