by Sarah Gagnon
“Vote number two at the end of the competition if you think Monet deserves a chance to be in the final three. The choice is yours…”
I’m too shocked to even cry. What did my mother give up by choosing to have me? How long did she live in wealth with that man? I don’t remember her ever having money. I race through every fact. If he never wanted to meet me or know anything about me, then screw him.
Claire sits down next to me. “Wow, I’m sorry. I didn’t think they could do anything worse than what they did to me. They were really stretching with that one. Digging into your conception files is low.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Yeah, I didn’t read all those papers we signed, either.”
“I mean, I really never knew I had a father. I thought my mom just wanted to have a baby. I’ve never known her to have a permanent relationship with any man.”
Claire stands up and wipes her palms on her jeans. “I’m going to the restaurant for a coffee. Wanna come?”
“No. I need to talk to my mother.”
She nods in understanding and leaves me. Jasmine takes the opportunity to sashay over. “I really enjoyed your episode,” she says, deadpan.
I don’t even bother to respond to her, and after a few seconds she walks away. I sit for a long time on the couch, staring at the blank wall. I eventually make my way back to the room. I hear the phone ringing before I open the door.
I know it’s Mom before I even hit the button. Her tiny 3-D shape materializes. She fades in and out, smoothing her hair over and over again.
“Honey, I didn’t know they were going to show all of that.” She twists her fingers together. “I never wanted you to find out like this.”
“Mom, you have to sit still or the display can’t get a good lock on you.”
“Oh.” She tries to stop fidgeting, but I can still tell how upset she is. “Monet, talk to me. Are you furious?”
Am I? “I’m shocked. I feel like I should’ve known about this.”
“There was just never a good time to tell you. It’s been so long. I hadn’t even thought of that man in years.”
“My father, you mean.”
“That man has never been your father.”
I don’t argue. That point we can agree on. “Why didn’t…” I trail off, not knowing what to ask. I heard the man’s own words. He didn’t want me. He said it on camera. I am not a boy. “Did he ever come to see me?”
“After you were born?” She’s already shaking her head no as she speaks. “I didn’t think he deserved to spend time with you.”
“Did he try?”
“No—honey, I’m so sorry about all of this.” The image of her fades out.
“Mom, you’re moving again. And I’m not mad at you.” Okay, maybe a little, but I can’t stand to see her so upset. “Did you miss him after he left?”
“No, I didn’t. I had you, and after I realized what kind of person he was—I was glad he wasn’t around.”
“But the money?”
“Oh, Monet. There are a million things in this world more important than money.”
I think about disagreeing with her and starting our old argument, but I let it go.
She pauses, smoothing her hair obsessively. “Are we still okay?”
“Yeah, Mom. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Her tone is relieved. I wish I could hug her. “I’ve worried about this for so many years.” The tears in the 3-D image of her are hard to see, but I recognize the gestures. She wipes at her nose and eyes.
I want to get off the phone before she makes me cry, too. “I’ve got to go. But I’ll talk to you soon. They don’t have too many more days of filming.”
She nods and wipes her eyes again, trying to smile for me. “Good luck with Jeremy.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I hit disconnect. I feel like I’ve been run over. I retreat to the bathroom and sit in the tub. I don’t even bother with the lights or water. I just sit.
SIXTEEN
I WAKE UP to pounding on the bathroom door. Ouch. I’m still in the tub and my neck is killing me. I stumble to my feet.
“Are you okay in there? How’s your leg?” That sounds like Jeremy. “Monet, are you dressed?”
Holy shit, that is Jeremy! “I’ll be right out.” I take a quick swig of mouthwash and glance in the mirror. I run my fingers through my hair. There’s a bit of purple bruising under my eye and across my cheek. Not too bad, just makes me look more dramatic. I shrug and open the door.
Jeremy leans against the doorframe, radiating sexiness. “I was afraid I was going to have to barge in on you again.” His eyes widen when he sees my clingy green dress. He blows out a breath, looking me up and down. “Oh, your face.” He brushes my hair back and his fingertips skim the bruise.
