by Lauren Rowe
“I’m all yours, Adrian,” I whisper back. I grip his face and kiss him deeply as he comes. He’s the only one I want. The one I’ve wanted for so long. In fact, I can’t imagine wanting anyone else, ever again.
Twenty-Six
Savage
Even before opening my eyes, I sense sunlight on my face. Yawning, I roll onto my side and reach out next to me on the mattress, thinking Laila must have scooted to the edge of the bed in her sleep. But I feel nothing there—not even a warm spot.
I open my eyes. “Laila?” I look toward the bathroom, figuring she’s in there. But when I say her name again, silence answers me. I look at the time to find it’s a few minutes past seven. And that’s Chicago time. Laila’s body clock still thinks she’s in LA. So, what’s a night owl like her doing up so early, with nowhere she needs to be?
Mimi.
The thought hits me like a ton of bricks. Did Sasha knock on our door and I didn’t hear it? Shit. I leap out of bed, quickly brush my teeth, wash my face, and throw on a pair of sweats and a hoodie—fuck, it’s cold in this old house!—and then bolt out of the room. But when I enter Mimi’s room, what I find there makes me exhale from the depths of my soul. Calm. Quiet. Peace. That’s what I find in Mimi’s room, along with Laila holding Mimi’s hand at her bedside.
“Good morning, ladies,” I say brightly, determined not to let my tone betray the near-panic I was feeling a moment ago. As my pulse comes down, I give both women a kiss on their foreheads and begin pulling up a chair next to Laila’s. But when I notice Mimi’s facial expression as I take my seat, I get the distinct impression I’ve interrupted something.
“Oh. Would you two like me to step out while you finish your conversation?”
To my surprise, Mimi nods, while Laila looks sheepish and apologetic.
“Not a problem,” I say quickly. I address the caregiver on duty now—a sweetheart of a woman named Felicia—the one who always relieves Stuart in the early morning hours. “Let me know whenever Mimi is ready for me to come back. I’ll be in my room.”
“Yes, sir.”
My heart thumping, I return to my room and jump in the shower. And that’s where I let myself wallow in the full extent of the dread and pain I’ve been feeling since my conversation with Sasha last night—the one in which my cousin told me Mimi is ready to go. I didn’t want to believe it when Sasha said that, but, just now, I could see it in Mimi’s eyes when she told me to leave. Sasha was right. Mimi would never tell me to leave any room, ever, unless she felt she was saying something urgent and confidential. Which, in this instance, must have been Mimi giving Laila some sort of advice about me.
Finally, after I’ve stayed in the shower for far too long, I get out, dry off, and get dressed. Grabbing my phone off the dresser, I head to my bed, intending to text Kendrick the latest about Mimi. But when I pick up my phone, I’ve got a missed call from Nadine Collins, the executive producer of the show. Damn. What’s she doing up so early in LA, during the break—and why the hell is she calling me?
“Savage!” Nadine says, answering my call. “Thanks for calling.”
“You’re up early on a day off.”
“No rest for the wicked,” she says brightly. “I’ve got a conference call with the entire team in an hour, so I’m getting ready for that. Oh, how’s your grandmother?”
“Hanging in there. Thanks for sending that link. I’m going to watch the show with her today.”
“Wonderful. Enjoy. Listen, Savage, there’s something important I’d like to talk to you about. We’ve got a couple options, in terms of the direction we want to go for the remainder of the season. A few storylines we’re considering. Some of which depend on you.” She pauses. “Can you tell me if you’re planning to earn that bonus with a proposal in the finale? Have you come to a decision on that yet?”
I don’t hesitate, even though I’m not technically required by my contract to give Nadine a firm answer on that, in advance. “I’m not going to propose in the finale,” I reply flatly. And I have no doubt it’s the right decision as I say it. Mimi was the primary reason I was considering doing it. But now that Laila and I have already told Mimi we’re engaged, what would be the point? In fact, I can’t imagine anything more cringey-ass and embarrassing to me than getting down on bended knee in front of my actual girlfriend and fake-proposing to her on a reality TV show.
