The Reluctant Bachelor by Syndi Powell

you both?”
    And so the group dance began. Some of the women gathered the seniors to do a slow-moving train around the room, while others rounded them up in groups of two and three to dance. Rick looked around the room. He turned back to his dancing partners. “I think this is the beginning of something special, don’t you?”
    They swayed until the end of the song, then clapped politely to the band. Lizzie walked out into the hall and called, “Cut. Great job, everyone. We’ll be back from commercial in two. In the meantime, enjoy the refreshments and another song from Jimmy’s band.”
    She walked toward Rick and gave him a soft clap of her hands. “Good work. Keep it up.” She looked around the room. “Find your wife yet?”
    “You should have been a comedian.”
    She wrinkled her nose. “Not enough money in it. I’d much rather be the lowly producer.” She leaned in to him. “Your mom called and said the crowd at the diner loves it so far.”
    Rick nodded. “Good.” He adjusted his tie and tried to swallow.
    “Relax.” She smoothed his tie. “We’re back in thirty.” She started to walk away, then turned and winked at him. “Just act natural.”
    Natural. Right. He could do that.
    As they returned from commercial, everyone started to dance to a faster tune. One of the seniors pulled a young woman onto the dance floor and taught her how to do the hustle. Elizabeth wilted in relief in the kitchen, where they’d set up the production hub. She watched the playback screen as her show sparked to life. Inspired idea, really.
    Devon approached her, snagging a canapé from a tray meant for the guests. “So far, so good.”
    Elizabeth kept her eyes on the monitor. “I promised you ratings gold. And I deliver on my promises.”
    “So you keep saying.” He swallowed the appetizer, then stepped between her and the monitor. “But this Goody Two-shoes act can’t last. Not if we want to keep our viewers. They’re expecting catfights. Backstabbing. And gossip galore about what’s really going on behind the cameras.” He glanced back at the monitor. “That’s what sells.”
    “Romance sells. Not smut. But somehow we’ve forgotten that.” She nudged him aside as she watched Rick talking to a few of the women at the edge of the room. They looked young. Happy. Their whole lives ahead of them. “Bob liked keeping it dirty, and the show suffered. We’re trying something new.”
    “We’ll see how long the audience buys the Osmond-family vibe before turning on you.” He snatched a couple more appetizers. “I’m going back to the hotel.”
    “You can depend on me, Devon.” She turned back to the monitor. “They’re going to love Rick. And everything he is.”
    He grunted in response and left the room, followed by a handful of his assistants who told him what he wanted to hear.
    That was fine. She was going to make great television by giving America a bachelor who could run for president if he wanted. A man of character. Integrity. And she’d do it without stooping to the dirty tricks her predecessor had tried. Good television didn’t have to mean playing to the lowest common denominator. It could mean showing the best of what the human race had to offer.
    While she dreamed quixotically of a better future for pop culture, Rick entered the room. “I think we have a problem. Mr. Jackson’s heart stopped.”
    * * *
    R ICK RAN BACK into the hall with Lizzie close behind him. One of the young women kneeled on the floor next to Mr. Jackson. “Harry, can you hear me?” She checked his vitals and glanced up at them. “He’s unresponsive.”
    Rick marveled at her quick response to help. “You’re a doctor?”
    “Labor and delivery nurse.” The blonde in the navy evening gown began compressions. “Never thought my medical training would come in handy here. Told myself that doing the show would be a nice break.” She paused and started to blow into Mr. Jackson’s mouth.
    Rick kneeled beside her and