by Hart, Cary
“Yup! This time, I mean dicks!” I shout.
“Whoa there, Clover! Getting a little too excited there, don’t you think?” Mal tries to calm me down, but when you’re as sexually deprived as I’ve been, excitement is an understatement.
“Guys! I have never had an orgasm. I think this calls for a party.” I purse my lips for a moment, trying to decide how I want to deliver the news.
“Well, you did tell over thirty million listeners you wanted to become a whore…so, that’s one way to kick the party off,” CJ says, downing her glass of Pinot. “Do you need to be topped off?”
“I’m good.” Mal covers her glass. “Plus, I have to wake up early tomorrow.”
“Not yet!” I take a sip. “I just want to finish this story.”
“Okay, tell us how you went from whore to your very own dating show.” CJ flips around and is now lying on the floor making herself comfortable.
“I’m going to skip over how pissed I was at Austin and right to where Owen walked in.”
“Owen Decker, the producer?” Mal sits up a little straighter. “He’s kind of hot, but also extremely annoying.”
“She’s just salty because she asked him out and he said no,” CJ says, spilling the beans.
“I didn’t ask him out,” Mal huffs. “I asked him if he wanted to try this new coffee place.”
“Which is a date with your big brother’s friend and coworker,” CJ defends.
“We were all in the studio talking about coffee. I thought…” Mal’s cheeks burn red with embarrassment. “I was being nice, and he was a dick about it.”
“So, let me get this straight, you don’t like Owen? Because he is pretty hot.” I turn to CJ, and ask, “What is he? Six foot three, maybe four, and has the most incredible brown eyes with flecks of gold?”
“So dreamy.” CJ falls back, holding her chest, then shoots right back up. “But let’s talk about his body!”
“Enough!” Mal stands.
“What, Mal? Getting a little jealous?” CJ teases as I watch on.
“No! I was just refilling my glass.” She quickly refills her wine and sits back down. “But let’s get back to the story.”
“So, Owen…” I glance over at Mal, who’s casually sitting there sipping her wine. “He came storming into the office raving about my outburst. Said this was the perfect scenario for a rantings boost.”
“Porn?” CJ crinkles her forehead.
“Nooo, but apparently during that short segment, there were over five hundred people who either called in, emailed, tweeted, or whatever about me. They wanted to meet Unlucky in Love.”
“You do realize it’s because you basically said your lady bits were open for business.” CJ cackles, while Mal whispers, “You whore.”
“You a whore. A whore. A whore. You a whore.” Kramer clacks while bouncing up and down on his perch.
CJ dies laughing.
“Shit!” Mal spits out her wine and quickly wipes it up.
“Kramer!” I stand and rush over to his cage. “I’m not a whore!”
“You a whore. A whore.”
“Shhh! You’re hurting momma’s feelings.”
“Your bird just called you a whore!” CJ cries.
“Stop being a bitch,” I snap back.
“You bitches. You all bitches. You bitches,” Kramer repeats.
“Look what you did.” I pull the cover out from under his cage and slide it over the frame. “Time for bed, Kramer. See you tomorrow.”
Maybe this was a bad idea. I just wanted to come home, play with my bird, and unpack—not sit here and get made fun of by my friends and ridiculed by Kramer. Geesh.
“Holy cow that worked.” CJ stands, then lets out a big yawn before she sits down by Mal.
“Guys, basically the whole point to all of this,” I begin pacing the floor, “minus the bird, is I’m going to have my very own Hotline Hookup dating show.”
“How will they make sure to keep the creepers away, because if they so much as—” CJ cracks her knuckles.
“We worked it out,” I cut in. “No need to be worried.”
“Austin would never let anything happen to you. Honestly, I’m surprised he let this happen. Are you sure he’s okay with it?” Mal questions.
“He didn’t have a choice. This was my decision and one I’m happy I made.” I smile, proud I’m taking a leap for once. I’m just hoping it’s in the right direction.
“Okay—” CJ scoots over and pats the seat between them. “Come over here and explain to us how this is going to work and what roles we will have to play.”
