Walk of Shame

by Gregory, O. L.

  As the clock counted down to Monday night, one thought turned into a worry, which turned into dread. And now it was Monday morning and I still hadn't come up with a way to fix it.

  Troy entered the house through the patio doors with a smile on his face.

  "I've got a problem," I told him.

  His smile faltered. I'd been doing my best to just roll with it all, answer questions, make decisions, and listen to instructions. Never once had I told him something was off, wrong, or a problem. "What's up?"

  "I'm horrible with remembering names and faces. I mean, horrible."

  "How horrible are we talking?"

  "Like when I go back and proofread my drafts of novels, I find that I'm calling the same character by two different names, or spelling it two different ways. I've run into people that I went to school with and I don't recognize them, even though they claim they had a bunch of classes with me and we talked all the time before the teacher got started. I've done table hosting at conventions with the same people year after year and I can't remember their names."

  "Okay. No problem. We'll put nametags on everybody. And we'll line them up in the room by alphabetical order, or something. We'll figure it out, let me make a call."

  He stepped into the kitchen to talk it over with whomever he was calling.

  But none of that was my real problem. My real problem was in making sure I didn't send the wrong guys home, especially on the first night. It was very likely that I'd get them mixed up. And I didn't want to be standing there playing Eeny-Meeny-Miney-Mo, when trying to choose who went home tonight.

  Chapter Five

  Ready, Set, Men!

  I was a nervous freaking wreck.

  I was standing in front of a wall of carnations, in a crazy long evening gown, and more pins in my hair than I had strands to style. And my five-freaking-inch heels were off and stashed in the corner until I had to put them on to be ready to greet the guys. I did look good, though.

  Like, really good.

  "Take a deep breath," Troy instructed. "How do you feel?"

  "Like I'm going to vomit, and my heart is pounding in my ears."

  "I could get you a shot of something to calm you down," he offered.

  "Doubtful that'll help me keep the names and faces straight," I muttered.

  "Well, no. But it might help you stop vibrating on camera," he quipped.

  I looked down at my shaking hands. "How about a core ball to bounce on while we wait?"

  He didn't look amused.

  I laughed. "Yeah, okay. Let's hit me with some vodka."

  "One shot, coming up." He nodded to an assistant who disappeared and reappeared with a shot glass.

  I tossed it back, cringed, and stretched my neck, hoping to relieve some of the tension.

  "Better?" Troy asked.

  "A little."

  "Good. Keep in mind, there will be sixteen guys tonight. You want to pick twelve to keep. If someone just irks you or gives you the creeps, he's gone tonight, no questions asked."

  "Right... wait. I thought it was fifteen."

  "Someone else contacted us and asked us to throw his hat in the ring."

  "So you just let some random guy join in?"

  Troy smiled. "He isn't a random guy. And production has fully screened him, just like the rest of the men. If you don't like him, send him packing with the others."

  "Ugh."

  He got a signal from one of the crew. "All right, Princess. The first limo is waiting. You ready?"

  I took a deep breath. "Okay."

  "All right," he took me by the shoulders and led me over to the mark on the stonework under our feet. "Stand here to greet each guy, smile, breathe, and fake a relaxed expression."

  He walked away, the red lights lit up on all the cameras, and the first limo began to pull up.

  "I'm not wearing any shoes," I said through my smile.

  Troy made a show of looking down at the extra inches of material pooled around my feet and sighed.

  Someone signaled for the limo driver not to stop and they drove on by, around the bushes, to pause and wait again. I don't know what the guys inside the limo thought about it, but oh well.

  I hiked up my dress and shimmied over to the side, put the shoes on, and took my place again, giggling the whole time.

  "Are you ready now?" Troy asked from the sidelines.

  "Yep, I'm good."

  He nodded to the assistant, who said something into a mic.

  The limo pulled around again and stopped in front of me. The first guy stepped out looking dark and fine, and wearing a purple shirt that complimented his coloring perfectly. And when he approached, I got a whiff of him, and the man smelled better than I did. Mmm-hmm. And as we exchanged hellos and pleasantries, I knew I wanted to remember the purple-shirt dude.

  We hugged, and I was struck with a thought... What if I mark the guys in some way?... A way to sort them, or categorize them... I mean, seriously, what if more than one of them was wearing a purple shirt?

  I scanned the area and my eyes landed on all the carnations on the wall behind me. I smiled and pulled a pink one from the edge. "Can I get you to let me stick this flower in your front pocket?"

  Stephan smiled, "You sure can."

  Someone moved off camera and put pins on the stone ledge for me.

  We laughed, I moved to get a pin, walked back over to him, paused to make it easier on post-production editing, and tried it again. "Can I get you to wear this flower for me tonight?"

  He smiled again, "You sure can."

  "I love this purple shirt on you," I told him as I pinned on the flower.

  "Thank you. You're dress is amazing."

  We said our temporary goodbyes and he went inside.

  Pause for production, pose on my mark, enter man number two. Greet, small talk, hug, goodbye. Pause for production, pose on my mark, enter the next man. Rinse, repeat.

  Limo one had held four men. Stephan, James, TJ, and Mitch.

