The Fabulist

by Dawn L. Chiletz

  “Night, doll.”

  Before I close my eyes, I glance up at Hogan one last time. Please don’t let him be married. I want him. I offer up a silent prayer.

  I DO MY best to appear to have a hangover. When Braveheart enters the dining hall, he stares at me an uncomfortably long time. Carmen reminds me his real name is DJ. No one who’s scared to stand up to a dick like Stuck-Up deserves to be called brave anything.

  After breakfast, just as we’ve gathered outside the closed boardroom doors, Bryce summons our attention. “We’ve had a slight change of plans. Instead of our normal filming routine, today’s challenge will begin at 4:00 P.M. in the dining hall. Please come dressed in your formal attire. It could be a late night, so perhaps a nap this afternoon will be in order. I realize there isn’t much to do around here other than use the gym and drink—”

  There’s a gym?

  “—so if you’re interested, we’ve put together a fun little game of Cheat, or Bullshit as it’s more commonly called, for the risk takers in the meeting room on the eleventh floor.”

  My eyes meet Carmen’s immediately. He had me at fun, but the eleventh floor sealed the deal. If he would have said we were picking up trash on the eleventh floor, I would have happily worn an orange suit just to see it.

  “You’re on your own otherwise, until the real games begin.”

  Brenda nudges me. “Hey, roomie. You going? Card games are right up my alley,” she says, rubbing her palms together.

  “I think I will. Sounds fun.”

  Hogan is nowhere to be seen today. I assume he has the morning off. It’s just as well. I think about him way too much when he’s around. It’s like I can sense him even when I can’t see him.

  Cocoa and Stuck-Up seem to be having a tense discussion by the dining room doors. I wish I could hear what they’re saying. Tex, High-Rise, and Sarge stand with Carmen. Brenda and I are near Bryce. Maria thinks she’s coming down with a cold so she tells us she’s going to take advantage of the nap time. DJ stares at me for a few moments before smiling awkwardly and rushing off to talk to Cocoa and Stuck-Up.

  “Is this everyone who wants to play?”

  “Are you playing too, Bryce?” Carmen asks hopefully.

  “I wish. I’m just taking you up there before I go prep for tonight. Follow me,” he says, waving us toward the elevators.

  “Wait,” Stuck-Up yells. “I’m coming.”

  I roll my eyes. It was almost too good to be true.

  Bryce and two camera operators take the first elevator and the rest of us crowd into the other, with the female camera operator. I want to ask her what the wink was for last night, but there are too many people around. Plus she’s filming. It seems the elevators and the diary room are you’re only shot at getting a camera person to talk to you. At least, that’s been my luck with Hogan. And bathrooms. The thought makes me smile.

  Stuck-Up is staring at me. I turn and glare at him. “What?” I ask boldly.

  The rest of the people in the elevator sigh collectively. I guess they know what’s coming. Have we become so predictable?

  “I was just wondering why you’re so happy this morning, especially after the scene you caused in the bar last night. I hope The Fabulist sees what an embarrassing lush you are.”

  “You’re just jealous because I know how to let loose. It must be hard for you with the chip on your shoulder and bullshit up your ass.”

  “Can y’all save the dog and pony show for a time when we aren’t trapped together? If I wanted to go to the circus, I would have stayed with you clowns downstairs,” Tex says as the doors open on the eleventh floor.

  My anger flies out the window the minute the doors open. No men in suits are waiting for us. Carmen and I shoot each other curious stares. Bryce leads us down the hall to the left into a large conference room. I’m guessing by the marks on the carpet that the original table was removed. A smaller circular table with red velvet chairs is in its place. There’s a small bar area set up to the right with drinks and a larger-than-life popcorn machine. Herman and the other male producer stand in the back corner. I assume they’re waiting for Bryce so they can begin their meeting about the challenge this evening. There is a deck of cards on the table and cameras are positioned at every conceivable angle. I know they like to film us, but this seems a bit excessive for a carefree card game. I wonder how long I need to wait until I can pretend I need to pee and start exploring.

