Page 8 of The Final Rose

Sebastian needs to get out of this happy. Only then the audience is going to be happy. And if the audience is happy, the network is too.

We are here only to nudge. I never showed the camera a lie, never put words in someone’s mouth. Everything portrayed on screen is true. You can’t make someone say something.

And even though I know all of that, when Diego is drafting a script, my stomach churns.

“Vera is the best angle.” Diego nods. “She’s smart, caring, and shy. Plus, together they will get people talking about their beautiful babies.”

I wince. Vera is Indian- American. I hate that people always have those types of comments about mixed babies, but I know it’s true.

“We keep Kirsten as a backup.” Sonja nods. “She’s good, too. Doesn’t pack a punch like Vera, but…” She shrugs, “Maybe Riggs is a secret jerk and Vera looks too smart to put up with that.”

I feel the urge to defend Sebastian, but I hold my tongue just in time.

I’m a single, young Latina working in the entertainment business. I have the best asshole radar in town and Sebastian… he’s not one of them.

I know Anya trusts my instincts. That’s why she sends me to meet the Eligible first. I usually come back with plenty of information and we plan the season in between laughs.

This time around, I’m barely talking.

I have a good feeling about Sebastian, but for some reason, I prefer to keep it to myself. I let them plan his life for the next three months. I hear the good and bad of each contestant and try to hold back comments. But at the end of the meeting, Anya watches me with a wariness that pricks my skin.

4.

Sebastian

“Are you nervous?”

“I’m not nervous.”

“Don’t make that face, then.”

“What face?”

I turn just in time to see Callie bugging her eyes out and quivering her lips. I scoff, standing tall in the front garden. Cameramen are coming from all sides, a thick red carpet is laid from the front door to the sidewalk. In the second I take to react to her taunting, Callie’s attention is back to the walkie-talkie barking orders. She’s in her usual uniform; denim shorts,The Final Rosetee, and battered trainers. Her head barely comes up to my shoulders and I suppress the urge to pet her or something. I hardly think she would appreciate that.

She talks fast and curses in Spanish now and again to whoever is in the vicinity. The next stream coming out of her mouth is especially colorful, and I have to bite back a laugh.

“You speak Spanish?” she asks.

“A much tamer version of it, of course.”

“Of course.” She rolls her eyes, “Well, pretend you don’t,cabrón.”

This time I flash her a smile. I know it worked with many women before. Maverick has running bits about the smile I give to people, but to my utter disappointment, Callie just frowns and turns away.

She’s now shouting and emasculating other men that aren’t me. Honestly, watching is much better than being the recipient.

It doesn’t take long to notice Callie thinks everyone does everything wrong but her. There she goes from one point of the garden to the other, quick on her feet, fixing the whole set.

Finally, she’s back to my side, fixing me and my tie.

“I know how to keep a tie straight,” I say, but I only get a little smirk from her.

“The first car is five minutes from here.” She tells me.

I look around for just a second and it’s clear we are ready to go. The madness that was here just a second ago disappeared like magic. Everyone is back in place and the cameras are rolling. The crew holds their breath, and I wonder if I should hold mine, too.

I swallow and try to hide my real feelings. Iamnervous. But anyone would be if they were waiting to meet their future wife.

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