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Summary: It’s time to meet the seven hopeful bachelors!
Word Count: 8K
A/N: A huge thank you to @a-reader-and-a-writer for beta-reading! ❤️
Masterlist
Rick Flag
"Could you look at the camera please, Rick."
Rick Flag blinks at the producer and wipes a bead of sweat from his brow. The fluorescent lights are blinding him, and not for the first time today, he thinks he’d much rather be back on the frontline, fighting his way out of some godforsaken hellhole than whatever this is.
Absent-mindedly, he rubs his left knee. "Uh, sure."
"Perfect.” The petite woman with the clipboard and headset flashes what Rick can only assume is supposed to be a reassuring grin. There’s a bright pink lipstick stain on her impossibly white teeth. “Whenever you're ready…"
Rick clears his throat. He had a whole speech prepared, but now that he’s here, sitting in the hot seat, he can barely remember his own name. Just why exactly did he have to go first? There are six other guys waiting in the wings, and although he only got a passing glimpse of them on his way through the villa, none of them look anywhere near as tense as Rick feels.
“Um, hi. I’m Rick. I’m 41. I’m from DC… Uh, and I’m in the military.” Rick scrubs a hand over his recently shaven jaw. God, he sounds so pathetic. He hopes his old squad won't be watching this when it airs – he doesn’t think he could live with the embarrassment of them laughing over their once-fearless leader making a fool of himself in the name of love.
"I'm here because I've spent too long lettin' work get in the way of livin' my life, you know? Guess you could say I… umm…I recently had a wake up call. Realised it might be time to meet someone and settle down. But it ain't easy meetin' people when you've been out of the game as long as I have."
Rick trails off. He's probably revealed far more than he intended to, and judging by the way the producer is biting her cheek, it seems likely he's just succeeded in bumming out the whole crew. Brilliant way to start, Flag.
Realising that Rick has finished, the producer's expression softens and the lipstick-stained smile returns. “Let’s try that once more from the top.”
Rick cringes, but ultimately complies. He's not the one calling the shots, not here – not anymore. "Uh, sure."
It requires a few more takes before the producers are satisfied, but finally they release him from the chair. Rick can't quite breathe a sigh of relief, though. The hardest part might be over, but now he has to survive the rest of this damn thing.
Stephen Holder
Stephen Holder leans against the wall of the villa, arms crossed, watching on in amusement as his fellow competitor flusters over his lines. Sure, the guy – Rick – has a few extra pounds of muscle on Stephen, but he seems awkward and nervous as hell. If there’s one thing Stephen knows about women, it’s that they like a confident guy. Luckily, confidence is something that Stephen has in spades.
Although, for reasons that are unclear to him, his abundant confidence doesn't always seem to translate with the ladies. Stephen is painfully aware of his dismal track record – of his tendency to pursue the wrong women and (if you ask his friends and colleagues) his inability to spot the right woman, even if she’s right under his nose.
But that's why he's here, of course: to turn his luck around, and hopefully prove his partner wrong in the process. He can't wait to wipe the smile off Linden's face. Linden has been egging him on for months, convinced that he doesn’t stand a chance. He might have a knack for solving murders, but as far as she’s concerned, there’s no way in hell he can win this thing.
Sure, he might not be made of 200 pounds of pure muscle like some of the other guys here, but frankly that’s not important. He’s got a brain, he’s got charisma, and this show is the perfect opportunity to let the world see that Detective Stephen Holder is, in fact, the perfect catch.
Stephen stifles a smirk when, after fifteen minutes or so of a stop-and-start performance, the cameras finally stop rolling, and Rick leaps out of the chair as if he's been scolded.
Stephen pushes off the wall and saunters his way onto the set, wholly unaffected by the lights and cameras. He’s attended more than his fair share of crime scenes; at this point, he doubts anything could truly faze him.
Dropping into Rick’s vacated seat, he flashes a grin at the producer. “A’ight, mamacita. Make sure you get my good side, you feel me?”
As the crew begins to fuss over him, putting powder on his nose and fixing his hair, an easy smile spreads across his face. He knows Linden will be watching this the moment the show airs, and he wants her to know that he’s got this in the bag.
Stephen’s feeling good – no, he’s feeling great – and the cameras start to roll. Time to shine.
Takeshi Kovacs
Idiots, the lot of them. At least, that's Takeshi Kovacs' initial opinion. Who willingly signs up for this? He’s been lurking in the background, eyeing up the so-called competition, and if he had any intention of trying to win this thing, he'd like his odds. Some of the guys barely look capable of tying their own shoelaces, never mind convincing some hapless woman to fall in love with them.
If not for that annoyingly belligerent producer, Tak would never in a million years have entertained this misery. Serves him right for showing an ounce of kindness. He certainly won’t be making the same mistake twice.
When it's his turn, he folds his arms, impatient for this circus to be over.