  “Ladies and gentleman, find yourselves a seat,” Bryce begins.

  Stuck-Up and I reach for the same chair and Tex interjects, “Uh-uh, nope. Cowboy, you sit over here and cowgirl, you sit there. I don’t need none of y’all’s bullshit while we play Bullshit.”

  I snicker, even though I’m not sure if being called a cowgirl is derogatory or not. It’s not a phrase you say in New York unless you want to get your ass kicked. Stuck-Up’s eyes are fixed on me. I wonder if my plan is working.

  We take our seats and Bryce says, “Before I leave, I thought I’d make sure you know how to play. Has anyone not played before?

  Carmen shyly raises her hand. “Sorry, Bryce.” She flinches.

  Bryce smiles at her brightly. “No worries. I’m sure everyone could use a refresher. Herman has volunteered to keep score. The object is to have the lowest number at the end of play. In this game we’ll be playing until we reach 200 points. The object is to try to get rid of your high cards first. The cards are played in order, starting with two, then three, and so on. When it’s your turn, you can either call out your cards and place them face down, or pass if you don’t have any. Then you pick from the deck.”

  Bryce squats next to Carmen. Bryce Donahue has earned my complete and total respect. He’s been nothing but kind to her, as well as everyone else. It makes me want to hug him, and I don’t do hugs.

  “Let’s say it’s your turn and you’re on fours. For the sake of argument, let’s say you have two fours. You can place those cards face down on the pile and say ‘two fours.’ Now Ervin may think you’re lying. He may say ‘Bullshit.’ At that time you’re forced to reveal your cards. If you didn’t lie, you’re fine, and Ervin has to pick up the entire pile. But,” he continues, pointing his finger, “let’s say you wanted to get rid of a queen in that turn and you claimed three fours. Ervin might be holding two fours and since there are only four fours in the deck, he might call Bullshit. If you’re lying, then you pick up the pile. Does that make sense?”

  Carmen sighs breathlessly. “Yes.” Her eyes haven’t moved from his face the entire time he’s spoken. I’m pretty sure everyone can tell she’s harboring feelings for him. I wonder if Bryce knows. Sometimes, when you’re on the receiving end of a crush, it’s hard for you to see it even when it’s obvious to everyone else. Especially true for someone without an overbearing ego like Bryce.

  He explains the value of high cards, and I zone out. We used to play in the breakroom at Bingham’s when I was in high school. Made some awesome memories there. I miss my job.

  Bryce finishes explaining and everyone nods in agreement, so I nod too. The person with the lowest score once everyone reaches 200 wins. I wonder if I should purposely lose so I can look around, but as the cards are dealt, starting with Tex, I notice the competitive glare in everyone’s eye. I won’t be outdone at any game. Suddenly I’m in it to win it.

  Watching the way everyone acts while playing provides valuable insights into their character. Tex shifts his eyes from right to left constantly. At first I consider he might be attempting to cheat until I realize it’s a nervous habit.

  Stuck-Up plays cards the way he does everything else. Like an asshole. It gives me great pleasure when he calls Bullshit and is wrong. I want to act like a three-year-old and point, saying neener, neener, neener, but I manage to be an adult instead.

  Sarge shows no emotion and is probably a master poker player. His only tell is a small twitch of his left eye. Brenda is easy. She’s a horrible liar. I think she’s even worse than I am. Because it’s a compe
tition and I want to win, I manage to slide in a well-placed lie or two. I lie rarely and always maintain eye contact regardless if I’m lying or telling the truth. It seems to work for me.

  Carmen doesn’t know what she’s doing the entire game, so she laughs. Her constant merriment makes her hard to read. It works for her.

  High-Rise is another story altogether. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t have any quirks. The only way I can glean anything is by counting his breaths. I read online that a normal person takes sixteen to twenty breaths per minute. Someone who’s lying takes twenty-four to twenty-eight or holds their breath. Counting breaths works for High-Rise when I actually remember to do it. I’m glad I practiced on Carmen before we left.

