Walk of Shame

by Gregory, O. L.

  I let myself sleep until two o'clock and refused to feel guilty about it. I got up and quickly showered and dressed before venturing downstairs to see what kind of meal I could put together from the contents of the fridge.

  I'd been half-tempted to sneak over to the main house and eat off the buffet with the guys. So tempted that I seriously contemplated it. But Troy had instructed me to leave the guys alone today, to let them settle in and process their own reactions. Then I could go over and start getting them all stirred up.

  Around four-thirty, Troy showed up with one cameraman and a makeup artist. The MA spent about fifteen minutes sweeping my hair back and putting on a layer of makeup to get me presentable for the camera. We sat down in the small sunroom and Troy asked me a number of the same questions from last night, asked a few new ones, then shooed the cameraman away.

  "Okay," Troy said, once the crew had left. "We have a few items of business to take care of."

  "What's up?"

  "Your flower stunt last night actually saves you from the first thing, but I'm going to suggest you do it anyway."

  "Okay..."

  "After each Walk of Shame, production is going to ask you to give them a ranking of the guys from your current front-runner on down to the guy who barely survived the cut. Now you can get away with just naming your top three to five, and they'll settle for it. But, in order for you to keep yourself straight, I'd do it anyway, even if no one else knows the rankings. Just be open to the rankings completely changing each week, and sometimes, each day. Then as the number of guys shrinks, and the cutting gets harder, you can see who's been hanging around the bottom the most. It might help you look at it objectively enough to not agonize over who has to leave each week."

  "Okay, sounds reasonable."

  "Then the next thing is for you to decide who goes on which date. You get two one-on-ones, and two group dates."

  I sighed, that was going to be hard. I knew who I wanted for my one-on-ones. It was a matter of divvying the rest into the two groups and deciding who went where.

  "Production has a request."

  I shot him a look.

  "It's a request, that's all. You can override it."

  "Okay, let's hear it."

  "They suggest that Mike gets a one-on-one date this week because your group dates are pretty active and they don't know if he can handle them. And before you go getting in a huff, stop and think about what this week's group dates are. One would require him to hold onto someone with his legs and then having him hanging by his legs. The other might require him to change out leg attachments, but then give him no added time to do it. Now, it's up to you, you can take him along and see how he handles it and we might all be blown away. But if it's an issue, is that the second impression you want him to make on camera?"

  I waved my hand at him and shook my head. "Stop, enough, no more. Their reasons don't really matter. Stephen and Mike are my two frontrunners right now. I want my one-on-one dates to be with them so I can figure out if Mike's uniform, or Stephan's cologne and purple shirt, are clogging my brain or not."

  "Okay. Good, my job is easier if you all agree. I don't care if you all have different reasons for it. The one-on-ones are active enough in their own right. I don't think it will bother him. Now, do you want the guys matched to the activities that they'll feel more comfortable in, or do you want them outside of their comfort zones?"

  "For this week, let's try to match them up and as best as can be done and give them a chance to stand out and shine in their element."

  He laughed. "I don't know that all of them are quite that athletic."

  "RVing isn't for the faint of heart when you're doing it on your own."

  By seven that evening, I was on the lawn behind the house, talking on my cell with Chloe.

  "You picked your frontrunner based on what he smells like?"

  I'd stretched out on a blanket, soaking in the weakening rays of the sunlight. "It's not just that. I like what he does for a living. He's a photographer, he knows how to appreciate details, you know? His eyes are so intense. You can tell he doesn't miss a beat. And his assignments change all the time, so it won't be the same old, same old for him. I like that, too, since I'd have to travel wherever he has to for his assignments.

  "So you have a smell, a nice shirt, and a job?"

  "Shut up. I spent fifteen minutes with each of them. How much more do you want me to have to go on?" I scooted down on the blanket to pull at the grass with my toes.

  "Who's number two?"

  "Mike."

  "Was he wearing a pink shirt?"

  "An army uniform with a purple heart."

  "Nice. Still enlisted?"

  "No. He's an engineer. He designs roadways for the National Parks System."

  "You do love the National Parks."

  "Yep."

  "All right, next?"

  I looked through my pack of labeled headshots that I'd brought out with me. "Hmm, Ardent. He's a Native American archaeologist."

  "Like dinosaurs?"

  "No, like digging up old houses and towns."

  "I could see you being interested."

  "I know. Number four is Liam."

  "What does he do?"

  "Climbs mountains to study them and then stands on top and plays the bagpipes."

  "You requested a Scotsman, didn't you?"

  "Kind of."

  "Did he show up in a kilt?"

  I smiled and let out a dreamy sigh. "Absolutely."

  "Keep him around for the eye and ear candy for awhile, but figure out if he has anything going for him besides where he came from."

  "Yes, Mommy."

  She laughed and imitated our Mom, "Sass me if you want, young lady." She switched back to own voice, "I know the thing you have for Scotland. I'm just saying, don't mess this up just because he looks and sounds good."

  "I hear you. He does have a downside, though."

  "What's that?"

  "He's freaking huge! I mean tall and big muscles."

  "Well you'd have to be, to climb mountains all day."