“Ok, Takeshi, why don’t you start by telling us why you’re here?”
Ignoring the rolling cameras, he levels the host, Katherine, with a glare. “I have no idea why the fuck I’m here.”
Someone yells cut, and Katherine appears in front of him, a harried expression forming on her heavily made-up face. “We’ve been through this Tak. You can’t curse, remember? The network’s rules–”
“I’m sure your crew aren’t complete idiots. They can edit it out.”
Flustered, Katherine’s mouth opens and closes as she fishes for a suitable response, her gaze flickering towards the producers behind her. She's clearly used to everything going her way.
Tak simply shrugs. He’s made it clear he’s not here through choice. What makes them think he’s going to stick to their rules?
Ed Baldwin
"Yes, kiddo. I promise to call tomorrow. Love you, always."
Ed Baldwin shoves his phone into his pocket and straightens the collar of his shirt, catching the eye of the guy opposite him – Pete.
"My daughter. She insists on checking up on me." Ed grins, by way of explanation. "Twenty years old, and she thinks I can't look after myself."
What he doesn’t add is that no matter how often he has to leave Kelly, it never gets any easier. She might be a young woman now, but he knows he’ll never be able to shake the fear of something happening to her, something outside his control. And Ed thrives on being in control, which makes him wonder just how the hell Molly and Danielle persuaded him to sign up for this in the first place.
Pete offers him a knowing smile. "My daughter is the same. Takes after her mother."
"Divorced?" Ed realises it's a redundant question, considering Pete is also about to take part in this dating game. But even though he and Karen have been separated for years, he still hasn't quite gotten used to thinking of himself as a divorcee. If anything, he considers himself married to the job. Being an astronaut is certainly just as demanding of a role as being a husband, and that’s quite possibly where the failure of his marriage began.
Pete nods, but doesn’t elaborate, and Ed understands. This show is about looking to the future, not living in the past. He’s had quite enough of that. He’s also had enough of lying to himself and those around him, trying to convince everyone he’s perfectly fine as he is. The truth is, with Karen gone and Kelly all grown up, Ed is lonely.
He’s not entirely convinced that this show is going to be the answer, but if one thing’s for sure, life is too short not to try.
“Ed? We’re ready for you.”
At the sound of his name, Ed adjusts his cuffs and offers Pete what he hopes is a friendly smile. “See you on the other side.”
Frank Wagner
Frank Wagner is excited. He feels alive. The world seems once again to be full of possibilities, no longer confined to the question of which dishes will appear on the specials board or which DJ he's going to book for Friday night.
That’s not to say that Frank is unhappy with his lot. In fact, in many ways he’s quite content. It’s taken some time, but he finally has a successful business; and other than breaking up the occasional bar fight, he lives a relatively stress-free and, dare he say it, boring life. Something that at one point felt like it would never bein his cards. The only thing that’s missing now is someone to share this life with.
Not counting a string of one-night-stands, it's been a while since Frank found himself on the dating scene. Years, actually. And while it might seem unusual for someone of his age, between one thing and another, he's barely had a moment to think, let alone fall in love.
Which brings him here. To this quaint but sprawling villa in the south of Spain, where he stands in line with a group of similarly eligible bachelors – or so he can only presume. He’s been considering signing up to the show for a while, but this year he finally pushed his reservations aside. The timing just felt right. He’s fully aware this might not be the traditional way of doing things, especially not in Sweden, but since leaving his motherland, he's learnt to take the eccentricities of the Americans in his stride.
As he waits for his turn in front of the camera, Frank glances back at the two guys also still waiting to make their introductions. He’s always had a talent for reading emotions, and he’s been watching his fellow competitors closely. They seem to range from nervous, to relaxed, to indifferent. He’s already overheard a couple of them talking between themselves earlier, with words like ‘NASA’, and ‘military’ thrown around, and it quickly became apparent that Frank may be out of his depth. Sure, he served with the Foreign Legion for a while, but these days he's far more comfortable running his restaurant.
Before he can dwell on his shortcomings too much, he hears his name being called across the courtyard. Contestant number four is leaving the hot-seat, and Frank is up. Sucking in a breath and slicking back his hair, he allows himself a small smile. He’s not going to allow himself to be disheartened. He’s always been a wildcard.
Pete Koslow
Pete Koslow is tired. The flight was long and overcrowded. Full of screaming children. The last of his energy was spent trying to temper his annoyance; he remembers how it was when Anna was young, before everything went to shit.
Beautiful Anna. The reason why he’s here in the first place. He knows she worries about him. She doesn't want him to end up alone, not after Sofia moved on. But this dating show isn't exactly what he had in mind. Since his release, he's worked hard to build a quiet life for himself. Being the centre of attention is far from his comfort zone. But he'd move heaven and earth for his daughter.
