The Fabulist

by Dawn L. Chiletz

  Bryce rubs his palms together and smiles. “Let’s get to the business at hand. In a moment, I’m going to open these doors. Your nameplate is at your assigned place at the table. Please find your spot and have a seat. There will be time for questions and answers later, so please remain silent until instructed otherwise. These seats will be your permanent positions during the game as long as you remain with us. Remember, nothing is guaranteed from this moment forward. Good luck!”

  Bryce steps away from the doors and they open wide. Metallica’s “Master of Puppets” plays as we enter. The walls are dark red, but the lighting is faint so they appear almost black. The table is shaped in a U. Inside the U is a chessboard. Life-sized pieces surround the table, but they aren’t on the board. I wonder what that means. My mouth drops in awe as I quickly take in everything.

  There’s so much to see. A large movie-type screen is dimly lit at the front of the room. There are a few gasps and a bit of laughter as we move about to find our seats. A fire burns inside me. Shit just got real. This is way more serious and cooler than I ever dreamed possible. I don’t want to leave. Ever.

  I roll my eyes and sigh as it becomes clear I’ve been placed next to Stuck-Up. I shouldn’t be surprised. Carmen is to his left. Christ, if he’s mean to her, I’ll eat him alive. I suppose that’s why they did it.

  We sit and the music fades. I think it’s awesome they chose Metallica’s music. It’s different from the themes on most other shows. It’s edgy and I like it.

  Bryce takes his place at the front of the room. He stares directly into Hogan’s camera. “Welcome to The Fabulist. I’m your host and master of ceremonies, Bryce Donahue. It’s a dark and oddly chilly night here in L.A. at the newly restored Highlight Hotel. This is a different type of show. Anything is possible and nothing is ever the way it appears. You might be wondering what, or should I say who, is The Fabulist.”

  I inch to the edge of my seat. It’s a question I’ve been dying to know the answer to forever.

  “The Fabulist is a mutli-million dollar business owner who conducts transactions in the U.S. and abroad. While there are things I can reveal about him, there are many more I can’t or won’t until the last episode, when all will be revealed, including his mysterious identity.”

  Bryce walks around the room and stops when he gets to the pawn statue. I think it’s a pawn at least. I never did understand chess.

  “First, what is a fabulist? A Fabulist, in essence, is a liar. Someone who creates tales and stories meant to amaze and cause considerable uncertainty both for the viewer at home, as well as the contestants who’ve been carefully selected based on their skillful ability at finding the truth.” Bryce rests an arm on the pawn. “But why? Why go to this extreme? What’s the goal? Although we can’t reveal his identity, that doesn’t mean you won’t get to see him, or hear it from the horse’s mouth, as you might say. Let’s meet the man who’s our reason for being here. I give you… The Fabulist…”

  Hogan continues to film Bryce as the lights in the room rotate away from the movie screen, which suddenly comes to life. I make out the outline of a man, and the color of his suit, but his face, even his hands—every part of visible skin, is darkened. I feel a lump in my throat. This could be my boss.

  “Thank you, Bryce. Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.” His voice is airy and… British? Or is it called English? Either way, wow.

  “It might seem odd, but this is for your protection as well as mine. You see, I dabble in an uncertain environment. This business leads me to work with strange and possibly dangerous people all over the world. Individuals who attempt to cross me at every turn. What I require is a shrewd mind and an instinct for reading bounders, eh… liars. That’s where you come in. In a few moments, you, the viewing audience, will meet some of the most brilliant minds in the history of television. Don’t underestimate them. Some of them are not who they appear to be. Although we’ve never been properly introduced, to those of you in the boardroom, know that one of you will work for me when the show ends, gaining the $100,000 signing bonus and a position that will, no doubt, be as exciting as the game itself. I know the producers call you contestants, but to me you are players. My future employees, if you will. I’ve been watching you from the shadows. I feel as if I might know you even though you don’t know me. I like what I see.”

  My eyes are glued to the screen. I keep hoping maybe he’ll lift a hand or scratch his arm, but he hasn’t moved once.