I shiver. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. The swelling went away.”
“Shit, and your leg, too.” He kneels at my feet. My legs are bare from the knees down and his face is inches away. “Does it still hurt?” He pokes the edge of the tender, healing skin.
“Only when you poke at it,” I say jokingly.
Shelley Anne sits on her bed, glaring at us.
He glances over at her. “Uh, Shelley was kind enough to let me in.” I bet she was. Probably almost died of happiness until he asked where I was.
Wait. Is Jeremy here because he saw the show? Please, let him not be here because of that. “How was your date?”
“It was good, not much to tell.” He drops his head and shifts against the wall. His jeans hang off his hips perfectly. I’m way too tuned in to his body.
I tip my head slightly in Shelley’s direction because I know she’s listening to our every word.
“You want to get out of here?” he asks.
“Absolutely.”
“Monet, can I speak to you for a second before you leave?” Shelley doesn’t bother to disguise the anger in her voice.
I turn to Jeremy and give him my exasperated dealing-with-Shell eye roll. “Sure, I’ll just be a minute,” I say over my shoulder. Jeremy quirks a half smile and waits by the door.
Shelley walks to the other side of the room and I follow her. “You’re not allowed to go out with him,” she says under her breath.
A laugh bursts out of me. First Jasmine and now her. “Are you serious? You really think you can tell me what to do?”
“We all saw you interrupting Mel’s date this morning, hanging all over Jeremy with your supposed injury.”
Interrupting? Like I chose to get attacked. “What the f—? I was jumped. They cut my leg with razor wire—”
“Monet, is everything okay over there?” Jeremy’s voice has this don’t-mess-with-my-girl tone and my anger melts back a little.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
Shelley grabs my arm. “I’m not kidding. Jasmine already told Eleanor you were cheating. And if you try to leave this room with him tonight, I’m going to report you.” It’s not cheating if it’s not a rule. Unless this was in more of the paperwork I didn’t read.
“Go ahead.” I stride toward Jeremy and let the door slam shut behind us.
We walk down the hall. Jeremy leans his head closer to mine. “You’re beautiful in that dress,” he says under his breath as we approach the elevator. Derek is waiting for us. His arms are crossed, displaying prominent biceps. He still has his half-restrained grin. I wonder what Jeremy has said about me.
Derek nods to Jeremy and then to me. Jeremy claps him on the back. Derek punches his shoulder. Very manly.
Jeremy raises his eyebrows. “What was with the claws back there in the room?”
“Nothing. She tried to tell me I’m not allowed to go anywhere with you. Apparently, I’m cheating.”
Derek chuckles. “Uh-oh, cat fight.”
“Whatever. I can take any of them.”
Jeremy takes a few steps back and holds up his hands. I pretend to punch him and he dodges away, laughing. “I’m serious,” I say.
“Hit me, I can take a p
unch.” Derek tightens his gut.
“You sure?”
“What’s a girl punch going to do to me?”
I whip my fist back and punch from the hip, throwing my body behind it.
“Ouch, shit. Okay. I won’t question you again.” He rubs his belly in pain, and I feel satisfied as the elevator door pings open. It’s then that I realize we’ve been in the elevator longer than usual. We step out into a gray, narrow hallway.
“Where are we?”
“I have a surprise for you,” Jeremy says. “I figured you needed cheering up after getting attacked earlier.”
I think I might cry. I don’t know what to say. I sigh. I don’t have many friends and the idea of being cheered up by anyone other than Mom leaves me awed. The gray hallway stretches out as far as I can see. “Are we underground?”
“Yup.”
“Are we supposed to be down here?” I ask.
“Nope.”
“Where are we going?”
He smiles. “I told you, it’s a surprise. Derek will keep guard so that we don’t get in trouble.”
“Do I have to be blindfolded or something?”
