Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are property of Stephanie Meyer. All plot and other characterizations are property of goshdarypooh.
:::::: Chapter 2 :::::
BPOV:
I throw back an aspirin. Plane travel has never been a pleasant experience for me. I blame it on bad memories of being flown back and forth between my parents after they divorced.
It was not even the divorce itself that was the problem, the bad vibes started when I was twelve and the airlines stopped giving out free hot-out-of-the-oven cookies. After that everything went down hill for me.
Today it was being mobbed for autographs not only on the plane, but in the layover in Houston. When I went to the bathroom, I even found some random phone numbers from some guys stuffed into the hood of my sweatshirt.
Really? Do they think that works?
What hurts more then the headache I am nursing is that guys now think I am in the market for any able boded male. Apparently going on a reality television show makes you appear desperate.
Trust me bucktooth man with mullet, I am not that desperate. Yet.
My plane arrives in Los Angeles, and thankfully the studio arranges for someone to pick me up. This is much more convenient then waiting in line for another smelly taxi driver.
The driver drops me off at the studio, and it is too early to be here. I would rather go back to my hotel room for an hour and wash off the plane grime then sit around waiting for several hours.
I tell the driver this and he says he has specific instructions to deliver me to the producer's office directly from the airport.
I may have called the driver a lemming before I sit back and enjoy the complimentary bottle of water the studio provides for me. Gosh, they are swell.
The car pulls into the studio compound and wanders through several roads before it stops in front of a nondescript building. The only distinguishing mark is a sign on the exterior that reads, "Soul Mates".
Despite my name-calling this driver is actually a gentleman and not only pulls my luggage out from the trunk, but he opens my door. I give him my boxer-dropping smile and he just arches his eyebrows while pulling my suitcase into the doorway.
I suppose I have to work on that. Or maybe he is more of a brief man, if you know what I mean.
I am directed to a small reception area where a petite girl is in the process of chewing gum and attempting to make an apple sized bubble.
The placard on her desk simply reads, "Jane" and she glances up from her computer screen. I can see a strong game of Tetris going down on her desktop.
"And you are?" Jane asks in a nasally tone.
"Hungry. I am very hungry," I reply internally shrugging. It is the truth. I am hoping there is a donut or something around here since my driver would not even stop at the golden arches so I could get a burger.
Jane rolls her eyes. Apparently she is not amused, "What is your name?"
"Umm, Bella. You know, one of the stars of the show," this time I roll my eyes. Seriously, there is a poster of me behind her along with the rest of the cast for this season. And our names are printed below our smiling faces.
"Bellaaaa…." Jane motions her hand as if asking me to continue.
"Beeeelllllllaaaaaa Sssswwwaaann," I figure this one is going to need some enunciating. Her intellectual capacity level is on par with my pet turtle from when I was nine, Mr. Snagglepuss. At least Mr. Snagglepuss knew not to snap at Charlie or I when we put food in his cage. I am not sure this Jane would do capable of the same comprehension.
Jane turns to her computer screen and does not even minimize the Tetris game before pretending to type something in. She pulls off a sticky note and looks at me, "Mr. Volturi wanted to see you before the taping this evening."
"Okay," I tap my fingers on the counter, "Soooo, is he in right now?"
"I'll let him know you are here," Jane turns to the side and cups here mouth, "MR. VOLTURI! BELLA SWAN IS HERE."
Just as my ears stop ringing, a door opens up and in walks the infamous Aro Voluturi.
I have met the man several times before, the first being at a cast briefing before the season began and we were shipped out to a tropical paradise.
The twenty-four contestants were gathered in a conference room where we had gone over every page in our "participant binder"—all three hundred and seventy six pages of size ten typeface, double spaced without even some spicy photos from previous seasons. At that point I figured I would just have to learn to live with disappointment on this show.
It was quite obvious that most of the ladies had stopped paying attention several hours before. I remember trying to keep my focus, there was a lot of regulations and legal repercussions that I did not think would be pertinent to gloss over.
Just as the room was about to reach a collective breaking point, the door opened and in walked a man who had an overly cheery disposition. He wore a tailored suit that displayed his lean body, with dark hair, slicked back into a low pony-tail. His eyes were unbelievably dark, and his mouth was small and puckered.
