Page 8 of Playing With My Heart Strings

baylor

Camera Shy

“Baylor, we’ll need you on the set today,” Alex says through the phone.

Fucking finally. It’s been the longest week of my life. Who knew I was such a workaholic? I mean, I did, I always have been, but that’s beside the point.

“Great. What time?”

“In about an hour. Dusty’s making his final decisions for who he wants on the show, and then we’ll do some quick filming with the girls who were chosen and do some clips of you, too.

Tomorrow, the first episode will air for everyone who didn’t get to watch the auditions live, and Thursday is when the fun will begin,” he explains.

My heart hammers in my chest as the reality of my circumstances sinks in. It’s all very overwhelming. I shut my eyes and try to steady my breathing.

“Baylor? Are you all right over there?” Alex’s tone has a twinge of concern in it.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” I downplay my emotions as much as possible. No one needs to know I’m actually terrified of being in front of the camera.

“All right. Well, get to the set in an hour and go straight to hair and makeup,” he instructs then hangs up.

I love Alex, truthfully. He, Daniella, and I have been friends since I started working at Sparks Studio Productions. But sometimes he can be blunt and too straight-to-the-point.

Maybe that’s what I need right now, though. Someone who will cut the bullshit and get me through this.

I pull up to the studio and head straight to hair and makeup like Alex instructed.

“Oh good, Baylor, you’re right on time.” One of the makeup artists grabs my arm and pulls me over to a chair.

“How has everything been going?” I ask. I’m sure I’m not allowed to know, but what’s the harm in asking?

“It’s been busy. But everything seems to be going okay,” she replies as she organizes her products.

“That’s good to hear. No more social media scandals, then, I assume.”

It’s a poorly timed joke—I know it is, yet it still slips out of my mouth—and she gives me an awkward laugh, making me feel even worse about the whole situation.

It wasn’t your fault. Just get through these next ten weeks to save your career and then you can move on.

“Let’s get you ready for tonight.” She starts dabbing foundation on my face, working mostly in silence, which I’m okay with. Less room to make things more awkward after my comment.

Once she finishes putting a full face of makeup on me, she starts working on my hair.

I wonder if any of the other contestants get this treatment or if it’s just because I’m part of the production company.

I don’t imagine they do. Colette wouldn’t waste her time and resources on mere contestants who may not make it past the first week.

I let the question lingering in my mind slip out.

“The other contestants? No, they have to do their own. After today, you will, too, just so there’s no favoritism, but since you weren’t part of the auditions, Colette wants you to look your best. Can’t have America regretting their decision.” She shrugs in the mirror.

I do my best to ignore the backhanded comment but fail.

“Yeah, I guess they wouldn’t have seen me with the quality of that video.

” I snort. “The only way I knew it was me was because I was the one on stage. Hopefully America doesn’t see my face and immediately hate me.

I mean, would it be that bad to get eliminated early, though?

Would put me out of my misery.” I can’t stop the self-deprecating jokes from flowing out of my mouth. Word vomit, if you will.

“Yeah…” She draws out the word, and we’re back to the awkward silence we were in before.

I swear she works even faster, but I can’t really blame her.

“Okay. All good to go.” She brushes a curl out of my face and dusts on a tiny bit of powder. “Go with Alex, and he’ll direct you to where you need to head next.”

I nod, standing from the stylist’s chair then walking over to the door where Alex is waiting.

“Dang, Sommerfeld, you sure clean up nice.” He teasingly nudges me with his elbow.

“We already knew this, Alexander.” I roll my eyes, giving him shit back with his full government name. “I damn sure clean up nicer than you do.”

“Can’t argue with that.” His tone shifts from playful to one of genuine concern. “Are you ready for all this?”

“Yep,” I lie.

“Honesty, Bay.”

I sigh, letting out all the air I’ve been holding hostage the past couple days.

“If I’m being honest, no, I’m not ready for all of this.

But I don’t really have a choice if I want to keep my job.

I hate being in front of the camera in general, but the idea of being in front of the camera with the whole country watching makes me want to throw up. ”

“Those are valid feelings. I know it’s easier said than done, but just do your best and be yourself. You’ve got me and Dani in your corner. It’s not like you have to win to keep your job, right?”

I shake my head, and he continues.

“Well, there you go, then. That should be a little less pressure on your back? Trust me, you’ll be great.”

At this point, we’ve arrived at the auditorium where auditions were held. Several women are chatting backstage with one another.

“They’re going to be pissed,” I mutter.

“They’ll get over it,” Alex answers. “Odds are if they didn’t make it through with you here, they still wouldn’t have made it without you here.”

“I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or an insult.”

“It’s whatever you want it to be, Sommerfeld. Now play nice, all right?” He pats me on the back before all but shoving me toward the group of girls standing around. A few of them shoot me glares, but some of them give me soft smiles before continuing the conversations they were already having.

I continue walking, trying to find a place out of the way of everyone else to stand or sit. Although my head is on a swivel, I somehow still run directly into a girl with fiery red hair.

She spins around, shock plastered on her face. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!” She’s got a bit of a Southern accent, the kind that immediately comes to mind when you think of country music. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s from Georgia or one of the surrounding states.