“Do you want to be?” He lowers his voice and raises an eyebrow. I almost trip on my own foot.
“I, uh, if you want me to be.”
His eyes meet mine in question. Then he grips my hand and keeps walking. He’s so seriously sexy. I think this qualifies as a second date. My nerves tingle in anticipation. We pass under a vent blowing warm, moist air onto our heads.
There’s a massive door set in the wall and Jeremy stops in front of the scan pad. Derek comes forward and scans a card that releases the door. He winks at me.
“How’d you get that?” I ask.
“Affectionate kitchen staff,” Derek says.
I shake my head. How much trouble has Derek helped Jeremy get into in the past? Jeremy pushes the door open and I forget everything. Warm air billows out. Derek takes a position outside of the room and I follow Jeremy inside.
Plants climb up mesh cylinders to the ceiling. They’re packed in, hanging with ripe fruit and vegetables. Nutrients and water drip down from tanks along the ceiling. The walls are covered with clumps of healthy lettuce. I know what a hydro garden is, but I’ve never been in one. It’s like another world or a foreign planet.
“Cool, huh?” Jeremy stands in front of me and I’m not sure how long I’ve been staring at the place.
“I love it.” The tanks above my head are a golden yellow like a false sun. Bright grow lights hang from the top of each line of veggies. When I close my eyes the heat radiates through my eyelids and into my limbs.
His fingers lace with mine and he pulls me forward, deeper into the mini jungle. “I thought you might.” He picks a cherry tomato off the vine and holds the little red sphere out to me.
“Won’t they notice if we eat anything?”
“Nah, the restaurant staff come down here to harvest and maintain the space every day. A few tomatoes are no big deal.”
“Did you learn all that from Derek’s reconnaissance?” I bite into the tomato, careful to avoid an explosion of precious juice. So sweet and fresh.
“Maybe,” he says, laughing. “Back here there’s a spot where we can sit.” He leads me down the narrow path to a stack of wooden pallets. There’s a hotel room blanket spread out on top. He shrugs. “I sent Derek down earlier.” Partners in crime.
“You didn’t have to do this for me.”
He tips his head. “Eh, I thought we could both use a break from all the cameras, and I felt so bad when I had to leave you alone with the officer earlier. I should’ve stayed.”
“You didn’t miss much. I gave him a description, but I don’t think he’ll find the guys.” I sneak a tomato off the plant by the pallets and sit down on the blanket.
He sits down next to me. I’m alone-alone with Jeremy. “How is your leg?”
I lift my leg up slightly, and the slinky dress slides up with it. I pull the hem down a bit. “The cut doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“When I saw the blood on your pants…man. I really don’t like seeing you hurt. I wanted to kill those guys.”
My heart pounds. What do I say? “It was probably my own fault for thinking I could circle around the block and walk back to the hotel a different way. I didn’t know anything about the neighborhood. I’m usually not that stupid.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I just wish I’d been with you instead of on that stupid date.”
“I wish you’d been there, too.” He takes my hand in his. “How was your evening date?” I ask. “Do anything exciting?”
“I guess. The studio sent us on one of those sunset hover tours of the city. The area’s nice, cool beaches. Jaime was interesting to talk to, but too forward.” Hmm. So she probably at least kissed him. Comparatively, my date didn’t have much action. I wonder what the viewers will prefer.
I try and smile. “Are the girls what you expected?”
“I don’t know. Every time I think I’ve got women all figured out, something happens to knock me on my ass. It’s hard to really talk on TV. I hesitate a lot, thinking about how my words will be perceived by the audience. These girls are intense with their fascination, but I think it almost blinds them to who I really am.”
“Struck deaf and dumb by your amazing powers of attraction?”
“Ha, ha. I recognize that line. So, you watched the documentary on my face, huh?”
“What dutiful fangirl wouldn’t?”
“Is that what you are, Monet?”
Why do I feel light-headed all of a sudden? “I’ll always be one of your biggest fans.”