Pushing thoughts of Anna and Sofia from his mind, Pete watches on as the scrawny kid – Frank – takes his seat before the cameras. There’s only two of them left now. The other guy – Erik – has been keeping to himself whilst he chatted with Ed. There’s a certain air of mystery about him – something that no doubt appeals to a lot of women. Still, Pete fancies his own chances, especially when it comes to the challenges.
That’s not to say that he’s particularly invested in the outcome of the show. If he’s honest, he’s mostly here just to humour Anna. He can’t really see himself forming any kind of lasting bond in this situation. Throwing people together for reasons outside of their control rarely turns out well. And there are too many similarities to his time spent on the inside. With the possible exception of the astronaut – Ed – Pete imagines most of these guys are going to grate on his nerves. He’s seen their types before. Tightly-wound, cocky, down-right hostile. Perhaps he should take a leaf out of Erik’s book and keep his head down. After all, it worked for him in Bale Hill.
Pete was fully transparent about his background. He thought for sure he’d be instantly dismissed, so he’d been surprised to get the final callback.
Admittedly, Pete is curious. He’s sure everyone here has their own reasons for signing up, but what he really wants to know is what’s in it for her. This mystery woman that they’re soon about to meet. Who is she, and why is she here?
An even smaller voice at the back of his mind is wondering, what will she make of a guy like him?
Erik Heller
As far as Erik Heller is concerned, being the last in line has its advantages. He’s had ample opportunity to study his fellow competitors. To weigh up who the serious contenders are, who might pose a threat when it comes to the challenges, and who’s most likely to steal the woman’s heart.
It’s barely a conscious act – more like second nature. The way he’ll scan a room in seconds, picking out the leaders from the followers. The strong from the weak. He’s always had an analytical mind - it’s what makes him so good at his job – and he suspects it’s going to leave him in good stead for the next seven weeks. Always understand your enemy. It’s a solid tactic, and it’s never failed him yet.
Those closest to him, however, have been quick to offer their own, unsolicited, advice. When he told Elsa he was signing up, she’d made him promise not to take it too seriously. “You should smile more, Erik. Ladies love that.”
His daughter’s advice had been far more pragmatic, but not particularly insightful. “Make sure you win,” Hanna had told him. “And don’t embarrass me. My friends will be watching.”
No pressure. But it’s not like he’s got anything to lose. Except perhaps his dignity.
When the penultimate competitor is called to the chair, he gives Erik a curt nod. If Erik was a betting man, he’d put money on Pete Koslow having served time. It’s in the way he carries himself. Standing tall and shoulders squared; his expression might be relaxed but his eyes are alert and watching, waiting for something to happen. Interesting.
The other men are all just as interesting, even if the majority of them are open books. The soldier is anxious; it’s painfully apparent that he’s found himself on an entirely different kind of battlefield. The cop and the Swede are of little concern; young and naive, and likely just happy to be here. The astronaut bears the weight of grief that even his easy-going smile cannot truly mask. It’s the investigator – Kovacs – that Erik can’t quite get a read on him. His contempt for his surroundings, and indeed all those around him, is as obvious as it is amusing – if Erik didn’t know better, he’d assume he was here against his will – but it begs the question: what is Kovacs doing here?
There’s nothing that irritates Erik more than a puzzle he cannot solve; and as he prepares for his turn in front of the cameras, he resolves to add another goal to his list. Win the challenges, woo the woman, and figure out just what exactly is Takeshi Kovacs’ deal.
***
With the introductions finally over, Katherine ushers the seven men into the living room.
"Okay, gentlemen, now that your introductions are out of the way, it's time to meet the lucky lady!”
Reader — two years from now
It's with no small amount of trepidation that you turn on the streaming network and find the show. You weren’t sure you ever would muster up the courage, but time has dulled the sting of self-consciousness and lessened the dread of seeing all of the ugliest emotional moments caught on camera. Now it’s the laughter and fun moments that shine forth the brightest in your mind and that you hope to re-live while watching the show.
Besides, while you remember every moment you experienced, there was so much you weren’t a party to: you’ve never gotten to see the guys’ audition reels; their interviews with the host, Katherine; or the private moments amongst themselves when you hadn’t been present.
You’re burning with curiosity to see which moments the editing team chose to feature, and which narrative they decided to spin based off the hours upon hours of footage they must have captured. You can’t wait to see what the rest of the world saw.
Which is part of the reason why you waited until you were alone for the weekend to binge-watch the show. For all that you know in your bones that you made the right decision, your admiration and attraction to all of the candidates at the time had certainly blurred the lines between what had simply been warm affection and what turned out to be true love. Over the course of the show, you’d found yourself drawn to each of them in turn, bouncing between them like a pinball firing from one pop bumper to the next
You know the show will air some of your more intimate moments with each of the candidates; and while several of them have remained close friends, you doubt your husband would appreciate seeing those encounters with his own eyes.
“Welcome to the twenty-third season of Love for Life!”
