‘Great, and I could really do with my suitcases back, that’s for sure,’ I say, pointing to my gown. ‘Otherwise, I’ll be making togas out of the bed sheets.’
Cam chuckles. ‘Sorry, I totally forgot. I’ll get straight on it. You have at least a few days before anything happens. You may as well soak up the rays and relax before we start shooting.’
‘Sounds great. Is that so the contestants can get a tan before they go on TV?’
‘Yeah.’
I gulp. The contestants never have tan lines as far as I remember. Lois and I once discussed the angles one would have to contort the body, in order to get the sort of coverage required. We decided they must all do yoga in the nude for eight hours a day.
‘Will I be expected to have an all-over tan?’ I ask nervously.
Cam looks down at his plate. I see his cheeks colouring, even in this fading sunlight. ‘Erm, that’s erm, well, I mean, that’s entirely up to you. Entirely. It’s not mandatory by any means. But I suppose I can work in the bedroom during the day if you need some… privacy.’
He pokes around at his salad.
I have basically given him this mental picture of me lying stretched out naked on the sun loungers. Legs akimbo. Tits out, fanny out. Just as he is about to eat.
What is wrong with me?
Chapter 7
‘So, Libby, what motivated you to come on the show? Apart from wanting to find love and win a hundred thousand dollars, of course.’
I am still picturing myself lying naked on the lounger while he brings me grapes and other erotic foods. I snap out of it. ‘Good question. There’s a lot I could do with a hundred thousand dollars.’
For a start, it would buy an awful lot of grapes.
Pull yourself together.
Cam tilts his head, waiting for me to answer. He’ll be expecting me to say something obvious like a vanity project, designing my own range of edible thongs or an Instagramable trip to see the Dalai Lama. If I tell him the boring truth that it would go on two deposits for mortgage downpayments. One, so that my newly engaged sister can buy her first home, and two, so that I can start to rebuild my life after being unceremoniously dumped by Arrogant Josh and let go from my job - he’ll think I’m a sad loser.I’m so desperate to impress him that I default immediately to some meaningful, low-level lying.
‘I was thinking I could take a year off teaching to help build an orphanage in Botswana.’ I make sure to keep my eyes level with his, so as not to arouse suspicion. ‘Or to help build a school in India for… you know… street urchins.’
Any sane person would stop there.
‘Have you experience in construction?’ He seems very interested.
‘No. No, I haven’t.’
‘Oh.’
There’s a silence hanging in the air that needs to be filled with more lies.
‘Or I could go on one of those environmental boat trips clearing up plastics from the ocean. Rescue dolphins. Save some turtles.’ In a panic I do namaste hands and bow my head. It is wildly inappropriate. ‘Those sorts of things, really.’
He stares at me to see if I’m serious. He has no idea.
I will leave him wondering. Best he sees me as a kind soul, a touch benevolent and mystical, especially after the way he caught me yelling at my chaperone to choke on her own vomit.
‘And you? What do you do when you’re not working on this show? Do you go back to… the capital, LA? The city of angels.’
It’s very apt because he has very angelic eyes. They are kind and expressive, with fine crinkles at the sides when he smiles, which is a lot. Despite the Year Three project, my geography of the USA is appalling. But everyone the world over, knows LA is where all the good-looking people go. I pour us both a hefty measure of wine, filling the glass right to the brim.
‘I think you’ll find Sacramento is the capital of California.’ He raises his eyebrows playfully at me. ‘I’m mostly in San Francisco.’
Capital cities are very cool and interesting, and more importantly a very safe topic of conversation. And yet…
I take another swig of wine. ‘It must be hard to work away from home and leave family behind.’
