by Leesa Bow
Ingrid splutters the last mouthful of wine. “Wait. You’re going to see him again? Tonight?”
I stiffen. I thought I’d made it clear we were going to continue seeing each other in secret. By the tone of her voice, she missed that piece of information. “Yes,” I say, my voice fading. “I thought you understood.”
“One mistake in a lustful moment I understand, but I don’t think you should continue seeing him. Not when he’ll be locked away with the contestants, some of whom are assigned to me, and he has to select one he thinks he’ll have a future with. He’ll be on set with the girls and expected to focus. I mean, despite his contract, you’re the one who’s going to get hurt, sweetie. You know what he is.” She holds my gaze and I comprehend what she’s telling me. “All you had to do was make him look like a gentleman for the camera. What happens off the set and when the show is finished is out of your hands.”
I cover my face with my palms. “What the hell was I thinking?” I tilt my head back and stare at the ceiling, hoping an answer will appear in magical ink. “I’ve been an idiot, haven’t I?”
“No. He was always going to be a tough client. I understand. You have to think about yourself now. If he’s serious about you he can pursue you after the show, after the follow-up commitments and when his football club has re-signed him. Think of it as a process.”
“You’re right. He’s a client,” I say. “Nothing more.”
RHETT
Hunter is panting as much as me, and I’m relieved to think my weeks away from the team haven’t left me out of condition and not able to keep up with him. I’ve divulged all the inside gossip on the show, the contestants, and my intimate dinners, and we laughed about how it wasn’t a far cry from how we used to deal with the girls in clubs, hovering around and waiting for us to pick our fuck for the night.
Hunter is the one team mate I trust. I know what I’ve told him won’t go further. He’s now married with kids and understands a footballer’s life. The feeling of being treated like royalty. The excitement of all the hype. In his early football days, Hunter was an icon on and off the field. A pin-up boy with his blue eyes, dark hair, and a distinct Irish heritage the girls swooned over. He was linked to some of Australia’s top models, journalists, and a long line of beautiful women. After years of partying it took one girl to bring him back to earth. Of all the girls, it was his younger cousin’s best friend who tamed him. Now he understands commitment, and what it’s like to go home to a wife and children, to a family who cares about him. After I tell him about Tori, and how I think she’s right for me, we run the final kilometre in silence, both digesting what I’d confessed. He knows the risk I’m taking, and establishes she’s worth it.
“Home straight, pretty boy,” he says. “Pick up the pace.”
“Get fucked,” I rasp, hating the nickname he gave me nine years ago. Back then he said I was pretty enough for him to date. I kick forward to be a step in front. We’re equally matched in stature, but I’m a little broader than him these days.
We stride out the last five hundred meters before slowing to a walk. Locking my fingers behind my head, I suck air into my oxygen-deprived lungs. I walk in small circles, waiting for my pounding heart to return to normal. “Thanks for this, mate,” I say, out of breath. “I needed it.”
Hunter nods. “Yeah. Is there anywhere on the set you can run next week? You’re going to be re-signed, Williams, so stay focused.”
I walk over to the fence and lift my leg to bend and stretch out my hamstring. Hunter follows my lead. “You know this is what the club wanted. You to find someone and settle down, show them you’re responsible.”
“Not quite the way I’m doing it, though,” I say dryly.
“No. They take all contracts seriously.” He gives me a sideways glance, his expression stern and one I know not to question.
“So what do you suggest?” I swap legs to stretch out my other hamstring.
“You do what’s expected. Keep to the plan. When everything’s done, and you’re re-signed, and if you still feel the same way about this chick, then you go after her. If there’s any advice I can give, it’s go hard, mate. Do anything, because I can’t imagine my life without Aubree and my kids. She was worth the chase.”
We both step away from the fence and knock knuckles. “I know what you mean and I want what you’ve got, only with Tori.”
Hunter gives a nod. “Then you know what you have to do. Don’t fuck it up. For her, the show, the club, or yourself.”
After punching in the code to Tori’s apartment complex, I catch my reflection in the glass sliding doors. I’m smiling and I’m not even aware of it. I float across the tiled floor, my one-hundred-kilo body not affecting the lightness in my step.