  "He is a mountain."

  "Yeah, but maybe you could have fun climbing him."

  I ignored that. "Number five-"

  Goldie appeared at my side, slobbering over a Frisbee in her mouth.

  "Hold on." I rolled and stood. Taking the Frisbee from her, I launched it as far out as I could.

  She flew after it and ran back along the rear of the property, going back around bushes and leaving my sight. "Number five is Phillip."

  "And what's got your attention about him?"

  "He's got this whole maturity thing going on, and he cooks."

  "What kind of chef's job does he have?"

  "He doesn't. He works to identify animals going on the endangered species list. He is kind of old though."

  "How many years does he have on you?"

  "Ten."

  "That's not horrible."

  "He's got the whole patient-wisdom thing going on, and he's a lean sort of hot."

  "Who's number six?"

  "I'd have to go with Trevor. And catch this. I've already met him."

  "Where?"

  "He was the driver they assigned to me when I came out for the interview."

  "Get out! They just let him take one of the spots?"

  "They made an extra spot for him. He's ex-marine and showed up in his old uniform."

  "So he thinks he's going to chauffer you around the country instead?"

  "No, apparently the chauffer thing is on the side. He's a graphic designer, all online."

  Goldie came running back around again with the Frisbee. I took it, stood, and launched it back out. Off she went to chase it down and disappear again.

  "What about the number seven spot?"

  "Drake." I ventured towards the end of the line of bushes.

  "What's he like?"

  "He's a songwriter. Sells his songs a little all over, so he RVs to keep himself mobile."

  "Anything
that we'd have actually heard?"

  "Don't know, yet. He's quite comfortable with the cameras."

  "That'd be a red flag for me. He might just be there to promote his own stuff."

  "I know it. But if he isn't, I like that he talked about not wanting to live in a city. He RVs because he chose to. And he could write songs wherever. My location wouldn't constantly be at the mercy of his career. It'd just be about as often that my career would dictate his location."

  "All right, number eight."

  "That would be Jared. I like his mannerisms, his actions, and his voice that could seduce me all on its own."

  "Then why's he only at eight?"

  "He digs around in the swamp all day."

  "You'll never see The Rockies again."

  "I know. That's my issue."

  "Then why is he still there?"

  "Because. If I can't choose a guy based on his job, then I can't not choose a guy just because of his job, either." I peeked around the corner and saw Goldie trying to play a fourth spot in a Frisbee game with the guys. I had to wonder where they thought she was disappearing too. Or did they know, and that's why they kept playing, just to draw me out?

  "What about number nine?"

  "I don't know. Numbers nine through twelve didn't impress me with their fifteen minutes. But they didn't turn me off, either. So I'm in a wait and see pattern."

  "So, you ditched four last night?"

  "I ditched three, the fourth one ditched himself."

  "Ouch."

  "No ouch. He was on my wait and see list anyway."

  Goldie caught the Frisbee and made her way to me at full speed ahead.

  "I should go..." I said.

  "I want to know how your dates go this week."

  "You will, don't worry." I hung up in time to duck back behind the bushes and grab the disc when she got to me. I launched it up and over the tall bushes as far as I could make it go and Goldie took off again. I could hear the guys cheer and laugh.

  I took back off up to the house before I could be tempted enough to join them. I decided to go change and swim laps instead. I had to do something to tire myself out enough to be able to go back to sleep in a few hours.

  I'd only been in the pool a couple minutes before Goldie had tracked me down. She dropped the Frisbee on the cement and plopped down.

  "Those men are going to run us both ragged," I told her. "I'd get used to it, if I were you."

  She thumped her tail a couple times and then yawned.

  I got out of the pool and grabbed a tennis ball that I'd brought over from the RV for her. I shook the ball at her and she perked up. "Are you hot, girl?"

  Her head came up, determined not to stand unless I was going to make the effort worthwhile.

  I tossed it into the other end of the pool.

  She got up and jumped in to swim after it. For a half hour I tossed it in and she got it and walked out, using the built-in stairs to then run the ball around to me and shake the water off all over me again and again. She finally dropped the ball at the pool edge and went to go roll in the grass.

  I went back to swimming from one end of the pool to the other. Ten minutes later, with the sun now gone, Trevor showed up on the pathway between the houses, at the edge of the clearing. "Hey," he said.

  "Hey, yourself."

  "Can I join you?"

  I looked a little closer and saw he was already wearing trunks. He'd probably spent time around the main house's pool. "Sure."

  He used the stairs to sink into the water.

  "You didn't send me home last night," he said.

  "I didn't see a reason to."

  "Did you see a reason to have me stay?"

  I shrugged and threw his sentiments back at him. "I enjoy a man who knows the value of a good bargain."

  He chuckled, which broke the ice, and we began to talk.

  We swam and talked for a good hour before he left to sneak back over to the other house. Trevor was easy to talk to and get along with. We seemed to have a lot of the same tastes and values. He also seemed to share my need to stay busy. It was nice, once we cut through the formal banter and really started talking.