  Limo two was more of the same, except for man number three... or I guess he was number seven, overall. Drake was another good-looking man, pulling off a turquoise shirt and clean-shaven head when he stepped out of the limo. His smile was awesome. He had one of those smiles that people say reached their eyes. Mr. Too Smooth. He didn't bat an eyelash at the cameras, and seemed totally at ease in front of them. I'd have to keep an eye out for him, for sure. ...Hmmm. Maybe I just had a thing for handsome black men that wore brightly colored shirts.

  Limo two had held Darren, Mack, Drake, Patrick, and Tyler.

  Limo three held some surprises. The first guy stepped out in full Native American regalia, headdress and all. The dude just brought a smile to my face.

  "I love it! Hello," I greeted.

  He matched my smile, "Hello. They said you like learning about other cultures."

  "Yes, I do." My eyes couldn't stop sweeping over his clothing. "I'm guessing the southwest?"

  "Yes, Hopi. And I've brought you a gift." He pulled a bracelet out of a pocket.

  I held out my wrist for him.

  "My mother makes the jewelry. She uses the same silver overlay method our ancestors used. The repeating pattern is our symbol for waves and water, which brings life and growth."

  "It's gorgeous, thank you." I leaned up for a hug.

  He hugged me back. "It's nice to meet you."

  "It's nice to meet you, too. I'll see you inside."

  "Bye." And away he went.

  I signaled to the crew that I needed a moment. I was ten guys in on five-inch heels. I went behind the wall of flowers, took the shoes off to stretch my calf muscles, stretched my arms out to try to loosen up my back, and drank some water. The makeup artist touched up my face when I put the bottle down and disappeared into the shadows. I put my shoes back on and went back to my mark, rolling my head and stretching my neck as I went.

  "You ready, now?" Troy asked.

  "Yep," I clapped my hands to rev myself back up. "Ten down, six to go. Let's roll!"r />
  Troy stepped back and cued the limo.

  The next guy stepped out in traditional Indian garb. "Good evening," he said as he approached.

  "Good evening, I'm Emma. How are you doing tonight?"

  "Oh, I'm doing well. I'm Yamid. Needed a little break?"

  "Yes. A little water and a little stretch and I'm good as new."

  And then he didn't say anything....

  So I just stared at him.

  "It was nice to meet you," he finally said, and began to walk away.

  "It was nice to meet you." And then I smiled to myself, unsure if the guy was just shy, or just didn't like what he saw. Either way, I still had five more guys to meet.

  The next guy came out wearing black pants and a long, sheer white shirt layered over a regular white dress shirt. The sheer shirt had gold embroidery on it. And the guy wearing it? Oh, yeah.

  "Hi, I'm Emma."

  "Phillip. How are you?"

  "Good, I'm loving the theme of this car. I can't place the culture of the shirt, though."

  "The Philippines."

  "Wait," I smiled. "Phillip the Filipino?"

  He grinned. "Yes, my Dad immigrated over here, and when I was born he wanted to pay homage to his homeland. So, he named me Phillip."

  "I have to ask how old you are."

  "Thirty-seven."

  "What do you do?"

  "I work for the US Fish and Wildlife Services. I study animals that have been proposed for the endangered species list."

  "Very interesting." That explained the kind and patient vibe I was getting from him. The man wore his age like a badge of maturity, and it was hot as hell. The way his dark hair fell back in waves, and the way he held himself, screamed of intelligence. I went over, picked a pink carnation from the wall, and pinned it on him before we said our goodbyes.

  The third limo pulled away and I found myself a little disappointed. I was enjoying the clothes.

  The last limo pulled up and I found myself curious as to whether or not the theme would continue.

  Out came a man in hip waders and a cowboy hat with mosquito netting around his head.

  I tried not to giggle. It didn't work. "And where are you from?" I asked.

  He smiled. "Alabama."

  "And the outfit?"

  "Well, they said you like different cultures, and I figure what I do is very different from what you're used to. It must count as a different culture."

  Oh, my. I was dumbstruck, I couldn't help it. It was the accent and deep voice combination he had going on. I was standing there with the silliest grin on my face. His voice was like melted butter coating my eardrums, just listening to him talk could make me sigh.

  I didn't care what the man did for a living, or even if we were compatible. The voice was getting a red flower.

  The next time the limo door opened, the first thing I saw to come out was a bare knee and the bottom of a tartan plaid. I lost it. I dissolved into a fit of giggles, but clapped my hands to let him know I wasn't laughing at him. I was loving it.

  He got out with bagpipes and started playing for me.

  Hot damn, I'm done! And not that I would forget the guy in the kilt, but I went over to the wall of flowers and picked a red carnation off to pin on him.

  Guy number three in the limo came out in full dress army uniform, and I have a thing for uniforms. Dark blonde hair, blue eyes, had the all-American look. And as he came closer, I zeroed in on the Purple Heart medal.

  Yep, I'm sold. "They saved the best for the last limo, I see," I said.

  "Well, I'm glad to hear we're not all dressed like my group is."

  "Oh, no. There are some suits in there."

