by Leesa Bow
“I didn’t think of that,” she admits.
I pull a face. “If you don’t mind, I’ll stay until after you wrap up and then have a word to him. I’m going to grab some coffee. I could call his mum and ask her if he’s mentioned anything.”
“You have her number?”
“Yeah, in an email. Apparently, Rhett tells her everything, so if something’s up she might know.”
Ingrid nods, then turns her attention back to the dinner table when Kaetrin has a dig at Lucy. I’m not interested in the catfight. I don’t have a vested interest in the girls like Ingrid.
“I’m going to grab some coffee from the trailer, so make sure he takes a walk with Sally.” I unhook my mic and hand it to her. I back away from the bright lights and stroll toward the trailers, where some of the crew sleep, and a conveniently parked coffee cart.
When I’ve put enough distance between Ingrid and myself I let out a long breath. The charade of Rhett and I having a platonic relationship is tougher than I thought.
“Mr Williams,” I call out as I catch Rhett strolling across the grass toward the hotel’s main entrance, “a word please.” It’s after ten and I want to go home, but only after I have a word to Rhett. Ethan appears beside me with a camera on his shoulder. “No. Cut.”
Ingrid looks over at us. I assume she’s getting the inside goss from Sally after her stroll with Rhett.
Rhett halts and stares, unsure. I remove his mic and switch it off. “Walk with me.”
His blue eyes turn soft and tender. “I’m glad you’re here,” he whispers. “Relieved.”
Warmth fills my veins, but I shut out the need to touch him. “I don’t like your attitude toward the ladies,” I say in an abrupt voice, hoping Ingrid will catch my tone. “And don’t give me that look.” I wait until we’re clear of the set. “What are you doing out there?”
Rhett jerks a little. “You mean acting sour like we broke up? I think Ingrid’s buying it.”
“I wasn’t supposed to mean anything. I was another one of your hook-ups, so you should be like ‘whatevs.’”
Rhett grins at me and it makes me even madder. “You know I want to kiss you right now.”
My teeth clench. “This is what I’m talking about. You can’t give anything away.”
“You’re definitely cute when you’re mad.”
I poke him in the chest. “No. No, I’m not. If you blow this you’ll see the ugly side of me.”
“Has to be better than the good side of any of these girls. Christ, I’m over it already. The bitchiness, the fake conversations. The gooey expressions. Why can’t one of them be you?”
“Well, for one I’ll never be on the other side of the camera.” His wish soothes my nerves a little, and I smile. “It’s not for much longer. Do your best to pretend to hate me, because Grant will be expecting it.”
A crease appears between his eyebrows. “Really?”
“Yes. Now what we need to work on is you showing an interest in someone this week. Who appeals to you?”
He scowls. “None.” His gaze darts back towards the hotel.
I lightly touch his arm. “It’s about playing the game,” I say gently. “I know Lucy is extremely fond of you and you seem to get on well with her.”
His brow arches. “You wouldn’t mind if I chose her?”
My cheeks flame. Hell, I didn’t want to think about what happened between them after the show. “Or even shy Emma?” I add quickly.
A smile tugs at Rhett’s lips. “You know I’m a boob man.” His gaze lowers to my chest and he smiles appreciatively. “I could get with Sally, you know, for the show.”
He winks at me, and this time I slap him. “That was from me, not your coach.” Rhett laughs, and the sound sends my insides cartwheeling. “Okay, you should go.”
His smile fades. “Now? You only just got here. Surely we can—”
“No. You need your rest and I have to chat with Ethan and compose something about filming you at different angles, or whatever, as an excuse so I can investigate the hidden cameras.”
“There’s one in the corner of my room and one in the bathroom.”
I laugh. “Good work, Sherlock.” Those cameras are standard in every room.
“Are they really watching me shower? What if I want to—”
“No.” We walk slowly in the direction of the hotel. “Most times it’s over the toilet. If the girls are vomiting, like deliberately, or if anyone’s genuinely sick. That kind of thing. I’ll text you tonight about the cameras. I leave tomorrow to hopefully sign some girls for AniMate, so I won’t get to come here for at least another week. I’ll see you then, okay.” We hold each other’s gaze. I yearn to touch him, kiss him, but I can only convey those feelings through my eyes.
