Three Weeks Later

Three weeks, and still no job.

Rebecca scrubbed at the breakfast dishes while the latest rejection replayed in her head.

Now, what does a silly housewife like you think she's doing applying for jobs?

She scrubbed harder.

Richard had been out of work for nearly a month. The savings were disappearing, he'd snapped at her for buying brand-name bread two days ago, and that morning the grocery store had called to tell her they'd hired somebody else.

Ring, ring.

Rebecca jumped and dropped a plate into the sink. She checked it hadn't broken, then hurried for the phone, drying her hands on her skirt.

“Hello, Ashford residence. Richard is out at the moment, so--”

“Is this Mrs. Ashford I'm speaking to?”A gruff voice came down the line.

“Why yes, it is. Who is this?”

“My name is Mike Grayson. I work with Real Reality TV. Have you heard of us?”

Rebecca made a thoughtful noise, although she knew perfectly well that she hadn't.

“No, I don't think I have. We don't watch much TV.”

“That's okay. You met one of my talent scouts recently.”

“Was that the nice man in town? He had just the loveliest suit on.”

“That's the guy. You made quite an impression on him. Said you'd be perfect for a new show we're trialing.”

Rebecca blinked. “Me? Surely you mean my husband. He really said me? Rebecca Ashford?”

“The very same. Told me, Mikey, we need this dame. She's exactly what we're looking for.”

“Oh my.” Rebecca played with the phone cord nervously. “What exactly is the show?”

“The title is Breaking, followed by the name of the star. In your case, Breaking Mrs. Ashford.”

Rebecca's eyes widened. “That sounds violent.”

Mike laughed. “Nothing violent about it. We take somebody outside their comfort zone and see what they're really made of.”

“But I like my comfort zone.”

“That's why we want you.”

Rebecca wasn't entirely sure whether he was joking.

“And you don't have to commit to the show. Come to the studio next weekend, shoot an interview, and we'll give you two grand.”

“Two thousand dollars?” Rebecca nearly choked. “And I get all of that just for the interview?”

“Darling, that ain't the full amount. Two grand for the interview. Up to a million if you complete the show.”

The phone slipped from Rebecca's hand.

A million dollars.

Three weeks she'd spent applying for grocery stores and receptionist jobs, wondering whether anybody wanted a housewife who hadn't worked in years.

The thought made her feel strangely important.

Nobody had ever made Rebecca feel expensive before.

“Mrs. Ashford?” Mike's voice came from below. She quickly scooped the phone up. “I can take that as a yes?”

“I'll have to ask my husband, Mr. Grayson.”

“Of course. You've got until next weekend.”

“That's very generous of you. Should I call this number when I've decided?”

“Darling, if you don't call me, I'll call you.”

Click.

Rebecca stood there listening to the dial tone.

Two thousand dollars for an interview.

A million for the show.

Rebecca decided she would turn down the money.

She'd looked up Real Reality TV while the children were at school. Their biggest shows seemed to involve putting attractive single people in houses together and waiting to see if they fell in love.

Rebecca had closed the website.

Love? On reality television?

That was like looking for chickens in a pig sty!

By dinner, Rebecca was nervously watching the clock.

Richard hated them eating without him, but eventually the children needed feeding. She gave them dinner, bathed them, put them to bed, then returned downstairs to clean the dishes.

The front door slammed.

Heavy footsteps entered the hall.

He'll wake the kids, she thought.

“Richard, honey,” she called out. “I'm in here. I'll put your dinner on.”

She took the plate out of the fridge and began to peel off the cling, when she heard his footsteps behind her.

“Couldn't wait?” he asked. His voice was slightly slurred. “Again?”

“I'm sorry, honey. The kids were tired.”

Richard looked toward the stairs. “I told you, Rebecca. We eat dinner as a family.”

“I know.”

“You said that last time.”

“I'm sorry.”

Richard looked down at his plate. “Beef?”

“It was on offer.”

“Rebecca, the car's going to cost five hundred dollars.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

He rubbed both hands over his face. “Jesus. I need you to find something. Anything. I can't keep carrying all of this.”

Rebecca looked at her husband. His elbows rested on the table, his fists pressed against his jaw. His neck was tense, his shoulders bunched.

Her irritation softened.

He's worried, she told herself.

That's all this is.

“I called the grocery again today,” she said quietly. “They gave the job to somebody else.”

Somebody half my age and twice as pretty, more like.

“The grocery store?” Richard shook his head. “You need to think bigger than that, Rebecca. Fifteen hours a week bagging groceries isn't going to fix this.”

Rebecca looked down.

“There's got to be something else.”

Rebecca's stomach tightened.

Two thousand dollars.

The phone call returned to her mind.

“I did get one offer today. But I'm going to turn it down.”

Richard stared at her.

“Yeah?” he said at last. “You're going to turn down money?”

She nodded. “Do you remember that man in town? The one with the clipboard?”

Richard frowned. “He came here?”

“No. His boss called.”

“What for?”

Rebecca hesitated.

“They want to interview me for a television show.”

Rebecca placed his dinner in front of him and sat beside him.

“What kind of show?” he asked as he cut into the beef.

“I don't know, they didn't say. I don't think I'd like to do the show itself, but the man said they'd pay me two thousand dollars just for an interview.”

“That's how they get you.”

Rebecca didn't know who they were, or what getting her meant, but the thought unnerved her.

“That's what I thought. So I'm going to turn it down.”

“Two grand is a lot of money.” Richard looked at his plate. “That'd pay for the car and give us a little breathing room.”

Rebecca hesitated.

A moment ago, he'd said that was how they got you.

“Do you think I should go, honey?”

Richard chewed thoughtfully.

“It's just an interview, isn't it?”

“Yes, sir. That's what the gentleman said.”

“Well, I don't see the harm in an interview.”

Rebecca nodded. “Okay, honey. If you think I should do it, then I'll do it.”

Richard returned to his dinner.

At least she'd made him happy.

Rebecca couldn't quite understand why that hadn't made her feel any better.