The Next Big Thing (31 page)

A few people snickered and Jagger quickly cut me off. “
Thank you, America,” he said. “And until next time, I’m Jagger signing off for
From Fat to Fabulous.
”

And
just like that it was over.

“All clear,” I heard the set director call.

Zaidee came strolling into the living room, sporting one of her glamorous designer pantsuits and waving her hands around animatedly. It was a strange moment, because it took me back to the grand entrance she’d made at the casting weekend so many months ago.

“Dolls!” she shrieked. “You have all been killer tonight, simply killer! I can’t thank you enough for your hard work these past few months.
We did it! You guys are fucking awesome! We’ve got a wrap party going next door, so feel free to head over and enjoy the eats. I’ll catch you all later. It’s been real.”

And with that she was gone, breezing out the door as quickly as she came.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The night of the finale I was far too dazed to make any rational decisions. I just bopped from one interview to another, fielding a series of inane and often invasive questions.

What’s your favorite McDonald’s meal?

“Chicken McNuggets.”

What size bra do you wear?

“Why? Are you planning on buying me lingerie?”

What’s your favorite reality TV show?

“If I said
From Fat to Fabulous,
would you call me a narcissist?”

How did it feel to lose the $250,000?

“I’m really, really happy for Janelle.”

How do you feel about Nick and
Alyssa?

“How do you THINK I feel?”

Are you dating anyone right now?

“I just reentered civilization. I haven’t had time to meet anybody yet.”

(Mercifully, no one on the outside seemed to know anything about my pseudo-kiss with Jagger. It must have been edited out.)

When the interviews wrapped, I’d said tearful good-byes to Janelle, Luisa, and Regan. We exchanged phone numbers, e-mail addresses, and promises to see each other.

“I love Tennessee,” Luisa had said. “I go to Nashville all the time for business. We should meet up.”

Janelle was headed to
New York for a few days to visit her mother, and Regan was staying out in California to “look for acting work.” Maggie had skipped out on half the exit interviews, citing “extreme fatigue,” and Alyssa and Nick were making the rounds together. As a couple.

“We’re the hottest thing going right now,”
Alyssa taunted. Nick trotted along to all the interviews, hanging all over Alyssa, throwing me the occasional wayward glance.

***

When the media circus ended, I was numb and disoriented. I boarded the flight to Denver in a mild daze, blissfully unconcerned with the fact that nearly everyone on board—from the fellow passengers to the flight attendants—knew me by name. I knew it was fleeting.

Soon I would fade back into o
bscurity, slipping quietly into the Reality TV Has-Been Hall of Shame.

Staying with my parents served as a decompression chamber of sorts. After four months of being monitored round-the-clock by a fleet of cameramen, my mother’s prying eyes seemed like a natural fit.

I spent most of my first four days of freedom lounging around my parents’ house in my pajamas, surfing the Internet, and watching TV. I craved CNN
Headline News
the way I used to crave potato chips. So much had happened in the outside world while I was away and I was hungry to catch up.

After four months living under constant duress, it was surreal to sleep and eat whenever I wanted; to talk on the phone; to take a bath without listening to the overhead whir of a CCTV camera.

At the end of my first week out, I got two follow-up calls from the staff of
From Fat to Fabulous.
The first was a nasal-voiced production assistant who fired off a barrage of questions.

“This is a courtesy call,” she began.

I nearly hung up, assuming it was a telemarketer.

“I wanted to follow up and see how you’re adjusting?”

“Oh—fine, fine. I’m getting into the swing of things.”

“Sleeping well? Eating? Are you having any physical or psychological problems?”

I got the feeling that she was going down a checklist.

“Other than the fact that all of
America thinks I’m a brat? I’m fine.”

She didn’t acknowledge my joke. “The show keeps a psychologist on retainer if you feel the need to talk. But please be advised these services will only be made available through December of this year,” she said, seemingly eager to end our conversation. “After that, you’re on your own.”

I concluded it was less of a courtesy call, and more of a let’s-cover-our-butts-in-case-of-a-lawsuit call.

The second “follow-up call” was infinitely better. I was just getting out of the shower one night when my mom pounded on the bathroom door.

“Here,” she said, thrusting the cordless phone at me. “Some man for you.” She stood there expectantly, waiting to listen to my end of the conversation.

“Mom, how about a little privacy?” I teased. “Seeing how I’ve barely had any over the last couple of months, it might be nice for a change.”

She was visibly irritated, but she granted my request. “Don’t know what you have to say to
some man
that you can’t say in front of me,” she snipped.

“Hello?” I said, padding down the hall to the guest bedroom. In all honesty, I had no idea who to expect. My list of male friends was virtually nonexistent, and I knew hell would freeze over before Nick would contact me again.

“Kat?” a familiar voice asked. It took me a second to place it.

“Jagger?” I replied. I was stunned—and incredibly pleased.

“I got your number from Zaidee. Is this a good time to talk?”

“Yeah, you have perfect timing.” I wrapped the towel tighter around my body. “Five minutes earlier and you would have caught me in the shower.”

He laughed. “I’ll have to remember to call earlier next time.”

I blushed. “What’s up?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“Not much. I was working on my novel when I thought I’d take a break and call you.”

His novel. I couldn’t help picturing him, all rugged and poetic, filling up page after page with his prose.

“Wanna read me a passage?” I asked.

“Let me polish it up a little. I think it’s better if you read it all at once.”

I climbed into my pajamas and discarded the towel in the hamper. “I’d love to. Any idea when you’ll be finished?”

“A month or two. I’m a little stumped at the moment, so I thought I’d call you for some inspiration.”

My heart started racing. Jagger found me inspiring!

