Page 20 of The Homewreckers
Rebecca looked impossibly fresh for someone who’d just gotten off a red-eye flight from L.A. with a stop in Atlanta en route to Savannah. She was wearing a relaxed version of her power suit inchocolate brown, along with her signature oversized Jackie O tortoiseshell sunglasses.
“Look at this place,” she exclaimed, admiring the pocket-sized walled garden. “It’s like a storybook.”
“That’s Savannah for you,” he said. “Come on inside. Can I get you something to drink? I’ve got Pellegrino in the fridge.”
“Perfect,” she said, following him through the kitchen and into the main living space. “Ooh. This is super cute. Maybe your Hattie can flip a house and make it look like this?”
“Doubtful,” Mo said. “This house, unrestored, sold for $1.2 million three years ago. Just guessing, but I’m thinking my landlords probably sunk another half a million into it.”
“So, out of our girl’s price range,” Rebecca said.
“Not just that. Historic properties like this one, which was built in 1848, are subject to review by the historic preservation commission. You can’t change out a doorbell in the historic district without having approval from them. Which can take months.”
“We certainly don’t have the time or budget for anything like that,” Rebecca reminded him. “That’s one of the reasons I flew out here. Tony wants you to start shooting immediately.”
“That’s impossible. You know what kind of preproduction timetable I need, Becca. Six weeks is the absolute minimum, and I’m not sure I could even do it that fast.”
“You’ll have to, if you want that Wednesday night slot,” Rebecca said, blithely ignoring his protest. “Another thing. We’re going to tweak your concept. Just a bit.”
“Tweak it how?”
She sipped the Pellegrino. “First off, Tony’s not fond of the nameSaving Savannah.”
“But that’s what the show’s about,” he protested.
“Now, don’t get all defensive on me,” Rebecca said. “You can still save or preserve an old house. That doesn’t change. But we need the show itself to be more exciting, more high concept, high risk, high drama.”
He sighed, waiting for the inevitable.
“So!” she said brightly. “I had this thought. Why not do something really daring? And original? Even… provocative.”
“You’re not talking about doing a nude flip or something crazy like that, right?”
“Nude flip!” She laughed giddily. “That’s cute, Mo. No. Okay. Get ready. I think you’re gonna totally love this.Homewreckers!”
“Homewreckers? I mean, what does that even mean?” Mo asked. His gut churned, because he knew what was coming. Something diabolically awful.
“Picture this: We’ve got your girl Hattie. She’s cute as a button and wholesome and southern-fried freckles. And then we bring in this gorgeous L.A. designer. He’s a blond, big-city drink of water with tons of published projects. His name is Trae Bartholomew, by the way, and your viewers are going to go literally nuts over him. He’s done television too.”
Mo grabbed his iPad and tapped the IMDb tab, typed in the name Becca had just mentioned, and stared down at the photo. “He looks like a male model,” Mo said. “And according to his bio, he’s the biggest loser in one of your design competitions.”
“He came in second,” Rebecca said. “But that’s beside the point. Trae is talented, he’s experienced, and best of all, he tests great with our target audience.”
“I’m still not grasping this concept, Becca. And if I don’t, our viewers won’t either.”
She gave him the death stare. “You’re being deliberately obtuse. Okay, I’m going to dumb it down for you.Homewreckersis at the space where a dating show meets a flip show. Think mash-up ofThe BacheloretteandFlip or Flop. Get it?”
“So… Hattie buys a house to flip, and we bring in a designer to tell her how to do it? And what? They fall in love and fall into bed? Are you serious with this shit, Becc?”
“You know me better than that, Mo. I never joke.”
This, Mo reflected wryly, was possibly the truest thing she’d ever said. He’d never known Rebecca to tell a joke, or even a vaguely funny anecdote.
“I’m serious,” she went on. “And so is Tony.Homewreckers,or this ‘shit’ as you call it, is the show he wants. And if you want to sell it to HPTV, that’s the show you’re going to deliver.”
Mo glared across the table at her and she glared right back. The doorbell broke up the staring contest.
“That should be Hattie, correct?” she asked. “Can’t wait to meet her in person. And, Mo? Let’s make sure we’re both on the same page with this show. The clock is ticking. We don’t have time for mistakes.”
