by Kat T. Masen
It had been a difficult six months, and this was the final wrap-up—the live reunion show.
Kyle and Kelly are the first to be interviewed in front of a live audience.
Anthony Carron hosts all the reunion shows on the network. An over-the-top host with a vivacious attitude and thirst for gossip. He flaunts his homosexuality like a pair of new shoes, never one to shy away from drama in his own life. He knows how to bring out the real stories, make light of situations that appear too heavy, and stands center ring when the boxing gloves come out.
I’ve been too wrapped up in my own scandal to see what others around me have been going through.
Kyle and Kelly focused on a business venture this season that went horribly wrong. Their partner bailed, taking all their life savings and investments. Luckily, the camera caught some of the fraudulent activity, and now it’s with the courts to decide what will happen.
Harley’s sexuality finally came out. A surprise to many including myself, but nevertheless, a positive step forward. He speaks about his battle with depression and how coming out has helped him deal with that. When the cameras rolled back and showed some of the pivotal scenes in this season, it’s hard to watch and even more difficult when he fights to hold back the tears on stage. Poppy and I intervene, joining him on the couch and holding his hand while he openly speaks about his struggle to finally accept himself.
There’s a short interlude until Poppy comes on. I love how excited she is, dressed in a yellow and white polka dot 1950s-style dress with white wedges. Her bright smile lights up the room, and when they call Ash out to join her, the two of them sit on the couch like lovesick fools.
“This season had lots of drama, and we can’t forget the moment in London when Ash takes Poppy to the Royal Kings stadium and she kicks the ball in. How about we watch this clip.” Anthony points to the camera and footage of the two of them roll.
I remember Poppy switching flights, leaving later which she said was because she wanted to spend more time with her family. I had no idea this went on. And when Ash gave Poppy a lesson on how to kick the ball in the net, she kicks the ball accidentally too hard and straight into his nuts. Every male in the room cringes at the sight, squeezing their thighs as the women laugh in hysterics.
“Have you recovered?” Anthony manages to question through his fit of laughter.
“Yes, the boys are back to normal.” Ash grins.
Jesus. Did he have to talk about his boys? I’m grossed out—too much information makes my stomach queasy.
“Explains why Poppy’s always smiling,” Anthony quips, the audience following with a short chuckle. “What’s happening now, with the both of you?”
“Ash is training here in the States, so we get to spend a lot of time together.” Poppy smiles.
“Is this serious?”
“C’mon, Anthony, silly question. I love this chick.” Ash moves off the sofa and gets down on one knee in front of the audience and pulls out a small box.
Oh my God!
I don’t even know if his divorce is final.
I’m glued to the screen and it’s like watching a train wreck about to happen. I can’t turn away, eager to know what happens next.
“Poppy Rose Clark… you’re the craziest woman I’ve ever met. When I’m with you, life is just better… it’s perfect. No one else can kick me in the nuts and make me smile at the same time.”
And there it is, classic Ash with non-filtered words.
“Will you marry me?”
Poppy’s face lights up with utter delight, extending her hand as he slides a unique pink diamond ring on it. The two of them kiss at the same time my cell buzzes in my hand.
Mom: FYI. Dad and I already knew this was going to happen. Calm your titties, we love Poppy.
I’m not sure what disturbs me more, the fact I didn’t know Ash was going to propose or that Mom told me to calm my titties.
“Did you know?” I question Logan as he stands beside me.
He bites his lip, keeping quiet, then caves when I use my whiney voice and tell him to answer me.
“Yes. He’s my best friend. I promised not to tell anyone.”
I exhale, annoyed. “Nice to know where your loyalty lies.”
Their segment lasts longer than scheduled, and when they walk off the set Poppy runs into my arms as I wait for her long-awaited embrace.
“Jesus, Pop.” I grin. “Are you sure you wanna marry that dork?”
“I’ve never been so sure.”
Ash follows, elated, hugging me with a small sniff.
“Are you crying, Ashley?”
“Just glad she said yes.”
“You better treat her right or you have me to answer to,” I warn him gently, hugging my brother before I’m called on to the set.
Nervous about appearing in front of a live audience, my hands repeatedly pat my thighs while I breathe in and out to curb the anxiety that follows me. Nausea lingers in the pit of my stomach, only adding more stress to the situation.
Logan senses my trepidation, rubbing my shoulders to calm my nerves. “You’ll do great. I’m here, okay?”
I nod, wanting to get this over with. I haven’t seen Wes since the day I left the apartment, but according to the tabloids he did a stint in rehab and has moved in with another actress.
I step onto the stage, dressed head to toe in designer labels. The wardrobe crew want me in a similar dress to the one I wore when Wes and I first went out to dinner. I told them, no, settling for a white off-the-shoulder blouse and black pants. My shoes are Louboutin—a pair I want to steal and take home.
Wesley follows me on the stage and sits beside me on the sofa, keeping his distance. He looks much better, tanned and with his hair slightly longer. Rehab agrees with him, his eyes no longer clouded by dark circles.
“This was an explosive season for the two of you. Let’s watch some of the highlights from season three.”
