him to notice that something was missing.
Then Buzz, the cameraman/director that Richard had hired, approached the two of them. A mobile camera, one of three that they were using for the show, sat heavily on his thick shoulder. He had thick, salt-and-pepper-colored hair that hung heavily down his back, a bushy beard, several tattoos and Richard could see Buzz’s round belly where his T-shirt didn’t quite meet the top of his jeans.
Suddenly, Richard was very grateful that this man would always be behind the camera. Buzz was definitely not what America was tuning in to see. Richard quickly checked the living room for mirrors and was satisfied when he saw none.
“We’ve got a problem,” Buzz announced.
“I told you,” Bridget sang.
Richard glared her into silence. “I know. There are still only fourteen girls. Where’s—” Richard scanned the faces of the women, ticking off in his head each of the candidates “—Bambi?”
“Boob accident,” Bridget announced. Both men looked at her. “That’s what I was trying to tell you. She just called. Apparently she developed complications after her implant surgery.”
“What kind of complications?” Richard asked.
“It seems she might have gone a little overboard, three cup sizes overboard to be exact. Her body couldn’t hold them up, and as a result, she threw out her back. She’s going to be in traction for the next three weeks.”
“Three weeks!”
“Wow,” Buzz mumbled. “Must be some pretty big boobs.”
Richard instantly calmed down. “Fine, we’ll do the show with fourteen women.”
“We can’t,” Buzz complained. “You told me fifteen. I set up everything to work for fifteen. The camera shots, the furniture, the props. If there are only fourteen girls it’s not going to look right. The shots won’t be even.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, it’s only a cable show. At best what we’re attempting to do here is a beefed-up, overly dramatic infomercial. We’re not talking Masterpiece Theater,” Richard wailed.
“Fifteen is fifteen. I’m a perfectionist.”
“We’re going live in, like—” Richard glanced at his watch and immediately freaked “—ten minutes! Ten minutes. I can’t find another Bambi in ten minutes! Bridget, tell him I can’t find another Bambi in five minutes.”
“We’re fresh out of Bambis, Buzz,” she obliged and tried not to smile for fear it would upset Richard that much more. Not that it wasn’t fun to get him riled every once in a while, but tonight really wasn’t the time.
Buzz shrugged. “Fine. If that’s the way you want it. I’m just saying it’s going to look funny.”
“What’s going to look funny?” Dan, one of the co-CEOs, who had wandered over to their side of the room, asked.
Bridget watched in amazement as Richard instantly smoothed out his frazzled expression. He could go from hysterical lunatic to calm businessman like nobody else she knew. It was all an act, but it was a good one.
“Nothing. Everything is fine. “
Don joined them and pointed to Buzz. “He said that it was going to look funny. We don’t want funny. We’re not paying for funny. You said everything would be perfect.”
“And it will be,” Richard insisted to the two men.
“Not with fourteen girls,” Buzz muttered.
Richard glared at the cameraman ferociously. “I’ll get a girl,” he announced.
Dan, Don and Buzz all looked at Richard expectantly.
“I’ll get a girl,” he repeated. This time with conviction.
Satisfied, Buzz wandered off and so did the executives.
“Great,” Richard snapped once everyone was out of earshot. “Buzz, the biker cameraman is really a junior Steven Spielberg in training.”
“You did insist on the best,” Bridget reminded him.
“I need you to be on my side right now.”
She snorted. “That should be in my job description. Filing, message taking, errand running and permanently being on your side.”
“You mean it isn’t? Add that to your job description as my VP.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“Find a girl,” he ordered her sounding somewhat desperate.
She laughed. “Where am I going to find a sane single woman who is willing to go on a television game show to win a husband in less than ten minutes?”
“Not just a husband…a heartthrob husband. Brock Brickman is America’s daytime heartthrob. Clearly you’ve never seen his work on The Many Days of Life.”
“Yes, but wasn’t he fired?”
“Only a few weeks ago. Which is the only reason he was available to do this show in the first place so let’s consider ourselves lucky. He’s a semi-star, he’s handsome and he’s going to pick one of these lucky women to be his wife. One of these lucky fifteen women. I just need one more…” Richard’s words trailed off even as he surveyed her up and down.
Bridget suddenly got very nervous. Either Richard somehow could see through her dark silk blouse and was checking her out—not likely—or she was being sized up as a piece of meat. A sacrificial piece of meat.
She isn’t Bambi, he concluded silently. She didn’t have the flowing blond hair, the blue eyes or the body. Bridget more or less resembled a modern-day Audrey Hepburn in Funny Face…before the transformation.
She had little to no shape. Her golden-brown eyes, probably her best feature, were covered by thick, dark glasses that he knew she thought were chic, but that actually took up too much space on her face. No doubt her soft pale skin tone would translate as pasty on camera, but he was a desperate man. They could always add a lot of makeup.
“Richard,” Bridget growled. “Why are you looking at me like I’m steak and you are a hungry dog?”
“You’re single.”
“Oh, no,” she protested. “No way. Not me.”
“Bridge, I’m desperate. You heard Dan. He said no funny.”
“That was Don.”
“Whatever. I need you.”
“If you think I would go on a television show to get a husband…If you think I would go on a television show for any reason, you are out of your mind. You know how I hate the spotlight.”
“But this is our future, Bridge!”
Their future. Her heart skipped a beat at his words. She