He drops his head. What did I do? “I guess I’m hoping to find more than a fan.” He runs his fingers through his hair and the wave flops over his eyes. “In your interview I felt like we already had this connection. I know it sounds stupid. I just, uh, thought you got me.”
“I do. Or at least, I hope I do. But there’s so much depth to your music, I’m sure it would take a long time to truly understand you.”
“I feel the same way about your art. Like all those lines are connected to thoughts that I’m trying to unstring.”
My heart thumps fast and my face is hot. All of a sudden this conversation is too much. Too much hope for my brain to function. I need distance, before I start believing Jeremy and I could have a future.
I take another tomato off the stem and sit back down. “They made us watch the second episode of the show. The one with our date.” I shift around nervously.
“That must have been fun to watch.”
“Not really.”
“Oh?”
“Have you seen any of the episodes yet?”
“No. I think they want me to stay out of the loop so that my reactions are more believable. But who the hell knows with these assholes?” He trails his fingers over the back of my hand and onto my forearm. I can barely remember what I was talking about.
“Yeah, they’re definitely not endearing themselves to me. They did background checks on all of the girls and they expose the results on the show.”
“The ol’ reality TV gets real bit. I can’t believe that still brings in the ratings. So, what did they find out about you? Wait, let me guess.” He’s smiling like he can’t imagine they could ever dig up anything on me. Then he leans away enough to see my face. “I’m betting extremely high scores on all standardized tests and…you once got drunk and puked in a public place…and, oh wait, you’re an artist, so you’ve been picked up for graffiti before. How did I do?”
“I wish that was what they revealed. I have done graffiti, but I’ve never gotten caught, and no drunk puking.”
“What’s the matter? It can’t have been that bad. Do I need to yell for Derek? You’re not a killer, are you?” He nudges my shoulder.
“No, I’m not a killer.”
“Okay, so what was so bad?” he asks.
Jasmine will tell him if I don’t, and that will be much worse. �
��They said my mom wanted a boy, and the in-vitro got messed up. Then they had an interview with my father. He said he never wanted a girl, so he left. I never even knew I had a father.”
Jeremy doesn’t say anything for a long time. “Man, that’s some heavy shit.”
“Surprised the hell out of me. What about your dad?”
“He’s a great guy. Married to some other woman now.”
“Do you get to see your sister a lot?”
“Not as much as I’d like. She’s nine now. Cute kid.”
“You’re so lucky to have a sibling. I really think they should change that stupid law.”
He laughs. “Which one?” He stands up and picks a cluster of grapes from near the ceiling. As he stretches his T-shirt lifts up, flashing a narrow trail of belly hair. So distracting.
Right, laws. “Limiting women to only being able to have one child, but not placing any restrictions on men. Seems like some guys just keep getting divorced and remarried so they can have bigger families.”
“You’d have to be a pretty big stud to convince more than one woman to use her only child pass on you. Especially with the imbalance between the number of men and women. What is it, three men to every one woman?”
I nod in agreement, though thinking about the sperm donor—my father—as being a stud is kind of weird, but I guess he is rich. I realize I’m scowling and try to relax my jaw. “All this family crap is messing with my mood. I don’t mean to be so depressing.” I finger comb my hair back away from my face and he sits back down next to me, offering his grapes.
“Don’t worry, you’re not. And even if you were, that’s okay, too. That’s a lot of crap to be bombarded with just for a TV show.” He looks apologetic, like he might take back being the star of the show if he could. Or maybe that’s just what I would feel like in his place. His hand runs down the center of my back in a comforting gesture. I lean into him.
“Ouch.” I flinch back. He pulls his hand away. Crap. He hit one of my Fluxem sores. Please don’t let it be seeping through my dress.
“Are you okay?”
“Oh, sorry. I think I just have a tender spot on my ribs from where I fell.”
“Do you want me to look at it?” He climbs onto the pallet, looking behind me.