The footage rolls of our many moments. Some sweet, and some of our brawls. I knew Logan won’t take kindly to seeing this again, he’s already watched season three despite me warning him not to. It only angers him and sent him on a jealous hissy fit, but the positive came from the extremely heated sex that followed.
“How do you feel watching these moments?” Anthony asks, crossing his legs with his cue cards in hand.
“It’s not easy. It was a difficult time for both of us,” I answer honestly.
“And for you, Wesley?”
“The writing was on the wall.”
It’s never leaked out about Wesley’s night in Amsterdam. As much as it hurt me at the time, I understood how damaging it could be for him and his career. So, I never breathed a word of it, allowing people to conjure up their own theories as to why we started to fall apart.
“You and Logan Carrington had quite an affair,” Anthony says with a wicked smile. “We’ve got some unseen footage of the two of you.”
They show the party at Scarlett’s house with the two of us leaving in the limousine together. Then they show some paparazzi shots of us in the Indian restaurant with Ash, us in London leaving the pub, and then they show footage from afar of us arguing on the street of London when I’d just found out about Louisa. The network has never asked my permission to show this footage, but I don’t care, it’s all out in the open anyway.
“And Logan’s here?”
I nod. “Backstage.”
The producers asked if Logan could sit in, but I flat out refused and said no. I don’t want him dragged into this any further, we’ve moved on and that’s that.
The media already follows us around like crazy wherever we go. We keep a low profile, but they come up with ridiculous stories and publish them time and time again for attention.
“Wesley, you had a difficult time this season and ended up in rehab. Are you out now?”
“Yes, clean and sober.”
“There’s also been some other controversy following you. Can we bring out Farrah?”
&
nbsp; Farrah walks onstage dressed in gold skimpy number with matching heels. Her hair is platinum blonde, styled in heavy curls which rest at her waistline.
She sits on the other side of Wesley, away from me.
“Welcome Farrah,” Anthony greets her. “On several occasions this season you were filmed talking about their relationship. It’s clear that you had an issue with Emerson which could be taken as jealousy.”
“You’re wrong, Anthony. I wasn’t jealous of her. What’s there to be jealous about?”
Bitch. That’s a low blow.
The words are desperate to leave my tongue, but I cross my legs and look away from her while trying to ignore her childish comment.
“You were also seen out with Wesley quite a bit. Was something going on there?”
“Yes,” she admits as the audience gasps. “We had something on the side.”
Wesley shakes his head, disapprovingly. “One time doesn’t count as something on the side. I was drunk and high. Clearly, my judgment was clouded.”
The two of them get into a heated exchange which Anthony diffuses. I don’t know what to say, still trying to control my emotions. I know he cheated on me, it was impossible for Wesley to go without sex for such a long time. But honestly, I thought he had better taste than Farrah Beaumont.
“What do you think of this?” Anthony directs the question at me.
“Wesley and I had an agreement. He was free to do whatever he pleased. If you lay with dogs, you’re going to catch fleas.”
“You fucking bitch,” Farrah swears, raising her voice. “Did you know your fiancé knocked me up? Huh? Yeah, right in your bed.”
“Jesus Christ, Farrah.” Wesley bows his head between his knees.
“I lost that baby. So, call me whatever you want. At the end of the day I carried his child not you.”
Wesley raises his head and begs me to look at him, apologizing through a single stare. No matter what happened, it’s all irrelevant. It’s utterly pointless dwelling on the past when my future is waiting backstage.
Anthony asks more questions which result in Farrah storming off. When the segment is done, he thanks us both as we leave and walk backstage.
Wesley pulls my arm back, asking me to stop. “I’m sorry, Em.”
“I forgive you, okay. Just take care of yourself.” I pat his arm then walk away to where Logan is standing in the back room. As soon as he sees me, the worry on his face subsides and is replaced with a smile.
“You did well.”
“Barely made it.”
He brings me in for an embrace, the scent of his cologne making it all better.
“I know that was hard for you to watch.”
He smiles into my hair. “It’s fine… I know how to take it out on you.”
I laugh at his naughty answer but stop midway to breathe out the sick feeling in my stomach. He pulls me back, searching my eyes until a smile plays on his lips.
“Go. Now.”
I don’t say a word, running past the backstage crew and straight for the bathroom where my stomach unravels and empties into the basin just in time. I take a deep breath, peeling myself away from the basin and splashing my face with cold water.
Morning sickness—the bane of my existence.
Why do they even call it that when it happens all day long?
Checking my reflection in the mirror one more time, my skin seems to have evened out in color again. If I’m lucky, I might make it home without having to use the sick bags that Logan keeps in the glovebox.
Walking out of the restroom, Logan’s just outside the door, pacing with his usual worried expression. “Are you okay?”
“Take blueberry Danish off the list of things that I could eat but now repulse me.”
Logan takes my hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb.
“We’re running out of food for you to eat. I hope this doesn’t last much longer,” he pauses, a small smile playing on his lips. “What trimester is the horny stage where you won’t be able to keep your hands off me?”
