Chapter Text
“Wait, how the fuck did Miss Plain Jane here get this far?” One of the producers scoffed, holding up Melissa “Mel” King’s file and waving it around for everyone to see the mousy candidate’s headshot. The glossy 8.5x11 looked like it was taken with an iPhone 7, showing a plain-faced blonde whose most prominent feature was her black-rimmed glasses. The photo was in stark contrast to the many glamor shots adorning the 50 or so other files sprawling the conference table. “She can’t possibly be in the final cut.”
“Well, Trinity, if you actually looked into her file at all instead of judging people solely on their looks, you’d see all the potential for a midseason sob-story.” Al-Hashimi replied tartly, moving to grab the file from the other producer’s hands. But Trinity was as bold as she was green, and she snatched it closer to her chest before flipping through the application.
“Yeah, she’s just as boring as her picture looks. Hasn’t had a relationship since her mother died…six years ago? Jesus, Baran, I mean…come on. It looks like her whole life is taking care of her autistic sister. You want to put this woman on television? Virgins aren’t exactly going to do well on Love Island.” Trinity snorted, ignorant of the looks her co-workers shot each other.
“That’s kind of the point, Miss Santos.” Al-Hashimi was finally successful in retrieving the file from Trinity’s hands. The older woman glided towards the large whiteboard at the front of the room. “I think she’d make a perfect Casa girl.”
“You want to make a virgin one of the Casa girls?!” Trinity splayed her arms out, looking at the other producers incredulously. Al-Hashimi finished sticking Mel’s file to the “Casa Amor” section on the board, but turned to cross her arms and purse her lips, looking rather resolute at the whiteboard.
“Robby….” The showrunner said rather pointedly, focused solely on her Lead Field Producer. The older man was rubbing at his eyes beneath his glasses, but he could feel the weight of her gaze regardless, clearly saying: This is your girl - get her in line.
“Alright, alright, Gloria, I hear you,” he threw his hands up to show retreat. “Trinity - typically, our process is to listen to the other producers first. Then you can start tearing apart their favorites. Even if only to make your argument against them stronger.” He couldn’t help the slight quirk of his lip, though. He knew her potential. And, if he were honest, she amused him to no end.
Santos threw her head back and groaned. “Whatever.”
“Again, Trinity, if you had bothered to actually look at her file, you’d see it says nothing about her being a virgin. In fact, she lists some sexual encou-”
“Yeah, sure - six years ago, Al-Hashimi. She’s practically pure as the driven snow. She doesn’t even have any social media!” Trinity interjected with a snort, earning her a few eye rolls from the others.
“You know, some men actually go for that kind of thing. It’s not exactly the rarest kink,” Robby replied coolly, fixing her a stern look over his glasses.
“Yeah, perverts,” Trinity muttered under her breath.
“In her videos,” Al-Hashimi states, effectively squashing the bait Santos was laying. “Mel demonstrates a sunshiny optimist who is aching to branch out and start living her life again. I believe the audience will want to root for her, but still find a little enjoyment watching her fail.”
Gloria nods slowly, recognition coloring her features. “So, this isn’t someone you expect to be around for a while.”
“Correct. Ideally, I’d like to see her for a few weeks. Casa is a little more relaxed than the activities in the Villa. Perhaps we have a desperate contestant or two who see that she might be their only hope to stay. She probably won’t make it back to the Villa, and King can be happy with a cult following as America’s soft spot. If we’re lucky,” Al-Hashimi couldn’t school the smirk taking hold on her otherwise reserved face, “someone will bring her back to the Villa.”
“How is that lucky? She sounds a little vanilla to me.” Dana, one of the veterans, asked from the back of the room.
“Well, our psychological evaluation raised some concerns about her familial ties to autism. Kiara and Dr. Jefferson notated some traits consistent with someone on the spectrum. They thought it unlikely that Miss King would thrive in environments with…textural concerns. Dr. Jefferson noticed some stimming behaviors in their interview, as well.”
“Hence the midseason sob-story,” Robby murmured behind his hand approvingly.
“Exactly,” Al-Hashimi finished proudly. “If the storyline has evolved past the point of needing it, we have plenty of other girls to send in her stead. But I am advocating for her availability. This would be a storyline we haven’t explored yet.”
“Excellent work, Baran. We might even get a few woke points if we can get her talking about the struggles of autistics,” Gloria chimed in. “She stays.”
“Jesus. Let’s at least get her into something skimpy at some point,” Trinity spoke quietly, to no one in particular. Robby shot her a look with crinkled eyes, and she couldn’t tell if it was in approval or as a warning.
Al-Hashimi took a seat, and her small, victorious smile faded at Gloria’s word. “Yes, I think we could give King a platform to talk about people with autism,” She allowed herself to gaze pointedly at Gloria. “Hopefully, she won’t need a reminder to use people-centered language.”
“Ok,” Gloria responded, the point probably going over her head as she stood up and grabbed a few files at random. “Everyone, we still need to cut at least 20 of these candidates. Chop chop.” She threw the applicants towards Robby.
“Alright, folks…” Robby stood up, flipping through the file on top, “What do we think about…Mia Wilson?”
“I like the look of this Frank Langdon kid, but ‘Frank?’ Really? His parents big Sintara fans or somethin’?” Dana called sometime later, flipping the file around to show the room Langdon’s headshot; some faux-artsy black-and-white picture taken from his Instagram. Lunch had arrived, and the remnants lay strewn beside the remaining files.
