A First Date with Death

by Diana Orgain

  Dad didn’t seem to notice the attention; instead, he steepled his fingers and smiled warmly at me. “I understand you’re meeting some interesting young men.”

  “Uh, right,” I said. “There’s Richard, who’s an attorney.”

  Dad nodded. “I see.” He cocked his head, waiting for me to say more.

  But did I really have anything more to say about Richard?

  “He’s very confident. Uh . . . a very confident type,” I muttered.

  Dad frowned, seemingly trying to follow my train of thought. “Do you think he’s on the show for the right reasons?”

  I shuddered to realize I didn’t even care. So what if Richard was on the show for love? I wasn’t feeling any connection to him, so at this point it didn’t matter.

  “I don’t know, Dad, but I don’t think I’m honestly interested—”

  “Cut!” Cheryl screamed out.

  I looked up, startled. “What?”

  “You can’t tell your dad you’re not interested in one of the contestants.”

  “But I’m not interested in Richard,” I protested.

  “You’re supposed to be building anticipation. The audience is supposed to be watching and trying to guess who you’re going to eliminate. You can’t tell them, ‘I’m going to dump X and Y.’ That’s no fun. They won’t watch the elimination scene then, because they’ll already know who’s out of the competition!”

  “Right,” Dad agreed.

  I turned to him, horrified.

  Now Dad is agreeing with Cheryl?

  He reached out for my hand. “It’s okay, honey—just create some questions in the mind of the viewer.” He winked at me. “Like when you play poker and no one realizes you’re about to zap the money straight out of their wallets.”

  “I’m not comfortable lying,” I said.

  Cheryl leaned in. “Don’t think of it as lying. Think of it as, well, as not disclosing the whole truth.”

  When I made a face, she added, “Creating an illusion. See, I’m not lying to the audience about you being in bunny slippers, I’m just creating the illusion—”

  I held up a hand. “I get it.”

  Much as I didn’t like it, the more I resisted, the longer the filming would take, and I’d already had it about up to my eyeballs.

  When I finished giving Dad a summary as best I could, one that seemed to please Cheryl, he said, “Well, your eyes lit up when you talked about the writer and the doctor.”

  Seriously?

  That was the same thing Becca had said.

  Could I really be having feelings for two guys I’d just met on a reality TV show?

  Seventeen

  When I stepped back into the hall of the mansion, the stench from the leaking pipes was prominent. The crew was working feverishly. I suspected they wanted to film as quickly as possible and get out into the fresh air.

  One of the runners on the set was spraying Febreze to no avail.

  Cheryl led me toward the fireplace mantel. “We need a shot with your shoes on. The rest of the scene you can do with the slippers on.”

  “Right,” I said, as Kyle slipped the high heels onto my feet.

  “Don’t move,” he instructed, “or you could fall.”

  He arranged my feet in a ballerina’s pose of third position with one heel snugged up tight into the other foot’s arch.

  “I don’t think I could move if my life depended on it,” I said.

  Ophelia came in with Harris Carlson next to her. She powdered his nose and sprayed his hair, then left without even a sideways glance toward me.

  Cheryl instructed the crew to film me, then when they finished I was able to lose the stilettos while the men were called in.

  Richard and Paul were the first to enter. They were dressed in tuxes and frowned when they saw my bunny slippers. Nathan and Ty followed. Nathan had on a suit with an orange plaid dress shirt and sneakers. He looked surfer dressy/casual with his longish blond hair bouncing as he walked. He flashed me the “hang loose” sign with his hand. Ty had on a baby blue suit with his signature cowboy hat and boots. He gave me a thumbs-up as he took his place next to Nathan.

  Derek came in next, with his cane, and smiled warmly at me.

  Edward and Scott brought up the rear.

  Edward looked sophisticated in a dark suit. He said, “You look gorgeous, Georgia.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “I have a pair just like those at home,” Scott said, as he winked.

  I laughed. “Kind of you to notice. I guess my feet are too big for the petite shoes they have around here.”

  Scott crinkled his nose at me. “Mine are, too,” he confessed. He swung his foot out, clad in a huge dark loafer, to show me.

  We laughed together and I felt my heart soften as I looked into his brown eyes.

  Cheryl clapped her hands. “Save the flirting for the camera!” she instructed.

  Flirting?

  Was I just flirting? And was it that obvious?

  I glanced at Paul: he was scowling at Scott. I guess it had been obvious.

  One of the show runners set up the tray of champagne. There were five flutes. Harris stepped close to me and took the lead as soon as Cheryl gave him the sign.

  “Georgia, as you know, we have seven men remaining and only five champagne flutes to share.” He made a dramatic gesture with his arm to encompass the table with the flutes. “It’s time for you to say good-bye to two bachelors.”

  I nodded.

  Harris reached out and squeezed my elbow. “I know it’s a difficult decision.” His face was composed in such a serious expression that I found it hard not to giggle. “But you’ve had time to consult with your special guest and I know you’ll make the right choice.”

  “I’m ready,” I said, taking a flute in hand. “Ty, will you accept a glass of champagne?”

  Ty strolled over and tipped his cowboy hat. “I surely will, Miss Georgia.”