The show’s theatrical music booms from the speakers as you adjust your protruding belly in an attempt to get comfortable. Only three months left to go and the discomfort is only increasing as your abdomen expands on the daily – or so it feels like. As grateful as you are for the life growing inside of you, you also can’t wait to have your body all to yourself again.
“For the next forty days, seven Hopeful Bachelors will vie for the attention of the one Chosen Lady, competing in a wide range of challenges to prove their metal and devotion to her. At the end of each challenge, one bachelor will be asked to leave, until only one remains – hopefully, he will be The One … Her one Love for Life!”
And with physical challenges like you’ve never seen before on the show, this season will have been worth the wait!”
You grin, rubbing your belly as the screen shows a shot of all seven candidates walking along the beach: Erik, Stephen, Takeshi, Pete, Ed, Frank, and Rick.
“There’s daddy!” You preen as Katherine’s voice explains to the viewers how these seven candidates will vie for one woman’s affection over the next several weeks, competing in challenges that will showcase their physical prowess, capacity to adapt, and their creativity.
“And just who is the lucky Chosen Lady this season for whom these men are willing to push themselves to the very limits of their abilities?
Well, it’s time for you to meet her!”
Suddenly, your smiling face is taking up the entire screen. It’s the tape from your audition, when you explained how difficult it has been for a woman like you, driven and opinionated, but conservative and sensitive, to find a man simultaneously able to challenge you, but also willing to settle down. Thirty-two years old at the time, you’d had no shame in admitting that you were getting desperate.
“I know exactly what I want,” you say to the camera as the footage on screen cycles between other clips you’d included in your audition tape: pictures of you and your siblings growing up, of your parents together over the years, a video clip of your entire family celebrating your parents’ 50 year wedding anniversary.
“My parents met in the army. My father was an officer and my mother was a nurse. As you can imagine, the military has been an important part of my life growing up— and it still is. I respect the sacrifices these men and women have made so that we can all have the freedoms that we enjoy, even take for granted, today. Our society isn’t perfect, but I have had more opportunities available to me, both professionally and personally, than probably 99% of women throughout history.”
The footage changes now to you dancing on a large stage in an empty theater: first, ballet; then, salsa, jazz, and hip-hop. You groan, but a small laugh escapes as you watch on in embarrassment. You can’t believe you included the shots of you dancing hip-hop. You’ve improved some over the years, but it’s certainly not your claim to fame. You’d simply wanted to showcase what you considered your diverse portfolio.
“I am humbled by this fact and it’s important to me that my future husband shares this culture and this conviction that, whatever our faults, we are still a great nation worth fighting for.”
The uplifting, hopeful music the editing team chose to accompany your dance reaches a riveting crescendo as you take your final bow, and then suddenly it’s Katherine’s face on screen again, introducing the seven potential candidates.
“Who will win the challenges? And who will conquer this beautiful lady’s heart? It’s time for you to meet this season’s Hopeful Bachelor’s!”
Rick Flag. 41 years old. Navy SEAL.
The show appropriately segues to an sleekly-edited montage worthy of any military recruitment video: six soldiers standing side by side, firing guns at dummy targets to the soundtrack of instrumental hard rock. The camera oscillates between wide range and close up, and even through all the gear and the protective goggles, you immediately recognize Rick Flag. But before your gaze can linger too long on the tallest and broadest of the soldiers, the scene cuts abruptly, and the soldiers are now in a training field, working their way through an impossible-looking obstacle course. Rick stands at their side, yelling for them to move faster, harder, push through it – go go go. He stands tall, intensely focused and animated. Authoritative and in command.
The scene shifts again. The high-powered music blares through the speakers as Rick and his team walk toward the camera in slow-mo as Rick slips on a pair of aviator sunglasses. The Navy SEAL task force had become so infamous that even you had heard of them before meeting Rick. Officially known as Task Force X, the media has not-all-together affectionately nicknamed them the Suicide Squad for the deadly missions they have done over the years. They are the last resort in the fight for freedom and democracy around the world.
You sigh in admiration; and though Rick looks fantastic in his uniform and commandeering as the center of the group, it’s Harley Quinn that draws your eye. As the first woman in the history of the American military to have qualified for and served as a Navy SEAL, you can’t help but watch her, mesmerized by her presence.
Harley disappears from the screen, and it’s only Rick, now, sitting in a chair (in what you recognize as the villa’s interview room). He’s rubbing his knee slowly and distractedly, his attention flickering between the camera and off to the side of the screen – perhaps he’s distracted by a crew member, before being signalled by the host to focus.
“Um, yeah. I’ve served in the military since I enlisted at eighteen. Guess you could say it’s my purpose, my family… my home.” His gaze flickers again, and he rubs his jaw with one hand, the other still resting firmly on his knee. You can see his fingers flex and release, like he is massaging the area.
