Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies, Disney does. I do, however, own the idea of The Best of Both Worlds, so if any big television studios want to use it, you gotta pay!
AN: No, this isn't a re-write or anything. This story got deleted for "interaction" (and of course, they waited until I had posted 5 chapters before deleting it) so I made the proper adjustments and re-posted. Hope you enjoy!
The nasal voice shouting to be heard above the noise brought me out of my current trance. "That's me! I'm seventy-three!" I waved my ticket in the air, just in case she didn't believe me.
A small woman turned to face me. "This way," she said, beckoning me. I followed her through the double doors which had blocked-off the waiting room. Neither of us spoke as we walked down long the hallway. Me out of nervousness; her out of apathy. The only sound was of her heels striking the linoleum floor. At the end of the hallway, we came to another door, which she opened to reveal...
Another fucking waiting room. As if waiting in the first one for about two hours hadn't been enough torture.
"Please wait here until Theresa comes for you," she instructed monotonously as she turned on her heel to leave. I inspected the room. Other than myself, only four other men were present. As I eased into yet another hard, plastic chair, I began to seriously think about what I was doing.
Here I was, auditioning to be on a television show. A reality television show. So desperate for a relationship that I was willingly to put my dignity on the line. Yeah...that's sad. I could only imagine what sort of humiliation I would be put through before I was eventually rejected yet once again.
"I hear the guy they got for this show is absolutely gorgeous!" The man sitting two seats away interrupted my train of thought. "Not to mention he's loaded!"
I wasn't sure how to respond to my new outgoing acquaintance. "Oh...uh...I haven't heard that much about–"
"It's just too bad I have to compete with some girls. I mean, guys I can handle, but girls are so sneaky. They have those damn underhanded tactics. Plus, about 82 of bisexual men prefer women to men. Or is that bisexual women?"
"I'm not really–"
"But it can't be a total waste. It's not like I'll be the only gay guy there. I'm bound to meet someone." The way he looked at me and grinned insinuated I may do just fine for him. "I like your eye patch," he cooed, reaching toward me. "It's so Johnny Depp. You know? Like Pirates of the Carribean."
I ducked out of his reach as politely as possible. "I don't believe he wore one in that movie."
"Carter, Reese?" A woman called out. "Is there a Carter, Reese?"
"Oh! That's me!" He went about making a show of collecting his various things. I think he wanted me to admire his ass. "Well, I'm off! Hope to see you there," he added with a wink.
I let out the breath I didn't even realize I had been holding. Not that he was that bad a guy. He just...wasn't right for me. Too perky and flirtatious. I didn't really know for sure what my "type" was, but I had a feeling it wasn't that.
I let my head fall against the wall behind me as the back of the chair dug into my spine. Around me there was a buzz of excitement as the others in the room flirted and shared rumors they had heard about the show. There was talk about humiliation stunts, revealing embarrassing secrets, and other cruel things done for ratings. Was it really worth it?
I raised my hand. "That's me."
"You're next. Please follow me."
I stood and obeyed, suddenly struck with the feeling of being marched to my execution. But, it couldn't be that bad. Could it?
In a connecting room, I saw a table of six men, each with a notepad and pencil in front of them. In the middle of the table sat a large pitcher filled halfway with water. There were large lights on either side of the table and a camera right behind the row of men. The woman grabbed my arm and lead me in front of the table where a plain white sheet was serving as a makeshift backdrop. After she instructed me to stand there, she left and I began to feel small and little intimidated. The aforementioned lights were switched on and I could no longer see anyone else.
As I raised a hand to shield my eye from the blinding light, one of the men spoke. "Please step forward and state your name."
I took a hesitant step toward them. "My name is Brent Keller. But most people just call me Blink," I added.
"Do you prefer to be called Blink?"
I shrugged. "I guess..."
"How old are you?"
"I'm twenty-two. Look, I filled out the form when I came in, so it should all be on there."
None of the men responded to this. They continued to interrogate me. "Why do you want to be on our show?"
"Well, I really want a relationship. I can never seem to find the right guy around here."
"What makes you so sure our bachelor will be the right one for you?"
"Well, I don't know. But it's worth a shot I guess."
"Tell us about the sort of traits you look for in a man."
I began to wring my hands together out of nervousness. "Well, the truth is I don't know. I can't really figure out what kind of guy I like. I always think I've found the type of guy I like, but then something goes wrong with it."
"Would you mind enlightening us as to the reason for the eye patch?"
"My left eye is sensitive to light, so I have to wear a patch."
"Oh," was all he said. I think he was expecting some horror story of being blinded in an accident with an ice pick. Anything that would make me more interesting.
There was an awkward silence. I could faintly hear the rustling of papers and conspiratorial whispers. I tried to ease myself as I rocked back and forth on my heels. "One more question, Mr. Keller," one of them finally broke the silence. "How would you feel about having everything you do broadcast on television?"
I was dumbfounded. That's a strange question to ask. I was applying to be on a reality tv show. If I had a problem with being on television, I wouldn't be here. I furrowed my brow. "That's fine with me. Not that that's the only reason for me wanting to be on this show. But I'll do almost anything for a relationship." Did I just admit how desperate I was to a group of strangers?
I was almost positive that I heard a couple of snickers among them. Must have been my imagination. "Thank you. That will be all. We will be in touch."
My heart sank. I was sure I had made a jackass out of myself. And for what? For the chance at having a chance to start a relationship which would probably end up in a failure anyway. I left the studio; shoulders slumped and head hanging.
"Hello, Mr. Keller. This is Theresa Danse. I am calling to inform you that our producers have chosen you to be a contest on the next hit reality tv show. Get ready for the two most exciting weeks of your life! Call me at 555-2093 for more details. Welcome to The Best of Both Worlds!"
Woo! My next big endeavor! How exciting:silence: ...or not. Well, hope you enjoyed it! Please review :bats eyelashes: