Page 83 of Home Grown Talent
Inwardly, Owen cringed. He wasn’t sure he really meant those words—after all, given her family connections, it wasn’t in much doubt that Naomi would get wherever she wanted to go. But still, she was being treated like crap, and for that, there was no excuse. It made him marvel again over how Lewis had single-mindedly bulldozed his way into this industry with nothing but grit and raw talent on his side.
“Perhaps.” Naomi eyed Misty again, shifting the tray she was holding. “Working in TV isn’t as much fun as I thought it would be, though.”
Owen huffed softly. “Yeah,” he said, “you’ve got that right.”
With a rueful smile, Naomi moved towards where Mason and Misty were standing. Misty was talking intently in a low voice while Mason listened, a tiny frown between his brows. She glared at Naomi when she approached, waving her off with an irritable gesture like she was no more than a dog, even though Misty was the one who’d insisted Naomi had to make a coffee run. Mason called Naomi back, though, smiling sunnily and chatting for a few moments as he got his coffee, his expression regretful as he declined the contents of the treat bag.
Owen smiled, glad to see that Mason was not completely owned by Misty. But as soon as Naomi scurried off, Misty was back in his face again, back to delivering orders while Mason nodded unhappily along.
It wasn’t until sometime later, after they’d done another stint of filming, that he got a chance to ask Mason what that had been about.
Mason glanced at him anxiously, then said, under his breath, “I don’t think you’re going to like this, but… look, will you give it a fair hearing? I honestly don’t think it needs to be a big deal. It’s just a bit of fun.”
Owen frowned, already wary. “What’s just a bit of fun?” He had visions of being asked to flirt harder, or worse, do something he really wouldn’t feel comfortable with, like kiss Mason on camera.
“Misty really liked the pineapple photo I posted on Insta. She wants to do a section on it on the show.”
Owen frowned, honestly bewildered. “A section on pineapples?”
“Yeah, she loves the idea of growing a pineapple just from the top bit that normally goes in the bin. She loves the sustainability angle.” He shuffled his feet, his body language screaming discomfort, even as he kept his voice cheerful. “She thinks it would be really fun if we could take one of your pineapples into the studio when we go in for the live show in a couple of weeks’ time. Explain to the viewers how you grew them.”
“You mean one of my pineapple plants?”
“No, she wants an actual pineapple.”
Owen chuckled even as he frowned. “I don’t have any actual pineapples. I told you they take years to fruit. How am I supposed to grow one in two weeks?”
“You’re not.” Mason looked uncomfortable, his gaze shifting away. “Apparently, Misty bought a few pineapple plants that are, you know, a bit further along than yours.” He cleared his throat. “So, we just… pretend they’re yours.”
“Pretend they’re—” Owen broke off, shaking his head. “Okay, wait, where are these plants?”
“In the greenhouse,” Mason said miserably. Then, when Owen started walking away, he added in a panicky voice, “Owen, wait—”
But Owen kept moving, heading for the tiny greenhouse and yanking open its flimsy door to be confronted by three pineapple plants on the shelf, each of which had clearly been growing for several years and each of which already had a baby fruit.
When he turned back to speak to Mason, it was to find Misty standing in the doorway, with Mason and Lucy hovering behind her.
Misty gave Owen a wintry smile. “Are you in here because you’re ready to do this bit?” she asked sweetly. She glanced at her watch and added, “If we get started now, we can get it in the can before I have to head off.”
Owen crossed his arms and smiled back. “Nah,” he said. “We won’t be doing this bit at all. At least, not the way Mason described it to me.”
She got that determined, steely look in her eye that was becoming familiar, her jaw tightening and her eyes going hard. “You’re not being very flexible today, Owen.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” he replied, his smile still relaxed. “But I have a few boundaries that I need to maintain, and this is one of them.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the pineapple plants. “I didn’t grow those, and I’m not going to say otherwise. If you want me to talk about how to look after a pineapple plant that you buy from a plant nursery with the fruit already on it, fine. I’ll do it. But I’m not going to pretend those came out of my garden.”
Misty shook her mane of blond hair irritably. “I don’t understand why you are making such a huge deal out of this! You are growing pineapples in your own garden at home, right?”
“Yup,” Owen agreed.
“So what’s the problem?” She spread her hands in a helpless gesture. “You’re not lying about growing pineapples—you are growing pineapples. I’m just asking you to show the stages in the process. You know, there’s a reason it’s called television? We do actually like to show visual content to viewers rather than just talk them through a set of instructions!”
“And that’s fine,” Owen said patiently. “Provided we’re up-front about it.”
Misty gave a huff of frustrated laughter. “Oh my God, Owen, you’re not going to be happy until you have all my viewers switching off in complete boredom, are you? This is a Saturday morning lifestyle show. People tune in to be entertained.” She sighed dramatically, making a show of calming herself down. “Look, how about this? We’ll show some photos of your own plants for the first stage, then we’ll have the little slot on these plants for the second stage, and then, when you come into the studio for your interview with Marc and Leah, we can have the final product there.”
“The final product,” Owen said. “You mean, what—a full-size pineapple?”
She nodded. “Yeah. A nice juicy pineapple that we can hand over to our guest chef to turn into a delicious dish. From garden to plate. What could be more inspiring for our viewers?”