Fame comes at a price. Cameron Scott knew that better than anyone in her circle. One day you were “fab” and up. The next day you were down, walking the streets like a nobody with hashtag FAIL on your forehead. Fans, the media, friends and family talked about you on either end of the extreme, but you were invisible when you fell in the middle which was where Cameron was thought to be at this point in her career. Technically, she was actually at the bottom. Her fans just didn’t know it yet.
Her contract with RAT Productions, Real American Television, was not going to be renewed. The show, similar to The Chew and The View, was replacing her. Her former boss was clear that she wasn’t gritty enough for the sexy relationship chatter the show wanted to be known for nor had she brought authenticity to her feelings about what was going on in the featured guests’ lives.
Authenticity to her feelings? He didn’t want that. She’d never have a single good thing to say about a man. That was REAL. Every experience she’d ever had was negative, from the first man in her life to the most recent, her ex-fiancé, Doctor Rick Housely. If Cameron’s thoughts could kill, he’d be resting in peace right now for announcing their break-up on television before he even told her. And she thought the folks sending break-up text messages were bad. Rick was such a jerk.
Housely was being interviewed on Entertainment This Week. When the interviewer asked him about their wedding date, he’d turned toward the camera with a sincerity that only those dreamy eyes of his could convey, and said, “I love you, Cameron, but I’ve searched my heart and prayed to God. I’m not ready for marriage. I hope you’ll forgive me. I hope America will forgive me.”
“Have you forgiven yourself?” the interviewer asked pushing the microphone further into his face. If she wasn’t careful she’d hit that new cap he had on his front tooth and he’d jump on her.
Rick continued, “I have, because I know we’re human and we make mistakes.”
Human. Rick was barely that. Ambitious. That was more like it. And gay. Most definitely gay. If Cameron hadn’t searched her heart, she’d shout that out to the entire world. But she had searched her heart and realized there was no reason to out Housely. Telling the world she’d accepted an engagement ring from a gay man was way down on the list of things she wanted to talk about. In fact, taking a ring from any man bottomed out a long time ago. And the truth was, she didn’t love him. He’d lied about his sexuality and she’d lied about a few things of her own, so they were even.
“You look familiar,” the taxi driver stated peering back at her.
Cameron noticed he’d been stealing glances every so often and she knew that peek. It was the, ‘I’ve seen you on T.V.’ look that she’d grown accustomed to getting. “Weren’t you on that show with that guy?”
Cameron bit her tongue to keep from rolling her eyes and looked down into her purse. “Yep. Is There A Saved Man In The House?”
He snapped his fingers. “That’s right. That’s right. The dating reality show.” He nodded his head a few times. She could tell he was smiling to himself like he’d figured it out on his own. “Sorry about the breakup.”
Cameron looked up and forced a smile. “Thank you, but I’ve decided to assume it’s for the best.”
“Yes, but to put it on T.V. like that,” he began. “I don’t know how you Hollywood people do it. I don’t think you could pay me a million dollars to be on T.V. with all those cameras following me and knowing all my private life.”
Cameron took in his reflection in the rear-view mirror then sized up the condition of the grungy taxicab. Couldn’t pay him a million dollars? She wondered what one had to pay him to get a haircut. People loved talking about what they wouldn’t do for money until money was offered to them. “The show was mostly scripted.”
“Script what?” he asked, his thick African accent getting stronger.
“There are writers. It’s not all real. We’re like actors.” She waited a beat and then added. “It is entertainment you know.”
“But people think it’s real.”
He had a valid point. And what people thought did matter. At least it did to her, but again, she wasn’t outing Housely. Theirs was a relationship built on mutual need. Housely needed to launch his film career and she needed money, lots of it. That’s why she’d auditioned for Is There A Saved Man.
Cameron never expected the on screen chemistry between her and Rick Housely to be so strong, especially since they didn’t really click much off screen. Rick had set his eyes on her early and their cat and mouse game had captured the hearts of America; the last show being the one where Rick proposed and placed a huge diamond ring on her finger. Cameron reluctantly said yes. She knew she didn’t love him. He didn’t love her. And there was the matter of his questionable sexuality. She figured they would eventually break up. But even with all the anticipation of that moment, the show had been Cameron’s lucky break in more ways than one. She had the diamond, but more importantly, she was a reality television star. Every talk show from Good Morning America to Jimmy Kimmel wanted to interview her and then out of those interviews came a weekly spot on Real TV to do a piece about Christian dating. Then she got her big break with RAT Productions for the I Heart Show. But she’d blown it. She’d blown it because she couldn’t go the distance with the pretense.
Initially, she’d been fine with the dismissal. The show was stupid. She was sure she’d get another job. After all, she was Cameron Scott, America’s reality show sweetheart. But meeting after meeting, after meeting there hadn’t been a single offer. Not one call back. No interest in her at all. She was out of meetings and more importantly; she was out of time and money.
“401 Fifth Ave.” The taxi driver’s voice awakened her from her musing or was the blues a better way to describe her thoughts? Cameron was feeling sorry for herself. Sorry with a capital S.
She turned toward the passenger side window. Through the light misting of rain she glimpsed the aging building that housed the studio. She wrinkled her nose disapprovingly. Times Square, the heart of the theater district, was also the home to many of the country’s T.V. studios. This building was less than a mile away from Times Square, but it felt like it was on the other side of the world. Hashtag FAIL. She couldn’t help thinking it.
“Thanks.” Cameron handed the cab driver the fare she couldn’t afford and accepted the receipt he’d dutifully printed without asking. The cab ride was a splurge. It had been pouring down rain when she left home. She didn’t want to wrinkle or stain her Armani suit traveling on the train in the rain. With dark glasses donned, she’d definitely be on the subway for the trip home.
Cameron opened the door and a blast of bone chilling wet air hit her like a brick. Manhattan in the winter…she hated it. She forced herself out of the warm taxi. Unbeknownst to her, she stepped right into an invisible hole in the asphalt. She gasped and twisted her body awkwardly to keep from falling. Fortunately, the door provided support otherwise she would have been sprawled out on the pavement.
“You okay, miss?” the driver called. His concern was genuine, but it was not appreciated. Cameron shook her head, turned to him and shot him the stink eye. He should have been more careful about where he’d stopped the passenger side door.
“I’m fine. No thanks to you!” She slammed the door like only a true New Yorker could. Glad that the heel of her Manolo shoe hadn’t come off in the tussle, Cameron stepped up onto the sidewalk, smoothed her skirt and stopped breathing. She turned, the taxi whizzed down the street.
Her attaché case.
She’d left it on the backseat. Not only was it her favorite Coach bag, it also held her resume. How was she supposed to show up for the meeting without it?
Cameron swallowed, let out a long breath and counted to ten. “Pull it together. You know what this is about. You can’t let it rock your confidence.” She spoke the words out loud to herself, but thought inwardly, if you don’t get this job, you’ll be homeless.
Sufficiently motivated, she shook off thoughts of what she didn’t have. She’d have to improvise. It wasn’t the first time and as long as she was in the entertainment industry it surely would not be the last. But, she did want her bag back. Glad she noted the driver’s name and taxi number, as she always did, Cameron tapped on her phone until she found the main number for Yellow Taxi, filed a missing item report and put in a request for the driver to call her to get it redelivered. She entered the building, showed security her appointment letter and rode the elevator to the third floor.
“I’ve never seen the righteous forsaken or his seed begging bread.” She closed her eyes tight and whispered the verse from Psalm 37 over and over during the ride. The elevator doors opened. Cameron walked into a lobby full of women. Most of them were familiar: a couple of former stars from the Housewives franchise, one of the twins from that show about the sisters, she could never remember which was which, Tia and Tamera and one of the youngins’ from the Kardashian clan. Her breath caught in her throat. So much competition. She wanted to repeat the scripture again, affirm what she knew by giving the Word power, but the only thing she could think as she approached the receptionist desk was maybe she wasn’t one of the righteous.
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