Chapter Text
i. in which Regina is summoned to the executive producer’s office
Is it Splitsville for TV’s True Love Couple?
Dreamboat Suitor, Arthur Leroy (35), and his chosen partner, Guinevere Rodrigues (25), were totally loved-up in the final episode of reality television behemoth ‘True Love’s Kiss’.
However, sources report that all is not happily ever after. The Brazilian beauty, who won the nation’s heart with her steadfast love for Arthur, has moved out of Arthur’s mansion in Orange County and was seen recently walking with his best friend, Lance Knightley (pictured below).
Friends of the real estate tycoon say he’s devastated by Guinevere’s betrayal. “He really thought they were the real deal,” a source close to Arthur told this reporter. “He was looking forward to their wedding and starting a family. And for her to betray him with his best friend, well, it’s going to be hard for him to trust anyone again.”
However, is there a darker side to Guinevere’s prince charming? Rumours begin to spread about his controlling behaviour. “He chose where they went, who she spent time with, even what she wore,” a friend of Guinevere’s told us. “He’s so much older than her and he got really possessive when she spent any time with her male friends. It just got too much for her.”
‘True Love’s Kiss’ producers are tight-lipped about the brewing scandal. “We are very excited to be introducing next season’s Suitor,” executive producer Cora Mills said at a recent press conference. “And we look forward to helping him find true love amongst a fine group of beautiful and intelligent young women.”
One wonders whether this will irreparably mar the reputation of ‘True Love’s Kiss’.
*
I will not let Cora Mills bully me. I will not let Cora Mills bully me. Regina Mills repeats this mantra as she sits outside her mother’s office, feeling like nothing so much as a naughty child awaiting judgement from the school principal (not that she would know anything about that; had Regina ever been in trouble at school, the consequences did not bear thinking about). Still, the fear remains. She never knows if Cora’s summons is for something run-of-the-mill or if Regina has done something to earn her ire.
She runs over the past week in her mind. The prep work for ‘True Love’s Kiss’ is going smoothly, their suitor appropriately charming (though he does insist on unbuttoning his shirts too low and Regina is reminded rather a lot of the ‘Guy in your MFA’ Twitter account when he speaks and she’s fairly certain that he isn’t using his real name. Still, she’s not hired to wrangle him). The contracts are being signed by the girls without any drama. Henry is doing well in school; his recent report saw him with straight A’s so she cannot even be called a failure of a mother this time.
Not from Cora, at least, the bitter, rodent-like voice in her brain mutters.
“Come in,” Cora says, voice eerily soft, and she enters, kissing her mother’s cheek, the skin parchment beneath her lips.
“Hello, Mother,” she says, settling at last into the chair across from her mother. It’s slightly shorter than her mother’s own chair, a definite power tactic. Cora is all about power and, as much as Regina fears her, there's a degree of admiration as well. Few women are executive producers and even fewer can boast to the long-lasting success of Cora Mills.
“Cora, please,” Cora says reprovingly and Regina resists the urge, just barely, to roll her eyes at her mother’s insistence that she fully separate her personal and professional life. They have the same surname. Everyone knows they’re related. “Now, we have a problem. After last season’s incident…”
She’s referring, of course, to the current scandal where the previous woman who won the Suitor left him for his best friend only a month after the show finished. Gwen had been a risk, the Brazilian immigrant hardly the all-American girl viewers were conditioned to want to see win Arthur’s heart, but there had been some pressure from the network towards diversity, some criticism from a variety of sources about how ‘white’ their show was, a discrimination lawsuit threatened, to which Cora had bowed. “Never again,” she’d sneered when the news had broken. “If this is what I get for taking a chance on an ethnic girl…”
“Arthur was abusive,” Regina says. She had been fond of Gwen. She had been one of her girls, and Regina had fought for her. She had felt for the first time like she was doing something worthwhile, something of which her father, so in touch with his Puerto Rican heritage, would have been proud, or at least moderately less disappointed. “We should be celebrating the fact that Gwen got out.”
Cora scoffs. “Regardless,” she says. “It is imperative that this season is a success. I’m putting you in charge of my pick.” She passes Regina a file and she opens it.
Emma Swan.
Physically, the girl is perfect: blonde, fair, thin, and undeniably all-American. Cora is nothing if not predictable in her favourites. Regina knows her tastes all too well. Although ostensibly, the Suitor will get to choose his fiancée, there are certain recommendations made and, of course, no one gets far in the competition without Cora Mills’ approval.