  Chapter Eight

  Week One - 12 Men Left

  Wednesday

  I dropped in on the guys during their breakfast. Never mind that production had already given the guys a head's up and had told them to at least be downstairs by nine o'clock. Some of them looked like they had just stumbled out of bed when I showed up. Meanwhile, I had been up since six, ran out on the track with Goldie, showered, and had gotten the hair and makeup onceover before coming here.

  "We have a group date today, guys."

  "All of us?" the one who I think was named Mitch asked.

  "Nope, five of you. Liam, Trevor, Drake, James, and Tyler. We're leaving in twenty minutes." I picked a piece of bacon up off someone's plate, figuring to make myself at home with all my new boyfriends.

  "Where are we going?" Liam asked, picking up a different piece of bacon from the same plate, and winked at me.

  I smiled at the mountain man, thinking about how I'd never have a problem remembering which one he was. "We're running away to the circus. I hope none of you have issues with heights."

  Phillip put a plate of scrambled eggs in front of me. I could get used to this...

  "Wait, we're going to be up in the air?" Tyler asked.

  "Some of us will, others can opt to hang closer to the ground."

  The five going left the room to get dressed for whatever torture I might dish out. We managed to leave right on time.

  "Welcome to our beginner's trapeze class. We'll be using swinging trapezes. However, as you can see, we're going to be starting you out close to the ground and we'll be limiting the range of your swing. You don't need any previous experience to participate. This isn't your normal class, so we'll be watching each of you, and if you're comfortable at the beginner levels, after awhile, we'll move you up and we'll find out how much you can handle today," the instructor began. "Everyone pick their trapeze, and we'll get started."

  The group of men had mixed reactions. Drake and James looked at the low-hanging trapezes with trepidation. Tyler looked scared to death. Trevor and Liam, though, they went straight to sizing the swings up, inspecting their construction.

  "I'm pretty sure they'll hold," I said as I went over and hopped onto one, immediately starting a gentle swinging motion.

  "Don't worry about falling," the instructor said, seeing some of the reactions in the room. "The floors are well padded."

  "I think hitting the floor would be more comfortable than sitting on this bar," Liam said after he'd hopped on.

  The instructor gave us all a slow wink. "That's how we get the students to be willing to keep changing positions and moving from one trick to the next. Otherwise, half of them would freeze up on us once we got them up in the air."

  The others finally managed to mount their bars, and the lesson got underway.

  The room was large enough to house twenty trapeze students. We were a class of six, but with the camera crews there to capture every triumph and failure, our number had doubled. And even still, that shouldn't have been a problem. Except that the crews didn't stay put, they moved around. And with so many staff in the room trying to supervise us fools on the trapezes, the crews and staff got in each other's way.

  The instructor booted the crews' butts back behind a blue line on the floor. "All spectators behind the line. Your zoom lenses will just have to do."

  Poor Tyler, the movement of all the people around the room distracted him and he and fell to the padded floor. Tyler's fall distracted Drake, and Mr. Too Smooth lost his balance on the bar and fell off backwards, landing with a curse that I'm sure would be worthy of bleeping out in the editing room.

  I got as far as hanging upside down by my knees. Trevor did some one-armed swing moves. But Liam took the prize. He worked that bar like a champ. Grasping hold and lowering himself under the bar, doing some one-
armed and two-armed stuff, then levering himself back up over the bar again. I guessed the mountain climber in the group had some muscles that the rest of us didn't.

  That afternoon we took over the terrace of a local bar for our private party of six, plus the crew. The guys were more enthusiastic about this venue than they had been about the last one.

  "I figured that since I'd made you all work up a sweat, and pushed some of you out of your comfort zones, that we could all kick back with some beer this afternoon."

  They cheered me. It was probably more for the cameras than me, but whatever, they were happy.

  And now it was time for my little plug. "This place is famous for their tapas, their cigars, and their selection of local brews. But I think we all know what that's code for, don't we? It all makes for one hell of a happy hour!"

  They cheered again, and the obligatory, enthusiastic plug was complete.

  "We've got the place for three hours. Sit back, relax, and enjoy. Have a smoke, drink a beer, and then each of you take a little stroll with me around the grounds. We should have enough time for me to get to know everyone a little better before the limo takes us back to the main house."

  I managed to eat a small plateful of food and drink one beer, all of which was absolutely delicious, before James pulled me away. We took a walk around the gardens behind the bar so that we could talk, apart from the other guys, with a crew doing their best to follow silently ahead of us.

  I have to say. This was the first full day I'd spent with the cameras on me nonstop. It was tough. We weren't supposed to talk to the crew or about the cameras anymore than was necessary. But they wanted to know every move you made before you made it. So, you constantly had to have a plan in mind. Structure, structure, structure. I thought dating was supposed to be fun.

  After James was Trevor, then Tyler, then Liam, and then finally, Drake.

  "How many laps around these flower beds have you done?" Drake asked.

  I chuckled. "At least twenty." I'd ditched my heels after Tyler, and had sent my shoes back to the terrace with him, since Liam had interrupted us in the middle of the garden.

  "Then I think it's safe to assume you wouldn't mind finding a bench?" he asked, leading the way down a little path, totally out of sight of the other men.