A few of the girls turned and looked at him with flirty eyes, which was slightly ironic since they were going on a show to try and woe the man who was printed on page one of our "participant binder."
The rest of us let out a thankful sigh that the monotonous presentation was interrupted.
"Good afternoon ladies," he gave us a thin smile while scanning the room, "I am Aro Volturi, the producer of Soul Mates. Let me be amongst the first to welcome you to the show.
"I want to say that you are each more lovely in person then the bios in your applications. I would also like to say that I acquire the most exquisite women in the country, but I've had a little help from the casting department.
"So welcome to the show, I look forward to getting to know each and every one of you," Aro's eyes landed on my own as he finished his little speech.
Over the course of the season Aro was always at "The Grotto" but he rarely interacted with the cast, preferring to remain behind the scenes. Although he never came over to us or talked with us, there were many occasions I would catch him off in the distance starring at me.
In fact, he had never once spoken with me directly in the several months I had known him.
It seems odd that the last day I would have to ever think of this man would also be the day he finally wants to break his vow of silence.
After a few moments a door off the office opens, and the thin smile of Aro Volturi appears, "Good afternoon Bella, I do hope your travels were peaceful, we have a long day ahead of us."
Aro gestures that I should enter the room, which happens to be a very stark office. There seems to be no personal effects in the space, and only the same poster of the cast that hangs behind Jane's desk adorns the walls. He moves around a bare desk and gestures to a chair, "Please, take a seat Bella."
::::: PTR :::::
It is early evening and I sit in a chair while an overly ambitious makeup artist is trying to make me viable for the camera. I want to tell her it is a lost cause, but the look of pure determination on her face makes me hold back my self-deprecating comments.
If she is determined to make me look good, who am I to stand in her way?
The other contestants sit at similar stations while being similarly tortured by makeup brushes. Over the course of several months, I have learned a great deal about each of these women. Some are petty, some are exceptionally vain, and a few are actually decent individuals.
Of course Mike axed most of the respectable women early on in the season in favor of the more voluptuous contestants, so I spent most of my time surrounded by catty bachelorettes.
I take that back, there were catty bachelorettes in the background; I spent most of my time cuddled up to a Jane Austin novel. At least her fictional characters were somewhat believable.
My makeup artist looks over my face one last time before letting out a big sigh. Not the most reassuring action to witness, but I only have to make it through approximately forty-eight minutes of on-air time from the moment I am called on stage to the moment the lights go out. Her attempt to make me television ready will have to do, and I just let myself assume it was with a content sigh.
I read over the show's schedule one more time. Everything is categorized down to the second. At eleven minutes past the hour, I am to walk out into the small stage area and sit down to speak with the host one-on-one.
Eight minutes later, and one small commercial break we are to be back on air with the rest of the cast. This is the moment when, per the schedule, we are encouraged to air out our grievances with the ladies.
In essence, Aro is praying a catfight breaks out, because that fuckery is pure television ratings gold.
I just pray that I do not have to pull out the can of mace Charlie just restocked in my purse for an occasion such as this.
Two minutes to air and the backstage staff is trying to round us up and herd us into the proper holding rooms. I immediately begin scavenging for some bagels or fruit. When I am nervous, I like to munch.
A techie seems to know what I am looking for, and hands me a chocolate bar, and I am immediately transported to my inner happy place.
I am the only one in my small holding room. The television on the wall cuts to the opening credits of Soul Mates, and moments later the dashing host, Emmitt McCarty takes the stage. The small crowd claps enthusiastically, and the camera pans to a couple of ladies with homemade tee-shirts that proclaim, "Emmitt's future lova's!" Somehow I do not think that Emmitt's drop gorgeous wife, Rosalie, would share her man in a four-some.
Emmitt positions himself in front of the camera and gives his patented dimple smile. I am almost positive that man has an insurance policy on those facial craters. If Keith Richards can insure his hands for $2 million, then those dimples must be worth at least twice that amount.
"Welcome to the season finale of Soul Mates, where love is just one heartbeat away!" The crowd does its obligatory cheer to the cheesiest tag line in show business, "I'm your host Emmitt McCarty and tonight we are going to revisit some of your favorite moments of the season six as well as some surprises for the upcoming season seven including our newest Soul Mate!"