“I’ll have a read of it tonight,” she says. She should be more familiar with the girls, but she’s been wrangling the West Coasters’ contracts. Cora had sent Kathryn Midas to the East Coast.
“See that you do,” Cora says, and returns to her screen, already absorbed in emails and projections and figures. Regina slips out, feeling like she’s just barely escaped the firing squad, and returns home, braving LA traffic. By the time she reaches home, she has a headache brewing.
Henry is home, doing his homework at his desk in the study. She kisses his forehead, trying not to be upset when he pulls away. “How was school, sweetheart?”
“Fine,” he says, shrugging. “Boring. We had a sub again.”
She tries not to scowl at that. His teacher has been sick twice already in his first week of school. For the amount of money she spends on his education she feels like this is unacceptable, but Henry would be furious if she complained, and she doesn’t want to be that mother, doesn’t want to be her mother. "Dinner soon, sweetheart.”
“Whatever,” he says, his entire being focused on the math in front of him, jaw clenched and hand gripping the pen so tight that his knuckles are white. “I’m really busy, Mom.”
It didn’t used to be like this. But it had been tense for a couple of months now, ever since Cora let slip at a dysfunctional family dinner on the fourth of July—where Regina had refused to let Cora force her into another blind date, this time with an entertainment lawyer—that Henry was adopted. “You’re certainly fortunate you couldn’t inherit your mother’s genetic disposition towards disobedience,” she had said when Regina had shut her down completely and, at Henry’s confused look, had said, “surely you’ve told the boy the truth by now, Regina dear.”
She had been waiting for a good moment, for a time when he was old enough to understand. She had hoped it would be a quiet discussion, over cocoa and Polvorones, where she showed him baby photos and talked about what ‘closed adoption’ meant and how much she had wanted him, how much both she and Daniel had wanted him. She had imagined that they would cry but that he would understand.
Instead, he felt betrayed and had been lashing out ever since.
She frowns at his response, wanting to pry, but Dr Hopper, the therapist she has been seeing intermittently since Daniel’s death, has suggested she keep showing Henry that she loves him while giving him space to process. He, reluctantly, sees Dr Hopper every second week and she hopes it will help him some. So instead of prying or nagging, she runs her fingers through his hair, her touch tentative. “I’ll leave you to it then.” He grunts an acknowledgement.
Marian’s in the kitchen, and when Regina slumps onto a kitchen stool, she immediately pours her a glass of merlot. In spectacular timing, her childminder, who had been looking after Henry since she accepted the inevitable and moved to LA to work for Cora five years ago, recently moved to Nebraska. Marian has been a godsend this week, as Regina prepares for the 15th of September and the onslaught of filming, the hideous hours, the sleepless nights, the deep sense of self-loathing... “Bad day?” Marian asks, pouring a glass of wine for herself and leaning against the counter.
“My mother,” Regina says, sighing and drinking heartily from the glass.
Marian just nods as if this explains everything. “You definitely need wine then. I stuck a frozen lasagne in the oven,” she adds. “Set the timer and everything.”
“Want to stay for dinner?” Regina asks but Marian shakes her head.
“I have my thesis waiting for me at home,” she says, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. One of the reasons Marian has been able to help out so much is that she’s completing her PhD and so has flexible hours. “And probably an irritated fiancée. Take this time with Henry.”
“I think Henry would prefer it if you were there,” Regina says, but she slides down from the stool and opens the fridge, pulling out salad ingredients; Henry likes bell peppers. She’ll put plenty of them in the salad.
“I think you’d prefer me there,” Marian says. She shoves a battered set of course readings into her handbag, before eyeing Regina seriously. “You’re going to be so busy soon, with the show. Don’t let this fester, linda.”
“I know,” she says and takes Marian’s empty wine glass. “Apologise to Mulan from me.” But at dinner that night, she does not heed Marian’s advice. Instead, she speaks of inconsequential things, drawing out more information about Henry’s schooling and how his first writing club meeting for the year went and all about his friends in the fifth grade. He answers mostly in monosyllables and shrugs.
“For goodness sake, Henry,” she says eventually, and try as she may she can’t help the irritated bite in her voice. “I didn’t think I’d have to deal with this attitude until you were actually a teenager.”
“Why don’t you just give me back then?” he says and storms out of the kitchen, sneakers thumping on the stairs and the door of his room slamming. She draws her lips together in a line, pinches her forehead, her headache raging.