  “This is my boardroom. I admit I like extravagant things. I especially adore the game of chess. Chess is a game of skill. It requires anticipating your opponent’s next move and often, the calculation of a sequence of moves. After a challenge, one or more of the lowest scoring players may be removed from the board, and in the end the audience at home will have a chance to vote for the winner.

  “In chess, a player who cheats or disregards the rules may forfeit the game. However, in this game, I don’t care how you get your spot, as long as you don’t get caught. All is fair in love and business. Like all good negotiators, I know when to lie. I suspect you do as well. I appreciate mystery and suspense. I excel at the art of surprise. Don’t underestimate me. Don’t assume I’m not listening. Don’t assume I won’t know your move before you make it. And most importantly, don’t assume I’m telling the truth. I have my reasons for everything I do. You’ll know them soon enough. After all, I am The Fabulist.”

  What the hell? So do I follow the rules or not? He’s confusing as fuck.

  The screen goes dark and he’s gone. Bryce is now standing next to a king. “It’s time to meet the players.” Bryce moves to stand next to Granola. “Let’s start by telling the other players your name and something we should know about you.” He motions toward Granola to begin. I’ve never been so happy to not be first in my life.

  “My name is Finola Hawthorne. I was a buyer at a manufacturing facility until a scandal forced me into early retirement. I’m not ready to retire. Age before beauty. Don’t think older equals weaker.”

  What? A scandal? I glance at Braveheart, who looks disappointed. I’m guessing he thinks I should have found that out about her.

  The camera moves to the man next to Granola. “My name is Andrew Ackerman. I’m married and a father of five. One of my children has a limiting disability. I’ll do just about anything to provide for my family and give them the life they deserve.”

  Andrew just became Five to me.

  “My name is Brenda Meyer. I’m a senior sales consultant for a direct sales company. I run my personal business out of my home and conduct at-home parties. Let’s just say I sell things to make your bedroom more fun.” She ends with a cackle. Dear lord, I bet she sells sex toys.

  “My name is DJ Taylor.” Braveheart is using his surfer voice. Fascinating. “I’m from Arizona and I own a skateboard company. I like to keep it real. Peace out.”

  He waves the peace sign as the camera pans to the next person. I can’t help but snicker. Shit, they’re coming closer to me. What am I going to say? I don’t want anyone to know anything about me, do I? Is this for the viewers or for the other players? Am I trying to be liked or hated? Cocoa is next.

  “My name is Courtney Davis. I’ve modeled for several well-known lingerie companies and have been on runways all over the world. You may have recently seen me on a long-running soap opera. I love to act. It’s what I do best. I may even be acting right now.”

  I’m after the next guy. What am I going to say?

  “I’m Ervin Jennings. I played baseball for a minor league team until an injury to my pitching arm forced me to rethink my career goals. I’m currently a sergeant for the Los Angeles Police Department. It’s not an easy job to say the least. I’m definitely ready for something bigger and better.”

  Sergeant. He’s Sarge.

  I take a deep breath as the camera pans to me. I still don’t know what to say. Guess I’ll wing it. “My name is Sam Wittaker. I speak my mind and I really don’t care if you like it or not. I
worked in retail for a really long time. I’ve heard it all and there isn’t much that surprises me. All you need to know is that I plan on winning, and I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  I’m glad that’s over.

  “My name is Carter Walsh. I graduated with honors from Harvard University with a degree in Finance. I’m not afraid to cut the crap. I can tell you that a bunch of people you’ve already met are fakes and scammers and not worth your time. I’ll be the one you want to watch. Just try not to fall in love.”

  I can’t help but lean back in my chair and shake my head. What a pompous asshole.

  “Hi. My name is Carmen Moran. I’m twenty-eight years old. I have a cat named Boris and I love reality TV. I watch all the shows. I mean all of them. Everyone here is so talented and smart. It’s even better than I thought it would be”—Carmen holds her hand up to the side of her face, as if confiding a secret—“and I really thought it would be amazing.” She smiles brightly and bounces in her seat. “I am a wedding and event planner. I love to make people smile. Am I talking too much? I sometimes do that. Anyway, hi!”