“I thought you would never ask.” I work my way through the living room and plop down between my two friends. “I stayed late to record an interview with Austin, and after they shuffle through the mess and find the serious inquiries, they will background check fifty men for a speed-dating round.”
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Mal speaks up, shocking both CJ and myself. “I mean, it seems cool. Plus, you can tell a lot about a guy in a couple minutes. Everything you need to know.”
“How about you both come with me? Obviously, I’m not the best judge of character.”
“Okay, then what?” CJ pats me on the leg. “Keep going.”
“Then I’ll pick four guys to go on one-on-one dates with.”
“Alone?” Mal seems concerned while CJ waves her off.
“Sort of. Austin insisted I get picked up and dropped off from the studio, and since I wouldn’t let a chaperone come along, I take the company driver. That way if I need to leave, I can.”
“That’s my brother. Always over protective.” The corner of Mal’s lips turn up.
“Whatever. It protects the company’s ass,” CJ interjects. “Let’s skip all the nonsense and tell me when you’re going to get laid.”
“It’s my choice. I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do, but if I do decide to go back to their place, I have to phone in to the studio and let them know.”
“And this is where we come in.” CJ stands and pulls Mal up. “Clover Kelley, we hereby declare us to be your sextistants.”
“My what?”
“Your sex-tist-ants! Think of us like your tour guide to the perfect O. We will make sure this body,” CJ pulls me up and twirls me around, “is waxed, plucked, and polished to perfection.”
“Yeah, what she said.” Mal gets a wicked grin. “Oh, and I have the perfect place to get you sexified.”
“I’m thinking leather.” CJ pretends to crack a whip.
“I was thinking lace. Ooh-la-la.” Mal twirls a piece of my hair.
“Um—” I stand there, unsure of what to say or do and totally out of my element.
I just hope sexing me doesn’t screw things up.
CHAPTER 8
AUSTIN
“You heard her rant, you listened to her interview, now we are looking for the most eligible bachelors in New York City. Guys, Unlucky in Love is looking for her very own four-leaf clover! If this is you or someone you know, head on over to our website www.hotlinehookup.com and fill out the application and maybe you’ll find yourself getting lucky.” I repeat the words that Owen and I agreed on—for the most part—then continue with my very own little PSA. After all, it’s my show, my rules. “All individuals who enter agree Clover will only be treated with the utmost respect, like the lady she is.” I continue to ramble like I’m one of the voice-overs in a new drug commercial. “If anyone so much as lays a hand or even thinks about laying a hand on her, Uncle Tony will take you down to the butcher shop and serve you as their daily special. Have fun and good luck.”
“What the fuck, man?” Owen bursts through the door as soon as the light goes off. “Are you trying to end this promo before it even starts?”
“You’re setting her up to fucking fail. You know that, right? These men—no, vultures—don’t care what that interview said. They are predators preying upon the girl who blurted out she wanted to be a whore on the fucking number one talk s
how in America.”
“Number two,” Owen correct. “Remember, that’s why we’re doing this.”
“I could care less. These ratings teeter back and forth.” I stand and gather my things. “Our only competition is two crazy guys who just so happen to make news funny. Come on, Owen, what’s the big deal? I don’t see their bald heads on buses. I see this.” I circle my face. “This is our money maker, not getting Clover laid.”
“Arrogant asshole,” Owen mumbles.
“I heard that.” I try to walk past him, but the fucker grabs my arm.
“I meant for you to. Listen, Austin, I won’t let anything happen to her, but you know as well as I do we need to hold the top spot to keep your face on those buses.”
He’s right. We haven’t had a problem holding the spot, but with everything that’s going on in the world, these guys have tons of material to work with. Killing it daily. People want humor, they want to laugh. I also know with long-running dating shows like The Bachelor and The Bachelorette, viewers want the perfect fairy tale. Who cares if it’s the network controlling their every move? They want the illusion.
“I know.” I pull away and walk out the door. “It’s why I agreed to this.”