“A week is like a month here,” he whispers.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” I whisper. Like falling for one of the contestants. “Play the game and don’t take any risks.”
He nods. Then his expression changes. “Do me a favour and call my mum. I know she’ll be worrying. Tell her everything is good and that we are together, then she won’t stress so much about the show.”
“You really think it wise? I mean—”
“Yeah, I do. She’s a locked chest at the bottom of the ocean when it comes to that sort of thing. Besides, you’ll make her day, Boss.”
“Really. I could drive out and see her myself,” I say in a high voice.
“You’d do that? For me?”
The shock in his voice softens my heart. “Of course. When I get back, maybe, but I promise I’ll call.” I reconnect his mic, my fingers brushing his clothing, and the slight touch is enough to excite me, especially the way he’s watching me.
I’m slightly nauseous when we reach the main door because I’m already regretting having to leave him. In silence, we walk into the foyer, and I find Jim talking to Ingrid. I stop, and Rhett continues toward the stairs. There are no goodbyes. “Hey,” I whisper to Ingrid. “You might want to get Lucy to be … less obvious, because he’s starting to lean toward Emma.”
Her eyes grow round. “Emma?” I knew she’d be horrified. “She’s boring.”
And she’s one of Paige’s girls. Ding ding.
“I thought you should know.” I nod toward Rhett. “Go have a word with him.”
“Thanks.” She turns to Jim. “I’ll see you in the morning to explain it.”
Ingrid practically runs to catch up with Rhett. She guides him toward the elevator, not the stairs that Rhett prefers to use. I can’t help wondering what it is she wants from Jim. I follow Jim toward a room on the left beyond reception. “Hey, what’s going on?”
“Nothing much. Just need to run this rush tonight, then I’m turning in.”
Rush is what the camera guys call footage because it’s a rush job, and not finalised. “How’s Rhett behaving? Heard on the grapevine he’s giving Ingrid a hard time, not cooperating with her girls.”
He laughs. “She’ll get used to it.”
I don’t miss the sarcasm. Jim and Ingrid had a thing years ago. She broke his heart. Have to admit he looks similar to her boyfriend Brent, except Jim’s dark, army-cut hairstyle is nothing like Brent’s black, unruly hair. Both are tall with olive skin, and come-to-bed, chocolate-brown eyes. I know Ingrid helped to secure Jim’s latest promotion as DP—director of photography.
Jim goes about transferring the rush while I glance around the room at all the cameras. One in the restaurant, one in the foyer, two outside and near the pool. The images flash through the girl’s rooms, and, as I expected, their bathrooms. Sure enough, I witness Sally hunched over the toilet barfing. She stands and wipes her mouth before disappearing from view. “How long has Sally been like this?”
Jim shrugs. “Not my business.”
“Have you told Ingrid?”
“Yeah. Said she’d have a word with her.”
I shake my head. “Well, if she continues you need to let her know.”
“She
watches it every day. Damn never sleeps,” he barks. “Starts throwing orders at me before the sun’s even up.”
My stomach turns, thinking of Ingrid watching Rhett, preying on him. “Are you in one of the trailers? Must be uncomfortable in this weather.”
“Grant says it’s only to sleep. It’s why I stay in here in the cool when I can,” he says dryly.
“Is there anything I can bring you when I visit?” Before Jim answers, I catch the camera shot of Rhett in his room, talking with Ingrid.
I check out the camera angles in relation to the position of his bed.
“Yeah, some Magnum ice-cream.”
“What? Oh yeah sure. Consider it done.” I continue to focus. “Are all the rooms in the hotel wired?”
“Nope. One room on level two near the dining room, and another on the ground floor near the front door. The one near reception. You know there are spare rooms where me and my boys could sleep.”