The screen cuts to some clips from the course of the season. Us ladies meeting Mike for the first time, going on separate dates with him, a whole montage of every single one of us in lip lock with him. And my favorite moment of the season, when one of the catty contestants, Lauren, got in a catfight with Jessica and she ended up with her weave pulled out.
Now that was some fine television.
Finally, the montage finishes with the two finalists, Jessica and I, each standing in our respective areas on the island. The camera pan and dramatic music cueing the viewers in that this is the moment, they are about to find out who Mike chose to be his Soul Mate.
My favorite shot is of Mike, biting his lip with puppy dog eyes while looking to the sky, as if asking for divine intervention to point him in the right direction. I remember that afternoon of filming, Mike had already confided in me the outcome privately several days before.
Mike had known for some time that he was going to pick Jessica, but the producers wanted to keep the show interesting, and finding his Soul Mate on the third episode did not make for good ratings.
It was the same reason he let the sweet, normal contestants go early while leaving the bimbos behind. Mike did not want to string them along and dash their hopes when he only had eyes for Jessica. Instead he gave himself his own bachelor party and one least hoorah with the busty blonds.
During our private conversation I remember asking him why he let all the good girls and kept me on the show then. I wanted to know if he saw me in the same class as them. He replied honestly, "You were safe, and to be honest I could see you as a friend. At the end of the day it was hard to keep it real with the other girls, but you made me feel normal. I could confide in you."
Then he ducked his head down and added nervously, "And Aro did not want to see you leave the show."
So I played my part in the last scene where I could see Mike go off in the distance of the beach and go down on one knee in front of Jessica. I could not hear what he was saying, but she was beaming as he placed the ring on her finger.
I could sense the camera nearby as it tried to catch my dramatic reaction of Mike's proposal to Jessica. Part of me was human and anytime rejection is involved, there is a small dashing of hopes. I did like Mike and maybe it could have been more. But looking back, I had to keep the whole thing in perspective; this was just a game to me, a paycheck. True love is so abstract, it is why shows like Soul Mates stayed on the air—women flocked in front of their televisions once a week for an escape of reality and into a fantasyland.
So when the cameraman zoomed in on my face, the only thing he captured was a resolved smile. There was no satisfaction for the Jessica fans of watching me break down on the beach. Instead I just nodded my head and bowed out gracefully without a tear or a single word.
After all, I knew what was going to happen. I just needed to play my part.
The montage comes to a close and Emmett comes back into view, "So there you have it, Mike chose Jessica. When we come back from commercial break, we will meet back up with the women dubbed America's sweetheart, Bella Swan. And later in the show we see the happy couple together for the first time in public. So don't turn that channel, we'll be right back!"
The theme music blares on the television, and it fade to commercials. My holding room door opens, and the same amazing assistant who brought me the much needed bagel earlier looks at me, "Time to bring you to the stage Ms. Swan."
I nod and stand up. One last glance in the mirror to make sure that my dress is fine, and there is no toilet paper hanging out of the back of my nylons. Everything checks out, so I walk down the hall and try to channel an air of confidence.
I make my way through the studio and before I can even get my bearings, I am engulfed in a set of very strong arms.
"Bella-Bee!" the arms yell. It takes a moment for them to release me enough that I see the face that belongs to the strong arms.
"Emmett, I think you just undid three hours of hair and makeup."
"Nah, you look gorgeous even with the ruffled hair," he retorts as a couple of hairstylists rush the stage and I am immediately caught in a cloud of hairspray.
I cough and wave my hands frantically in front of my face to find some fresh air, "It's fine, it's fine!" I insist, pushing them away. It's not like I am trying to impress anyone, such as the ten million viewers that are anticipated to tune in this evening.
Emmett and I take our seats on the small stage. The audience is only about ten feet away from us. It is obvious they are trying to create a more intimate experience by bringing everyone close by, but having people within spitting distance is a little unnerving.
"Are you ready for this Bella-Bee? You're not nervous are you?" Emmett says adjusting his microphone.
"Nah, I just have to answer a few questions and then I'm done."