Watching him is painful. You can feel his discomfort in every drawn out pause between words and in every shift of his gaze. It’s a stark contrast to the highly competent, almost ferocious Rick Flag shown just seconds earlier. And yet, that very same contrast endears him to you. You like that he doesn’t come across as a suave, cocky bastard who imagines himself God’s gift to every fertile woman. Goodness knows he certainly could have been. There’s something about his apparent inability to construct an intelligible sentence that makes you want to wrap your arms around him.
Of course, you know how tender-hearted and sweet and gentle the real Rick Flag is. You know how this flustered version on screen is but an initial glimpse behind his tough military persona: self-effacing, respectful, and considerate. You just hope the viewers didn’t judge Rick too harshly based on this first, slightly awkward impression.
“I guess I never really believed in true love. Just saw how what we call love was contributin’ to so much misery instead of happiness: jealousy, unfaithfulness, heartbreak, indecision. Didn't seem worth the hassle, to be honest with you. But, uh...I guess maybe I was hangin’ around with the wrong crowd.
This team I’m with now – Task Force X – I’ll be honest, none of us got off on the right foot. Didn’t think we’d be able to make it work. Too many big personalities and even bigger egos. Everyone fancyin’ themselves leaders….
But, uh, you know, my point is, well …. it’s been, what, eight years now? So, obviously, we made it work…”
Rick trails off, and the silent drags on for longer than is customary on these types of programs. You’re certain the host is expecting more from him.
Finally, from off screen, she probes, “and this made you believe in love?”
“Oh!” Rick looks slightly startled, as if realizing he hadn’t finished his point. His eyes flicker off to the side again. “Yeah. Absolutely. It made me realize that I want a partnership like that for myself beyond my career. I want to make somethin’ like that work.”
It’s hardly a declaration of love worthy of a 1980s romance film – except, perhaps, for those who understand just how strong the bonds are when forged under the kinds of conditions that Rick and his team operate in: having to trust each other implicitly as they enter enemy territory and all the danger that entails; grieving together for teammates who didn’t make it home; and celebrating missions that are successful against all odds due to their own competence and teamwork.
It warms your heart and you feel the warm glow of romance right down to your toes.
Leave it to Rick to charm his way into a woman’s heart all the while looking like he just wants to flee from the room.
Stephen Holder. 35 years old. Homicide Detective.
At thirty-five years old, Stephen is a newly-minted homicide detective, two years on the job. Like Rick before him, Stephen’s montage offers a carefully edited glimpse into his life: shuffling through papers at the police precinct; walking the city streets where he pauses to talk to those down and out on their luck; and finally, frowning up at the skyscrapers towering overhead. You suspect Stephen was told to do this by the director. You imagine the idea was to have him appear serious and pensive, but instead he looks as if he’s accusing the buildings for the perpetual rain that constantly falls on his native city of Seattle.
Then, the scene changes again, and Stephen is in the interview chair. He sits in a partial slouch, hands on his knees, one leg bouncing up and down rapidly. He doesn’t look nervous, but there’s a definite restlessness about him that you feel even through the screen.
“Well, me and my partner Linden –- my work partner, you know, nothin’ else. I mean, she’s a foxy lady, but we ain’t like that. She’s just way too intense. Like it’s all work, work, work with her. She’s got this way of lookin’ at you that just—sshiiiss—” Stephen brings up his hands, pointer and middle fingers curved to mime a pair of fangs as he simulates getting bitten by a figurative Linden vampire “—sucks all the hope and happiness outta you.”
You lean back in your seat, a hand over your eyes. You can’t believe they left this in, and you can’t help but feel grateful you never saw this before meeting Holder. You know exactly how viewers must have felt watching this: half probably thought Stephen Holder was a crazy weirdo; and the other half probably were convinced he had the hots for his work “nothin’ else” partner.
On screen, one or other of these possibilities seem to flash through Stephen’s mind because he abruptly halts his rant and for a moment his leg stops twitching.
“Anyway, that’s why I’m here. Linden and me, we watch this show sometimes when we’ve clocked out and just need some fun to decompress. Linden told me no way in a million years I’d win this. But, I told her, stud muffin like me? Ain’t no way the lucky lady won’t want a piece of this.” Stephen gestures lazily up and down his body.
Another pause –- a beat of silence. “And, you know, the datin’ scene’s harsh in Seattle. All rain all day make datin’ gay. Can’t go to the beach, can’t go for a romantic stroll down the boulevard. Know what I’m sayin’? Homicide hours are rough, bro. So, I thought here the weather’s gonna be nice, the mood’s been set, the lady’s actually interested…
“Besides, what I like about this datin’ game show is that it’s not all just about the chick and what she wants, you know? The challenges, they’re hella dope. So, I figured that’d be fun, too. Whether you win or not, it’s how you play the game, am I right?”