  "Well then, they lose points for not listening to what the lady likes."

  "Ah ha! Well, the uniform only counts if it belongs to you."

  "Very true. It's mine. But it's a couple years old. I left a year and a half ago, at the end of my enlistment."

  "How many years?"

  "Nine."

  "How many deployments?"

  "Three."

  "So, you used to travel the globe and now you just travel the country."

  Oh yeah, those blue eyes were doing a whole simmering/smiley thing. "Well, yeah, but at least now no one's throwing grenades at me."

  "Well that always makes for a better day."

  He chuckled. "Yes, it does."

  I moved to get a red carnation and a pin. "Can I interest you in a flower?"

  "As long as you're the one putting it on me."

  I grinned, pinned it, and gave him a hug.

  I'd been so dazzled by the last three men that I was pretty sure none of us had bothered to introduce ourselves. But that was okay, because I had pinned them all with red carnations, so they weren't going anywhere.

  By my count, I should still have a guy left, but no one was getting out of the limo. I was torn between just standing there and waiting, and going up to the limo and knocking on the window.

  Suddenly, the driver's door opened and out steps a guy in a Marine Corps uniform. His smile was familiar...

  "Good evening, Emma."

  The voice and the smile triggered my brain. "Trevor? You're the surprise guy who wants to throw his hat in the ring?" Aw, damn.

  "Any girl I can impress with my killer knowledge of good bargains is a girl I want to get to know better. After spending some time with you, the idea of you getting hit on by fifteen other guys wasn't sitting too well with me."

  I was smiling, big time. "So you decided to come onboard and make it sixteen?"

  "Well, yeah, because then at least one of them could be me. If I weren't under a contract to work with you a couple weeks ago, I would have asked you out then. Plus, you were in from out of town. I didn't know where you lived or what your story was. When I found out, I was even more interested."

  "Will you leave the fake, formal dialogue behind?"

  He smiled, "For you, miss, anything."

  "So, the Marines? For how long?"

  "Six years, two deployments. I don't like to talk about it much. I've been out for four years, now. But if it's uniforms you want, then it's uniforms you get."

  That explained his protective instincts showing when he talked about not getting in any other car with some other driver, and telling me about restaurants I could walk to and not get lost trying to find. "Well, I'm flattered. But you're not free to RV full time."

  "Aw," he waved a dismissive hand at the limo. "I only do the chauffer thing to bring in extra money so I can eat out and maybe afford to go do something on a Saturday afternoon. I'm a free-lance graphic artist. I've even designed some logos for small companies and book covers for indie authors. I'm hooked up with a few websites that match clients up with artists. You should check out my professional website."

  I laughed and hugged him before he went inside.

  Chapter Six

  Holding Court

  Here's where the game/reality show gets super corny. The main house has this big ballroom, and towards one end sits a platform, at least for night one. There's a couch up there for the girl to sit with each guy, one at a time, and chat with them. There are sheer panels of material draping around three sides to give the illusion of seclusion from other people, but you still have the cameras, microphones, and everybody facing the front side can still see you. In essence, the girl is holding a court of sorts as she judges who is, and who is not, worthy of continuing. Thus Troy's habit of calling me 'Princess'.

  On the upside, my feet were killing me and I was going to sit for the next few hours. On the downside, I'd become the object of everyone's attention. This would be harder for me than meeting them all one-by-one. Their eyes were going to be glued to me for the rest of the night.

  It did help that the ballroom had patio doors that opened out to the pool area. At least then the guys would have distractions so that maybe they'd lay off me a bit. Their scrutiny was going to put me more on edge than the idea of the cameras.

  Troy escorted me i
nto the room, interrupting the men's little gatherings they had going at different seating areas around the room. "Good evening, gentlemen."

  "Good evening," they called back in unison.

  "Now we begin the portion of the evening where you are free to approach Emma and talk to her a little more on the couch. Please do not interrupt another gentleman already talking to her, wait until she is free. And please, when you get your turn, limit yourself to ten minutes. This will take us about three hours, unless some of you guys get greedy and take more time. And nobody gets more than one turn, so make the most of your time. Spend the rest of your time getting to know your new roommates. You're all going to be spending more time with each other than with her, so you all need to figure out how to get along."

  Troy turned to me, then looked off camera. "We need to get our Princess touched up before we get her placed."

  Different crewmembers were hanging along one of the side walls, behind the cameras. Someone came at me with a powder puff and applied more foundation powder. Then she decided I needed an eye shadow touchup as well. While she moved back to the side of the room to retrieve her palette, the hair woman stepped forward and took care of a few strands that had gone awry. The makeup lady came back and brushed at my eyelids before stepping away for good.

  Mercifully, Troy took my hand and guided me up the three steps that had no railing. He'd either known that I gripped railings when walking in the stilts, or he'd just gotten really good at his job and knew stilts required a steadying hand from time to time.

  "And turn away from the men," he told me, not bothering to lower his voice in the pretense of privacy.

  I wrinkled my eyebrows, but turned away.

  "And adjust your dress."

  I looked down at the effects of gravity on the gown. "Oh, geez." I hiked up the front and made adjustments.