Mike's Trailer

Mike's trailer was dingy and smelled faintly of stale coffee.

Rebecca had expected something rather nicer. The hotel had been lovely, and the house they'd used for filming was beautiful. She'd assumed the man in charge of everything would have somewhere equally impressive to work.

Instead, she found herself sitting on a folding chair in what looked like a rather untidy storage cupboard on wheels.

There were papers everywhere. Empty coffee cups, too. A little wastepaper basket beside the door was overflowing, and the blinds hanging across the narrow window were crooked. Somewhere above her head, a fluorescent light buzzed.

It was rather disappointing.

"Alright, we are rolling," Mike said, as he stepped out from behind the camera and moved to his office chair across from her. "Rebecca, sweetheart. How are you doing today?"

"Fine," she replied. Hands clasped in her lap.

"You've just given your first hand job, I'm sure we can do a little better than fine."

She glanced at the camera, then at him. "I'm fine."

He nodded and reached for a nearby coffee cup. After a long sip, he cleared his throat and continued.

"You should know that Breaking Mrs. Ashford has been performing much better than we anticipated."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "It's on TV already?"

He shook his head. "Not TV. Everything we do is livestreamed on the internet."

"Like on YouTube?"

"Sure." He shrugged. "You could say that."

"Mike, I was about to leave. If you don't start giving me some proper answers, I'm walking out of here."

He cleared his throat again. "Alright, Rebecca. What do you want to know?"

"What is this?" She gestured around the trailer. "All of this?"

He held the cup in both hands and took his time answering.

"Rebecca, what we're doing here is something a little different from ordinary television."

"Different how?"

"It's an independent production. Made specifically for an adult audience."

She frowned. "An adult audience?"

"Grown-ups, sweetheart. People who are interested in relationships, marriage, that sort of thing."

"But why would anybody want to watch me?"

"Because you're interesting, Rebecca."

She gave him a doubtful look.

"I'm a housewife from Texas."

"Exactly!" He pointed at her, suddenly enthusiastic. "You're a real person. You're not some Hollywood actress pretending to be somebody she's not. You've got a husband, two kids, a whole life back home. And now you're here, trying things you've never tried before."

She shifted on the uncomfortable plastic chair.

"Well, yes, but..."

"That's what people are connecting with. They're watching you discover things about yourself."

Rebecca looked down at her hands.

"I don't know that there's very much to discover."

"Well, I think you might be surprised."

"But what sort of website is it?"

"A subscription platform. People pay to watch independent programs that aren't suitable for regular television."

"Because of the male nudity?"

Mike smiled.

"Well, that's certainly part of it."

"But people can actually see that?"

"Sure. It's an adult programme, sweetheart. People know what they're signing up for."

"Oh."

She looked down at her wedding ring.

"And they're paying to watch?"

"That's how subscriptions work, darling."

"Yes, I know that." She frowned. "I just don't understand why anybody would want to."

Mike chuckled.

"Well, that's the beauty of it. People are interested in all sorts of things. Some watch for the relationships, some for the drama. Some just like seeing ordinary people doing extraordinary things."

"I don't think I've done anything extraordinary."

"Rebecca, two days ago you wouldn't even kiss a man who wasn't your husband. Look at you now."

Her cheeks reddened.

"Well, I don't know that I'm particularly proud of that."

"I'm not saying you have to be. I'm saying it's interesting. People want to see what happens next."

She glanced at the camera.

"And they've been watching everything?"

"Everything we've filmed for the program, yes."

"Goodness."

Mike leaned forward.

"But here's what I really want you to understand. They're not just interested in James. They're interested in you. You're the reason the show's doing so well."

"Me?"

"You."

She gave him a doubtful little smile.

"I can't imagine why."

"Well, maybe that's part of your charm, sweetheart."

Rebecca looked away, embarrassed despite herself.

It was a strange thought. Somewhere out there, people she'd never met were apparently interested in her life. Not Richard's work, or the children, or whether she'd managed to keep the house tidy.

Her.

"Now, Rebecca, there's a little hitch."

She looked up.

"A hitch?"

"Nothing for you to worry about just yet. But it's something we need to straighten out before we go any further."

"Oh." Her smile faded. "Have I done something wrong?"

"No, sweetheart. Not at all." Mike put down his coffee. "It's about consent."

"Consent?"

"Everything we film here has to be completely voluntary. Everybody involved has to understand what they're agreeing to, and they have to be making those decisions for themselves."

"Well, of course."

"Exactly. And that's where we've got a bit of a problem."

She frowned.

"I don't understand."

"Rebecca, we know you don't have a mobile phone."

"No. Richard doesn't see the point of me having one."

"Right. But you've been using the hotel telephone to call him."

"Well, yes. He's my husband."

"Of course he is." Mike nodded sympathetically. "And we've noticed that before agreeing to the challenges, you've been checking with him first."

Rebecca shifted in her chair.

"I don't see what's wrong with that."

"There's nothing wrong with talking to your husband, sweetheart. But when you're making decisions about something this personal, we need to be absolutely certain those decisions are yours."