  At the end of ten rounds, Carmen, Brenda and Stuck-Up are out. They aren’t allowed to leave until the game is complete, according to Herman, which I find odd. I guess he doesn’t want them snooping around. After three more rounds, it’s down to High-Rise and me.

  You bet your booty I count breaths like a madwoman. On his final cards, he claims two tens. Not only do I remember placing a ten earlier, I also count twenty-eight breaths. I take a risk. “Bullshit.”

  He stares at me blankly before he stiffens and turns over a ten and an ace. He angrily picks up the pile. The next card played is a jack. I lay down my final card. “One jack.”

  He stares deeply into my eyes. I grin. He sees my grin as an admission.

  “Bullshit,” he cries.

  I calmly turn over my card. One fricking jack. I win. I fucking win.

  Even though it’s only for fun, I’m thrilled by the victory. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face even if I tried.

  “Great game, cowgirl.” Tex nods.

  “Thanks,” I say as modestly as I can muster, thinking how I need to spend more time with him. I really know nothing about him.

  The double doors reopen and Bryce enters. Herman never left because he was the scorekeeper. I wonder how Bryce knew we were finished.

  “Congratulations, Sam,” he says with a smile. The cameras are trained on me and I wonder why. “If you’ll remember, we mentioned several times that nothing is as it seems. This, like everything else, was a test. And like everything else, there’s a prize for playing well.”

  I wet my lips in anticipation. Carmen is rocking lightly with her mouth open.

  “The prize for this game of lies is to meet the liar himself.”

  I rise from my chair. My heart feels like it might explode. Stuck-Up’s hands fly to the top of his head as he rotates around and kicks an invisible object. Sarge’s head bows low and Tex grumbles softly under his breath. I feel Brenda’s hand on my back and she rubs back and forth. “Good for you, Sam. Good for you.”

  Carmen bounces up and down and squeals lightly, covering her face with her hands. And I stand motionless, attempting to process his words. Did he say I get to meet him?

  “There are a few rules, and this might be strange, but it’s how it has to be. You will meet him in a dark room. You will be blindfolded. When I say dark, I mean pitch black. He will have night vision goggles, so he will see you, but you, I’m afraid, will not see anything.”

  I’m only bummed for half a second. I still get a chance to talk to him. My head is spinning with the possibilities. What should I ask? How long do I have?

  As if reading my mind, he adds, “You’ll have fifteen minutes. You will be filmed with special cameras that can record in dark places, so it will air eventually, but you’re under no obligation to share anything that is said with the other contestants. You cannot ask him about future challenges, but you can ask him anything else. Whether he answers or not will be up to him. Whether he tells the truth or not will be up to him as well.”

  My palms are sweaty. “This way, Sam.” Bryce leads me through the doors. I glance back, and Carmen crosses her fingers.

  Once I’m alone with Bryce and the cameras, I’m fitted with a band that wraps completely around my head. It covers my forehead and most of my nose. I can’t even see my feet. “I’ll tell you when you’re there, Sam. Good luck,” Bryce says. I count steps. Forty-six, left turn, twelve more, then we turn right.

  “I’m going to sit you in a chair. He’s directly across from you.” Bryce pushes gently, and I feel the edge of the chair and slowly sink into it. I hear the doors close. My senses are heightened. It’s cold, really cold in the room. Maybe it’s the temp or maybe it’s my nerves—I’m not sure.

  “Good morning, Samantha.” His English accent is even better in person.

  “Hello. I’m not sure what to call you. Mr. Fabulist, Mr. Fab, The Fab?”

  He laughs lightly. “Whatever you like. I’ve been called much worse. It seems you are quite the card player. I watched you the entire game. Tell me, how did you know Thomas was lying?”

  He watched us? I wonder how often he does that. I wonder if he saw my sex toy adventure the night before. The thought makes me cringe. I need to be more careful. “I counted his breaths.” I told him what I’d read online. “He took way more when he wasn’t telling the truth.”

  “I see,” he says with interest. I sense he’s moving about the room and it makes me uncomfortable. My bearings are off. I can’t tell which direction I’m facing. It’s an odd sensation.

  “Where did you acquire the knowledge?”