“The same trimester where you will need to feed me grapes while fanning me with banana leaves.”
Logan laughs, pulling me into an embrace. “You’re impossible.”
“Pregnant, Logan,” I remind him happily. “I think that’s the word you’re looking for.”
THE END
Bonus Scenes from the Men of Kicking Reality
ASHLEY CHASE
“Babe, just one more minute,” I beg her through strained vocals, “… not even… like twenty fucking seconds.”
She’s doing that thing with her mouth, wrapping her tongue around me while she literally has me by the balls. Holding them delicately in her hand, she tugs on them with enough force to make me crumble in pleasure which sends signals to every fucking part of my body that shit’s gonna get real.
I love watching her—sexy with her hair a wild mess in the palm of my hands. Her eyes divert to the coffee table again, distracting me slightly. I rein her in to focus on me, selfish I know, using my hands to put her focus back on my dick. The most important thing in the room right now.
The warm feeling disappears as she withdraws, disconnecting the heat that comes from her twister tongue.
“Ashley, you really should see what’s on your phone in case it’s important,” she suggests, catching her breath and licking her lips.
My girl is sexy on her knees. Well fuck, she’s sexy every which way I look at her.
Bending down, I cup her chin in my hand and stare into her eyes. She’s always grinning, cute dimples that distract any rational thoughts I have because I can’t turn her mischievous face away.
My dick won’t let up, begging to be finished off despite the constant interruptions.
“Fuck,” I mumble under my breath, leaning forward to grab my cell with frustration.
There’s several missed calls, messages, and emails that have come through in the space of ten minutes. I don’t know what to look at first, but go for Logan’s messages since he only messages me a million times if it’s important.
Logan: I’m sorry. Talk to me first before you read anything.
What is this fucker going on about? I’m about to ignore him since I’m still massively pissed he bailed somewhere without telling me a single thing. His actions of late have been out of character and I suspect it has something to do with Louisa turning up at our apartment dressed in this skimpy black dress with no bra on. Even for her, it was wild and nothing like her usual uptight attire.
I log into my social media account to see the thousands upon thousands of tags until I follow a link to a media article posted an hour ago.
Drowning at LA Party
Tayla Chase (sister of Generation Next star Emerson Chase and Royal Kings defender Ashley Chase) almost drowns at a party in LA. The sixteen-year-old had been seen drinking with older sister Emerson, before hanging out on the beach with an unknown crowd.
The drunken teen was found at the scene unconscious and revived by Logan Carrington.
Another unidentified girl had been saved by Wesley Rich.
Earlier, witnesses saw Emerson Chase in a heated kiss with childhood friend Logan Carrington. The two were seen arguing until Wesley Rich found them outside the home of LA’s hottest DJ—Mikey Gee.
According to a reliable source, the love triangle erupted in an explosive fist fight between Logan and Wesley because Emerson Chase is rumored to be pregnant. Neither party has commented on the pregnancy. However, the baby is said to belong to Wesley Chase.
A large lump has formed inside my throat constricting my ability to yell or even breathe. What the fuck did I just read? My eyes scan the article again with my stomach churning and leaving me feeling ill that something happened to my little sister.
“Ashley?” Poppy calls my name, worried. “What’s wrong? It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I don’t answer, ringing Dad’s cell which goes straight to voicemail. I try Mom, the same thing. If anyone will pi
ck up her cell it’s Tayla.
“Ash,” she greets with a shaky voice.
“Tayla,” I almost scream down the phone. “What the hell happened?”
“I’m okay.” I can hear the exhaustion in her voice. “I went to help someone who was drowning and got caught myself.”
“Why the fuck were you drinking? Did Emerson let you fucking drink?”
“I wasn’t drinking, Ash. Emerson wouldn’t let me drink.”
“But the tabloids—”
“C’mon, don’t believe what you read.” She chuckles softly but it’s followed by a raspy cough. “You should know that.”
I grit my teeth, barely able to control the rage. “Really? Because I’m reading shit about Logan and Emerson.”
Silence falls over the phone.
“Ash, it’s not my place to comment. Talk to them.” She reassures me she’s okay but is tired and needs to sleep. We hang up, and in a confused state I sit back on the sofa with my dick still hanging out though flaccid from the shock.
“Is this true?” I ask the question to myself even though Poppy is beside me caressing my hair.
“Speak to them, Ashley. Though Emerson’s not pregnant with anyone’s baby. That is complete rubbish.”
“Just fucking tell me.” I close my eyes, rubbing my face with the palms of my sweaty hands. “Is my best friend fucking my sister?”
“I think it’s more than that.”
“You knew about this and didn’t tell me?”
“Hey!” she hollers, pulling away and folding her arms. “It’s not my business. And it’s not exactly like we’re honest with everyone either. You’re technically still married to Alessandra. Your family has no clue you’ve separated.”
She has a point. A valid one at that.
My marriage to Alessandra had disaster written all over it. She may have been beautiful and smart, but she wasn’t the woman I envisioned spending my life with. In fact, I never envision settling down at all—until Poppy.