Mona's chickens come home to roost

This was your helping hand? You sure it wasn’t addressed to Mona? You suppose having this would help you out somehow. What could you do with it? **** Mona again? Probably can’t fish in the same hole twice now that that fucking tweet already ruined that. Maybe offer it to her as a peace offer? It would be kind of weird just telling her you somehow bought the very same necklace she stole.

The proof of purchase invoice downloads and exist as a PDF file in the DOWNLOAD folder of your phone. You read it over. How exactly were you going to use it?

A commotion was starting in the villa as you contemplate how to move forward with your new helper. Something was happening, and there were Islanders gathering around a man in a black suit who walks into the villa. The camera crews scramble to capture a man in his fifties with greying jet black hair, heavy sagging eyes, and the look of a man who never laughed once in his life. He looks like a boardroom company-man type and the crowd of Islanders all part away as he make his way to Mona.

“Mona Bridgewater? We need to talk,” The man in black says.

“Umm… should you be here? I mean, we are on a show right now,“ Mona's fear evident in her voice, like a straight-A student being called up to the principal's office.

“I’m with Cookie Cutter Productions (The Company that produces Island Amour and other reality TV shows). They know I’m here. I’m Damien Tyrell from the human resources department. We need to have a private chat about a personal matter,” Mr. Tyrell explains in a no-nonsense curt manner.

The other islanders, including yourself, all were stunned. This seems serious but not so serious that the camera crew wasn’t busy directing each other to get this juicy bit of action. Everything in the name of ratings.

“If you will excuse us,” Mr. Tyrell says, nodding to the rest of the islanders. “Follow me, Ms. Bridgewater.”

The islanders all whisper and speculate among themselves as the two, Mona and Mr. Tyrell, left towards one of the side entrances of the main villa wings. They make their way to the confessional area wing, which was a production room where Islanders would reveal their thoughts.

“What was that about?” Jenna asks you.

“I suppose her chickens are coming home to roost,” You murmur.

“Huh?”

“Oh… umm nothing. I need to go to the washroom,” You say to Jenna, and she squeezes your hand and smiles.

You head to a private area of the villa. A new notification had popped up somewhere in the middle of that whole affair and you want to watch it, suspecting it had something to do with your recent helping hand and Mona.

Live Video 2 is available for free now in data items.

The video starts, and it is in the confessional room you know well. This was the place that you would be scheduled daily to record your thoughts (or rather your revised thoughts as written by others) and to look into the camera and give the audience at home subtext to events that were happening. Currently, the room looks empty and not in use.

There are lights and cameras set up, but not people operating it. Two people were in the room at a table while camera crews film them from behind. It was apparent the show still wanted to show this bit of action, and it was by no means a private matter or off-the-camera event. It kind of sickens you to think that the showrunners would go this low just to get juice and drama for the viewers. Mona looks around and wonders what was going on.

Mr. Tyrell brings out a laptop from his briefcase and opens it. He places it on an angle so both he and Mona can see it. The laptop turns on, and an unfamiliar old man is on video call on the laptop screen.

“What is this about?” Mona asks.

“Ms. Bridgewater, it has come to our attention that the owner of Dillinger’s Gold and Silver has filed a police report and is taking legal actions against this company and yourself. This is one of our lawyers, Mr. Charles McGill.”

“Are you serious?” Mona asks.

“The producers want us to do everything we can do to resolve this matter,” Mr. Tyrell reassures.

Mona’s eyes glaze with tears. You could see she is beginning to break down. Was she acting? Way too good of an actress if she was. Panic and fear overwhelm her face and body. “I-I… Am I going to be kicked off the show?”

“The producers have told us they want to prevent that from happening. Your stay on this Island is paramount to the vision of this production and its future,” The lawyer, Mr. McGill says.

“So, what’s going to happen?” Mona sobs.

“We already agreed to a small cash settlement but they want you to apologize to Mr. Dillinger and then return the necklace. The necklace has been sold, and its owner will probably want it back. We have Mr. Dillinger on the line... hold on just a minute, I’ll put him on,” Mr. McGill says.

The laptop displays a split-screen, making room for an old shaved head man.

“Mr. Dillinger, we thank you for appearing with us today to resolve this matter,” Mr. Tyrell says clasping his hands.

“Bout friggen time, I says,” Mr. Dillinger grunts. “That the bitch who stole the necklace?”

“Mr. D-Dillinger… I was going to pay for it. I have the money now… please. This necklace belonged to my late mother,” Mona explains, words coming out after the other.

“Hey girly, you know how many sob stories I’ve heard over the years running this pawn shop? I’ve heard them all. I don’t give a shit about the money. I want to make it known that nobody steals from Lyle Dillinger and gets away with it. Your shitty reality TV show better show this part to your audience, you fucks. Like we agree before, capiche? Ain't nobody stealing from Dillinger and gets away with it.”

“Ms. Bridgewater… if you can please just apologize and hand over the necklace. We already have an addressed express package for the necklace which we need to deliver to Mr. Dillinger with due haste. Mr. Dillinger has kindly agreed to not pursue legal matters if he has the necklace back quickly and an apology from yourself,” Mr. Tyrell softly explains.

“B-but I have the money now. I was going to do this show and just pay it back,” Mona explains.

“Hey, bitch. I’m going to take that necklace and hang it like a warning trophy in my shop. You give it back now, or I’m going to make sure you spend the rest of your life behind bars like every other thief who tries to steal from me. You hear me, missy? All you viewers at home better learn you don't steal from Dillinger!” Mr.Dillinger growls.

You couldn’t watch it anymore. Tucking your phone away, you made your way to the confession room.