Authors: O. L. Gregory
The guys were given either red
socks or black socks this week. They'd been laid on their beds by production
just before they went up to their individual bedrooms to change. That way, each
one didn't know who the other chosen ones were.
No pink, no white. Either you'd
made me melt this week, or you hadn't.
And at this point, the guys were
lined up in front of me and Troy was giving his weekly speech about how one of
them was about to leave and I was now free to make my choices known.
I smiled as Troy stepped back.
"Gentlemen, the key is in your socks this time. My red men, please step
forward. Phillip, Jared, Liam, and Mike."
"Cut!" a high-ranking
member of production stepped forward. "Cut, cut, cut. No. Everyone back to
their places. Emmaline, one at a time, you know this. We can't edit this to
build tension for the audience if you just bring half the group forward."
I let out a disgusted sigh and
resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "But they already know they're staying.
It's the other four left who need to look at each other and wonder who's
leaving."
He held a hand up at me.
"Change rules if you want to. But the
Walk of Shame
is called the
Walk
of Shame
for a reason. Some show traditions are sacred, and this is one of
them." He tilted his head down and narrowed his eyes at me. "One at a
time."
"Oookaaay," I said.
The producer moved back to the
side, gave the cameramen a nod, and then gave me a nod.
I bit my tongue, closed my eyes,
and let them roll before opening them and smiling at the men again.
"Gentlemen, the key is in
your socks this time. Phillip, please stay for another week."
"Of course," he said
and stepped down, winked at me, and moved to the line.
"Jared, my southern charmer,
please stay."
"You bet, darlin'," he
said with a wink of his own and went to join the forming line.
"Liam, I'd be honored if
you'd stay for another week."
"It'd be my honor," he
said and moved to the line with a smug smirk.
"Michael, please, stay with
me a little longer."
"I'm not going
anywhere," he said with a determined walk to the line-up.
"And now, for my other
three. Stephen, I'd love it if you stayed."
"Of course," he said
with a look of reluctance that I couldn't blame him for. He'd started out with
red twice, and now he hadn't been assigned any color for the second time in a
row. If I were him, I'd be wondering about his placement here, too.
"Trevor, let's play another
round."
"Always," he said and
moved over. Not being assigned a color seemed to not bother him, so long as he
was invited to stay.
"And, Drake, I'd love to
have you stay one more week."
He beamed me a smile.
"Absolutely, as many weeks as you want." And he moved over to the
line, my comment about 'one more week' seeming to go over his head.
I smiled at Ardent as Troy
stepped forward.
Ardent merely looked resigned.
"Ardent," Troy said,
"I'm afraid you haven't been invited to stay. Please say your good-byes as
you make your way down the
Walk of Shame
.
He smiled and shook hands with
the others as he came down the aisle, walking right past me. And for the first
time, I felt the need to follow my failed suitor out of the room.
"Ardent," I said as I walked
behind him on his way to the car that already held his bags.
"It's fine," he said
and tried to wave me away.
"No, it's not."
"Yes, it is."
"But I feel bad."
"Why? You're not falling for
me. This is what's supposed to happen."
"Because you're the first
one I'm sending home that I legitimately like."
"Em, you aren't the only one
not feeling it here. I never even tried to kiss you. We've been buddies since
this started. But I don't see this progressing anymore than you do. I was
content to stick around and see where it went, but it never went anywhere. I
should actually thank you, because I was having a hard time deciding if I would
agree to stay another week. Now, I don't have to. We can make the break clean
and both of us walk away on the same page with each other. There's nothing for
you to feel bad about. So, go, enjoy the evening with the others. I hope you
find what you're looking for in one of them."
I'd pulled my lips back in a grim
line as I'd listened. I couldn't tell if he was being sincere, or trying to
save face. Either way, this was a classy way for him to go. I smiled at him and
stepped forward for a hug. "Thank you," I whispered to him. "I
loved learning about you and your profession. I sincerely hope you find who
you're looking for someday soon." And when I pulled back, I clasped his
hand, passing him a piece of paper.