“Is there any way I can entice you to change your mind about that?” Nadine asks. “Maybe sweeten the pot to get an affirmative commitment from you right now?”
There’s nothing Nadine could say to change my mind, but, still, I figure I’ll hear the woman out. “What do you have in mind, Nadine?”
“What if I told you there’s a jeweler who’s willing to supply a ring to you, in a value up to half a million bucks, in exchange for a sparkling shot of the ring during the proposal and a post on Instagram afterwards by you and Laila. All you have to do is remain ‘engaged’ to Laila for six months after the finale, and the ring is yours. When you and Laila ‘break up,’ you can sell the ring and keep the proceeds! Split them with Laila, if you like, or keep them for yourself. Totally up to you.”
She’s high if she thinks this scenario sounds even remotely attractive to me. “Not interested,” I say simply.
“Okay, then. I’ve got authority to add another quarter mill to the bonus we’ve already put on the table—which brings our offer to a half-million bucks, if only you’ll agree now, in writing, to commit to making the proposal in the finale. All we’d require is that you and Laila continue playing happy couple for six months after the finale, including making daily social media posts, and after that, you two can do whatever you want. Date whoever else. Or ride off into the sunset for real, if that’s how you’re feeling. At which point, you’ll have a ring to keep or sell and half a million bucks.”
Listening to Nadine talk, it dawns on me there’s no amount of money, no dangling carrot, no free diamond ring, that would ever make me fake-propose to Laila. And not because the moment would be cringey-ass, which it would be. But because I love Laila. Because after all the puzzle pieces have finally snapped into place for me, thanks to our amazing conversation last night, a dam has broken inside me and there’s no turning back. I love that girl, with all my heart and soul, and I’m one hundred percent sure of it. And guess what? I’m positive getting down on bended knee, looking up at Laila with a ring in my hand, and saying those sacred words to her, without truly meaning them, will fuck things up for us beyond repair. Maybe not that same day. But down the line.
Likewise, if I get down on bended knee, ring in hand, and ask Laila to be my wife—and actually do mean those sacred words—then blowing that once in a lifetime memory by doing it on reality TV would haunt me for the rest of my days. I don’t know if I want to get married one day. I don’t know if I’m capable of being anyone’s husband. Not even Laila’s. But if I decide to propose to Laila in the future, then I’m going to do it right. And not because Nadine Collins wants me to do it, as some sort of ratings grab.
“I tell you what,” Nadine says, apparently interpreting my silence as a “no.” “We’ll let you tell Laila about the proposal in advance. That’s what’s concerning you the most, right? That you’d propose to Laila and she’d think it’s real—and then, you’d have to tell her the truth afterwards?”
Yet again, Nadine’s words are helping me understand my feelings. Contrary to what Nadine thinks, I’m not worried about Laila thinking my proposal is real. I’m worried about her thinking it’s fake. I’m worried about having to tell Laila, after the fact, “Oh, no, that was really me asking you to marry me.” Obviously, telling Laila about the proposal in advance wouldn’t solve that problem. If I told Laila in advance about my plan to get down on bended knee, Laila would assume the proposal would be fake. And then, wouldn’t she feel at least a little bit disappointed about that, after everything that passed between us last night? On the other hand, if, somehow, I got to the point two months from now where I felt certain I genui
nely wanted to propose to Laila, then I sure as hell wouldn’t tell her that in advance. Not for all the money in the world. So, really, how could a proposal in the finale, real or fake, not end badly for me? “I’m not going to propose to Laila in the finale,” I declare. “Not for any amount of money.”
Nadine doesn’t speak for a long moment, but I can hear her wheels turning over the phone line. Finally, she says, “I was hoping for a different answer from you, Savage. The truth is, in the absence of a confirmed proposal in the finale, we’re going to need to shake things up a bit.”
Goosebumps erupt on my arms and neck. “Shake things up how?”
“You and Laila are going to break up this week. And we’re going to terminate her contract.”
Fucking bitch. Laila was right. “You can’t do that, Nadine.”
