Author Games: Who Pairs Wins

Some Weeks Earlier...

Click.

One beautiful face disappears, to be replaced with another. This one is a woman, tanned and gorgeous, with a narrow waist and eyelashes so long it's a wonder her eyes can stay open.

"Like," she starts, "it's always been a dream of mine, you know? To find true love? You only get one The One, and I'd rather find him now while I'm...well..." A gesture down at her body, a studied giggle. "You know. This."

"She'll do."

"Sure?"

"Sure."

Click.

This time it's a man. He looks like he works out - in fact, he looks like it's all he does. A slick quiff sweeps across his forehead. He hasn't even opened his mouth when the man at the head of the table goes, "Yes."

"You haven't even heard him speak," protests the young woman sitting next to him. Nose piercing, slices of pink in her hair...she couldn't look further from the faces flashing on and off the screen, even though they're no older than her.

"I don't need to, he'll have every girl from thirteen to forty glued to those biceps. Next!"

Click.

Knock. Thump. The door is thrown backwards and two new figures stride in. A man and a woman, young enough to be on the screen in front of them, though neither looks quite the type. The woman - Serena Warwell, to anybody who owns a television - is the image of her father, with his blue-grey eyes and mass of dark hair and a habitually impatient expression. The man - Todd Carraway - or HotToddy to his 1.7 million Instagram followers, has the physique of a dedicated gymgoer but a spark of character in his face that the boys on the screen lack, along with a shy hunch to his shoulders. Both are grinning at their interruption. The man at the head of the table groans audibly. "You," he says.

"Us!" agrees Serena cheerfully. "This looks cosy. What's going on?" There's a look in her eyes that says she knows and isn't happy about it.

"Casting."

"I thought we agreed Todd and I would be doing the casting."

The man at the head of the table harrumphs. "It's a lot of responsibility."

"Which we accepted, when we took the job." Her smile has gained a touch of the shark about it, but she settles into a chair pleasantly enough and tucks her hands behind her head, while Todd perches opposite her. "But it's no matter. You can at least show us what you've got."

Three videos in, Todd is checking the comments on his latest Instagram post, looking bored and restless. Serena's cheery look seems frozen in place. When they click the video onwards and a girl with thick glossy hair and lips that take up half her face appears, crooning about her childhood, the two of them exchange a glance. Serena holds up a hand. Stop.

The video pauses. The girl on it is halfway though blowing a kiss; stopped like this, her pursed lips look obscene. Todd coughs and shuffles. "You see," he says, "Serena..." he winces as she kicks him under the table, "uh, sorry...we've been thinking."

"That is what you get paid for," sneers the man at the head of the table.

"This won't do." Serena, stern, ignoring the snide comment. "They won't do."

"They are the usual-"

She rolls her eyes. "Time for the not usual, then."

Todd says, "I mean, they are pretty hot, nobody's going to deny that, but like, I...uh, we believe this season we should have all kinds of people so that more viewers feel inclusive."

"Included, Todd." But he's used to being corrected and he only takes it with a smile and a wave of the hand that indicates Serena can continue. "We're being inclusive. Changing the way we do things. Bringing this show into the 21st century."

The man lets out a dismissive tsch. "The way we do things, as you so eloquently put it, has served us well for ten seasons. Our ratings are stellar, we're trending week in week out. I see no reason to change this."

"Of course you don't," says Serena sweetly. "That's why we're here. Real people don't look like that. They can't see themselves in them, and why would you want to? They'll get bored soon enough, and we'll be lucky if that comes before we've got the charities and the teachers on our backs complaining that we're damaging young minds with mindless crap. What are those?" She's spotted, in the corner of the table, a pile of applications with CDs attached to them.

The man bares his teeth. "That's the reject pile..."

"I want to see them."

"But they're...well, they're ratings poison. Look through them if you want, you'll see what I mean. No hopes and useless cases. Social media will hate them. And that's not to mention the problems it'll create with the channel, which I'm sure you don't need to me elaborate on after last week's email..."

Serena and Todd share another glance.

"Less hot," Todd allows reluctantly. "But perfect. In a whole other way, right, Serena?"

"Exactly." She turns to the man, who has the rictus of someone who has bitten off a lot more than he can chew and would rather spit it out than swallow it, and gives him a glare. "Use them. If not all of them, at least some."

"So you'd want-"

"Yes," she says, before he has a chance to finish speaking. "That's what I want. Changes. Massive changes. I want the rejects, whatever they're like. I don't care if they're male or female or neither, if they're probably gay or overweight or shy, if they've never been in front of a camera before or they don't drink or they don't look good in a swimsuit or whatever. I don't care, as long as they're not like that lot you've got on the screen there. Understand?"

The man glances at his assistant; she shrugs and suggests it might be worth a try. Outnumbered, he grumbles, "Fine. You win again. We'll use those ones."

"But," Todd interjects, flashing his Insta-famous megawatt smile, "we don't see any harm in including some more...um...convectional applications as well."

There's a moment's pause.

"Conventional, Todd. Conventional." Serena, longsuffering and patient.

"Right, right. That's what I meant!" He grins again. "We won't, like, mind if there's some hot people there too, you know? Because we're being in...in..." he struggles for a second, "inclusive this time."

He shoots Serena a proud look. She nods.

"I suppose I'd be a hypocrite if I said absolutely no traditional contestants. But," here her eyes narrow dangerously, "we will decide which ones, and how many. And I'd like them to have something about them. Agreed?"

The man gives a tight, reluctant little bob of the head. His assistant is still looking like someone pulled a rug out from under her feet.

"Excellent." Serena stands, ripples out her hair and offers her hand for a shake. "I'm so glad we have an agreement. It's about time we started looking to the audience that actually exists, don't you think?"

There's no other option then but to agree. Between them, Serena and Todd hold most of the show's financial and popular backing. Without them, there is no show.

And besides, a change can be as good as a feast...

"Yes," the man allows, so obviously grudgingly that he doesn't even pretend to smile. "Agreed. Are we done now?"

"Yes. Thank you."

Todd looks up from his phone eagerly. "Can we go get a pizza now? You promised..."

The door slams behind them.