He kept the smile, took the
paper, and got into the car.
I stepped away and watched him
through the darkened glass as he looked down at what I assumed was the paper in
his hand. He looked back up and smiled at me.
There,
I thought,
I've
done my sisterly duty.
In Ardent's hand was a piece of paper with Chloe's
name and cell number written down. The two of them could figure things out on
their own.
The following Monday went the way
it normally went. Wardrobe, extensive interview, and a rundown of the coming
week and dates with Troy. Then I worked while the guys did their interviews.
My Dad called to check on me. He
and I had been instant messaging back and forth over the last few weeks, but
I'd started giving him shortened answers. So he called to find out what was
going on.
"Dad, I swear, I'm fine. I'm
just tired of going over everything for the interviews, then Chloe, and then
you."
"But you don't get to cut me
out, kid. I have to know you're okay over there."
"I'm sorry. It's just that
typing it after saying it twice is exhausting."
"So, pick up a phone and
call your old man, instead."
"Yes, Daddy."
"I'm the father. I have to
know you're okay."
"Yes, Daddy."
"You cut me out and I think
you're trying to hide something."
"Yes, Daddy."
"You can take your 'Yes,
Daddies' and shove them. I know you just do it so I can feel like I've had my
say and shut up."
I smiled. "Yes, Daddy."
He sighed. "Wasn't Ardent
one of your man-friends, over there?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Care to tell me why I can
overhear your sister in her bedroom talking to someone named Ardent on her
phone?"
"Because she likes him and I
dumped him."
"So you're throwing him a
bone?"
"Her, too. I think she's a
little jealous that I'm doing this."
"I think she only envies the
attention, not the entire experience."
"I'm trying to keep her
involved."
"I know you are."
"Besides, I'm going to need
her opinions, here soon."
"Do you want mine?"
"Of course."
"Find out who the verbal guy
is, the one who had to get his own room before the rest did."
"I already did, it's
Trevor."
"Remind me," he said.
"The limo driver the network
employs."
"Any more outbursts?"
"Yeah, but they seem to care
about it less. And he just gets up and walks away now."
"Did you confront him?"
"More or less. He says the situation
is stressful and he's learned to walk away and get some quiet time to
himself."
"I want to talk to him. And
the producers."
"I can text you numbers for
the producers. I'll let them know I'm fine with them talking to you. Maybe I
can give Trevor your number."
"Are you okay with my
interference?"
I thought about it a moment.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because, I don't want to
make a mistake with this. I don't want to dismiss something as nothing, anymore
than I want to make a big deal out of nothing. And I don't speak military man
language. Maybe you can figure out what's really going on, because they sure as
hell aren't telling me."
"You think him being
ex-military has something to do with it?"
I shrugged even though I knew Dad
wouldn't see it. "I don't know. But do you go around telling people
everything that happened to you during Vietnam?"
"No. Not unless they're
ex-military, and maybe not even then."
"So, maybe there's something
there that you and your testosterone can get out of him that I can't."
"I'll get on it."
Now I was second-guessing myself.
"You don't have to feel like-"
"You're mine to look after
until the day I give you away. I love how independent and self-confident you
are. So the fact that you're willing to let me intrude means that you're genuinely
unsure. And if you're unsure about this guy, it's time for me to check him
out."
I let out a relieved sigh.
"Thank you, Daddy."
"Of
course, baby."
Troy and the makeup artist let
themselves in, carrying my outfits for the day, just as they always do every
morning. And once they hit the top of stairs, they let themselves into my
bedroom, despite the fact that the door was still closed today.
They came to an abrupt halt when
they spotted me still under the covers.
"Rise and shine, princess,"
Troy called out.
I groaned and pulled a pillow
over one ear and turned to bury the other in the pillow under my head.
"Oh, my God. Shut up," I moaned.
Troy moved around my bed, into my
line of vision, and squatted down until he was eye-level with me. "What's
the matter?" he whispered.
"Migraine," I whispered
back.
"How bad?"
"I can't even get out of bed
to get any pain relievers or caffeine to start treating it."
