The Sheikh's Virgin Bride(66)
He walked over, then, his posture straight, his face handsome as ever, in spite of the light stubble on his chin. The Sheikh walked up the front steps and held out his hand for her parents to shake while cameras all around them began to film. Kaye’s mother stared out at them, bewildered.
“Kaye Mary Kearney, you better explain what’s going on this minute before we have the sheriff run all of these film folks off our lawn.”
“Mom, don’t! We’re filming a reality show, okay? I’m supposed to be marrying this man, Amir Al-Asfour, but none of it is real. I mean, it is real. We have to get married for the show. But it’s all just for the show. We’ll get an annulment after a good amount of time has passed, after.”
Her parents stared at her, their expressions hard. She had imagined this scenario, of course—she just hadn’t thought it would be this terrible.
“You mean to tell us that the one acting job you got after all that money we spent on you for that fancy degree is some reality show where you pretend to marry this stranger? How much money is he giving you to sell your integrity, just out of curiosity?” her dad asked with narrowed eyes.
“Enough to make it worth it, I assure you,” Kaye answered, feeling the wound of his comment.
As if she hadn’t tried as hard as she could to land a job they would have thought worthy? Her dad’s eyes narrowed further into slits. Not a good sign.
“No amount of money is worth selling your hand in marriage. You know what that makes you, right?”
“Don’t you dare slander me,” Kaye said, enraged. “You think I didn’t know the kind of reception I’d get from you closed-minded country bumpkins? I’m trying to make something of myself here, which is more than I can say for either of you!”
“You had a choice to take up this farm and sustain it for generations to come. Instead, you chose to go out and apparently became a reality show harlot. Well, you can bet we’ll have nothing to do with that. We will not be filming this trash, and we will sue if any of our images makes it onto a television screen, you can bet on that.”
Her father yelled the last bit out to the crew in general, who quickly shut off their equipment. He glared back at Kaye, then.
“We thought you would do something more with your life, Kaye. You’re the only child we have. Now, we have to live with the shame of knowing just who you really are.”
“And who am I, Dad?” Kaye cried, tears filling her eyes as her voice broke.
When he didn’t reply, she put a hand up to silence any retort he would have had.
“Forget it. I should have known this would be a waste of time. I’m going to make it in this world, and when I do, it will be no thanks to your dim-witted small-town attitudes! I couldn’t get out of here fast enough when I left for college, and I can’t now. Thanks for nothing,” she hissed, turning and running down the steps.
Taking the cue, the rest of the crew began to pile into the other cars. Kaye glanced back to see Amir speaking with her parents, but she was too angry to think anything of it. Instead, she slammed her car door and yelled at the driver to go, determined to step foot on that farm again.
As the car pulled away from her childhood home, Kaye was filled with an overwhelming sense of regret.
How would she ever fix her broken life?
Chapter Sixteen
Kaye couldn’t stop the tears from streaking down her face as the car made its long journey back to the airport. Over the radio, she heard Merle shrieking about wasted time and money, but she couldn’t care less in that moment. All she wanted to do was head home—back to L.A.
The familiar open fields passed by on either side, time standing still in the little corner of the world that never seemed to change. Kaye had looked at those same fields for most of her life, only stopping to go to school and try to make a new life for herself. If her parents couldn’t understand that, it was their problem.
Amir’s voice echoed across her mind, questioning whether it would have been better to give them some kind of a head’s up before bombarding them with a filming crew. Upon hindsight, Kaye had to admit to herself that her decision not to reach out to them first could have been a little shortsighted.
She sighed, pressing her forehead against the window.
“How are we going to play this?”
One of the crew was whispering to Jesse, who had quietly sat in the back as they drove on.
“Let’s find out,” he said, leaning forward and peeking at Kaye through the back seat.
She cracked open an eye and looked at him, waiting for the question.
“What do you want to do here, Kaye?”
She released a laugh, and it was a terribly sad sound for such a joyful gesture.
“You mean I have some kind of choice in the matter?”
“Of course you do. We’re not slave drivers here. You’ve been easy to work with from day one. So, your parents weren’t on board. We managed to get some shots of the confrontation, but your folks are right—without their permission, they would be well within their right to sue. Do you think we can do a little bit of filming to work around it?”
Kaye closed her eyes again, taking a bracing breath. She was still at work, after all. It would be important to remain professional. Jesse had worked on many projects with Merle, or so it seemed, and he could have connections that could make or break her in Hollywood. That was the thing about acting—or any career, really. It was all about who you knew and who knew you were hard or easy to work with. Difficult actresses found themselves ousted after so many years, while nice ones could have lifelong careers.