"I thought this was an at-home program," I explained.
"Well, that would be more expensive. We'd have to have eight camera crews. It's cheaper just to rent a compound for a few weeks."
"A compound? It sounds like a cult."
Kenneth sighed. "It's actually very nice. Plus, we want all of you together. There's going to be teams. It will be fun."
I was sitting on the couch. Three cans of beer were scattered on my table. A bag of Doritos was quickly being devoured. I glanced around.
The place was a sty.
It was going to be time to move again soon. I scratched my gut. It was soft. There was a roll hanging over my jeans. I took my hand away.
Damn it all to hell. I was one of People's most gorgeous people just six years ago. Now I felt like Dan from Roseanne. Plus I was breaking out like I was fifteen again.
Life sucked.
"Alright, I'll take your word for it," I finally said. "I guess that means I have to pack."
Kenneth laughed. "That would be a good idea. I'll have a private car sent for you at eight o'clock tomorrow morning. It will bring you to the bus."
"The bus?"
"Think of it like summer camp."
I snorted. "I never went to summer camp."
"There's a first time for everything."
I rolled my eyes. "Ain't that the truth."
"See you tomorrow, buddy!" Kenneth said. I hung up.
I was only his buddy because I was probably the biggest Z-lister he had gotten for this show.
The guys were going to razz me so bad about going on a friggin' weight loss show. I could already hear Kevin. He had been bitchin' about my eating habits for years. This last tour had been the worst. He complained that I couldn't handle choreography. He screamed at me if he smelled my fry breath.
He was worse than my mother. Of course, he cared more than my mother.
I ran a hand through my hair. I didn't want to think about family. I felt grungy. I felt lazy. I leaned towards the table. I did just a quick bump of coke. It took a bit to kick in, but when it did...
"Fuck YEAH!" I screamed. There was no one else in the apartment. I sank back into the couch and closed my eyes.
I had to figure out some way to smuggle in just a few goodies into this damn 'fat camp' for a pick me up. If I wasn't going to be able to gorge in fries, chips, and other fried favorites, I needed at least a little bit of 'dessert' to get my energy up. I seemed to be losing the high faster and faster, but when it was going full force, I felt invincible.
Beads of sweat erupted on my upper lip. My leg started to shake. I wanted to party, but I was short on cash. Plus I couldn't afford to get another DUI. I reached for another can of beer and popped the tab.
Once I lost the weight, I would tackle my problems. Not that I really had a big problem.
The drinking and drugs were more like a little hobby; I could quit at any time.
"This mascara won't smear even when you sweat," mom said. She stuck it in a black and white makeup bag.
"I don't think I'm going to wear makeup while I'm working out," I said.
Mom stared at me wide-eyed. Or maybe it was just the leftover immobility from her latest Botox injection.
It was anyone's guess.
"Shay, you're going to be on TV. You've got to look your best."
"This is as good as it gets."
She smiled. "It's not as good as it gets. You'll be running around on the set of Heartbeat with Francie in no time at all."
I snorted. "I never want to be a soap star."
Mom frowned. "You say it like it's a bad thing."
I hedged. "It's not a bad thing," I said slowly. "It's just not for me."
"Well, you never know. You say that now but once you slim down..."
I tuned her out. Francie and I had dined on egg whites and celery for breakfast. I was pretty sure I would have been better off just capturing mouthfuls of air and swallowing them. My stomach would have growled all the same.
"Do you know who else is going to be on this thing?" I asked mom when she finished her soliloquy. She ran a hand through her hair.
"I heard they were getting Kevin James. Then there's some singer, an author, a comedian...there's a pretty good mix of people."
"I still don't know why they picked me," I said. Mom smiled.
"It's all about connections."
She had just admitted what I had already guessed. She had dropped my name and probably my picture. If I wasn't ready for 'soap time' or 'prime time' at least she could get her 'reject' daughter on TV somehow.
"Thanks," I said. I took the makeup bag from her and stuck it in my suitcase. Mom walked over and patted my hand.
"Get a good night's sleep. Kenneth told me the car will be here early tomorrow."
I nodded. Her heels clicked on the hardwood floor as she swayed out of my room. I sank back down on the bed, bent over and retrieved a tiny little pack of Oreos from underneath my bed. I quietly tore open the package and stuffed one in my mouth.
They were the best when dunked in milk, but the second best option was to just suck on it and let it disintegrate. I stared at the wall and let the taste of chocolate fill my mouth.
I was a stress eater. I didn't need any degree-holding psychologist to tell me that. My mother and sister stressed me out. I was optimistic that the weight would fall off once I got away from them.
Hell, I might even get so skinny that the producers would give me Oreos to gain weight.
The thought brought a smile to my face.
As long as I could ignore the cameras and wasn't forced to wear anything made with spandex, I was going to be just fine.
As for my Oreo problem, I wasn't too worried. I could quit at any time.