His mouth set a grim line across
his face as he thought for a moment. "All right. So, I'm going to go over
to the house and let the guys know there'll be no date today. I'll let the
camera crews know to steer clear for the day. And I'll get a nurse over here
to-"
"I don't need a stupid
nurse," I hissed. "It's a migraine. I get them from time to time. It's
brought on by tension in my shoulders and neck, and it creeps on up the back of
my head and spreads from there. I need the damn pills in the green bottle in
the cabinet and an icy cold drink that contains a large amount of
caffeine."
Troy waited a moment to make sure
I was done with my whispered tirade before speaking again. "Here's the
deal, if I go down and tell them you're sick and instruct them to keep the
cameras, and production in general, away from you, then the nurse has to come
in and check on you. Otherwise, you're going to have to deal with the cameras
recording your suffering today."
"Fine."
He left with the MA and all the
clothing they'd brought in with them. He was gone maybe forty-five minutes
before he returned with the nurse.
The nurse gave me a quick
once-over, making sure the headache wasn't a symptom of something else like an
aneurysm. She got the bottle of pills out of the bathroom for me, wrote the
time I was taking them on a sticky note, and placed both items on the nightstand.
She gave Troy a nod and left as quietly as she could.
He walked over with a giant
Styrofoam cup with a lid on it. "They ran an energy soda through the
margarita maker for you," he whispered.
I took the cup, bent the straw to
my lips, and started sucking the slush into my system.
"The guys were laughing over
the idea of you begging off a date because of a headache. I had to explain that
you were holed up in here with the blinds drawn and only being able to tolerate
whispers."
"That's fine."
"We've rearranged today's
date for Thursday."
I sighed. "I was really
looking forward to going out with Liam."
"You'll still get to go out
with him."
"Yeah."
"In the meantime, I'll leave
you alone. We'll all leave you alone. I'll make sure some food is put in your
fridge in case you start feeling a bit better and get hungry. Unless you
venture outside, everyone is under orders to leave you alone today. If you need
anything, just text me and I'll make sure it gets to you."
"Okay, thank you."
"You're welcome."
He left the room and I turned
over, stuffed a pillow under my neck, pulled the blankets up over my head, and
began sucking on the straw some more.
I must have drifted off to sleep,
because the next thing I knew, there were hands on the back of my shoulders,
massaging the knots near my neck. I tried to turn, but the hands stopped me.
"Shhh. It's okay," I
heard Trevor whisper, "just try and let the muscles relax."
"How did you get past
production?"
"I just explained to Troy
that I get tension migraines, too. I also told him that if they last more than
a day, I go and see a massage therapist who works on the pressure points. And
then I told him that I'd learned a bit about how to push on those pressure
points and that I might be able to help."
His fingers started out light,
feathery, and moved from my shoulders, to my neck, to the back of my head, then
to the top of my head, and then back down to the shoulders. Each time his
fingers went back to my shoulders, he used more pressure. For the longest time,
he worked in silence while I closed my eyes and relaxed, trying to let the
tension ease as he picked one pressure point after another to push in on.
It happened ever so slowly, but
his hands worked on my migraine far better than the pills and caffeine ever
did. Soon, I was able to tolerate his talking softly about how sometimes when
he disappeared from the guys, it was to try to stave off a migraine like this.
After awhile, he climbed in and
snuggled with me and we put on a movie with low volume.
"Thanks for helping me today,"
I said after I'd truly begun to feel human again.
"I'm sorry you weren't
feeling well. But I'm sure glad that I got to be the one that could help. I'd
much rather spend the afternoon this way, than back at the house knowing you
were enjoying the day with someone else."
I frowned at him. "So you'd
rather I be in pain, than with another guy?"
He cringed. "I didn't mean
it like that. I totally messed up what I was trying to say."
"It's okay. I know what you
were going for."
"I like spending time with
you, no matter the circumstances."
I smiled. "I know."
He gave up
trying to remove his foot from his mouth and went downstairs to look through
the fridge to see what he could warm up for dinner for us to eat picnic-style
in bed.