“Actually, I can. There’s a buy-out clause in Laila’s contract. And in the absence of a confirmed proposal on the horizon, we’re going to exercise it. We might bring Laila back for the finale. In fact, we hope to do that. But we’ll have to play it by ear and see how the new storyline unfolds.”
“Laila was promised a performance slot in the finale, in her written contract. We relied on that and wrote a song to perform together.”
“I’d be happy to show you Laila’s contract. Invocation of the early-termination clause expressly renders all other promises in the contract null and void. So, technically, if we were to terminate Laila, we’d be released from our promise to give her that performance slot. We’d love to give her that slot, regardless. Which we’d do, if you were to call me, at least two weeks before the finale, and say you’ve ‘gotten back together’ with Laila and now plan to propose to her in the finale. Of course, you could avoid that entire rollercoaster ride by agreeing now, in writing, to propose to Laila in the finale.”
I argue Laila’s case for a while—talking passionately about Laila’s incredible talent and charisma. I talk about how good she is with people, and insist the contestants on her team, as well as the audience, will love her. And as I say that last bit—about the contestants and audience loving Laila—my heart swells and solidifies with my own love for Laila.
But it’s no use. No matter what I say, Nadine has made her decision. She’s hell-bent on getting that proposal out of me, one way or another. Or if not, making people tune in to watch me overcome my supposedly broken heart on national TV.
“Okay, Nadine,” I finally say. “You’ve made an offer to me. Now, let me make one to you. I’ll let you keep a half-mill of my salary, if you’ll promise, right now, to keep Laila on the show for the rest of the season and leave us alone to be happy. In that time, I promise I’ll consider proposing to Laila in the finale. If I do, you wouldn’t need to pay me any bonus. I’d do it for nothing.”
In truth, I won’t be proposing to Laila on reality TV, no matter what. But by then, what could they possibly do to me if I don’t get down on bended knee like they want?
I add, “That’d be a net positive to you of a million bucks, Nadine. You’d keep the bonus you just offered me and keep a half-mill of my salary, too.”
Nadine pauses, which means she’s considering my offer. She says, “Let us keep a million bucks of your salary now, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
I close my eyes. Fuck. “Do you promise to leave Laila and me alone—no more demands for ‘Vintage Savage and Laila’? No attempts to create any kind of love triangle?”
“Ah, Colin told Laila about our offer to him, and Laila told you? I knew he’d run and tell her.”
I press my lips together. My “love triangle” comment was purely hypothetical. I was grasping at straws. But clearly, my instinct about why they hired Colin as Laila’s mentor was correct. Were they planning to create the storyline in the editing room? I’m sure there’s plenty of footage to allow them to stitch together a saucy little narrative. Hugs and smiles between Colin and Laila. Daggers between Colin and me. Not to mention, Laila and I delivered a whole lot of spicy “trouble in paradise” footage on Draft Day.
“Yeah, Laila told me everything about your plans with Colin,” I lie. “And one of my conditions, if I pay you that million bucks, is that you stop chasing any ‘love triangle’ storyline that involves Colin or anyone else.”
“Well, that’s a moot point now, seeing as how he said no.”
No to what? “Yeah, but you guys are geniuses in the editing room. I don’t want you to stitch something together to create even the suggestion that Colin or anyone else has come between Laila and me.”
Nadine sighs. “Look, I’m going to need you to pledge your full salary as collateral, in order to agree to this side deal. If you wind up proposing in the finale, then I’ll release a million back to you. If you don’t propose, then we’ll keep the full two mill.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck! I run a palm down my face, my mind whirring, but quickly decide I’ve got no choice. “Okay, Nadine, but only if you meet three conditions. One, you’ll call Laila within the next twenty minutes to tell her she’s doing a bang-up job on the show, better than your wildest dreams, and you want her to know you’re going to keep her on for the entire season. You’ll say, ‘We’re tearing up that early buy-out clause. We can’t imagine doing the show without you.’”
“Fine.”
“Two, I hope this goes without saying, but Laila and I will be performing our duet in the finale, as planned.”
“Yes.”