“Yeah, I know.” I sigh loudly. “It’s all about cost. Probably why Grant didn’t have me here, because he knew I wouldn’t sleep in a trailer. Those fake roses in the hedges are more important.”
Jim chuckles.
I catch a glimpse of Ingrid leaving Rhett’s room. I pull out my phone and send him a text about where the cameras are located, and which rooms are not wired. “Well, I’m outta here.” I wave at Jim.
“Don’t forget those Magnums.”
I give him a thumbs up.
RHETT
The sun is low, slow to rise on the eastern horizon, yet I still feel its warmth on my back as I jog around the perimeter of the hotel. I’m thinking about Contest, and how the show is playing out in my favour. After a weeklong string of secret dates, I’m becoming more comfortable around each of the girls and beginning to enjoy their company. They’re finally showing their true selves and not treating me like I’m a damn trophy. Ingrid has kept most of the squabbling to a minimum, although at meals I sense there’s rivalry between Kaetrin and Lucy. Both are strong willed and competitive, and I get that, since they both have a sporting background. When I heard Kaetrin competed in the Commonwealth Games in a martial art, it blew my mind. I have a new-found respect for her.
Like Ingrid, the other assistant producer Paige is in my ear every day about her girl Emma. Hell, I like Emma. She’s quiet and shy, and possesses the natural flare to appeal to an audience and win Contest. She’s also from a country town not far from mine, so she could be seen as the ideal winner. But there’s something about her, something she’s not telling me. I need Ingrid to dig deeper, and because Emma is not one of her girls, I’m sure she’ll dig up a secret if she’s keeping one. I also get the sense she hasn’t had many guys, so I don’t want to be the one who breaks her heart.
Because I will.
I’m enjoying getting to know these girls on a new level. Each girl brings something different, and I see each in different light than I did during the previous week. Determining who to send home next is difficult. I hate comparing one girl to another. Determining who is more fun to be around will hold the most weight on judgement day. My final decision will come down to who I think will care the least about me and cope best with the split.
Fleur could do with a pick me up after her ex-husband, her high school sweetheart, gambled away all their money on the internet, and she lost her home. She opened up to me about her anxiety attacks, and although, in reality, it wouldn’t bother me—hell, I’d love to help her move on with her life— breaking up with her after she won could do more damage to her self-esteem. And I’m not about to do that to her after all she’s been through.
Sally is fun to be around. She’s young, carefree, and has a killer body. Helps she works in a swimsuit shop on Bondi Beach. Mid-morning, when I’m in the pool working on my fitness, she’s there, every day, parading her curves. I’m not going to lie, she’s easy on the eye. But I’m not interested.
I’m torn about the right thing to do. My instinct is to ignore her advances because of Tori. But I need to act interested, for Tori. It’s so messed up.
Hell, at least none of the girls are from Adelaide. It will make life after the show a little easier, knowing there’ll be less chance I’ll run into them.
Today I’m heading to Melbourne to meet Lucy’s family. Tori’s in Darwin, trying to close on a girl for her next show, and I don’t want to load my uneasy emotions onto her. Especially since she’s excited about the prospect of becoming an assistant producer, depending on this damn promotion in a matter of weeks. Bloody hope all her hard work isn’t for nothing.
After working in a tight-knit environment with Grant, I don’t trust him. I’ve been watching him with Ingrid the past week, and they’re too familiar for my liking. I’ve been getting along with Ingrid, and we seem to enjoy ribbing each other. But she’s different when she’s with Grant. When Tori texts me tonight, I’m going to warn her about their secret little meetings.
A magpie swoops near my head as I jog past some gum trees in the far back corner. Withholding an urge to wave my hand at the bird—because there are cameras everywhere and I don’t want to look like a wimp—I break to a walk, looking back over my shoulder. The buggers friggin’ hurt when they attack. I reach the front lawn and kneel on the grass to complete my 6 am session with two hundred sit-ups and push-ups.
Lying on my back, I’m stretching out my hamstring while admiring the colours of sunrise splashed across the sky. It’s a beautiful day, and hope that’s a good omen for my upcoming flight to Melbourne to meet Lucy’s family.