You’re grinning from ear to ear, shaking your head in disbelief and affection by the time Stephen’s segment rolls to an end. No matter what, whether he’s hanging out on the couch or being interviewed for the most watched reality tv game show in the country, Stephen Holder will always be proudly and unapologetically himself.
Takeshi Kovacs. 40 years old. Private Investigator.
Stephen fades from view and then it’s Takeshi’s feature. His information flashes in the bottom right hand corner of the screen—Takeshi Kovacs. 40 years old. Private Investigator—but, you barely glance at the text, captivated as you are by the bulk of his figure on the screen.
Whereas Holder has always been lanky, seeming to fold in on himself whether standing or sitting, his figure swimming in those loose-fitting jeans he’s continually pulling up his hips, Takeshi is ramrod straight, his shoulders wide and his stance solid. He has the military posture you know well from your time surrounded by disciplined men — always primed and ready to jump into action.
But when he turns around to face the camera, your breath stills and a shiver of cold trickles down your spine. His expression is one of hard, unmasked disdain. The cynicism in the curl of his lips instantly speaks of his impatience with the process and of his contempt towards the show.
You had suspected from the moment you met Takeshi that he hadn’t truly wanted to be there, but you don’t recall having been so bowled over in real life by his hostility as you are now. Perhaps it had been down to the commotion of greeting all seven participants at once; or perhaps it was because, subconsciously realizing his belligerent distaste of others, you had resolved to leave him well enough alone. When you cast your mind back to the moment, you find Takeshi astonishingly absent in almost every single one of the memories from that first night.
Seeing the video clip before you now explains so much of his attitude in those early days.
You are so lost in your thoughts that you miss the first part of Takeshi’s introduction, as he reluctantly discusses the work he does, only tuning back in when the video shifts to Takeshi sitting in the interview chair.
He mirrors Stephen in the extremity of his behavior. Whereas Stephen was all action and exuberance, Takeshi is almost statuesque, completely composed and authoritative in his demeanour. You can tell that he has an iron grip of control over every single one of his movements.
“Why am I here?” Takeshi smirks, as though the answer should be apparent to the dimwitted interviewer. “To be mooned over by some vapid child? To bore myself to death participating in these challenges of so-called physical endurance?” Takeshi scoffs, the answer self-evident in their sarcastic utterance.
Although this isn’t the Takehi you come to know, you still can’t prevent the vice-like grip of hurt and resentment squeezing your heart. You curl your arms over your belly, as if to shield your unborn child from the vitriol spewing from the television set, especially when Takeshi’s smirk slides off his face and he settles his gaze on the camera.
In reality he must have been deadpanning the host sitting across from him, but it looks as though he is staring straight through the camera and into your soul with eyes as steady as they are cold.
“Honestly, I’m just here wasting my time.”
Edward Baldwin. 42 years old. Astronaut.
Your pounding heart, still shocked and raw from Takehi’s introduction, refuses to settle as the video montage of Ed begins. Sweet, patient, Ed with his understated and wry sense of humor. He deserves your undivided attention.
You hit pause on the remote control as you fight the hot tears of anger and embarrassment that rise to your eyes. You don’t know what enrages you the most: that the editing team would allow for such a callous introduction to air; that Takeshi had been chosen as a participant at all with such a horrifically insulting attitude; or that he hadn’t had the decency to drop out of the show early to give the other participants who actually wanted to be there a fair chance.
Slowly, your mind calms and so does your heart. You remind yourself that this is two years in the past. The Takeshi on the screen is not the man you befriended at the villa; and he is a far cry from the man you know today. You remind yourself of what you know of his past – his parents, Reileen, and Quell Falconer – and how that explains his dim view of humanity.
Brushing the unshed tears from the corners of your eyes, you silently forgive this past version of Takeshi and resume the show.
Ed strolls confidently through the halls of NASA, and your heart nearly bursts with pride for him. He shows the camera crew and, by extension, the audience the training simulators, the control room, and the retired rockets that used to propel astronauts to the moon. Today, he explains, American astronauts must go to Russia in order to travel to the International Space Station. The resentment and shame in his voice over the situation is all too clear to you, and you wonder if viewers can see the hurt in Ed’s eyes at how much NASA’s glory has dimmed over the decades.
Then, it’s Ed’s turn in the interview chair. He leans forward slightly, looking sharp and professional in a soft gray suit, white shirt, and polka dot tie. He’d definitely had the best sense of style out of all the candidates.
“My career has come at a great cost. A great personal cost. I won’t say that I regret my decisions. I am, and always will be, proud to have served my country in exploring space and expanding our knowledge of the universe, but…” Ed’s voice trails off as he intertwines his fingers, his expression pensive, his emotions genuine.
“Seeing Earth as so few have gotten to see it, to have seen its relative … insignificance, really, in the cosmos. To have witnessed how fragile it appears from beyond. It has made me realize that … while our planet may be small, we are not small. Our lives are not small. To be alive is the most fascinating and miraculous thing in this entire galaxy, and possibly any other as well.
