Walk of Shame

by Gregory, O. L.

  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.

  Chapter Eleven

  Week Four - Seven Men Left

  Monday

  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."

  Tuesday

  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 pulle
d 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.

  Wednesday

  I made my way to the main house Wednesday morning, wearing sunglasses, hoping the movement and light wouldn't trigger a recurrence.

  There was French toast waiting for me when I walked in, with powdered sugar mixed with cinnamon sprinkled over it. "I am in love with eating at this house."

  Phillip smiled and winked at me, telling me he was today's chef.

  "Will there be torturing today?" Mike asked.

  "Yes. A one-on-one torturing, as a matter of fact."

  "Oh?" he said with a raised eyebrow.

  I smiled at him, and then directed it to the rest of the group. "This gets real simple, real fast, guys. There are two of you who have not had a one-on-one yet. Surprisingly enough, those are the two who will get this week's dates. The remaining five are getting a group date."

  Liam and Trevor stood, both with expectant looks on their faces.

  "Trevor today. Liam, you were supposed to be yesterday and it's been rescheduled for tomorrow."

  Trevor smiled and headed for the stairs.

  "You need swim trunks," I called after him.

  "Yeah," he called back and waved his arm in acknowledgement.

  I finished eating as the rest of the guys began glancing at each other around the room. I could only imagine that they might be wondering who would be the first ones to get a second one-on-one next week.

  We left shortly after Trevor came down. We climbed into the car and the driver pulled away from the curb.

  I was just pulling off my sunglasses, since we were behind the tinted windows now, when Trevor started talking.

  "Nothing like trying to keep me waiting until the last minute," he quipped.

  I shook my head at him. "You don't get to call me out on that. We had all kinds of one-on-one time, you big cheater. We went shopping before the show even started, you stole conversations at my pool, you stole an entire one-on-one date, and then you stole about two-thirds of a day yesterday. Quite frankly, you shouldn't really be getting a formal one-on-one at all."

  His smile was smug. "So why am I?"

  "Because, I'm trying to keep up appearances. I don't want the public, or the guys, thinking that I might be avoiding the date for some reason. And I certainly don't want them guessing at what that reason might be."

  The smile turned self-indulgent, like he thought I was doing him some special favor by trying to cover for him. I had to wonder if they all thought I was trying to cover for them. Mike and his runs, Liam and his late night visit, the guys and that dinner, Phillip's stolen kisses, the date I stole with Jared. None of us were playing fair, except maybe for Drake and Stephen.

  That line of thought made me wonder what it said about me and my character that Drake was the one on his way out the door this week and Stephen, well... The man hadn't done a single thing wrong, which was probably why he had fallen down off the red and pink
charts altogether.

  "Where are we off to?" he asked.

  I had to shake my head to push aside the thoughts that had been questioning why I was attracted to the ones who'd seen the loopholes in the system and had taken advantage of them. "You're an LA boy, born and raised."

  "So?"

  "So, since we've already done the job thing, and the whole get-to-know-you thing, I figured I'd aim for the California-kid thing."

  He drew his head back. "You haven't gone surfing yet."

  I smiled with a twinkle in my eye. "I haven't gone surfing yet."

  "Have you ever been surfing?"

  "Nope."

  "Which beach are we going to?"

  "Malibu Lagoon State Beach."

  He nodded. "Surfrider Beach, excellent choice."

  We spent three hours in the water. My sunglasses were plastered to my face by sheer will. And every time Trevor saw me rub my head, he paddled over and placed a massaging hand on the back of my neck under the pretense of teaching me how to study the waves, to look for the next opportunity to try to catch a wave.

  It was during those three hours that I discovered something about myself... I am not a surfer girl.

  And then I spent the next two hours eating dinner on the pier, from a picnic basket, trying to come to terms with the fact that I'd found something I absolutely could not do. But to Trevor's credit, he didn't say a single word to rub it in. He merely suggested that after dinner we might want to take a walk along the beach, instead of heading back out onto the water.

  Thursday

  "Scottish eggs for breakfast?" I asked after giving the two things on my plate a couple pokes and hoping I'd identified it.

  "So we've been told," Stephen muttered as he gave one of his another poke with his fork.

  I cut into it and took a bite. I'd had these before, at the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire. But, I gotta tell you, Liam's were better. "Where is our resident Scottish Highlander this morning?"

  "He's primping upstairs," Drake answered.

  I smiled to myself and kept eating the delightful concoction of sausage wrapped around a hard-boiled egg and then fried. I looked up and smiled when I heard footsteps on the stairs. "You're going to need swim trunks," I warned.