"They are mine."

"Are they?"

"Of course they are!"

"Alright. Then let me ask you something. If Richard had told you not to come today, would you have come?"

Rebecca opened her mouth.

Then closed it.

"Well, I don't know. I suppose I'd have talked to him about it."

"That's what I'm getting at."

Mike leaned back in his chair.

"We can't have somebody who isn't involved in the production making decisions about what you do on camera. Particularly when there's money involved."

"But Richard isn't making me do anything!"

"I'm glad to hear that. Truly. But we need to be able to demonstrate that you're acting independently."

Rebecca glanced towards the window.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that if we're going to continue with the project, there can't be any more telephone calls to Richard until filming is finished."

"What?"

"Just until the end of the project."

"Mike, I can't do that!"

"Rebecca—"

"No! He's my husband. I have children at home. I can't simply disappear and not speak to them!"

"I'm not asking you to disappear. Richard will know you're safe. We'll make sure of that."

"But what if something happens? What if one of the children gets sick?"

"Then of course we'd tell you. I'm talking about ordinary conversations. Discussing the challenges, asking Richard what he thinks you should do. That sort of thing."

She shook her head.

"I don't like that at all."

"That's perfectly understandable."

"I don't think he'd like it either."

Mike gave her a small, patient smile.

"Well, that's rather the point, isn't it? This has to be about what you want."

Rebecca folded her arms.

"I want to be able to telephone my husband."

"Then you can. Nobody's stopping you."

She looked relieved for half a second.

"But if you do, we won't be able to continue filming."

"Oh."

The fluorescent light buzzed overhead.

Mike was talking about giving her more freedom, but somehow it seemed to involve taking something away.

"There's one other thing you should know before you make your decision."

She looked at him warily.

"What?"

"The production company is prepared to offer you a signing payment."

"A signing payment?"

"One hundred thousand dollars."

Rebecca went very still.

"I'm sorry?"

"A hundred grand, sweetheart. For agreeing to continue the project under the new arrangement. That's before any of the individual challenge payments."

"You're joking."

"Not even a little."

"But..." She swallowed. "For what?"

"For making a commitment to the project. For agreeing that the decisions you make here will be yours, and yours alone."

Rebecca looked down at her wedding ring.

A hundred thousand dollars.

Richard could pay off their debts. They could stop worrying about the mortgage. Perhaps he wouldn't have to find another job quite so urgently.

And all she had to do was agree not to telephone him.

For a little while.

"How long?" she asked quietly.

Mike tilted his head.

"How long what, sweetheart?"

"How long until the project's finished?"

"There isn't a scheduled end date, but I'd estimate a few weeks. A month, tops."

"A month!? I couldn't..."

"Remember, if anything needs your attention, we tell you straight away. Home is always a call away, but only in an emergency."

"I should go back to the hotel to think about this."

"Of course, sweetheart. I wouldn't want you making a decision you're uncomfortable with."

Rebecca reached for her handbag.

"There's just one thing," he added.

She stopped.

"Production needs an answer today. I've been authorized to offer the hundred thousand, but only if we can get everything settled before you leave."

"Why?"

"Because we've got people and equipment booked, Rebecca. We need to know whether we're continuing."

She looked at him uncertainly.

"But it's an awful lot to decide all at once."

"I know, darling."

He gave her a sympathetic smile.

"Take all the time you need. I'll be right here."

Rebecca glanced at the door.

Apparently, all the time she needed meant however long it took her to make up her mind before leaving the trailer.

There was simply no way she could agree to this without telling Richard. A month was a terribly long time, and he'd be beside himself if she suddenly stopped calling.

"Could I telephone him first?"

Mike looked up from his coffee.

"Richard?"

"Yes. Just to explain what's happening."

He considered her for a moment.

"Well, sweetheart, that's exactly what we're trying to avoid."

"But I can't just stop speaking to my husband! He'll think something terrible has happened."

"Of course. And I wouldn't expect you to."

She looked at him hopefully.

"So I can call?"

Mike sighed.

"I think we can make an exception. One final conversation, just so he knows you're safe and that you might be out of touch for a while."

"Oh, thank you."

"But there would have to be a couple of ground rules."

Her smile faltered.

"What sort of rules?"

"First, you can't discuss the offer with him. Not the money, not the arrangement, not any of the details. Otherwise we're right back where we started."

"But how am I supposed to explain why I won't be calling?"

"You can tell him you've been offered an opportunity to continue filming, and that you need to make the decision independently."

Rebecca frowned.

"That sounds rather vague."

"It's supposed to be. You're not asking him to approve anything, remember?"

She looked down.

"Alright."

"And the second thing is important. You can't ask him what he thinks."

She blinked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"No advice, no permission, no recommendations. And he can't give you any either. You'll need to explain that to him at the beginning of the call."

"But what if he has something to say?"

"Then you remind him that the decision is yours."

"Mike, he's my husband. Of course he'll have something to say."

"Which is why you need to be very clear with him."

She folded her hands in her lap.

This was becoming awfully complicated.

"And if he asks me to come home?"