“When I’m blocked I often find talking to someone will help,” he went on. “I’ve actually struck up conversations with the garbage man, just to get my mind recharged. You’d be amazed how inspiring that can be.”

Oh, great. I was in the same category as the garbage man.

“What’s new with you?” I asked, for lack of anything else to say. Suddenly I felt stumped. It was one thing talking to him when the cameras were rolling. I’d done that before, I was comfortable with it. But this was different.

“I’ve got an audition next week for some voice work,” he said. “My agent’s trying to get me on a new Disney film.”

“Wow.” I breathed. “That’s really cool. I keep forgetting how famous you are.”

He burst out laughing. “Not even.”

“Oh, come on,” I said. “You’re Mister Television and Feature Film Star.”

“I’ve done one television show, a handful of commercials, and I might—
might
—get some vocal work on a Disney film. It’s a really
small
part. Literally. I’m auditioning to play a talking snail.”

I laughed. “You’re
still
pretty famous.”

“You’re as famous as I am. We were on the same show, remember?”

I plopped down on the bed. “I guess you’re right. I never thought of it that way.”

“Speaking of
From Fat to Fabulous,
are you in touch with any of the other girls? Regan? Janelle? I know you guys were tight.”

“I haven’t spoken to them, no. But we traded contact info so I’m sure we’ll be in touch.”

“That’s great,” Jagger said. “I feel kind of weird saying this, but I really miss those girls. I felt like I got to know you all so well.”

“You could call them,” I suggested.

“I don’t think it’s my place.”

“You called me,” I pointed out.

“That’s . . . different. You and I are different.”

“Are we?” I asked, my breath quickening. “How do you figure?”

“Now you’re embarrassing me.” He cleared his throat. “I’m going to get all shy.”

“You? Shy? Be serious! You’re one of the most outgoing people I’ve ever met!”

“I
am
serious, Kat.” Jagger lowered his voice. “You probably think I lead this crazy party lifestyle, when in fact I’m a total homebody.”

“
That’s pretty hard to picture,” I admitted. “Then again, you know everything about me, and I know virtually nothing about you,” I said. “I don’t even know your vital stats.”

“My vital stats?” he repeated, laughing. “Like what? Age, rank, and serial number?”

“You know what I mean. Your age, your favorite color, your favorite sport, favorite actors. Simple things like that I have no idea about.”

“Ah, I see. Okay, then. I’m twenty-eight; I’ll be twenty-nine in March. Which makes me a Pisces, if you’re into that. My favorite color is blue, and my favorite sport is basketball. My favorite actor is Kevin Spacey, my favorite actress
Amy Adams. Anything else?”

“I think that about covers it.”

“That reminds me. You know the network’s planning a sequel, don’t you?”

I tensed up. “To
From Fat to Fabulous
?”

“It’s a definite possibility, but don’t say anything to anybody. I’m two steps away from losing this gig as is.”

I blinked in surprise. “You’re kidding! They wouldn’t do
From Fat to Fabulous 2
without you as a host?”

Jagger paused. I was afraid I’d touched off a nerve.

“It’s complicated,” he finally said. “Let’s just say Zaidee wasn’t a hundred percent thrilled with my performance.”

“Really?” I grimaced at the memory of his many cornball antics.

“She thought I wasn’t dramatic enough, among other things. There’s also a strong possibility they’ll want to go with a female host next time. Someone who’s very, ah, how do I put this? The phrase Zaidee used was ‘
Baywatch bombshell.
’ She thinks it will create all kinds of drama in the house to have a bikini model hosting the show. Personally, I don’t see it.”

Apparently, he didn’t realize how jealous women could get. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. I’m at least partly to blame for the situation. On some levels I overstepped my role.”

I couldn’t help but ask, “How?”

“You really want to know?”

“Of course,” I said. “But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s cool. I want to.” He paused for a long moment. “It was because I kissed you,” he said, his voice dipping down into a whisper.

I could actually
hear
my heart pounding.

“I wasn’t supposed to get involved with any of the contestants—it’s actually in my contract. That’s why I was so cold toward the end. Zaidee threatened to fire me if I didn’t stop fraternizing with you.”

So he wasn’t mad at me !

“Now she’s worried I’ll try and hit on the contestants in the sequel. Which is stupid, because I’m nothing like that.”

I felt my voice catch in my throat.

“Blame it all on me,” I said quickly. “I’m the one who kissed you, not the other way around. And I was drunk.
It was nothing more than a stupid, drunken mistake. I’ll tell Zaidee that myself.”

“
A stupid, drunken mistake,” Jagger repeated. “Does that mean you regret it?” he asked point blank.

I gulped. “Honestly?”

“Yes.”

I took a deep breath. It was so hard to say the words. I had to practically force them out, kicking and screaming. “I don’t regret it, no.”

“Kat, this might be hard for you to believe, but around women I get so shy and nervous that everything I say comes out wrong.” He paused. “But with you it was different right from the start. You were so feisty, and not afraid to speak your mind. Win or lose, you just put yourself out there. You took risks. And for some reason I felt comfortable around you. It takes me so long to be comfortable around people, but with you it happened right away.”

Hearing him say that felt incredible. I struggled to maintain my composure. “Thanks,” I managed.

“And at first I just thought of us as good friends, but then when you kissed me—”

“Katrina!” my dad boomed, picking up the extension. My father has classically bad timing. “Are you still on the phone?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m talking to a friend of mine.”

“I need to call my buddy about our football pool. Can you wrap it up in five minutes?”

He clicked off the line before I could respond.

“Oh my God,” I groaned. I was dying to hear the rest of Jagger’s sent
ence.
Talk about a mood killer.

“I’m so humiliated,” I told Jagger.

“Don’t be. Maybe we can talk again soon.”