“Done for like fifteen minutes, okay?” Dana scurried after me, ducking under lighting rigs and hopping over cord lines as she tried to catch up. “Because then we need to shoot you doing some laps in the pool.”
“Yeah, fine.” I bit out. “Fifteen minutes.”
I didn't look back, so I don't know what Emma did, but I didn't see her again for the rest of that day.
“We all thought it was going to happen. He was looking down at her and holding her hand on his chest and the electricity between them was popping all over the place. He was about to kiss her, and Emma had to kiss him back. I mean, come on—he's CASH MITCHELL. If there's a hotter guy in Hollywood, I don't know of him. And he's so freaking nice. I was working on a lighting rig the day before, and he stopped to help, because I was having trouble reaching the connector. Like… the other cast members don't even see us. But he did, and he asked me how my day was going, and if I was looking up at him and he wanted to kiss me, I'd fling my arms around his neck in a New York minute.
After he left, Dana asked Emma if it was true, what Emma had said—about hating him. And Emma said the strangest thing. She said that sometimes you say things because you have too, not because you mean them. And Dana asked what she meant by that—which was the same question I had. I mean, what does that even mean? But Emma didn’t give her anything else. She said ‘next question’ as if she was the president, and we were all just members of the press. I thought Dana would push it, but she didn’t. Dana just moved on.
What Dana didn't ask, and what all of us were waiting for—was why Emma went to Cash's room last night. But I think she wanted to catch that moment in front of Cash. And we had time. We had five more weeks ahead of us.”
Lauren Flan, Assistant Director, House of Fame
50
#thinking
EMMA
I didn’t know if I could do five more weeks of this. It’d only been a few days, and I’d already punched Cash and crawled into his bed. There was a very real possibility that I would either kill him or fall in love with him, and I’d already spent five years obsessing over the man. If I fell past the stage of infatuation and into genuine emotion… what then?
For him, it would be fun. For me, it would be disastrous. Because the show and our fling would eventually end. And he'd continue on, and I would fall apart.
I liked to think that I was chasing the fame and the followers for my own self-fulfillment, but had this all just been to catch his attention? If so, that was unhealthy and disturbing.
I needed to figure myself out. This house crammed with fame-chasers and manipulative producers and all of America watching… it seemed like the last place that could happen.
Like I said, I didn’t know if I could do five more weeks of this.
“After the punch and the footage we got of Emma and Cash—the focus of the show shifted. Where the initial concept had been more about the six influencers as a whole, my new vision was more centered on Emma and Cash and the drama, tension, and chemistry between them. And anytime it seemed like those factors were wilting, we stepped in. Discreetly, of course. The cast had our filming schedule, but we definitely manipulated some scenarios to create additional drama."
Dana Diench, Producer, House of Fame
52
#redneckshavemorefun
CASH
It was the third episode when they decided that Emma and I shouldn't date, and she should be with Layton instead. It was the stupidest decision production could have made. Emma and I just stared at them blankly for a solid minute when they made the announcement. Layton, on the other hand, let out a whoop. I didn't say anything then, because I didn't want Emma thinking that I had ulterior motives or some weird reason for wanting our characters to date—but I did pull Dana aside after the meeting and tried to talk her out of it. Layton was a complete redneck idiot. It wasn't feasible for a girl like Emma to go for him.
"Except that he's hot," Dana returned, crossing her arms across her red turtleneck sweater. "Have you seen him without his shirt? Trust me, Emma's not going to complain." She started in the direction of the front doors, probably heading to the production trailer that squatted in the middle of the mansion's circle drive.
I hurried to keep up with her. “He lives in a trailer.”
"By choice." She jogged down the front steps of the home. "Trust me, I've seen his sponsor contracts. For what Chevy is paying him, he could buy a dozen trailers. Plus—" she came to a stop. "Didn't Emma grow up in a trailer? That's a good spin, actually. Maybe he can go home with her. Add some authenticity to everything."
“She doesn’t like him,” I fought back.
“Of course she does. They get along fine.” She brushed something off my shoulder. “Besides, Cash. This is TV. She doesn’t have to go for Layton, she just needs to make the viewers believe that she’s going for him. A few kisses, a make-out session… that’s all we want. And we’re talking about two very attractive people. No one is going to be suffering through this.” She tilted her head at me. “But very chivalrous of you, Cash. Why don't I grab a camera, and let's do this conversation again—I'd love to catch it on tape."
I backed away, my hands held up in surrender. “She’s not going to go for it.”
Dana gave me an evil smile. “Ah, but contractually, she doesn’t have a choice.”
53
#gimme
EMMA
I was all about a fake storyline with Layton. I needed anything that would keep me away from Cash, and Layton’s audience was over eighty percent men. You think women watched videos about fishing and barbecue sauce? A series of photos and videos with him and I should be able to recruit a few million of his followers—and it was a win for him too, given my mostly-female audience.
I could pretend to fall for Layton. That held no risk for me.
54
#branding
CASH
I'm embarrassed to say that every night that first week I waited for her to come back to my bedroom. I started wearing pajama pants to bed, just in case she did.
She didn’t. Instead, she ghosted me. Nothing cruel—just quiet indifference and avoidance. When Dana announced the Layton/Emma storyline, I watched her closely, expecting resistance, but she seemed fine with the change. Almost happy with it.
I sat in the backyard hammock and watched her sitting next to him on the edge of the pool. The kitchen staff had mixed Pina Coladas, and we'd all had a few. I reclined back against the faded red fabric and watched her from behind my sunglasses, the alcohol dulling my senses to an almost manageable level.
“Hey.” Eileen settled into the chaise lounge beside my hammock and stretched her legs out along the length of it. “Dana wants me to come over here and flirt with you. So, you know, roll with it.”