Emmett reaches out to me and puts a hand on my knee in a brotherly gesture before leaning in, "For the record, you're too good for Newton."
The studio lights dim and the director is on the floor giving the countdown and cue to Emmett.
"Welcome back to the Soul Mates season finale! With me on the couch is the lovely Bella Swan," the audience gave me a warm welcoming and for the first time I look around at them. It takes me a moment before I realize Emmitt is talking to me again, "Bella—Bella are you okay?"
"Yeah, it's just—does that lady have my face plastered on a bustier?"
The woman in the crowd stands up and shimmies, "Sure is sweetheart! Mike is a douche for letting you go!"
The crowd cheers the woman on as she turns around and shakes her booty, where I notice a photo of me on the beach is on her bum.
And that is the moment I realize it. I have groupies—crazy and obsessive groupies. This is a whole different category from the occasional request for autographs I have received since I left "The Grotto."
The security is discretely taking my fan from the audience and the camera is back on Emmett.
"So Bella, we've seen Mike's decision, and everyone wants to know, how are you feeling?"
I snap my attention back to the monkey man on the couch, "Fine, everything is just fine."
"I cannot imagine a wonderful woman like you experiencing much heartache in your life. How were you able to deal with Mike's decision to choose Jessica?"
I want to laugh, but keep it in, "I've been hurt a few times before. Just like most painful things, the first time hurts the most. By the second time around it became easier to accept. Third time was a charm, and truly I'm happy for Mike and Jessica. I wish them the best."
"Well, Mike was one of the guys who missed his opportunity to be with you, are you going to name the other fools? Nothing is better for revenge like a little embarrassment in front of the American public," the crowd cheers at Emmett's suggestion.
"Neither of the others is even worth mentioning," I reply and my thoughts turn inwardly.
Emmett continues on for a few more minutes asking me about my time at "The Grotto" and my favorite moments. He wraps up my portion and brings us to a commercial break.
As soon as the "on air" lights turn off, the stage crew quickly transforms the set to add in more seating for the rest of the cast. I will sit in this portion, but truly it is set up so the catty girls can go at it. Hopefully I will not have to say a word.
There is no doubt that Lauren Mallory was the instigator and ratings grabber of our season. Aro knows this and made sure she is seated in the middle of our group. Surely he wants her claws to extend in every direction possible.
Everyone is friendly as we are arranged for the next segment. However, this demeanor quickly changes the moment Emmett brings us back from commercial break.
"You were such a slut to make out with Mike on the dolphin date," Lauren screams at a little mousy girl named Clare, "Had to steal all the attention. You're the reason I got kicked out that week!"
Clare gets up from her chair and slaps Lauren across the face. The set quickly deteriorates into a bad episode of Jerry Springer. I instinctively reach for my can of mace, but remember it is back in my bag in the holding room. Thank goodness Charlie had me take self defense classes when I was in high school, it may come in handy.
Before things get too out of hand, Emmett brings us back to another commercial break. The castoff women are quickly ushered backstage, myself included. It is time to bring out the couple of the hour, Jessica and Mike. The next segment it will just be them, and then the rest of the cast will join back in for the last portion. Or so my meticulous schedule says.
I go back to my holding room, and once again I am left alone. From the room's television, I watch as Jessica and Mike walk on stage, hands clasped together, looking like the perfect couple. I notice that there are a few "boos" coming from crowd and give a small mental shout out to my Bella t-shirt toting fans in the audience.
Not really caring how they fare against Emmett's round of questions, I turn off the television and start looking around the room. There is nothing of interest, just a few magazines from last year on a side table. Instead I poke around for my phone and find a text message from Angela.
Kill'em with kindness. XOXO Ang
I snicker recognizing the positive quote she took from her page-a-day calendar.
I'm as feisty as a rock'em sock'em robot ~B
U are a DORK. I 3 you B. Only 10 more min left ~A
If only she knew. Angela is going to kill me in 11 minutes. I can already see my phone imploding with her anger.
U are the bestest 3 B
There, maybe that will soften her up a bit before the final blow.
What the fuck are U up to B?
This is not good, the nun swore. She is on to me. Her and her darn holy instincts. I should not have gone for something so sweet because that is definitely not me.