  I’m so proud of her. She’s being her wonderful self. How can the audience not love her? As the camera rolls to Tex, I hear Stuck-Up murmur, “Oh, for the love of God,” under his breath as he stares at Carmen. I dig my heel into his foot and he curls in pain. Raising my hand to my lips, I mouth “Oops” with a smile.

  He mouths back “You bitch.” He’s lucky I can’t speak or I would have a few words for him.

  I ignore him and focus on Tex. Hogan’s movement catches my eye and I notice him smirk. I wonder what he’s smiling about.

  “My name is George Sheldon. I’m a contract negotiator from Houston, Texas. Not much you really need to know about me. I mean what I say and I say what I mean. This ain’t my first rodeo, folks. Let’s just say the way it seems from where I’m sitting, I’m the head bull rider in a pen full of clowns. They may sing and dance to get the bull’s attention, but when it comes down to it, they’re just a distraction to the main event.”

  He might have an ego almost as big as Stuck-Up. I remember Braveheart’s words: He thinks he knows everything. I’m guessing it might be his downfall. He may have pegged Tex perfectly. He’s one to be careful around for sure.

  “My name is Maria Santos. I own a restaurant in Arizona. I’ve had to deal with my fair share of know-it-alls and bullies in my time. Say what you will, actions speak louder than words.”

  She’s a small woman, but I bet she could take half the men in this room. I’m guessing that comment was aimed at Tex, but who knows? I think I’ll call her Mighty. Mighty Maria has a nice ring to it. Maybe I can actually remember her name.

  “My name is Thomas Moore. I work at a building housing over 400 companies in downtown Manhattan. I’m more of an inside man. I see and hear the things no one wants anyone to see or hear. I’m often underestimated, but that suits me just fine. Sometimes the pawn ends up taking down the king when no one is looking.”

  The camera ends with Bryce. “One of these people will be the winner. One of these people will see through the lies to find the truth. Who’s you’re favorite? Tell us your thoughts online at our website. We want to hear from you! Stay tuned for more twists and turns on the show where nothing is what it seems.” He points to the camera. “We’ll be right back.”

  “And cut.”

  “Great job, everyone!” Herman announces through speakers overhead. “How about we break for dinner? We’ll start back up first thing tomorrow.”

  Bryce pipes up. “What about the rooms?”

  “Oh, you’re right. Let’s have dinner and meet back here in, say, an hour to explain the rest.”

  Everyone stands and after a stretch, we move as a group to follow Bryce to the dining area. There are ten tables. We could almost each have our own.

  Bryce turns. “No assigned seats. Just remember anything you say can and may be filmed. If anyone would like to use the diary room, you may do so at any time between now and filming, then again after room assignments. Enjoy your meal. We’ll expect everyone back in the boardroom at 8:00 P.M. promptly.”

  Carmen and I take a table farther back. Mighty Maria seems to be glancing around for a place to sit, so I wave to her. She smiles and approaches.

  “Want to join us?” I ask.

  “I’d love to.”

  As she sits, Carmen seems to be ready to burst. She can no longer contain herself. “That was a-maz-ing. Oh my gosh, is he from England? His voice was like butter. I love accents. What did you think? It’s going to be hard to talk in front of the cameras all the time. I hope we don’t have to talk about ourselves every show. Sheesh.” She wipes her forehead. “I think I just sweat off five pounds.”

  Mighty smiles uncomfortably.

  I add, “There seems to be an overabundance of testosterone in the room.”

  “I’ll agree with that.” Mighty picks up her water glass and takes a sip.

  “Mind if I join you ladies?” Granola asks.

  I motion for her to sit. “The more the merrier.”

  I take a moment to peek around the room. Cocoa is sitting with Stuck-Up, Tex, and Five. She seems to prefer the company of men. High-Rise and BM are at another table, and Sarge is seated with Braveheart at another.

  Mighty turns to Granola. “Will we ever hear about this scandal you mentioned?”