  “On the internet. My brother’s a doctor, and he used to practice taking my vitals when he was in med school, so I learned a bit about breathing and blood pressure from him too.”

  “Hmm. So, Samantha. Wait, you prefer Sam, correct?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “You’re impressive and cheeky in an intriguing way. I’ve had my eye on you.”

  I snicker. “Is that a clue? Just one eye? Are you a pirate?”

  He chuckles. “There’s the sarcasm I’ve grown to appreciate. Is there anything else you’d like to ask me, other than whether or not I’m a one-eyed pirate?”

  “I’d like to ask you a lot of things, but how can I know if you’re telling me the truth or not, when I can’t see you?”

  “When one of our senses becomes hindered, the others grow in strength. Listen to the sound of my voice. Hear the changes in tone and inflection. What do you sense right at this moment?”

  There’s a charge to the air. I sense he’s charismatic, one of those people who enters a room and everyone takes notice. I also feel… “You’re close to me, aren’t you?”

  “I’m standing directly in front of you. You have seven more minutes. Use your time wisely.”

  My thoughts stumble over each other. “Was chess your idea or the producers’?”

  “Mine.”

  “Because you play?”

  “I’m always playing.”

  “Tell me about the first challenge. I thought I answered correctly. What did I get wrong?”

  “Let me see. I believe your assessment of the parachute was incorrect. I assume you’ve never jumped out a plane before.”

  “No, have you?”

  “Several times, actually. The velocity at which she would have fallen could not have been slowed by branches. Trees or no trees, she couldn’t have survived. She most likely would have left a crater in the ground and broken every bone in her body.”

  “Damn. And the kids and their lies?”

  “You answered all correctly.”

  “But I didn’t win?”

  I believe he’s moving around me. My body stirs as he moves. I can sense something about him that puts me on edge. He must be powerful to emit energy like that.

  “Your explanations were amusing, but not as direct as I would have liked.”

  “More details then?”

  “More instincts. I want to know what’s going on in that mind of yours. Tell me what makes you tick. Help me understand the way you work. I need to know that the person I hire is not only intelligent but can express their thoughts clearly and concisely. I don’t have the time or patience for long-winded fluff. I want to be gobsmacked, not bored.”

/>   I nod. “That helps.”

  There’s a moment of silence while I collect my thoughts. “The last time I was on the eleventh floor, men in suits wouldn’t let me explore, yet they weren’t there today when we came off the elevators.”

  “Is there a question in there?”

  “Why were they there and where did they go?”

  There’s a pause. It makes me curious. “They were here to keep you off this floor. They’re still here, but we didn’t need them today.”

  “You didn’t tell me anything I don’t already know.”

  “You have two minutes.”

  He’s avoiding something, I can feel it. “What was your favorite TV show as a kid?”

  He laughs and it makes me smile. His laugh is different from anything I’ve ever heard, but it suits him. I think. “I love your laugh, by the way.”

  “Thank you, Sam. I’m quite fond of yours as well. My favorite TV show… I would have to say it was MacGyver.”

  “Interesting. That’s a U.S. show.”

  “Yes, it is. Do I sense a question?” He’s stopped moving. I imagine him leaning against a desk and staring at me.

  “So you’re English?”

  “I am.”

  “But you watched American TV?”

  “Does that surprise you?”

  “Maybe. Why MacGyver?”

  “I was fascinated by the idea that everyday items could be used to solve difficult problems.”

  “Is this your office?”

  “No.”

  “Your bedroom?”

  “No.”

  “Where are you standing?”

  “I’m sitting on a couch directly in front of you. Truth or lie?”

  His voice sounds farther away. And like it floats down. I think of his tone. “Lie.”

  “Very good.” I hear the smile in those words. I like him.

  “I’m afraid your time is up. It’s been a pleasure, Sam. I wish you well.”

  “I hope to see you around. You know, when you’re hiding behind a bush or something.”

  A door closes, and I sense he’s left the room. Another door opens.

  “It’s Bryce. I’m going to ask you to stand and place your arm on my arm. I’ll lead you back to the elevators.”