The Key To Love

‘I really do feel as though I’m in the presence of a visionary,’ said the interviewer, reverently. ‘The Key To Love has been the TV phenomenon of the century. The ratings have broken records. And it feels so important, because it’s the world’s first truly woman-centred dating show - the first format built around how a woman really thinks, and what she needs. I mean, the way the keys function to give the female participants that extra power… It’s revolutionary!’

‘Please!’ laughed Dominic Porter, pushing his thick-rimmed glasses up his nose. ‘It’s hardly Simone de Beauvoir. It’s an entertainment show. But thank you, for your kind words.’

‘I have to ask, Dom,’ she went on, ‘how did you come up with this? Being, I mean…’

‘Male? It’s a fair question.’ In his designer jumper, in his designer office, Dom smiled warmly. ‘I can’t take all the credit,’ he said, ‘I grew up with sisters, and I’m married. I’ve been surrounded by strong women my whole life, and I suppose I’ve just… listened. Paid attention. And built the many layers of KTL’s format around those observations.’

‘Well, I can only thank you. My friends and I are counting down the days until Season 3!’

‘You’re in for a treat. We’ve made some exciting changes to the format this season.’

‘I can’t wait. And the other big question everyone’s asking, Dom, is what’s next? The world is chomping at the bit to hear what’s coming next from, to quote Deadline, ‘the greatest format generator of our generation.'’

Dom gave a conspiratorial smirk. ‘I can’t say much at this stage. But both you and my accountant will be pleased to hear that there’s something very exciting in the pipeline.’

‘Amazing! And will it be as groundbreaking as The Key To Love?’

‘Oh, absolutely.’

After the Zoom call had ended, Dom sat back in his chair, seething. In his business, dishonesty was de rigeur - rarely did a participant really know what they were getting into - but this latest lie had irked him.

Because the pipeline was - catastrophically, ringingly - empty. And it wasn’t his fault. It was time to do something about it. Dom went downstairs, to speak to his wife.

He regarded her with disgust, sitting on her armchair in the bay window as though there was nothing to do. As though she wasn’t ruining his life with every second of inaction. Her flushed cheeks indicated that she’d started drinking already - and yes, there was the open bottle on the vintage console table he’d bought for her, like he’d bought everything. Pathetic. Still, this must be handled delicately.

‘Hello, darling. How are we doing today?’ It was useful to create the illusion of a team effort. No answer. ‘The interview was great,’ he went on, ‘there’s a lot of buzz about the next project.’

Still, nothing. She just fiddled with her necklace, twiddling it infuriatingly with shaky hands. Her face was impossible to read, and he wasn’t going to try. He walked nonchalantly over to the bottle, and tapped it with a finger.

‘I see our little problem is as bad as ever," he said. Sadie looked at him with those blank eyes he loathed, and said nothing. ‘That’s fine. Don’t you worry about that. As long as you’re working on our other little problem?’

She gave a tiny shake of the head, and it took everything Dom had not to grab the bottle, smash it on the Farrow & Ball wall and use the jagged end to cut the ideas out of her himself.

‘Darling,’ he breathed, with effortful calm, ‘this is what we do. You give me the ideas, I make them happen, and I don’t tell anyone what an absolute fucking mess you are. Because you know what will happen if I do.’

She glanced at the clock. He knew she was calculating how many hours remained until the nanny delivered their son home from school.

‘It’s been two years since The Key To Love. I need the next hit. You’ve been fucking around for too long. Start working.’

‘I can’t, Dom,’ she said, finally, in the smallest voice.

‘Oh, I think you can. Do you know, I heard the neighbours talking again? They saw you. They said they’re concerned. About you, about Casper. It’s getting very hard for me to keep your cover. And without another hit, we’ll have to lose the nanny. Then you’ll really be in trouble.’

The lies were perfectly produced, a masterclass in constructed reality. Really, Dom had never understood why his own reality TV ideas had always been such failures, when he lived and breathed the genre in his every interaction. People were instruments: you only had to play them correctly, and to the right tune, to give the world what it wanted to hear. To make it stand up and applaud. All he had to do was be the director, to assume full editorial control over this domestic scene, and he would be rewarded.

...........................

Sadie watched her husband pacing the room and marvelled at her recently-acquired sangfroid. Just days ago, she’d have believed every word he was saying. Just days ago, there would have been vodka in the bottle, and her flush would not have been from rage alone. Just days ago, she had watched The Key To Love for the first time.

Though it was her idea, she had never actually watched it. Dom hadn’t allowed it. But as he’d grown increasingly desperate, he’d permitted her to view the first series. She suspected he would come to view this as an error.

She had to admit that he’d done a good job with her concept - a concept that over the dark years following its inception she had come to regard as nothing more than utopian fantasy. Certainly nothing that she - a drunken embarrassment, an unfit mother - felt she deserved. Until she watched it.

Every character had a heart-breaking backstory, told over a soundtrack of minor-key music designed to elicit an emotional reaction. It worked. As Sadie listened to beautiful young women speak of escaping abusive relationships and overcoming adversity in order to find true love, she was as moved and inspired as Dom had intended his viewers to be. He'd fallen on his own sword.

And now, she had a plan.

‘Okay, Dom,’ she said, reaching for the laptop as he paused his rant and stared at her. ‘I’ve got something. I’ve got the idea.’

THREE WEEKS LATER

The interviewer ran her hands through her hair, reeling. It had been one of the more eventful days of her career. She ran her eyes over her half-written article, which by morning would have been read by the entire TV industry.

'The Key To Love' creator Dominic Porter has been fired from Flash Productions after the treatment for a controversial new format 'The Love Lock' (w/t), which he’d been aggressively pitching, was leaked by a horrified junior commissioner. The shocking concept, which Porter had described in pitches as ‘a noisy dystopian dating show’, involved male contestants competitively gaslighting their female matches into doing their bidding while being remotely watched by an ‘overlord’ character who rewards them for successful coercive control. Porter’s claims that he did not in fact originate the format have thrown into doubt the origins of his previous successes, while the show’s disturbing content has given credence to rumours that have been circling regarding Porter’s personal life

As she pondered how to reference her previous article about Dom - ‘The Key To Genius: An Interview With Dominic Porter’ - without making herself look as gullible and furious as she felt, the interviewer’s phone rang.

‘I’m sorry to call out of the blue,’ said the clear, level voice on the other end.

‘My name is Sadie Porter. Do you have a moment to speak?’