The Curves Ahead - Wattpad Award Winner

Chapter 25

It wasn't a filming day; Robbo had called us in for the weekly meeting to plot the next five shows. As we walked through the familiar halls, crew members greeted me with a mixture of delight and sympathy.

We turned into the conference room, where everyone else was already gathered. Taylor leapt up first and raced around to hug us both. "Oh my God, Evi! You're back! Your hair looks amazing today! How are you feeling?"

"I'm pretty good, Tay, thanks." I smiled at my old nemesis, wondering when on earth we'd actually become friends. Taylor and I had been catching up weekly for a coffee, and although she'd never take the place of a certain redhead, we were buddies. I was fully across Taylor's whirlwind relationship with Dr Blake, and she was a good sounding board for all things girly.

Robbo's gruff voice rang out as the short round producer ambled over. "Ah! The prodigal Cash Cow returns! Where have you been, Moo? Grazing?"

Not good enough. It was a blend of Heather's voice and my own, strong inner one that compelled me to finally say, "Actually, it's Evianna, Robbo."

"What?" He froze, face bewildered.

"Evianna. Or Evi. You can even call me Ms Moore." I smiled pleasantly at him as I sat at the opposite head of the table from his seat, Matt settling in beside me. "But not Cash Cow or Moo. Not any more. Thank you."

He didn't know what to do with himself; I'd never challenged him on his derogatory nicknames before. Rather, I'd laughed along with him, even when I'd been weeping on the inside from his unconscious cruelty.

"Oh, right. Well... Mizz Moore," he said, regrouping and blustering, "we've got big plans for you when you finally get your big... get yourself back behind the desk again next week."

I knew he'd been about to say 'your big arse,' but it didn't worry me. I knew my posterior was perfect regardless of its size, and thanks to endless invisible chairs in yoga, I could probably snap Robbo's wrist between my butt-cheeks if the mood struck me. "Sounds good. So, I've got a ton of ideas for reports and special segments to run by everybody."

"Yeah, yeah, maybe later. Right now, we're going to talk through the new series we'll be playing at 8am every morning – 'What I Hate About Me.'"

He pointed a clicker at the screen on the wall, and an image of a sad, over-weight woman appeared, with tragic hair and snarled teeth. He clicked again and she morphed into a stunning, model-esque sex-bomb, blowing a kiss at the camera.

"Every week, we take some ugly chick and run her through the world's fastest and dirtiest makeover program! Dental, hair, spray tan, liposuction, a decent outfit, those spanx things me Missus wears, and boom! She's hot – or hot-ish at least – and our ratings sky rocket!"

My mouth filled with a palpable distaste. "Robbo, I have to say, that doesn't sound like the best way to help people."

"We're not trying to help people," he explained, as if I was a special-needs work experience student. "We're trying to make TV."

"I believe we can do both."

"I believe you're wrong. Look, Mo- Moore, everyone loves a makeover story. Hell, this whole idea was inspired by you and your whole reinvention thing. The whole freaking country is talking about it – we'd be idiots not to capitalise on this!"

I shook my head. "Count me out. I won't be a part of this. Change the title, let me actually pick the women and work with them to bring out their inner-beauty, and we'll talk."

"Inner beauty?" Robbo said the words as if I'd just suggested campaigning for the Klan. "You can't capture inner beauty on camera, Evianna. Don't be stupid."