Or that’s what he intends to say, before he is promptly punched in the face and says nothing at all.
Dev
“Put me back on contestant duty.”
“Dev—”
“Please, Sky. Please. I cannot spend the next nine weeks standing in that man’s shadow. He’s cold and awkward and he called the show fake.”
Skylar finishes ordering camera one to pivot so the audience won’t see how bored Charlie looks talking to Kiana; then she turns to Dev. “This show is fake.”
“It’s produced. Sure, we set things up, create the perfect ingredients for romance, but people truly fall in love.” Dev points at the monitor as Charles stifles a yawn. “He didn’t come here for love.”
“I hate to be the one to tell you this, but neither did most of your girls.”
“My women are decent human beings. Charles isn’t.”
Dev thought Charles had a sweetness to him, but he is obviously a poor judge of character.
Skylar shakes out another antacid. “You know you’re the best producer we’ve got.”
“If I’m the best, I shouldn’t be saddled with an uncoachable mess.”
“Dev, it wasn’t my call to put you on prince duty, so if you’re pissed about your reassignment, take it up with Maureen—What the fuck is this?”
Camera three has cut to an assistant producer and a security guard escorting what seems to be the anthropomorphic embodiment of toxic masculinity.
“Who the hell is this? Who brought this man onto my set?”
The answer to these questions becomes clear when the stranger confronts Kiana and Charlie. Kiana had a boyfriend back home, and Maureen brought him to set. “Shit.”
Dev books it out of the Command Central tent, down the sloping driveway to where Maureen is coordinating this scene with another producer. “Cut! You’ve got to call cut! Charles isn’t ready for this! You’ve got to get him out of there!”
“Relax,” Maureen Scott says with a dismissive flick of her hand. “America loves a man who fights back. Our new prince might surprise us.”
Dev knows he won’t. “Seriously, I don’t think—”
“Chill, D,” the other producer says, because the other producer is Ryan in his new supervising producer position. Dev’s ex is standing on Maureen’s other side looking, as always, like a mystifyingly attractive combination of grunge rocker and yacht club enthusiast. Ryan’s wearing cuffed khakis and boat shoes, a flannel tied around his waist, brown hair pulled back in a tight bun. The sight of him hits Dev squarely in the solar plexus.
He’s spent weeks agonizing over seeing Ryan again. He’s rehearsed how he’d come across as aloof and unaffected, still Fun Dev, doing fine. Yet, of course, the reality is Ryan gets to be the one standing there looking casual and indifferent, and Dev is the frantic, emotional one. Ryan Parker: always making Dev feel ridiculous for caring. Across the set, the boyfriend starts poking Charles in addition to shouting misogynistic things.
“This will be great for ratings,” Ryan says coolly, refusing to meet Dev’s gaze. “And we’ve got security right out of frame.”
But Dev knows security will only break up a fight after it starts, not prevent good television before it happens. As much as he resents Charles and this reassignment, violence is not part of Dev’s fairy tale. He’s two seconds away from barreling into the scene himself, even if it means ruining the shot. The show has legal permission to use any footage he accidentally ends up in, but producers aren’t supposed to appear on camera. Still, he’s about to do it when a hand grabs his elbow. It’s Ryan, anticipating his next move.