Coming up, he’s gotten used to accepting offers, doing whatever comes by to get his name to float around. Do this remix, take this gig, host this party. He couldn’t say anyone has ever suggested he auditioned for reality television. He was surprised when his friend recommended it to him.
“It fits you, man,” his friend said. “You got the charm for it, that typa TV personality, you know?”
He thought it was stupid. Stupid because he doesn’t need to go on some silly reality show to find “love.” He found himself offended at the thought. He can find love easily if he cared enough. It was ridiculous for his friend even to suggest it. He laughed the idea off and took the offer as just some funny joke to laugh at.
He rejected the idea for a while, though the suggestion was carefully tucked in the back of his mind. Shit happens. Life happens. Money rules the world. Sometimes, gigs get more challenging to come by. Rent gets harder to pay. Connections don’t seem to move the needle. He started to think that maybe it wouldn’t hurt to do the show, realized that he could gain more than he could lose. It was worth the risk.
So, that’s how he found himself here, Anchorage flippin’ Alaska, three thousand miles from home. The flight was shockingly easy. He’s never really been a plane guy, always enjoying finer things, like on-land travel. Maybe that’s just a cover-up for his fear of flying.
As soon as he landed, he could feel the chilling silence. The subtle ambiance and chilly fog that settles over Anchorage. Serene and hushed. Everything that Brooklyn isn’t. It was hard to get used to after nearly ten years of city life. He feels foreign, almost like he’s been ripped from his skin and placed into new flesh.
The ride from the airport to this house is easy, for the most part. He’s picked by a black vehicle, and he can’t help but notice the new car smell as he settles in his seat. It’s a quick ride. He takes in the scenery, the beauty of the snow resting upon the landscape.
The house is beautiful, grand, everything he expected it to be. The different rooms, the wooden hallways, the lodgey feel. He thinks that he’ll settle in fine here, that he’ll adjust nicely. It’ll be fine, he thinks to himself. It’s worth the risk.
He finds himself in the living room, seated on the couch, wondering if he’s really doing this. It’s settling in that he’s going to have cameras pushed in his face for the next few months. He thinks that he probably will end up looking like a douchebag. Scratch that. He definitely will. Is that really what he wants? To look like an asshole on TV? He didn’t care because it was worth the risk.
approachable