Give him space, she thinks, and instead of storming upstairs after him demanding an explanation and provoking a fight, she makes herself a herbal tea, goes to her study and opens the file on Emma Swan. She can see why Cora likes her; quite apart from her looks—toeing that delicate line between feminine and strong—she has a suitably tragic backstory. Adopted out as a baby, the adoption didn’t stick, and she was in and out of foster homes all her life. The file tells her that Emma Swan was only reunited with her birth mother and father in the last couple of years, teenagers when they had her and forced to give her up by their parents.
Emma Swan has massive scale abandonment issues, an appalling history with romantic partners, and difficulty letting people in. I’m entering at the urging of my mother, she writes. She wants me to be happy, to find true love like she did with my father, and I want the same for herself.
She scoffs at this. She knows how manipulative mothers operate and this is a paint-by-numbers lesson in such machinations. Emma must be desperate to please her mother, to prove she’s good enough despite being given up. The birth parents, now in their forties and still together after all this time after all, have two children of their own. Emma Swan cannot simply be okay with this.
She already knows how to frame her journey on the show. Can the suitor break down Emma’s walls?
Of course the answer will be yes. Regina will have to make sure of it. She’s done it before. Sometimes she’s even able to convince herself that she’s not a terrible person.
She puts the file aside and returns her mug, now empty, to the kitchen. Henry’s bedtime. When she reaches his room, his light is already out but she can hear his breathing, too rapid to be asleep, and she enters. He’s lit by the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling and by the sliver of moonlight watering through the drapes and painting his bedside table silver. She sits at the end of his bed, finding his calf and stroking it. “I love you, my darling boy,” she murmurs. “I would never give you up for anything in the world.”
He doesn’t respond for a long moment and she chokes down a sob. Standing, she straightens his duvet and moves to leave. She almost misses it when he mutters, “I love you too, Mom.” His tone is begrudging but it’s more than she’s had in weeks and she smiles all the way down the hall to her bedroom.
ii. in which Regina first meets Emma Swan
Meet the Ladies of ‘True Love’s Kiss’!
This week, we bring you profiles on just a few of the lucky contestants on the forthcoming season of ‘True Love’s Kiss’.
Aurora Rose (22, Tennessee, Student)
The college student and former runner up to Miss Tennessee was encouraged to apply as a contestant by her trio of busy body aunts. The youngest contestant, Aurora (or Rory as she prefers to be known) studies literature at the University of Tennessee, though she’s taking the semester off in order to find true love!
When she’s not reading or playing soccer, Aurora enjoys needlework and sleeping. “I could sleep for days, my parents say!” she jokes.
Emma Swan (28, Maine, Deputy Sheriff)
A Boston native, Emma Swan moved to small town Maine recently to be closer to her parents and younger brother and sister, where she works as a deputy for the sheriff’s department. “My mother and father have a fairy tale romance,” she says. “I want that for myself.”
Emma has been upfront about her chequered past—some time in juvenile detention, wrongfully convicted—and hopes no one holds it against her. “I could never be with someone who didn’t accept me, warts and all!” she says, laughing. She’s looking for a man who will share her love of good food, great television and jogging.
Tamara Drake (31, New York, PR Consultant)
New York City is in Tamara Drake’s blood. “I was born and raised in Queens, live in Manhattan now,” she says. “Sometimes I think the city is the true love of my life.” Tamara’s competitive nature saw her take on the challenge to win our Suitor’s heart.
“I hate losing,” the ambitious beauty says. “You can bet I’m in it to win it.” This life philosophy is certainly borne out in Tamara’s life; she runs marathons, enjoys quiz nights, and her PR firm is one of the top in New York City.
*
It’s on the following Monday that Regina Mills meets Emma Swan for the first time.
It’s also on the following Monday that Emma Swan mistakes Regina Mills for a contestant.
All the girls have arrived in LA and, today, Regina first meets with ‘her’ girls—a few forgettable faces and Emma Swan (because Cora wants her focus to be narrowed on her pick for that final proposal and Regina would not be entirely surprised if Cora’s got money riding on the final outcome with her co-executive producer, Gold)—to start building her story. That evening the women will meet the Suitor for the first time, will start to make their play for him, and Regina will be prepared.
For a moment, she sits, observing the room, listening to the chatter of the group of women. There’s useful information to be gained when people forget she’s there. She learned that three seasons ago, where one of her girls let slip to a makeup artist that she was a virgin, something that had not been mentioned in her extensive file.
They’d used that, of course. It had played well with the Southern Christian demographic and she’d made final four.