Got to go. Love ya! ~B
I turn off my phone and bang my head against the wall. One of my best friends in this whole world, and she is not going to be happy with me. In fact she is probably going to put a test on that whole, "hell hath no fury" like the anger of Angela Weber.
Heaven help me.
An assistant with an earpiece protruding from her head knocks on my door and ushers me out for the final segment. This is probably the most unpredictable part of the show. The scorned women see Mike face-to-face for the first time since he booted them off. I plan on riding this portion out in the back and enjoying the fun.
Unfortunately for me my plan is thwarted when Aro steps up and makes Lauren give up her seat front and center to make me the focal point.
"Time to step up my little star," he gives that creepy tight grin and pats me awkwardly on the shoulder. Lauren glares but takes her seat grumbling the whole way.
I start to panic for the first time all evening. What have I gotten myself into? This is all wrong; I just want to go home, go back to my anonymous life—
"Welcome back to the season finale of Soul Mates!" Emmett booms. My panic does not subside. I am fairly certain there are people speaking around me, but at this moment I am just trying to stop myself from hyperventilating on national television. Emmett seems to sense this because he directs his questions and the petty arguments from the other women at Mike and away from me.
There is only a minute and a half left to the show, and I have yet to say anything since the commercial break.
"Before we say goodnight, I promised you some exciting news about our upcoming season of Soul Mates. For season seven we are turning the tables," Emmett flashes his dimples at the camera, but even their beauty cannot stop my panic attack from going full force, "There will be one lucky woman who will be calling the shots and finding her soul mate amongst the nations most eligible bachelors."
The audience claps with enthusiasm, "And we are giving one of our Soul Mates another chance at love. You already know and love her as this season's favorite, and this time she will be calling all of the shots," Emmett pauses for a moment and I realize that they are making sure the camera is in place.
I take a deep breath and channel my inner zen, "So welcome your newest Soul Mate searcher, Bella Swan!"
The audience seems to be pleased. I notice a couple of the women on the stage are casting me evil glances, including Jessica. What is that about? Back off woman, you have your man!
Instead of saying anything I just put on my smile that is masking a grimace. Emmett turns to me with a sympathetic look on his face, "We only have a few seconds left, but did you have anything to say Bella?"
I clear my throat and bite my lip, fairly certain that I have cemented my dork status on national television, "I'm just thankful to be given this opportunity."
There—that is generic and as truthful as I can be. No mention of this being my turn to find true love. Not a single word of the show being a wonderful experience. Just leave it as it is: an opportunity.
"That is all the time we have for this evening. Please join us next season when Bella has the chance to finally find her true love. Good night everyone!" The music cue is given, and Emmett joins us as we are instructed to mingle with each other as the credits roll. I stay glued to my seat.
Emmett leans down and looks at me, really looks into my eyes. I'm certain he knows, "I'll see you soon at the Grotto Bella. Just remember, if you need anything—anything at all—I'll be there for you."
I am fairly certain it is a bad omen when the host is giving the big brother speech to a girl he does not even really know. This whole thing is going to be a flop.
But I already signed the papers with Aro. After all, there are two types of women on this show, the ones who are looking for love and the ones who are looking for a paycheck.
Aro played to my weakness. For being such sleazy guy, he is also pretty sly. All I have to do is make it through one more season and play the part. Then I will be set for life back in the real world.
To sweeten the deal, he even gave in to the one request I gave. I thought of it as my little insurance policy if things go sour.
I did not have much of a choice, so I put my name on the dotted line. Time to grab my bags and head back to paradise.
::::: PTR :::::
APOV:
Edward's body remained clenched throughout the entire show. I could hear him mumble under his breath, catching phrases like, "Damn idiot turned her down. Good and, "Why is the camera always on the blond bimbo."
My brother is not holding up well. In fact he may implode on this very couch. During the flashbacks earlier in the show he growled, literally growled, when Mike kissed Bella.
It is interesting to watch how protective he can be of a woman he has not seen in two years. Well, except on the television screen.
The moment that Mike chooses the skank Jessica, I stand up with my fists in the air, "I knew it!"