“When we’re young, it’s easy to believe we have all the time in the world, to think we can have it all – the career, the family, the children…” Ed breaks off suddenly, and your throat is so tight it burns. You know where his thoughts are and it takes all the self-control you possess not to burst into tears at the pain that briefly flashes across his face.
Ed clears his throat and continues, as composed and even-voiced as before. “But the fact is we do not have all the time in the world. And there is nothing more precious than family. Not serving your country, and not travelling to the moon, or Mars, or anywhere beyond that. I lost sight of this for far too long. But thankfully I have a wonderful daughter who reminds me of what a precious gift family is. And now, it’s time for me to find the right person. And hopefully, the right person will find me, too.”
Frank Wagner. 34 years old. Business owner and chef.
Frank is intensely focused in the kitchen of his restaurant, American Klink, calling out cues to his line cooks; in unhurried motion behind the bar, serving drinks and laughing with his employees; balancing three plates of food on both arms as he navigates through the crowd on the floor to serve customers.
“I like working in all areas of the business,” Frank says in a voiceover as the video shows him alternatively washing some dishes, mopping the floor, and scrubbing down the kitchen counters. “A restaurant is a chaotic environment, and you never know the new challenges each day will bring. An appliance breaks down but the repairman can’t come around until noon the next day – well, you can’t wait that long to fix an oven. It’s a necessity of the work to be adaptable, to know many different skills, and to learn ones you don’t know. You can’t always fix every situation yourself, but you can certainly try your best, or at least come up with creative temporary solutions.”
“Being a restaurant owner, especially when you’re also the chef, means working long hours,” Frank says as now he’s being shown opening the doors in the early morning hours, the sun only just beginning to rise and giving minimal lighting to the scene. “I usually get to work around seven in the morning to get through as much of the admin work as I can before the others show up. And I often don’t leave until past midnight, one a.m, sometimes.”
The video cuts to Frank sitting in the interview chair. Like Stephen, he’s partially slouched; but unlike Stephen, Frank is fully at ease. He seems to sink into the chair like it’s been molded particularly to his body, like he’s never sat in any other chair but that one his entire life.
He looks straight into the camera, his brown eyes warm and focused as he speaks without wavering. There’s no other way to put it: you feel like he’s making love to you with his eyes through the screen, and you cross your legs as your body reacts.
“That type of lifestyle hasn’t been conducive to finding a relationship. But, I’ve recently taken on a business partner, and I’m ready to start delegating responsibilities. Family has always been important to me, but I live here and they’re all in Sweden. My mama died a couple years ago, but I wasn’t able to be with her at the time. That was very hard for me, and it made me reevaluate the priorities in my life. I wish I'd had children she could have met and who could have known her before she passed.”
“So, I guess I’m here to fight some guys and get to know a girl; hopefully she’ll like me, and hopefully I’ll win. And if not … Well, at least I’ll have had a vacation for the first time in …. years!”
It’s impossible not to laugh along with Frank at that conclusion, and with that his introduction comes to a close.
Pete Koslow. 43 years old. Private Security.
The introductions seem to fly by, and now you’re down to the last two. Though equally tall and just as muscular as Takeshi and Rick, Pete Koslow cuts a slim figure in black trousers and a black dress shirt. A couple of buttons have been left unfastened, revealing just the barest sliver of skin and the outer edges of a gold chain that glints in the sunlight when he turns to face the camera. The longer part of his hair is slicked back, and the sides are buzzed short.
Pete has by far the most grace of all of the candidates. As he walks through the streets, it feels like you’re watching him slice through water. He has a hypnotic quality to his movements that is paired with a gaze as intense and calculating as Takeshi’s. But whereas Takeshi made you feel like he’d seen all your worst demons and found you unworthy, Pete’s gaze was warmer, like he’d peered right down into your soul and saw the essence of who you were – the good, the bad, the hidden away – and accepted you for it.
Pete talks about missing out on a large part of his daughter’s childhood while in prison: how hard it had been for her, having to get to know her father by talking to him through a phone and only seeing him through a glass window; how she couldn’t understand why he’d been taken away from her – and then, how confused she’d been when he’d been released, only to be told that actually, he hadn’t done those bad things after all. It messed with a young child’s mind, the uncertainty of such a shifting truth.
Thankfully, their relationship has mended over the years, and the clips show him and a young woman with long, wavy blonde hair walking through New York together, pointing out their favorite local restaurants and shops to the camera crew.
Anna, his daughter, clings to her father’s arm, and it’s clear from the quiet smile on Pete’s face that he thinks she hung the moon.
“Anna is the one who signed me up for this show.” Pete, sitting in the interview chair, shifts slightly, adjusting his body weight, and scratches the side of his neck. With anyone else, the body language may have come across as nervousness, but with Pete, it seems calculated to put the interviewer, perhaps even the viewer, at ease.