So when Emma Swan slumps into the chair beside her, she doesn’t immediately turn on the ‘producer’ attitude. “Hey,” Emma says. Her hands tightly clasp a venti Starbucks cup like she might immediately expire without it, and she takes a long gulp of it, letting out a sigh as the coffee hits.
“Hey?” Regina says, confused. While sometimes the women forget she’s there, they never approach her. They’re afraid of her, at first at least. They quickly grow to trust her.
Their mistake.
“I’m Emma,” she says, flashing a quick smile at Regina. A fleeting thought crosses her mind that the pictures in the file really don’t do justice to how green her eyes are. She’ll look great in close up, possibly tearful after some tale of personal tragedy or confession of love.
“I know,” Regina says, brow furrowed. Her earpiece digs into cartilage and she scratches at her ear.
“God, are you one of those ‘I’m not here to make friends’ people?” Emma asks. “I thought that was a reality TV cliché.” She laughs, running a finger through the princess curls with which Cora is clearly so enamoured.
(“We could try highlights,” her mother had said, eyeing her hair dubiously as she’d sat in front of the mirror, the stylist poised with comb and scissors. “She’d look hideous full blonde, however.”
“Please keep talking about me like I’m not even here,” Regina, full of repressed sixteen-year-old rebellion, had muttered, though not loud enough for Cora to actually hear of course. She might have been seething with repressed teenaged rebellion back then but she’d never been an idiot.)
“I’m Regina,” Regina says, and holds out a hand to her. Emma takes it, her skin warm.
“Nice to meet you,” she says. “So, what do you think this guy’s going to be like?”
Oh my God, Regina thinks. She thinks I’m one of the contestants.
“Your producer,” she adds and she’s almost amused at the look of horror on Emma’s face.
“Oh!” she says. “Wow, God! I’m sorry.”
“I’m sure it’s flattering to be considered attractive enough to be a ‘True Love’s Kiss’ girl,” Regina says, raising her eyebrows.
“Are you kidding?” Emma asks. “Don’t fish for compliments, lady. You’ve got to know you’re hot.”
“Crass,” Regina says but she’s pleased nonetheless. Mother has never even tried to recruit her as a contestant on the show and Daniel had died years before the show started. Her half-sister, Zelena, was the first ever winner, a real success story for ‘True Love’s Kiss’.
But Zelena wasn’t Henry Mills’ (née Morales before he took his wife’s surname at their wedding) daughter. Zelena’s father was white.
“So,” Emma says. “You’re here to produce me.” She waggles her eyebrows and only succeeds in spilling coffee down her tank top. She curses.
“I suspect, dear, that you will need a lot of producing,” Regina says, and she stands. “I really must be off.”
She spends the rest of the day in set up. Cora wants roses and then roses are “too gauche for words, dear,” and Regina’s forced to organise the replacement of all the floral arrangements with lilies, which make her sneeze. The gazebo has a broken post, which needs fixing. One of the PAs is so jumpy she spills Regina’s coffee all over a script Regina’s reading.
She calls Henry on her lunch break, which she finally gets to as school is due to let out. “The new nanny starts tomorrow,” she tells him. “You’ll stay with Marian and Mulan tonight.”
“Sure,” he replies, sounding distracted. She wonders if he’s even listening to her.
“I love you,” she says.
“Okay.”
She throws her salad away, uneaten, food tasting like dirt in her mouth.
That night, the Suitor, who cleans up nicely in a suit and tie (though needs to be coached by Kathryn not to tug at his collar like a fidgety child), stands at the doors to the mansion. “Twenty girls,” their smarmy host, August Booth, says, standing beside him. “All vying for the heart of one man, our charming Suitor. All hoping to be the one to get True Love’s Kiss.” She drowns him out; she’s heard his spiel a thousand times before. It’s utterly predictable. August (definitely a stage name) fancies himself a wordsmith.
“Are the cars in place?” she radios.
“Ready when you are,” comes back over the radio, static jarring.
“And go,” she says.
And finally, finally, the cars start to arrive.
Regina watches, dispassionate and calling out the occasional order, as girl after girl meets the ‘man of their dreams’. And then Emma steps out of one of the cars.
She’s in hot pink. The dress is tight, though reasonably modest for all that, knee length and covering the bulk of her cleavage, the perfect blend of sexy and marriageable; Regina couldn’t have chosen better herself. It manages to do very great justice to her toned arms and legs, to her flat stomach and perky breasts. She strides forward in high heels, not the most graceful walk but making it work nonetheless, and flicks those golden curls down her back in a waterfall of hair.