“You know!” Owen calls after me. “It doesn’t matter how closely you orchestrate this, Clover is a big girl who will make her own decisions in the end.”
“Goodbye, Owen.” I raise my hand in a one-finger salute, not bothering to look back.
I’m not sure why I’m bothered by all of this. Maybe it’s because I feel responsible for her misery in the first place. She asked me what I thought of Jeffery, and I told her I thought he was a cool dude. Why? Because I’m a fucking asshole who was more worried about banging the student teacher than telling my friend her new boyfriend sucked ass. In my defense, I thought I had time. How was I supposed to know that night was the night? After that happened, it was damned if I do, damned if I don’t. So, I chose the don’t and made sure she was protected from afar. Well, for the most part. I had no way of knowing he was sleeping with Angel.
“Good evening, sir.” Thomas startles me, freeing me from my guilt trip.
“It will be.” I wink, clap my driver on the shoulder, and climb in.
“Are plans still a go?”
“They are, Thomas. Thank you.” I pull out my phone to see if Sexy Sierra has sent any more pics.
None.
“Very well.” Thomas closes the door, rounds the vehicle, and gets in. “We shall arrive at your destination in twenty minutes.”
I just nod. It’s all I have in me. I’m going to need every single one of those minutes to switch gears. Everything that’s happened in the last thirty-six hours was totally unexpected. From Clover walking off the elevator, to seeing her naked, to her deciding to be a whore, to prostituting her out to gain ratings. It’s been a lot to take in.
“Fuck.” I run my hands over my face.
“Everything okay, sir?” Thomas eyes me from the rearview mirror.
“Yeah, long day.”
Just as I’m about to text Sierra to let her know I’ll be there soon, my phone buzzes with a text from Clover.
Clover: Black or red?
Me: Are you taking one of those magazine quizzes again?
Clover: Jeez, Austin. I’m not in high school anymore.
Me: Fine. Black.
Clover: Thanks.
Clover: Short or long?
Me: Liar! It’s a Buzzfeed quiz.
Clover: LOL Nope. Just answer the question.
Me: This one is difficult. Are we talking hair or dress?
Clover: Does it matter?
Hell yes, it matters. I love long hair and short dresses, but she doesn’t give me time to answer.
Clover: Fine. Dress.
Me: Short.
Me: What is this for?
Clover doesn’t answer me for what seems like forever, but in reality, it’s probably only been a minute.
Clover: Just a couple more questions. I’ll make it quick. I promise.
Clover: Pinky promise.
I chuckle at the text. If Clover Kelley pinky promises, she means every word she’s saying.
Me: You still didn’t answer me.
Clover: Hold your horses.
Clover: Okay, leather or lace?
What the hell?
I quickly dial Clover’s number, but she sends me to voicemail.
Me: Did you just VM me?
Clover: Answer the question.
Clover: This one is tricky. Thong? Boy shorts? Commando?
No! Just no!
I dial her number, and she finally answers, “Hey, Austin?”
“What the fuck, Clover? Care to tell me what this quiz is really about?” I bite back.
“Seriously? You’re getting mad at me for asking you a few questions?” Clover lowers her voice.
“Is someone there? Do you have a guy in the apartment?” I find myself suddenly getting…what? Jealous? Angry? Hell, I don’t know what I’m getting, but I’m pretty sure I’m irritated as fuck. “I honestly didn’t think you were taking the whore role seriously.” I say the words, instantly regretting them. “Listen, I’m—”
“Fuck you, Austin. CJ and your sister are here giving me advice on what I should and shouldn’t wear. One is saying leather, the other lace, and honestly, I thought why not get your advice since you are a gorgeous guy who sleeps with a lot of women. I thought maybe you could tell me what men find attractive so maybe I won’t feel like a total reject on my dates.” Clover’s voice falters toward the end which means only one thing: I made her cry.
“Clover, I’m sorry. This whole Hotline Hookup thing you’re doing is fucking with my head,” I admit.