  He took the flute and then resumed his place next to Nathan.

  One by one I called Paul, Edward, Scott, and Nathan. Each accepted his glass with a smile and then resumed his place in line.

  Harris took a step forward and said, “Richard, Derek, I’m sorry. Please take a moment to say your good-byes.”

  Richard scowled, then stepped forward and shook my hand. “Georgia, I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I . . . I simply don’t know what to say.”

  I’ve left the attorney speechless?

  Doubtful. I was sure he’d have a few choice words to say about me in the camera confessional.

  “I’m sorry, too, Richard. I have to know. Were you on the show looking for love or money?”

  His lips tweaked up, a mocking, condescending smirk on his face. “Georgia, I was looking for love.”

  Richard turned on a heel, then said over his shoulder, “At least now I can get some fresh air.”

  The group of men erupted in knowing chuckles. Then Derek moved closer to me, took my hand, and patted it. “It was a pleasure meeting you. I hope you find everything you’re looking for.”

  “Thank you, Derek. And thank you for your service to our country.”

  I felt awful sending Derek away. After all, he was a war hero, but somehow I knew he wasn’t the one for me and keeping him from home when he’d already done time abroad didn’t feel right.

  He nodded, then said, “And I know you have to ask, and I want you to know that I was here for love.”

  I struggled to catch my breath, feeling worse than I already did.

  “It’s okay,” he said with a shy smile that looked like it was hiding a bit of hurt. “It’s really okay. Good luck.” Derek walked out of the mansion, leaning on his cane.

  Before I had a moment to wallow in what I’d just done, Harris Carlson clapped his hands together. “Well, Georgia, only five men remain. Today you’ve eliminated two contestants who were on the show looking for love. And, as our viewers are aware from our confessional videos of the remaining five contestants, two
are looking for love and three are on the show for the money.”

  The odds were against me.

  I smiled at the remaining men. They were holding their champagne flutes and looking back at me expectantly.

  I held up my flute, eager to finish the scene as the foul smell of the plumbing waste was beginning to choke us. “Well, gentlemen. Thank you for accepting this toast. I have a wonderful date planned for tomorrow.” I felt so ridiculous; not only was I standing in front of the group of men in bunny slippers and a taped-on dress, but the date wasn’t for tomorrow, it was for as soon as we could get changed and out of the house.

  “There will be a group date for three of you and a one-on-one,” Harris Carlson announced. “Unfortunately, that means someone will be left behind.”

  “We’re going to the Santa Monica Pier,” I said.

  Nathan’s eyes grew wide. “Ooh! I think that means I’m invited! I’m mean, I’m just sayin’.”

  Everyone clinked their glasses together, seemingly in as much of a hurry as I was to flee the mansion.

  INT. LIBRARY DAY

  Derek is looking directly at the camera. Behind him are bookshelves and, beside him, his cane is propped up against the small low table with a lamp. He is in his late twenties and wearing jeans and a green striped shirt.

  CHERYL (O.S.)

  So, Derek, are you looking for love or are you looking for money?

  DEREK

  Definitely looking for love. Just got back from Afghanistan. Really teaches you a life lesson that anything can happen at any time. People are here one minute and gone the next. You need to make the most out of life. Nothing really matters except for being with people you love. Sharing your life. After that, you know, having someone to memorialize you and your life and your experiences. What is money? Sure, it facilitates things and make things easier. You can afford a nice car, but does that nice car avoid traffic? No, you gotta sit in the same traffic along with everybody else. Just gotta get through life with somebody that you love and I’m really hoping to find that in . . . in someone soon and I am hoping this will be my time.

  Eighteen

  Even though the sun was high in the sky, it was a windy day in Santa Monica and the sand blowing against my bare shins was getting annoying fast.

  I’d been happy to strip off the ruined dress, but now I was stuffed into a bikini that felt two sizes too small. Kyle had had to get creative with the duct tape, not only to ensure that the top stayed on, but also to make sure that Cheryl got the cleavage shots she was looking for.

  I rubbed at my shins as I waited for the men to arrive.

  Nathan, of course, had been right: He would be on the date today at the beach, along with Paul and Edward. My one-on-one date would be with Scott. I decided that Ty would be left off my date list again, giving Becca a chance to flirt with him.

  The cameras were trained on me and I tried to smile, despite my hair sticking to my lip gloss every time the wind whipped it into my face.

  I could see three men in the distance working their way toward me.

  It was interesting to observe them walking side by side. Nathan was bouncing all around with energy that seemed immeasurable, a surfboard tucked under his arm. He wore blue surfer shorts that were covered in bright pink flowers. Edward, in contrast, was taller than both of the others and had a confident gait, sporting darker shorts with a lightning bolt across one leg. Paul just flat-out looked uptight and angry, his stride short and rapid. He wore a T-shirt with a print of the U.S. flag.

  Nathan was the first to reach me. He flung his surfboard to the sand and swung me around in his arms, the same way he had every time he’d seen me.

  “Hello!” I screamed as he flung me around.

  “I knew you wanted to surf!” he said.

  Paul joined us and kissed me chastely on the cheek. “Hello, Georgia.”