Mike gave her a sympathetic look.

"Then you'll have to decide whether that's what you want."

Rebecca glanced towards the telephone on his desk.

"Could I call him now?"

"Sure." Mike stood. "But I'll need to stay in the room."

"You want to listen to my conversation with my husband?"

"Only this once, sweetheart. I just need to make sure we're following the rules."

She didn't like any of it.

But a hundred thousand dollars was an awful lot of money, and she couldn't bear the thought of Richard worrying about her.

"Alright," she said reluctantly. "But I don't want the camera recording."

"Of course not."

Mike switched it off and handed her the telephone.

Rebecca dialed the number she knew by heart.

It rang four times before Richard answered.

"Hello?"

"Richard? It's me."

"Rebecca? Everything alright?"

"Yes, honey. Everything's fine."

"Good. How'd today go?"

She glanced at Mike.

"It went alright."

"Alright? Did you do it?"

Her cheeks reddened.

"Yes."

"Well, there you go!" Richard sounded delighted. "Fifteen thousand dollars. Not bad for an afternoon's work, huh?"

"I suppose not."

"What's wrong? You sound funny."

"Nothing's wrong, honey. I just need to tell you something."

She took a breath.

"The people making the program have offered me an opportunity to stay a little longer."

"How much longer?"

"A few weeks, perhaps. Maybe a month."

"A month? What for?"

"More filming."

"Well, I'll be damned."

Rebecca waited for the inevitable objection.

Instead, Richard laughed.

"They must really like you!"

She blinked.

"I suppose."

"What are they offering?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Why not?"

"That's what I'm trying to explain. They've asked me to make the decision independently. I'm not supposed to discuss the offer with you, and you're not supposed to give me any advice."

There was a pause.

"What?"

"It's something to do with consent. They need to be sure I'm making my own decisions."

"Well, of course you are."

"And there's something else. If I decide to continue, I won't be allowed to telephone you until the filming is finished."

"At all?"

"Only in an emergency."

"Right."

Rebecca held her breath.

Surely that would upset him.

"Well, I suppose we could manage that."

"You do?"

"Sure. It's only a few weeks."

"But Richard, I wouldn't be able to speak to you!"

"I understand that, honey."

"And the children?"

"They'll be alright. I'll look after them."

She stared at the telephone.

She'd expected him to be furious. Instead, he sounded as though she'd told him she was going away for a weekend.

"Well," Richard continued, "if they're offering you another month of work, I imagine the money must be pretty—"

"Richard!"

"What?"

"You're not supposed to say things like that!"

"Like what?"

"About the money! You're not supposed to influence me."

"Oh, for God's sake, Rebecca. I'm just making conversation."

"I know, honey, but Mike's sitting right here."

"Mike's listening?"

"Yes."

"Well, tell him I said hello."

Rebecca glanced at Mike.

"He says hello."

Mike smiled.

"Tell him I said hello back."

She sighed.

"He says hello back."

"Good man."

Rebecca rubbed her forehead.

"Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I might not be calling for a while."

"Alright, honey."

She waited.

"Is that all?" Richard asked.

"Well... yes, I suppose."

"Okay. Anything else you need?"

"No."

"Then don't worry about things here. I've got everything under control."

"Oh."

"Give me a call when you're able."

"I will."

"And Rebecca?"

"Yes, honey?"

"You're doing a good thing for this family."

Her throat tightened.

"Thank you."

"Love you."

"I love you too."

She hung up.

For a moment, she simply stared at the receiver.

She'd spent the whole conversation waiting for Richard to object.

He hadn't.

He hadn't even seemed particularly bothered.

Rebecca wasn't sure what to make of that.

"Well?" Mike asked.

She looked up.

"He didn't seem terribly upset."

"That's good, sweetheart."

She glanced back at the telephone.

"No," she said quietly. "I suppose it is."

Rebecca picked up her handbag and stood up, straightening out her dress as she regarded Mike.

"Can I go back to the hotel now?"

"That won't be necessary," he said with a knowing smile.

"Why not?"

"Because we've made some changes to the accommodation arrangements. You'll be staying at the house with James from now on."

Rebecca stared at him in disbelief.

"With James? Mike, I'm a married woman!"

"Of course you are, sweetheart. You'll have separate bedrooms."

"Oh."

That hadn't occurred to her.

"You'll have the master suite, and James will be in one of the guest rooms. It's a big house. Plenty of privacy."

"But we'd be living together?"

"Sharing a house, Rebecca. Not a bedroom."

"Well, there's a difference!"

"Exactly."

She frowned. Somehow, he'd managed to make her feel rather silly for objecting.

"And I wouldn't be expected to... well, do anything with him?"

"Nothing you don't agree to. Same as before."

Rebecca considered this. James had been perfectly kind to her, and the house really was lovely. With separate bedrooms, she supposed there wasn't anything terribly improper about two people sharing accommodation for work.

Still, it was a strange arrangement for a married woman.

"Alright," she said quietly. "I'll do it."

Mike smiled and reached for the folder on his desk.

"Wonderful, sweetheart. Let's get you signed up."