“It is?” She sniffles.
“Yeah, Clo, it is. You’re like a sister to me and my gut instinct says to protect.”
“Oh.” She sighs.
“I know this is going to sound totally lame, but it’s not about what you’re wearing, it’s how you project yourself while wearing it. So, find something that makes you comfortable and confident. If that’s a thong, so be it, but I’m pegging you for a soft pink shelf bra and matching sheer boy shorts kind of girl.”
Why me, God? Why?
Not only have I seen her naked, I just described what lingerie I thought she should wear, but I’m a guy, who’s horny, and now I’ve pictured that lingerie on the naked body I’ve been trying to get out of mind.
Like a sister? Yeah, right!
“Thanks, Austin!”
“Gettin’ kinky wit it,” CJ and Mal sing in the background, and Clover gasps. “Na-na-na-na-na-na-nana. Clover’s gettin’ kinky wit it.”
“What’s that noise?” I hear a buzzing in the background. “Is that?”
“Um…hey—I’ve got to go.” Clover giggles, telling them to stop before she ends the call.
“Well, that was fucked up,” I say out loud, throwing my phone in the seat.
“Excuse me, sir?” Thomas judges me from the rearview mirror. It’s almost as if he already knows what I’m about it say.
“Thomas, do you have plans tonight?” I pick my cell back up and hover over Sierra’s name.
“No, sir.”
Even if Thomas doesn’t accept my offer, I can’t go see Sierra. Hopefully, I don’t rack up douche points for canceling via text.
Me: Hey, beautiful, I’m going to need a raincheck.
Sexy Sierra: Is the doctor under the weather?
Me: Something like that.
Sexy Sierra: Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?
Me: Not tonight. Maybe another time?
Sexy Sierra: Don’t be a stranger. xoxo
Me: TTYL
I should feel bad, but I had all day to think about this. I’m not a jerk for canceling. Sierra has had my number all this time, she could have called or texted, but she chose not to. Maybe because she thinks I’m a dick, a player, or maybe because she didn’t enjoy herself. Nah, she definitely
enjoyed herself. Over and over and over again.
“Austin, is something wrong?” Thomas adjusts the mirror and uses my name—something he only does when it’s time to get real.
“Nope. Just a change of plans. How about dinner?”
Thomas flips his blinker. “Where to, sir?”
“Anywhere but home.”
Thomas sure does know how to throw down those pints. By the end of the night, I was personally calling in a favor to have the car delivered to Thomas’s garage and a taxi to get us both home.
Now, here I am, barely standing straight, fiddling with the keycard, trying to get into my own home when a loud siren goes off.
When did I get an alarm system?
“Intruder! Balk! Balk! Intruder!” the alarm repeats.
“Cloooooover!” I holler for my new roommate, who apparently got us an alarm system without asking me. “Clo—”
“What in the world?” Clover comes running out of her room, cursing the bright lights. “Are you drunk?”
“Maybe?” I sway a little.
“Intruder! Balk! Balk! Intruder!” The screeching of the alarm is like needles to my eardrums. The longer it continues, the more the room spins.
“Make it stop!” I cover my ears.
“Kramer, cage!” Clover hollers.
“Kramer?”
“How much did you have to drink?” Clover is now standing in front of me, hands on her hips, her robe gaping open.
“Enough to do this.” I tug at the opening. “Did you go with black or red?”
“Stop it!” Clover slaps my hand away just as something comes flying by my face.
“Damn, Clo. No need to throw things.” I take a step back when that something lands on my head.
“Poop! Poop! Poop!” someone chants, followed by a soft, moist sliding sound.
“Austin, don’t move. Kramer is on your head.” Clover takes a step forward, holding out her arm. “Kramer, down.”
“Oh my God!” I screech like a fucking schoolgirl. “Did that fucker shit on my head?”
“Poop! Poop! Poop!” the fucking bird taunts.
Then there’s an explosive blast, but oddly enough, I don’t feel a thing.
“Get him off of me!” I scream, shooing him off.