Edward just looks at me with equal parts confusion and frustration. I spotted this outcome a mile away. From week three onward it was obvious that Mike was infatuated with Jessica.
Now I cross my fingers and hope the second part of my theory holds true. The show moves on, Bella comes on for her interview. I grumble under my breath – what the heck happened to her hair? It looks like a rats nest; did someone wrestle with her before she went on the air?
She is quiet and appears to be surprised by all the support in the audience. That girl never knew how much she drew people into her; of course she is going to have fans.
I turn back to Edward and he is sitting in the same rigid position as he was twenty minutes ago. His pupils continue to dilate. Since he watched the show last week with me, it has become his obsession.
I walked into his room the next morning and found him sprawled across his bed while one of the first episodes of Soul Mates from earlier in the season was open on his desktop. The screen was paused at a photo of Bella on a dock in a little sundress just watching the sunrise.
The boy has it bad for her. He is also an idiot who does not have any clue on how to win her back. Quite honestly, it will take a gesture of grandiose proportions to even make a dent in making up for his stupidity. Thankfully he has me for a sister.
As the show winds down to the final moments I move to the edge of my seat. This is the moment of truth, and as the camera moves to Bella I can see the nervousness in her eyes despite her attempts to remain in control. She takes a deep breath and I bounce up and down, "She is the next Soul Mate!"
Seconds later the host announces, "So welcome your newest Soul Mate searcher, Bella Swan!"
Edward looks from the television to me and back again. There is shock on his face before he says incredulously, "You knew?"
I turn to him, "I just had this feeling. The way they set up the season. Everything portrayed Bella in such a wonderful light, even though it was obvious Mike was totally into Stanley. They wanted America to love her."
Edward turns back to the television as Emmett McCarty wraps things up and the annoying theme music starts.
"How—how could she do this?" Edward shakes in his seat, "Why is she going to flaunt herself in front of millions of people with a dozen guys? That is not Bella."
"I don't know," and truly I do not know her motivations. When Bella and Edward's relationship ended, we essential cut ties too. I hated Edward for a long time afterward for putting me in the position of picking between my brother and my best friend. Only when I saw her on the show several months ago did I start to let those feelings go.
It was at that same time that an idea started to spark. Just a gut instinct that Bella would be chosen as the next Soul Mate. The same spark that made me start to research the show online.
"Edward, I have something to confess," I scrunch my eyes and walked away from the couch. I should wait for my parents to come home, a witness or to might be necessary for the imminent fury I am about to unleash.
Edward's eyes pulled from the television screen and cautiously looked at me, "What did you do Alice?"
Quickly assessing where all the nearest exits were in the room I speek in one breath, "I put in an application for you to be on Soul Mates!"
"You what!" the blood is draining from is face. The little vein in his forehead is starting to bulge. I almost expect his clothing to rip off and him to proclaim, "Me Hulk!"
"I just had one of my feelings—"
"Your feelings?" Edward seethes, "Please explain what kind of feeling you had that would think it a good idea to sign me up for the show!"
"I just knew that they were going to pick Bella, and then you would have a chance to win her back."
"And what would make you think that I want to do that!"
"You still love her."
The room is quiet. Edward is breathing hard and starring straight at me. He closes his eyes and sits back down on the couch. Timidly, I move closer, "I don't think you ever stopped loving her."
After a few moments I finally hear his answer, "And I never will."
"It's not final; you can turn down the offer. The paperwork is in my room. I may have forged your signature on the application," I put on an innocent face and twiddle my thumbs, "But I knew that this could be the only opportunity to get you two back together."
"I don't need you meddling."
"Look, Bella is so stubborn; she would never listen to you outright. But this way, she is stuck there with you. She'll have to listen eventually. It's brilliant!"
"Or I could just be humiliated on national television when she rejects me," Edward pushes his hand through his unruly hair.
"It's your choice. This is a risk, and I realize that. Are you willing to take it?" I stand up and walk to the door, "The studio needs a call back in two weeks with a confirmation. I'll put the packet on your desk to look over."
Edward groans and bangs his head on the back of the couch. I have done everything I can, now it is up to him, "Just think about it Edward."
Time to man up, I want to say, but I keep that thought to myself.