“I didn’t even know until I got the call, and then it just felt like I had to go through with it. I didn’t want to have wasted anyone’s time, you know? And when I told her, she was so excited, jumping up and down clapping her hands. I didn’t want to take that away from her.” Pete laughs, a soft exhale, barely audible, but his smile grows at the memory.
“And I thought the challenges sounded interesting. I work private security now, but it’s not anywhere near as action-packed as the movies make it out to be. It’s long hours of mostly standing or sitting around. Constantly alert and evaluating the environment, the people in the vicinity, interpreting every gesture and anticipating any form of provocation. It’s very mental work, but not very physical work. I try to keep healthy and fit, and I work out when I can, but it’s not the same thing as really moving your body, using all of your body and your mind at the same time, like it was in the army. I do miss it.”
So, the more I thought about it, the more I thought, yeah, it could be a good thing for me.”
Off screen, the interviewer asks, “And what about love?”
Pete’s head leans back ever so slightly. “What about love?”
“This is the purpose of the show, after all. To find the right person. True love…Love for Life! How do you feel about your chances that it will be you?”
Pete doesn’t answer right away and you feel yourself leaning forward toward the TV screen in anticipation of his answer. “True love…” he whispers, as if to himself. Then, he returns to the present moment. He shrugs. “If it’s meant to be, it will happen. I’m just here to win the challenges. Whatever happens beyond that isn’t my call to make.”
Erik Heller. 42 years old. FBI Agent.
“Hello. My name is Erik Heller. I served two tours in Afghanistan and one tour in Iraq, and now I’m a federal employee.”
Katherine’s muted voice comes from off screen, “Oh, is that how FBI agents refer to themselves as? Can you tell us what it is that you do?”
Erik smiles, as if expecting the cue. “I’m afraid that’s classified.”
The editors cut the scene and jump to the video montage of Erik going about his life, but you can hear Katherine’s tittering laugh of delight in your mind. You roll your eyes, remembering just how …. fond Katherine had been of Erik.
You wonder just how many times they had to practice that scene; but from Erik’s amused smile after delivering the punchline, you can tell that he was enjoying himself.
On screen, Erik walks by the FBI Headquarters building in DC. He leans against the wall underneath the entrance plaque that reads J. Edgar Hoover FBI Building, staring off screen to his right – looking every bit the Fed in his black suit and white shirt – no tie – and sunglasses. Very mysterious.
“The nature of my work is that I’m on the move a lot. It hasn’t made it easy to meet people or date in the traditional sense. It’s been especially hard on my daughter, who wouldn’t see me for sometimes a month or two at a time.”
Accompanying Erik’s voiceover monologue on screen is Erik and a young, dark-haired girl cooking a meal together, talking and laughing.
“For many years, our relationship was quite strained. I can’t talk about my work so Hanna didn’t understand why I had to leave all the time, or why I would be gone for so long. But, what goes around comes around, as the saying goes. She’s currently training to be an FBI agent herself. I’d say we get along quite well now.”
On screen, Erik is sitting in the interview chair once again. He looks utterly relaxed, sitting back, though not slouching, against the backrest.
“I saw my daughter watching the show once, a few years ago, and I suppose it stuck somewhere in the back of my mind. There’s much about it that appeals to me. Maybe it’s because I’m a very competitive guy.”
Katherine’s voice, teasing: “So, you think you’ll win, then?”
Erik smirks, a good-natured gesture, but there’s also some cockiness underneath the surface. The smile of a man confident in the knowledge of his own worth. “Yes. I think I’ll win.”
***
Taking up the screen now is the beautiful exterior of the Spanish villa where you stayed for the duration of the show. It’s evening: the arched entrance is aglow in shimmering lights and the outside garden creates an intimate atmosphere of exotic hospitality.
Your entire body tingles, remembering the warm sun, the beach, and the all-inclusive amenities of the villa: a pool and hot tub; an inside gym with all types of machines imaginable; an immense kitchen and dining area, and an even bigger living room with the largest, comfiest couch you ever experienced. Even had you not met the love of your life there, it would have been, at the very least, the best holiday of your life.
Katherine walks out, dressed elegantly but discreetly in a black and red suit; she can’t be stealing the spotlight from you, the Chosen Lady of the season, after all.
Facing the camera, blinking her eyes that probably weigh a ton under all that mascara, Katherine flashes her iconic smile at the camera. As the show’s host for the sixth season, she’s the only person there who truly feels at home.
“You’ve met the woman, and you’ve met the men. Now, it’s time for the woman to meet her men. They are waiting for her inside the villa – and I do believe I see her limo pulling up now.”
The black limousine pulls up to the entrance of the villa, the chauffeur steps out, and you see your red stiletto heels appear from under the opened door.
