Welcome, one and all! Ladies and gents, I give you a very bad story!

Disclaimer: If anyone actually reports me for not saying I don't own TT, I will just leave this site. >>

Summary: Single and lovin' it, Gar Logan was fine with his life. But when he is forced into a dating show, it'll take all his willpower not to fall for the director. BBRae, other possible pairings such as RobStar, CyKole (Sue me), and KFJinx.

"And it's down to two, Gar. Who do you pick?"

Gar's lips curved into a grin. "Neither."

"N-neither? Gar—you need to pick someone," Rich said in lower tones.

"Actually, Rich, I am going to pick someone," Gar's eyes slowly moved past the two girls and offstage, to the crew.

---

"…And the Oscar goes to…" The woman tore open the envelope, "Gar Logan!"

Amidst the roaring crowd, a young man got up from his seat and jumped up the steps. Grabbing the golden statue, he raised it high above his head and let out a whoop. "Alright, alright, settle down. So when someone wins one of these things, they give a speech right, get teary, and the works? Well I'm not gonna cry—okay, I might, but not in public, but a speech I will give:

"So the reason I wanted to be an actor was to rebel from my father. When I told him what I wanted to do, he laughed and said I'd be a bum living on the street. So this is for you Dad, just rubbing it in.

"Uh…that aside, I want to thank the Academy, because if you didn't vote, then there wouldn't even be this shebang, my manager and best friend Vic, the big scary guy I was sitting next to—you know, the kind you don't want to get into a cage match with, my mom, who would probably beat Vic in a cage match, and you should all thank my stylist Kori, because if I wasn't so afraid of hr, I'd be in my jeans. I still love ya, Dad, so you too! And don't think you're rid of me yet, I'll be presenting in twenty!"

He saluted with two fingers and glided down the steps. He plopped down into his third row seat next to a dark-skinned man with gray-blue eyes. Instantly giving the man a high-five, he whispered to him, "Who's your Daddy now?"

---

As the black limo pulled away from the screaming crowd, Gar instantly loosened his tie and pulled his shirt out. "I swear, do they want me to go blind? One girl, tried to rip off my sleeve. My sleeve, Vic. It's—it's—"

"It's great!"

"What?"

Vic leaned forward in the seat. "Barney, take us to Antonio's."

Gar groaned. "Vic—I want to go home."

"Quit your whining; we're celebrating! Besides, Kori and I planned to go there whether you won anything or not."

"Yeah, where was Kori? She usually doesn't miss that kind of thing."

Vic shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno, man. Her phone's been busy all night—all I know is that she got some idea and has been calling around all night."

"Isn't that supposed to be your job?"

"Yeah, shut up. Lemme see that thing," he grabbed the golden statue, "Hey! You can see my reflection in its butt.

"Listen man, we really need to talk about this rainforest thing. You need to tell someone about it. I mean, what good is it going to do you?"

"It's not about the publicity, dude! It's about giving back to Mother Nature."

"Yeah, I'd like to give something back to Mother Nature too. It's called global warming; we don't want it."

"We're the one who caused global warming, you idiot. And you're just saying that because your stupid gadgets wouldn't work on the camping trip."

"Forty-seven bug bites, Gar! Forty-seven!"

Barney twisted in his seat, "We're here."

They were greeted at the simple looking pizza shop by a balding man with a clearly Italian accent, "Gar! Vic! Welcome, ah welcome!"

He set them down at an already occupied table by a pretty woman with auburn hair and green eyes that challenged Gar's.

"Three vegetarian, Antonio," Gar said.

Vic grunted. "Not tonight…"

"Hey! It's my night!"

Antonio scribbled something down on the paper and walked off. Vic instantly excused himself seconds later and ran after. "Hey Antonio, just give us one vegetarian, one meat lover's, and…you know what Kori likes."

The Italian smiled. "I shall'a get the mustard, a'then!"

Back at the table, Kori was digging through her purse. She had already pulled out a business card. She finished by bringing out a white iPod. "What's that?"

"Gar, I know I'm just your stylist, but let's face it, I do Vic's job for him."

He shrugged, "True."

"Let's go over your career right now. You just won an Oscar, you haven't partied drunk, you haven't driven drunk, you haven't been in jail, you don't sleep around madly, you donate and volunteer without telling anyone, you've worked in Africa and the Amazons, and let's face it, and it's driving the paparazzi crazy!"

"What's your point?"

"Just roll with me. The tabloids can't seem to get anything on you, and it's only making you more popular. We need to give the fans something!"

"What happened to the foreign, sweet, naïve girl I knew in high school?"

Kori frowned. "She moved to Hollywood."

As Vic resumed his seat, Kori switched on her iPod and passed it around. Vic chuckled when it came to him. The minute Gar slipped the white headphones into his ears, all he heard was, "Flavor Flav!"

He threw the video iPod onto the table, yelping as he did so. "What is that?"

Kori's lips drew into a smile. "A couple of years ago, VH1 did a show called Flavor of Love. It's about—"

"A weird old rapper who bangs like twenty girls, I heard," Vic cut in.

"Right, well I've been calling around, and I think that kind of show would be perfect for you!"

Gar's jaw dropped. "Kori, you can't be serious!"

"I'm very serious, Gar. In fact, I've already found a director who'd be willing to work on it with us."