“Camera Three, follow her,” Regina says, watching the monitor.
The Suitor’s smile broadens when he sees Emma. “Hi,” he says, leaning forward and kissing her cheek. She sees a blush spread to Emma’s cheeks, watches as she ducks her head (shy? Embarrassed? Either way the American public will be all over this perceived display of modesty) and tucks hair behind her ears.
“Hey,” she says. “I’m Emma.”
“Emma,” he says. “It’s a real pleasure to meet you, Emma.” The trick is to memorise their names, or at least the ones that immediately hit his radar, and name repetition is the easiest technique. They want audience name recognition too, of the important girls at least, and Emma is guaranteed to be that.
She laughs. “This is like a dream come true for guys, isn’t it? A whole buffet of women to choose from.”
Beside her, Kathryn tenses. “No,” Regina murmurs. “This is good. This is what our opponents think. Having one of the girls express that…”
“Makes us seem self-aware,” Kathryn finishes. “You are so your mother’s daughter.”
She tenses at that, suspecting that the comparison is not entirely flattering from Kathryn’s end, but returns her concentration to the couple before her. “I don’t know if I’d put it like that,” he is saying. “It’s a privilege meeting such intelligent, sophisticated women though.”
Emma laughs again. Does she actually find this endearing? Regina had been charmed by the utter lack of guile Emma Swan seemed to have, but now, now she’s not sure. Maybe she’d been played just as much.
She frowns again. Then, Emma enters the mansion and Regina lets out a breath. “Camera two,” she barks. “You’re slipping.”
When they set up inside, Kathryn wrangles the Suitor. “Two of your girls are wanted for private chats,” she says. “Rory and Emma. Plus we’re adding Tamara to the list. Diversity.”
She misses Emma’s ‘private’ chat, busy dealing with a drunk; one of her girls cannot hold her liquor and she has to manage the situation carefully. Elsa immediately makes the list of recommendations not to continue on, but that doesn’t mean they can’t mine the situation for maximum dramatic effect. She’ll watch the dailies later, see how Emma performed, see where she can coach her to improve further.
And then there’s the ceremony. It’s cheesy as hell, she’s always thought so, but they’re sponsored by a jewellery company and so the girls selected to move on to the next round are given a bracelet, to which charms will be added weekly. Cora loves it, of course, and it is her show after all.
(The bracelet bears a striking resemblance to a handcuff and Regina’s often wondered how deliberate this imagery is, women cuffed to the pervasive machine of heteronormativity.
Marian had laughed when she suggested it once. “It’s just a charm bracelet, Regina,” she’d said.
Regina’s not so sure. It would feel like a shackle to her.)
While the Suitor has agency over his picks, the order is decided by the producers. “Emma’s first pick,” Regina says and when Kathryn looks set to protest, she adds, “Cora’s decision,” and she subsides.
They will, of course, pull Emma back for a few weeks mid-season, just as she’s starting to feel loved, have her doubt his feelings for her. This usually leads to confessions of feelings.
“Emma,” the Suitor says when the cameras roll. “Will you continue on our journey to true love?”
Emma’s surprise is evident when she’s chosen; she’s either a very good actress or genuinely shocked. Regina cannot decide. Still, she accepts the tiara, hugging the Suitor and smiling at something whispered in her ear. They are the picture of intimacy already.
This is going to work.
She sets up Emma on a chaise lounge after the ceremony. “So,” she says from her position behind the camera. “How do you feel?”
Emma twists the bracelet on her wrist. “I don’t know,” she says. “It’s been such a whirlwind of an evening. Elated, I guess.”
“If you can stop with the qualifiers,” Regina says. “The best television deals in strong response.”
She nods. “I’m elated. Ecstatic. Relieved. I want to see this journey through.”
“And the Suitor?” Regina asks. “What do you think of him?”
“He seems nice,” Emma says.
Was there ever a more tepid response to a man? Regina’s certain she’s never heard one. “Were there sparks?” she asks.
“I guess?” She pauses. “Sorry. I’m not very good at this. Yes, there were definitely sparks. He’s certainly an attractive man. I’m really looking forward to getting to know him.” She smiles. “Is that good?”
“Wonderful,” Regina says.
*
“I’m elated. Ecstatic. I want to see this journey through. There were definitely sparks.” The shot cuts to Emma and the Suitor in the gazebo, her staring at him, starry eyed. “I’m really looking forward to getting to know him.”
Cut to a close up. Emma smiles into the camera, looking for all the world like she is staring directly at her true love.