I raise an eyebrow. “No need to apologize. I was the one who ran into you.”

“I know, it’s a bad habit of mine.” She extends a hand. “I’m Sage.”

“Baylor.” I take it and get a better look at her.

She’s beautiful, with lush, bouncy curls and full curves.

She doesn’t fit the typical image for reality TV—I hate that my mind immediately goes there, but it’s not entirely false.

Most of our competing reality shows cast max size-two women, so it’s refreshing to see Sparks Studio Productions prioritizing diversity.

“I don’t think I saw you earlier this week. But then again, there were so many people here that it’s hard to keep track as it is.” She laughs, her eyes gleaming.

“Yeah, there are a ton of people here. I’m not sure how the producers keep everyone straight.” I chuckle nervously.

“Producers? I don’t know how Dusty is able to keep everyone straight. But at least he only has to get to know ten of us, right? Actually, that’s not very reassuring,” she says, her mouth moving a mile a minute.

“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” I try to reassure her.

“Right, right. I’m getting ahead of myself. I need to not get so worked up over it. What’s meant to be, will be, right?” She gives me a tight smile, but her nerves reflect in her eyes. Is this how I should be feeling? I mean, I’m nervous, but it’s for an entirely different reason.

“Ladies, if I could get your attention please!” As Colette St. James walks through the sea of women, all eyes snap toward her. “We’re about to start filming, so if everyone could please listen for a moment.”

“Here we go.” Sage gives me a nervous glance as the other women crowd around Colette, although the chattering doesn’t completely stop.

Whispers of, “Will Dusty be here tonight?” and, “I hope I don’t go home,” can be heard from all sides of me.

I’m wedged between Sage and a dark-haired girl with a sharp stare and fox-like features. We make eye contact for a split second, and while I give her a soft smile, she looks me up and down, assessing me. Instead of acknowledging me, she lets out a puff of air, a tiny smirk creeping into her lips.

All right, then.

“Okay, ladies, here’s how this is going to work.

There are a lot of you tonight, so we want to make this as quick as possible so you can get settled and ready for a big day of filming tomorrow.

” Colette steps out onto center stage, her heels clicking against the laminate floor.

“We’ll be calling the names of only the contestants that made it through.

Ten of you will advance. Twenty of you will be going home. ”

Whispers intensify as the reality of what is going to happen sets in. It finally feels like an actual competition.

“If your name is announced, you’ll walk out on center stage then line up on the risers. Got it?”

Heads bob up and down around me.

“Great. Let’s roll.” Colette gestures to the cameramen before the host of the show steps out onto the stage as the space floods with lights and music starts playing.

“Welcome back to Heart Strings ! I’m your host Jarrod Stone. You’ve seen women from around the country sing their hearts out for the chance to win over Dusty Wilder’s heart. Tonight, ten of those women will move forward.

“Every week, there will be eliminations, and every week you, the viewers, will have the opportunity to vote and save one of the bottom contestants to give them another shot at winning Dusty’s heart and a record deal.

“Now, without further ado, let’s meet the women!”

Jarrod announces the first couple women, and even though I know I’m making it through, my heart still races.

“Next up, we’ve got Aspen!”

The fox-faced girl next to me gives me the side-eye as she plasters on a smile and steps forward, heading to center stage.

Great. Of course, she made the cut.

Six of the ten names are called, and they still haven’t announced me yet.

I wouldn’t put it past Colette to do some dramatic reveal, but it’s also my understanding that they want to keep my real identity a secret.

After all, it wouldn’t be a great look for the production company if everyone knew that they had planted someone on the show.

Then again, it was pretty obvious by the looks I was getting from the other girls here that I wasn’t at the auditions. If they do some dramatic reveal, they’ll probably be able to say I was “America’s choice” or some shit like that.

“Sage, you are going through!” Jarrod calls out.

Sage’s shoulders drop in relief, and she can’t seem to hide her smile as she walks out on stage.

As the number of spots dwindles down, the tension in the room steadily increases.

I know that’s part of what Colette wants.

The camera captures everything. I may not be a producer with the company, but I’ve seen a lot working in the communications department.

I know from experience that drama makes for good television.

“For all you folks back home, we’re down to the final three spots, and the tension on this stage is palpable. Let’s meet the rest of the women, shall we?”

Two women who aren’t me are announced, and I roll my eyes at the fact they chose to introduce me last.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our last contestant is a very special young lady. Those of you at home may recognize her voice from a video that went viral recently. This was something not even our producers saw coming, but we always want to give you, the people, a voice of your own. So, without further ado, our last contestant, America’s choice, is… Baylor!”

I shake my head, knowing Colette would pull something like this, but plaster a smile onto my face as I walk out on stage. I squint to adjust to the spotlights, wave to the camera, then take my place next to the rest of the girls, some of whom have understandably shocked expressions on their faces.

“And with that, here are the ten women who will be vying for a record deal and Dusty’s heart!”

“Cut! That’s a wrap on that, everyone. Take ten, and we’ll do some individual filming next,” the director calls, and the stage, which once had an air of tension, is now a scene of bustling producers and camera crewmen.