The Bachelor - David Dower (freenovel24 .txt) 📗

game show. A stupid, egotistical, narcissistic, unliterary game show, she said to herself. “What about it?” she asked.

“I’ll be directing the next season which will start airing live two days from now and just a few hours ago--before you got the call to come here, actually,” he leaned against his desk with one hand and looked at her, “I received a call that one of the twenty-five girls who got in to be in the show backed out, saying she got engaged yesterday.”

Julianne waited for him to continue and when he didn’t she said, “Well, good for her.”

“And now we’re short of one girl to complete the twenty-five.” Julianne got a strong feeling where their conversation was heading and she was ready with an answer: NO. “And then, just minutes after I received that disappointing news, I got a call from one of my script writers from the TV series Living Life, which I will be directing next season, telling me that she will quit once her baby comes out. She said she wants to be a full-time mom.”

Julianne tried to hold out her ready-made answer for a moment after hearing that last part. She did not say a word and let Jack Carter continue his speech.

“What I’m proposing to you, Ms. Grey, is that you fill in the missing spot of one of the women in The Bachelor. You don’t have to try to stay in the show. Yes, the new Bachelor might choose you to be in the top fifteen, but there’s the bigger chance that he won’t,” he emphasized that last statement by looking at her all over again. “Let’s just say that you’ll only be there as a proxy, just to fill in the missing spot. So, you act as one of the ladies, fill in that missing spot and get the hell out of there. And then I’ll give you the vacant writer spot my soon-to-be-mommy writer will be leaving soon. What do you think?” Jack Carter looked at her with confidence. He knew what he was doing and he believed in it, Julianne thought silently. Carter was the kind of man who was used to getting what he wanted.

“I can leave whenever I want?” she asked.

“No, you can leave when the Bachelor doesn’t pick you. It will be easy,” he shrugged. “I personally know the man and he doesn’t really go for someone your type.”

Julianne was not offended, but she was deep in thought. She was not bothered about how she looked or how others saw her. She was deep in thought about something else entirely—something her wild writer side was already giddy for.

This could be something new. She could get some good subjects to write about for her future book if she joined the show. Getting out would be easy. She knew men don’t really dig women who dress or act like her. And if she could spare some time for one episode, endure the hours to be surrounded by vain women and finally get eliminated, then she would get that job she wanted. Living Life was a good series and she would love to work in it.

Having made her decision, she looked up at Jack Carter and said, “I’ll agree to your proposition only if you sign on it.”

Jack Carter smiled at her and held out his hand, “Consider it done.”

 *****

Diane, her friend and editor, looked at her with mouth slightly open. “You said no, right?” she asked, her eyebrows rising higher.

“Of course I said yes,” Julianne answered, throwing the high-heeled shoes she borrowed at the far corner of the room.

“This is just one of those moments when you’re trying to be funny it isn’t really working, right?”

Julianne frowned and looked at her friend. “No, I’m serious. I’m going to join that game show.”

“Okay, let’s assume I believe you…” Diane shifted on her seat and faced her, hands clasped together. “Why exactly did you agree to Carter’s proposal? You’re not bankrupt to be this desperate to get that writing job, are you? Because I will find it hard to believe for I know your book is doing pretty amazing right now. And I know you will not need to work for the next ten years or so. So,” Diane paused to catch her eyes, “tell me why you agreed to Carter’s outrageous proposal, Jules.”

“I’m curious,” she shrugged.

“Curious.”

“Yeah, I’m curious. I want to know what really happens behind the camera and I want to get a feel of those women who throw themselves at the Bachelor or whoever or whatever you call them.”

“Okay, that’s it…I’m through playing around. You can spit the punch line now,” Diane held up her hand.

Julianne frowned, untying her long brown hair. “There’s no punch line and I’m serious,” she eyed her friend through her slim spectacles, “I’m really serious.”

Diane looked at her for a long time, her eyes blank like she was looking at something but nowhere in particular at the same time. “You’re serious.”

Julianne nodded. “But,” she stood up and walked towards the kitchen counter, “as I’ve said, I’m not there for the long haul. I don’t expect to be and I don’t want to be. I just want to get enough points of view on what’s going on in that show for my next novel.”

“What if the Bachelor doesn’t want to let you go?”

Julianne chuckled dryly. “Diane, people like the Bachelor don’t even take a second glance at someone like me.”

“Why? You’re pretty,” Dian contradicted, “you’re not just vain enough.”

Julianne rolled her eyes. “I like myself as what I am.”

“But what are you going to do if ever that happens? I mean, if the Bachelor chooses you to stay?”