“Three, you’ll never tell Laila about this side deal of ours. Ever.”
“Wouldn’t you want Laila to know you’re her knight in shining armor?”
“No. She already feels guilty enough she’s getting half my initial salary. She doesn’t need any reason to feel even guiltier.” I hear footsteps in the hallway, getting closer. “So, do we have a deal or not?”
Nadine sighs. “Yes, we have a deal.”
“Great. I’ve got to go. Don’t forget to make that call to Laila.”
“Will do. Happy holidays.”
“Bye, Nadine.”
The door opens as I’m saying “Nadine,” and Laila steps into the room. As she approaches, I toss my phone onto the nightstand. “Hey, baby. Is Mimi ready to see me now?”
Laila sits on the edge of the bed next to me and takes my hand. “No, Sasha is in there. You were talking to Nadine?”
My heart lurches. “Yeah, she called to wish me happy holidays and tell me how thrilled everyone is with us. Apparently, our ‘fight’ on Draft Day quenched their thirst for drama, and now, they want us to go back to being a happy couple for the entire rest of the season.”
Laila’s jaw drops. “Nadine said that?”
“She did. Oh, and she also said she’s looking forward to our performance in the finale.”
Laila looks flabbergasted. “And I was so positive they were going to fire me during the break! I wasn’t going to tell you this, but when Colin and I were alone in my dressing room, he told me something confidential—something that made me all the more certain my days on the show were numbered.” She tells me her story, which makes my blood boil, and wraps up with, “See? I told you Colin is a good guy. He came straight to me with the information, rather than ambushing me for an easy hundred grand.”
“That was cool of him,” I admit. “I’m a little surprised you didn’t march outside with him, right then and there, and kiss the hell out of him for the cameras, just to get back at me for the Charlie thing. You were so pissed at me.”
She looks shocked. “Adrian, I would never do that to you, no matter how upset I was about the Charlie thing. That would have been way beyond the pale for me to do to you. Plus, why would I do that to myself? Forevermore, I’d have been The Girl Who Cheated on Adrian Savage. God help me if ever I ran into one of your diehard fans on the street after that.”
I pause for a long time, before saying, “I feel like I owe Colin a phone call. If I’m completely honest with myself, I think Colin and I were a bit more than acquaintances when I hooked up with his ex. I see Colin all
the time. We have mutual friends. Colin isn’t like Kendrick or Kai to me, obviously. Not even close. But he was a friend, and I did betray him. But, despite that, when he had the chance to take that bonus, and use you to get back at me, he didn’t do it. He looked out for you, no matter what.”
“And for you, too, indirectly. Even if that wasn’t his motivation, he did save both of us from quite a bit of humiliation.”
“True.” I process everything for a moment, and then ask, “So, what did Mimi say to you? You two looked as thick as thieves.”
Laila smiles. “She just wanted to give me some advice about you. She’s so happy we’re ‘engaged’ and wants to make sure we have a long and happy marriage.” She squeezes my hand and smiles. “But guess what? I already knew pretty much everything Mimi told me about you, all on my own.”
“What’d she tell you?”
“She didn’t phrase it this way, of course. This is my own interpretation. But, basically, she told me you’re a prince who was sadly turned into an unruly beast a long time ago by a mean woman who held a grudge, for no good reason.”
My heart skips a beat.
“Again, that’s not how Mimi put it, but listening to her, I felt like everything she was saying was basically a retelling of Beauty and the Beast.”
“Well, aren’t you clever.”
“I’m a genius.” She grins. “So, did Nadine mention that bonus they’ve offered to you?”
“She did. I told her it’s a non-starter. I’m not going to propose on national TV. Making Mimi happy was the only thing that made me consider it. But now that we’ve told Mimi the deed is done, and Nadine is so happy with you on the show, there’s no reason for me to even think about that.”
“A quarter-million bucks is a lot of money. Especially when you’re giving half your salary to me, and you’ve bought houses for Sasha and Mimi.”
“Please, Laila, don’t feel guilty about the salary thing. You negotiated your share, fair and square.”