  I’m secretly glad she asked before I had a chance to.

  “I suppose I’ll tell you at some point, but I think I’ll hold on to that card until I know you all a little better.”

  Chef Nowar enters the room, along with steaming plates that are delivered to our tables. He describes the appetizer as we eat, then the main course. I notice some people are chatting while he’s explaining his preparation. Apparently Tex and Stuck-Up think it’s okay to be rude.

  “Tonight I have prepared a citrus-soy glazed salmon. I assure you the fish is fresh, locally sourced, dry-rubbed with my own organic spices, and grilled and nurtured with freshly squeezed citrus and homemade soy sauce. It’s topped with sesame cucumbers and paired with a side of Israeli Couscous. This is one of the few seafood dishes I make quite often. It can be difficult to prepare fish or even shellfish for a large group since many people are often allergic. But I enjoy cooking fresh fish. I hope you enjoy it as well.”

  After dinner and small talk, my table returns to the boardroom. We’re early. I notice Tex is chatting with Bryce. They’re in close proximity and Tex has a serious expression. Bryce appears concerned. Carmen wanders toward Bryce, pretending she doesn’t see him. I smile as I watch her. When Tex senses her proximity, he exits the conversation and heads over to his seat. He doesn’t like to share, apparently.

  “Oh, hi, Bryce. I hope my answer wasn’t too long earlier. Sometimes I don’t know when to stop talking.”

  He grins and runs his fingers through his hair. She takes a deep breath. “There are no wrong answers. You can say anything and everything you want to say.”

  “Unless I’m talking so long there won’t be time for a commercial or something.”

  “True. Maybe I’ll have to create a signal for you. Pat my head?”

  “Tug your ear?”

  “Something like that.”

  “I know you’re busy. I just wanted to say hi.”

  “Thanks, Carmen. You can say hi anytime you’d like. Let me know if you need anything.”

  She smiles shyly as she wanders back to her seat. She sees me staring at her; her mouth drops open and her eyebrows shoot up. Only I can see her reaction, but as I gaze past her, I notice Hogan observing us. He’s chewing on a toothpick again and flipping switches on his camera. I haven’t really spoken to him and he’s staring at me as if he wants to talk. I stand and make my way to him.

  “Do you have something to say to me?” I ask.

  He cracks his knuckles. “Should I?”

  “No, I thought I read the way you were studying me to mean you wanted to talk.”

  “Nope. Just takin
g the time to pay attention to all the beautiful things in the room.” He shifts his toothpick from the left to the right without using his hands.

  “I see. So then you must have noticed the chandeliers?”

  “Definitely.” He smirks.

  “The chess pieces are quite lovely.”

  “They really are.”

  “And then there’s Cocoa.”

  He shakes his head. “Why do you call her that? Is that a Chanel reference?”

  “No, it’s because of her hair color. I was going to call her Tits, since she seems to like showing them off, but I guess there’s no harm in flaunting what God gave you. She looks like she should be a Cocoa.” I glance back at her as she laughs at something Stuck-Up has said. “Plus it’s a good cat name. She reminds me of a cat. Just not one I’d like.”

  “Hmm. Should I ask why you called me Hulk? Was that a reference to the Hogan?”

  “I suppose it could have been, but it was more because of the bulging muscles in your arms.”

  He pulls the toothpick out of his teeth. “I might be a bit obsessed with push-ups.”

  “Nothing wrong with that. We all like to notice beautiful things.” I wink before I saunter back to my seat. I wonder if he’s watching me swing my hips, so I glance over my shoulder to see the toothpick has returned to his mouth and he’s definitely engaged, maybe even curious. That’s exactly what I want. Keep him guessing. I feel fairly confident I handled him much better this time. I can flirt with the best of them. Anyway, it’s all just a game. Every single bit of it.

  “AND WE’RE BACK,” Bryce explains as he stands at the front of the room. Hogan is standing with his back to me, his camera resting on his shoulder. I’m finding it difficult not to stare at his amazing ass. Most of the female eyes, with the exception of Granola, are taking in the view as well.