Page 23 of (Not So) Famous in Paradise

“No,” Evie agrees. “Now they both have spinoff shows and bank accounts with millions of dollars.”

“That’s supposed to convince me? I’d rather have friends than money.” I close the app I’m staring at and take her off speaker.

Evie answers with a laugh. “That’s very noble. But, speaking from experience, I know how irresistible the Thomsen twins are.” She follows this statement with a giggle and other noises that have nothing to do with our conversation and everything to do with Adam.

“Gross. Can you two please not make out while we’re in the middle of a phone call?” I take my garbage to the kitchen, holding the phone away from my ear until the giggling stops. “Putting Zach on camera is good for business. That’s it.”

“I remember you saying the same thing about Adam, only to find out later you had more nefarious plans for us. Now look what’s happened.” Evie giggles again. “You and I can’t even get through a conversation without Adam trying todistractme.”

I can almost see her air quotes when she says distract.

“I’m hanging up now.” I hope she hears my eyeroll.

“Say hi to Zach for me,” Adam yells just before I end the call.

I go back to the sofa and TV, determined to forget everything Evie just said. But, of course, what’s on the TV?

Flip or Flop.

Chapter 8

Zach

The next couple days of shooting are just as exhausting as the first, especially since I still have my actual job. Luckily, February is a slow month for real estate, so I’m able to get done what I need to when I’m not on camera “being pretty,” as Georgia says.

The most important lesson I’ve learned is that reality TV is more make-believe than a four-year-old’s princess tea party. Which actually takes the pressure off me to get things exactly right. Even though reading through the lines with Georgia helps me memorize a lot of them, it’s easier to improvise.

Not that there aren’t plenty of tools in place to help me say what’s written in the script. Before each shot, Ike gives us an overview of what he wants to see on camera, the teleprompter has my lines in a sans-serif font, making them easier to read, and Georgia mouths my lines to me whenever she can.

Then I say what I want.

I don’t go totally off-script. I just ad lib a little. Or a lot.

But everyone laughs, and nobody stops me, so it must be working. The short videos of me that Stella has posted have received increasingly more likes and follows every day. And I’m a lot more at ease because I’m not worried about misreading words or lines.

By Wednesday, although I’m exhausted after the shoot, I don’t go home and collapse like I have the past two nights. Instead, I head to the Garden of Eatin’, where I know I’ll find Britta and my baby brother, Bear.

Adam left Bear in charge of the restaurant while he’s in New York. Usually I’d be offended, but after the days I’ve had, I’m fine not taking on one more thing, even though I’m just as qualified to cook as Bear is. But if Adam told Britta and Bear and not me—his twin brother, who he shares most of his DNA with—that he was getting engaged before he officially announced it yesterday, then I’m eating for free.

Scratch that.

No matter what, there’s no way I’m paying for my dinner. Adam owes me at least a thousand free dinners for keeping me in the dark.

When I pull into the Garden’s parking lot, the place is actually busy, especially for the off-season. So, despite being dead tired, for the next couple hours I work the kitchen with Bear instead of sitting at a quiet table eating baskets of fries. The only thing that makes the work worth it is that I get to make Georgia’s to-go order. Her second of the week, according to Bear.

Don’t think I’m going to let her live down that diva move—ordering food for delivery from a place that doesn’t deliver.

Finally, things slow down enough for me to finish my plate of venison steak and frites that I’ve been working on for an hour. Then I help Bear, Britta, and the rest of the staff clean everything and close up.

As I’m getting in my Bronco to go home, I get a text from Georgia telling me to check my email for her agent’s suggestions about what contract changes to ask for. I close my eyes and exhale. I gave my word I’d do the show, but I haven’t signed the contract yet. Georgia’s agent agreed to give the contract a look as a favor to her. But I’m way too tired, and it’s too late to go through it tonight. The producers have given me a week to sign, so I’m going to take advantage.

By the time I get home, I’m ready to collapse into my bed. But I make the mistake of sitting on my couch and flipping on the TV. Hours later, I wake up with a nasty kink in my neck, still in clothes that smell like the Garden.

And the rest of the week isn’t any better. I don’t have to be on set since Adam is back from New York and working on demo. So even though he gets to be the pretty boy, I like the energy on set too much not to be there whenever possible. I’m having almost as much fun as Georgia is.

The problem is, with Adam doing double duty tearing out Granny’s kitchen during the day and running the Garden at night, Dad needs help at the store and with taking care of Mom. Between showing clients a few properties and filling in wherever I’m needed, I don’t have a lot of time to be on set. And I have no time to read the contract.

I plan on getting Dad to help me go over it on Sunday, but Mom’s having a rare good day, and I completely forget to look at it. The entire day flies by with family dinner and an impromptu game night.

---