Santos snorted into her pho. Robby grabbed the file, smirking at Dana, and began studying the photos inside. “If that’s the case, they got lucky he ended up with these piercing blue eyes. Kid’s definitely a bombshell.”
“I think he’s gotta be an early one,” a voice from the corner chimed in. “I remember that file, we’ll definitely get some viewers who tune in just to see that chin.”
“A bombshell named Frank?” An assistant plucked the file from Robby’s hand, marching it toward the other Bombshells already on the board. “Are there any rules about having them go by their last name?”
Robby leaned back in his chair, hand over his mouth. After a few idle strokes through his beard, he frowned appraisingly at Gloria.
Gloria shrugged. “I don’t have a problem with it. Their full names are already public knowledge…”
“Yeah, alright - let’s plant the seed in the kid’s head. But if he’s weirdly attached to ‘Frank,’ just let him have it.” Robby agreed and reached for another file half-buried under his noodle bowl.
“Jesus, no wonder we have so many contestants that have to go home because we didn’t vet their personal lives well enough,” Trinity added suddenly. “Says here he’s a recovering addict? Something to do with a back injury from moving his parents. Is that something that’ll cause us problems?”
A smattering of indistinct murmurings rippled through the room.
“We had someone in season 7 who was a recovering addict,” Al-Hashimi cut through the noise. “It’s not like there isn’t any precedent.”
“Okay, and he relapsed,” Trinity countered.
Al-Hashimi scoffed. “Now you want to be Saint Santos? Please. If you are worried about how this show affects people’s mental health, you might want to get into a different business.”
Trinity’s mouth curled into a mocking sneer, but before she could snark back, Robby intervened, “She’s not wrong, Santos. We have Kiara and Dr. Jackson on set, in case any of the contestants start to feel like this is too much. These are all grown adults making the decision to be here.”
Trinity blinked at his response. “Whatever. I just…what are we getting from him we aren’t already getting from Mateo, anyway?”
“Eyes” and “that chin” seemed to be the consensus of the room.
“Alright, let’s move on to Hana from Montana. I think she’d be great as either the first girl in the Villa or the second.” Apparently, Gloria had had enough of this debate.
“Well, I want Miss Letti Jones for the first girl.” Dana piped up, grabbing the file. “Look at her…what’d ya call ‘em, Javadi? ‘Boby eyes?’”
Javadi seemed caught off guard that anyone was talking to her, which wasn’t unwarranted. This was her first season at Love Island, and Dennis had told her they were functionally assistants. “Uh…” Javadi looked around at everyone, “Yeah, boba eyes.”
“Yeah, boba eyes. She’ll look great awkwardly standing around waiting for someone to join her and tell her what to do.” Dana quipped, passing the file indiscriminately, and it made it’s way up to the whiteboard.
“I can take Langdon, keep an eye on him if you’d like.” Robby leaned slightly to his right, muttering to Trinity, who had plopped down next to him after throwing away her empty container. She shrugged noncommittally.
“I don’t actually give a fuck about him. He’s your typical ‘I would have gone pro if it wasn’t for this injury’ ex-athlete with a chiseled jaw and biceps. I just don’t want another person we have to sweep away in the night. That shit’s annoying.” Trinity muttered back.
Robby let out a low chuckle. “Sure. But, you know, it keeps attention on the show, drives engagement. That’s why we don’t really care to learn our lesson. Besides, if it comes out, an addiction storyline is easy to spin in any direction. Aaaand, Santos, it’s not like he’ll have a ton of temptation here. We don't exactly allow drugs on set.”
Santos didn’t respond right away, instead looking at her hands that were fumbling with some trash on the table in front of her. “I know that.”
“Alright, well, Langdon’s mine, and I’ll make sure it doesn’t come back on him or us.” He assured her with finality before jumping back into the larger debate on Hana from Montana vs Boba Eyes.
“What’d we decide on Gabrielle Tanner?” Someone asked from behind the donut hanging out of their mouth.
“I like her,” Trinity said. “She’s stunning. Able to look both down-to-earth,” she picked one of the photos out of the file, a candid shot of her smelling flowers, “and glammed up.” Santos flipped the file back to the headshot clipped to the front to display for everyone. “She goes by ‘Abby,’ has a degree from Michigan State…. Her evals with Dr Jefferson show someone grounded, and! We still need someone to play the peacemaker for our first few episodes. She’s pretty much the total package. I think she could make it all the way to the final episode. Let’s put her in as one of the originals.”
“I agree with Santos,” Al-Hashimi said when no one else had any objections.
“I do, too.” Robby and Gloria said at the same time, which caused them both to look at each other with furrowed brows. Trinity couldn’t care less. She beamed as she walked the file up to the front of the room.
“I’d like Trinity to be her producer.” Robby said, like it wasn’t kind of monumental to give someone like this girl to someone who’s only had the role for a month.
“Really.” Gloria’s mouth turned into a straight line. “And why do you want to give a possible final girl to a brand new producer?”
Robby’s mouth turned into a humorless smile. “Listen, Gloria. Trinity’s been with us for what?” He turned to look at Santos, who was practically vibrating with glee over this news. “3 seasons? I’ve heard her suggestions, she’s learned the ropes well enough. I think we should let her prove it.”
“Are you ok being thrown into the deep end, Santos?” Gloria asked with her eyebrows raised.
“Yes, ma’am. Of course. I’m ready for this.” She nodded seriously.
“Fine. Robby - I expect you to keep an eye on this. Moving on, I need 5 more cuts and the rest designated. I don’t want to have to order a third meal for everyone.”