The two males looked down at the white business card, which read: 'Rachel Roth—director.'

"I've never heard of her," Vic said.

"I wouldn't have expected you to. She's really good, though. An aspiring director who's done works on shows that weren't filmed in Hollywood. I've already set up a meeting tomorrow with her. What do you say, Gar?"

She never got her response, for Gar had already left.

---

Gar smiled to himself as he pushed the door open, hearing the familiar bell. This was his sanctuary, and no one could take it away from him. The waitress beamed as she saw him, instantly pulling out a beer.

"We were all watching you on the T.V., Gar," she said.

He gave a faint smile, looking around the pub. There were the usual late-night customers, the stage, several stacked up chairs, and—someone else sitting at the bar. Now she was new.

She was leaned over a coffee mug, eyes heavy. In the lighting, her hair looked purple. Her skin was a light gray, and from what he could see, her eyes looked almost amethyst-colored. He scooted down next to her.

"Work troubles?" He motioned to the pile of papers next to her.

"You have no idea. I've been in this town for less than two days, and I'm already swamped with work."

"No one said Hollywood would be easy."

"I guess they didn't," she sighed, "but I missed the Oscars. I never miss them; it's a tradition."

Gar guessed she didn't recognize him; the lighting was pretty dim. "I don't find it that interesting. It's just a bunch of actors, most of which probably buy some votes, standing around getting an award, worth less than the consolation prizes the losers get."

She nodded. "I couldn't agree with you more so. I heard Gar Logan won an award—can you believe that?"

"What do you mean?"

"The guy is obviously in it for the money. He never does any charities, he never donates, and yet the media writes him off as a tree-hugging hippie!"

Gar chuckled. "I'd do a little more research on that before you talk to someone who knows him."

"I'm going to have to, then. I got a possible job doing a sleazy dating show-type thing with the guy. The nerve of him! Those shows are really awful; I can't believe he'd want to take part in one."

"I agree with you there. Those shows are completely degrading…I just want to send them through a shredder. But he doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who would like that sort of thing, do you?"

"You can never be too sure with the Hollywood types. He's an asshole," she spat.

Gar sighed and put down the beer. "You need some fun in your life."

"If you can get 'fun' to pay the electricity, then sure, set me up."

"You're funny."

"Am I now? Oh goodie, now I can put that on my résumé. Rachel Roth: Director, bachelors in film, and, oh here's a new one; funny."

Gar began to laugh, before he caught something she said. Rachel Roth? "Rachel Roth?"

"Oops, the cat's out of the bag," she said dryly, rolling her eyes.

"Rachel Roth, the director?"

"My, my, aren't you observant. Well, now that you know my name, what's yours?"

"It isn't important right now," he paused, "You wanna take a walk with me?"

She looked up from her reflection in the dark liquid. "Pardon?"

He shrugged and felt sweat gather on his forehead. "I don't know…you want to go for a walk?"

She blinked once. "It's late at night, dark out, you won't tell me your name, and further more, I don't know you."

"What if I tell you my name?"

"It's a start."

"My name…my name is Vic."

Rachel looked hesitant. "Well, Vic, tell me about yourself."

"I grew up in Africa with my parents, moved here after a disease was spreading around that would be fatal to all human life, and I've been here since."

She narrowed her eyes. "Go on. What do you do?"

"I run a Rainforest foundation. I collect money and send it towards rebuilding the Amazons, and other endangered forests."

"Doesn't sound like it pays well," Rachel observed.

"It doesn't, but as long as we're giving back, I'm okay with that. I've got money from my parents for other things. I live off the land. My house has an orchard and garden in the back, and I'm a vegan, so that's all I need, except for drinks."

"How do I know you're not making this all up, and plan to molest me?"

"Do I seem like the molesting type?"

"No, you don't, but that's what makes me unsure about you."

The waitress leaned over the counter, straightening her beehive hairdo. "Listen to the boy. He comes in here all the time. Never breaks any laws, never gets too drunk. He's a good kid, aren't you, Vic?"

"Thanks Miriam," Gar shot her a thankful but sharp glance.

Rachel gathered her things and stuffed them into a black bag, leaving some bills beside the mug. "You can walk me to my hotel, and that's it."

He smiled, "Done."

---

"So, tell me about yourself."

"Haven't we been down this before? I'm a director, that's all you need to know."

"What if I want to see you again? How will I know to impress you?"

She blushed, but luckily for her, the sky was dark enough that he didn't see. "I-I like roses."

"Roses, got it. What else?"

"I listen to Evanescence, and I like lavender."

Gar smiled, shoving his hands into his pants pocket. "Hmm, sounds romantic."

She cocked her neck. "What does?"

"A moonlit dinner with Evanescence, roses, and lavender scented candles."

Her face flushed again. "You're a romantic."

"That's what people say." He looked up, "Well, this is your hotel."

Rachel didn't understand…she felt, almost sad. "Yup, it is."

She paused at the door, giving him back a slight smile. "Will I see you again?"

Oh, the irony, he thought. He grinned, "Sooner than you think."

Hrrm, so that's it. I like the idea not as much as my MDRAJ idea, but I promise, I'm going to work on them both, equally.

Promise!

Please, let me know what you think. Do you like it? Do you not? If you don't, and I don't get at least ten or so reviews, this story is going to the trash. I don't want another one of those kinds of stories.