A long shadow moves over my face. “While it might be early, I want you to know Lucy has been up since four, so the make-up and stylists can have her ready for the flight. I hope you give her the same courtesy and will be ready to leave here in an hour,” Ingrid snaps.
“Won’t take me long. The girls like me the way I am.” I give her a friendly wink.
Ingrid’s fists dig into her hips. “I highly doubt it. You stink.”
I spring to my feet and loom over her. “Then don’t stand so close, unless you want a bear hug.” I swipe sweat from my arms and flick it near her feet.
“You’re gross.” She stalks toward the entrance. “Hurry up and get your arse upstairs.”
I chuckle, knowing I’m rubbing her the wrong way.
She gives me the bird over her shoulder without turning.
“Sir.” I shake Mr Dunbar’s hand. It’s strong and engaging. His green eyes pierce mine, and I can’t help noticing the distrust lurking behind them. I don’t blame him. But I need to get my head in why I’m here because Lucy could become my next serious girlfriend, or—as Ingrid has been pushing—a wife. Pushing that thought out, I step forward to meet Lucy’s two tall brothers, Reece and Con, and shake their hands. “It’s an honour to be here and meet you all.”
Lucy’s brothers have her fair features, with an athletic look about them, while her mother is a brunette and tiny in comparison.
“Take a seat, son,” Mr Dunbar instructs. I sit while Lucy’s mum hands us all a beer. Lucy waves her hand, not wanting to drink. She’s watching her father carefully, cautious.
“I want to make it clear I didn’t approve of Lucy going on the show. It was her girlfriend’s idea and, as stubborn as she is, she wouldn’t back down no matter what I said.”
I nod before turning my attention to Lucy. “I’m glad she did.” I give her an easy smile. “Lucy and I have a strong connection. We get one another.”
“Do you?” His response is harsh. “I mean, how long have you known her? A month?”
“Paul,” Lucy’s mum says gently with a subtle, reprimanding tone.
“It’s fine, Mrs Dunbar. I can answer the question.” I set my gaze back on Mr Dunbar. He is middle-aged, bald, and, when his forehead creases, I see every line with his lack of hair. I clear my throat. “In my opinion, time doesn’t play a significant role in connecting with someone. I’ve met a lot of girls”—I ignore his low moan—“and it’s no secret I have a history of a long line
of female acquaintances, but I assure you, that’s in the past. I’ve made some questionable choices, but I’ve learnt from my mistakes, and want to do the right thing by myself, and by the contestants. Lucy is someone I respect highly, and I won’t do anything to jeopardise that. I really like her”—I glance over to Lucy and smile before my gaze meets his dubious green one—“and believe we could share a future together.”
Fuck. I almost convince myself. Lucy’s eyes are flitting from her father to me, and I surprise myself when I want to comfort her.
“Dad, if you’re going to make a judgement, you should actually watch the show.”
“I have,” he grunts. “This week I saw the one with you two on the boat.”
Ingrid’s voice pipes up in my earpiece, telling me the show is in its third week of airing. She adds, “Say how he must understand how much she means to you after that special date.”
“It was a special night. We learnt a lot about each other,” I say.
Ingrid butts in again. “Grant didn’t edit the tape, and when you two disappeared below deck viewers might believe you two shared the night … together.”
I stiffen, realising what her father might believe. “May I speak to you alone, Sir?”
Mr Dunbar grunts, then nods before leading me outside to a patio deck. I pull up a chair beside him. Ethan stumbles with the camera, and we’re instructed to wait until he positions himself with the right angle before commencing.
“The night on the boat was special. Lucy makes me laugh, and she’s a pleasure to be around. I’m attracted to her physically, and respect her as a lady.” His glare is unsettling, and I damn hope there’s a warmer side to him, especially if I chose Lucy. Then it dawns on me I might not like his reaction to our “breakup,” the one I have already planned. “I’m not sure what you think you saw, but I assure you we slept in separate cabins.”