  The scent of his aftershave sent my nervous system into a frenzy as images of our old life together hollowed out my belly. Even though I was dying to grill him about any info he had from LAPD, I separated myself from him and murmured, “Hi, Paul.”

  I turned toward Edward, who wrapped his arms around me, enveloping me in a giant hug. In contrast to what I’d just experienced with Paul, Edward’s touch left me feeling safe and warm.

  “Good to see you again,” he said.

  “Likewise,” I said, watching his face closely, hoping to communicate with him silently. I needed to get him alone as soon as possible. I had to know what he’d wanted to speak with me about the night before.

  “Cut,” Cheryl yelled. “We have what we need on the greetings. Let’s do some shots in the water.”

  We all tramped down toward the surf like obedient children. Everyone except Nathan, who took off at a run. He was in the water, riding a wave, before anyone else could even get to the water’s edge.

  As soon as the water hit my toes I recoiled. “The water is freezing!”

  Edward put an arm around my shoulder. “If you get cold you can snuggle with me.”

  Paul flashed us a mean look.

  I moved closer to Edward, edging my mouth toward his ear. Because we were only in swimsuits and presumably going into the water, none of us were wearing microphones. If I got lucky maybe I could whisper to Edward and ask him what he wanted to talk to me about, but Nathan slid up next to us with his surfboard.

  “Come on, Georgia,” he said. “Give it a try.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. Surfing’s not my thing,” I said.

  “Here, like this.” He put his belly down on the board and paddled out toward the middle of the ocean.

  I laughed and looked at Paul and Edward. “I don’t think there’s any way I can do that.”

  “Cut!” Cheryl screamed.

  We all turned to look at her. An assistant ran up to the three of us with surfboards.

  “We need some good shots here, guys. If we’re not careful we’re going to put our audience to sleep. Step it up!” Cheryl said.

  Paul, Edward, and I tried to paddle toward Nathan but we tipped over multiple times. Water rushed into my ears and nose and salt scratched the back of my throat.

  “I’m impressed with the guy,” Edward admitted.

  “It’s harder than it looks,” Paul said, begrudgingly.

  I didn’t say anything and just paddled toward the beach.

  “Cut!” Cheryl said. “Are you done, Georgia?”

  I grimaced, fearing she was going to yell at me and tell me to get back out there. “I can’t feel any part of my body,” I said. “I’m frozen.”

  Fortunately, before Cheryl could respond, a tech threw a thick polka-dotted beach towel at me.

  Paul and Edward soon followed suit and emerged out of the ocean with their skin covered in goose bumps. The tech gave them towels as well.

  Nathan was still in the distance surfing and hamming it up for the cameras. Paul was talking to the tech who’d handed him the towel. I grabbed Edward’s hand and moved down the beach a bit, decidedly off camera for a moment.

  “What’s going on? What did you need to tell me?” I asked frantically.

  He frowned and looked around; when he saw that we were alone he leaned into me. “It’s about Ty,” he said.

  “What about him?” I asked.

  Edward mumbled, “I don’t think he’s in it for the right reason. I know I shouldn’t be saying this to you because at this point you don’t even know if I’m in it for the right reason, but I just felt . . .” He shrugged.

  “No, it’s okay. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  “I saw him flirting with someone else.”

  Becca.

  I hid my smile and tried to act serious. “So you think he’s on the show for the money?”

  “I know you don’t have any reason to believe me and normally I wouldn’t say anything. It’s just that I’m really starting to fall for you and—”

  My stomach did a mini flop, almost as if I were in the water again and toppling over, only
this time it was pleasant. “You are?” I asked.

  He smiled. “I think you’re amazing and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “Right.”

  “I saw some things last night, before I took off for our one-on-one date, that maybe I shouldn’t have.”

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “I saw him kissing one of the assistant producers on the show.”

  Before I could respond, Paul spotted us talking alone and jogged over to us. “Hey, what’s going on here?” he asked.

  Edward did an uncomfortable shuffle. “Man, that guy’s surfing is incredible. Look at him.”

  Instead of looking in the direction that Edward indicated, Paul studied us a minute. Clearly he didn’t believe that we’d been huddled so close together talking about Nathan’s surfing abilities, amazing as they were.

  Edward seemed to feel guilty about having stolen my time. He made an excuse and walked toward the crew. Paul and I were alone.

  I turned to him. “Do you have any information for me?”

  He looked confused. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Have you heard anything from LAPD?”

  “What? No.” He rolled his shoulders in the way he did when he was hiding something. “What would I hear from them?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. Any news from forensics regarding Pietro’s crime scene?”

  Paul suddenly looked sick. He grabbed my hands. “Georgia, I made a mistake. I was a fool not to show up that day.”

  My heart felt like it was stuck in my throat and I found myself squeezing his hands.

  Was Paul saying he was actually ready this time . . . ready for us?

  “Can we stop this nonsense and go home?” he asked.

  I pulled my hands away from his. “What nonsense?”

  “This stupid show! It’s a charade. Ridiculous! We need to go home and—” He waved a hand around.

  “Go home and what?” I prompted.

  “Get . . . you know . . . get . . .”