Julianne looked at her friend. “That’s why I’ll have to make sure he will kick me out at first sight, right?” Chapter 2

The following day, Julianne woke up with the sound of her condo unit’s doorbell only to find out that some people from The Bachelor came for an interview.

“I’ve been watching the television and I saw your promotion. I don’t think it’s necessary,” she argued after John, who seemed to be the leader of the group, told her about the promotional video.

“But it is the one with Marissa in it and now she’s gone and you’ll be stepping in. We need your face,” he insisted.

“Look, your promotional video is flashing twenty-five faces in less than ten seconds. I don’t think someone will complain about it. You can leave and I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay?”

“Fine,” said the man. “But we still have to make an interview.”

“For what?”

“For the excerpts. In the first episode, we will introduce each of the twenty-five women. We need to make a recorded interview so you better change now.”

Julianne reminded herself that they were merely doing their job and that she was the one who got herself into it, so she better try to cooperate as much as she could. And for the next few hours, Julianne found herself facing the camera, regretting her refusal to wear any makeup because the light coming from every direction was making her face a frying pan as of the moment.

“Why did you join?” asked John for the nth time.

“To explore my curious side,” she answered for the nth time.

“Cut!” John shouted. “Can’t you give a better answer?”

“No,” Julianne answered back, her eyes squinting. “Can I have my glasses back?”

“No,” he snapped at her. “It’s not good for the camera,” he paused for a while, sighed, and said, “Okay, on to the next question.” He looked at the camera guy and said, “Roll.” Then, he looked back at her and asked, “Tell us something about you.”

Though Julianne’s eyesight was impaired, she could still see shadows and figures, and she knew that the camera was only focusing on her face. John, she was quite certain was beside the camera guy, just asking the questions and directing. She suddenly felt conscious at how she might look. Hey, give her some slack, like any other ladies, there were just moments that she felt that uncomfortable feeling no matter how comfortable she was with herself—and there was only one reason: she couldn’t see clearly and she needed her glasses! Aside from that, she would be perfectly fine.

She cleared her throat and tucked her bounty waves behind her ear and said, “I’m a writer—pen name not possible for public to know by the way—and I’m twenty-five years old, single, American—”

“Cut!” John shouted once again. “You’re a writer, right?”

“Yes,” Julianne said dryly. This was getting boring and hot—what with all those stupid lights pointing at her.

“Then make something up. Imagine yourself not you. Imagine someone more…lively,” John’s movements, as what her poor eyesight could see, appeared like he was explaining to a three-year-old.

“Okay,” she was getting irritated now, her lips pursed.

“Roll,” John said to the camera guy once again, and said aloud, “Tell us about you.”

“I’m a writer and I would rather be somewhere in a place I created than on this chair with all the lights burning my face. I’m twenty-five and I think I’m starting to waste more of my precious life sitting here doing this interview. And no, I won’t do another roll or whatever you call that. I’m done,” she smiled blindly at the camera and jumped off her stool. “My glasses, please!”

“You can’t hold us responsible if people will find you undesirable, or funny, or stupid,” John said, glaring at her—and she could see that clearly now with her glasses on.

“That will be perfectly fine,” she shrugged one shoulder.

They did a long battle of gaze until John scoffed and shouted over his shoulder, “Let’s wrap up!” and then he was gone, his back to her, making hasty orders, not bothering to speak another word at her direction.

“Someone will pick you up tomorrow,” a small nerdy woman approached her, holding a folder. “Pack your stuff, every best dress and accessories you got.”

Julianne just nodded. She already packed enough for a one-day stay.

When the last man carrying lights and umbrellas made his exit, Julianne let out the air she had been holding in. She studied the piece of paper the woman left for her to read.

Zachary Astor…of course she knew the name.

Zachary Astor, the sole heir to Astor Industries, the largest food enterprise in the country.

“You must be kidding me,” she moaned. “Filthy rich bastard as the Bachelor…”

Sweeping her keen eyes over the man’s profile, she learned that the next Bachelor, aside from being handsome—which was already given—was nearing his thirties and had never been married. Known as a player, the paper said, he was hoping to find the woman who could make him rooted.

Julianne snorted and crunched up her face. She was a good judge of characters, and as an author and a writer, she had developed a special talent for detecting lies and hypocrisy among that of genuine love and happiness. This is bull, she crumpled the paper and threw it right in the trash.

 *****

“What have you got yourself into this time, Zachary?” Mr. Astor’s face was burning red as he threw the paper on the table.

“It’s for publicity, dad,” he lied, covering his phone with one hand. “This is good for business.” He knew what his father was furious about. He had been expecting that, and he had prepared pretty good enough reasons