When I reach her door, I’m still grinning, but then my smile fades seeing her face.
I close the door and lock it. “Has something happened while I’ve been out?”
“I went to see Ingrid.” Tori strides to the kitchen bench, where half-chopped vegetables cover a wooden chopping board. She continues to dice carrots and cabbage. “I’m making a quinoa salad if you want some.”
My happiness deflates a little hearing her tone. “I was hoping to take you out for dinner, somewhere quiet and discreet.”
Tori stops chopping and her shoulders lift and fall. “No. You need to keep a low profile. With episode one airing in ten days, the adverts will start this week. We don’t want people gossiping.”
“I know somewhere, Tori.”
“No.” She points the knife at me. “You need to think about the show. You’re looking for love and trying to find ‘the one,’ and that excludes dating and going out. I hope no one recognised you last night.”
Instead of arguing I walk over to the stove and take a peep at what she’s cooking. “What did you tell Ingrid?” I keep my voice low, and stir the quinoa boiling in a saucepan. The sound of cutting halts.
“I told her about us,” she says softly.
My gut clenches, sensing a speech, one I usually give. “And what did she say?”
“We can’t see each other anymore.”
An awkward silence surrounds us. I continue to stir, and Tori slices the salad in a quieter and slower manner. “Is that what you want?”
“No,” she breathes. “But I can’t see any way around it, at least for a couple of months. And by then you might be interested in one of the contestants, and after spending time together on the holiday, and all your post-show interviews and media appearances, well, anything can happen. I don’t want to be the one left waiting. I’ve been down that road before.”
It takes a lot of restraint to remain standing behind her, stirring her damn quinoa and not look at her face, touch her and remind her how good we are together. We’re talking, and it’s all that matters, for now. “You know I’m not interested in any of those girls. From the moment I saw you, I wanted you.”
“You haven’t given them a chance.”
“I want you. Even if I hadn’t met you, I wouldn’t be finding true love on some reality show. It’s not for me, and I never wanted to be on the bloody show. No disrespect to you, Boss. I have nothing against it, but I’m not cut out for it. I’ll do what it takes to get re-signed, and I’ll even make you look good and be the ultimate gentleman. As long as I can see you, or speak to you. I can pretend for the camera. But with you, it’s real, baby.”
“I want to believe it.”
Those words are my cue to drop the wooden spoon and go to her. “Believe it.” I take her by the shoulders and spin her around. “This is why.” I take her mouth, slowly at first, then I search out her tongue playfully, then deeper. Tori kisses me back, and I celebrate silently for a moment before losing my train of thought when her arms tighten around my neck. I want to lift her onto the bench, pull her body into mine and taste all of her. Instead, I slow up and pull back. “We make sense together.” I kiss her lightly on the nose.
“Yeah we do,” she says, defeated. Tori snuggles in
to my chest. “Since leaving Ingrid’s, my thoughts are stuck on how we can’t be together. I keep telling myself it won’t work, but every time I think about not seeing you, it hurts.” Her fingers slide over my chest. “I can’t not see you, although I still haven’t worked out how we’re going to do this.”
“We’ll take one week at a time. It’s a hell of a lot easier pretending with these girls if I’ve got something real with you in the background.”
Tori shakes her head. “I’m happy, but I can’t help feeling like I’m the villain because I’ve destroyed hope for these girls without giving them a chance.”
“Boss …”
“I know, I know. Wait here.” Tori disappears to her room and returns clutching something. “Here.” An iPhone plops into my hand. “It’s a spare I keep with a sim-only account. Hide it; keep it on silent. There’ll be cameras in your room, so when I find out the location of the hidden cameras, I’ll let you know where it’s safe to use.”
I’m dumbfounded she has thought of this. Relieved. The way her brows are pulled tight she isn’t comfortable with it. “Do you trust Ingrid?”
Tori shrugs. “Yeah, I do. But I’m not going to tell her we’re continuing to see each other, because her promotion to executive producer depends on one of her girls winning. If she thinks I’m a threat then …” Tori lowers her gaze. “She can get pretty competitive. Hell, I don’t know. I’ve never done anything like this.”
“Don’t think of it as us doing the wrong thing. Like actors portraying the villain, it doesn’t make them bad.” Tori pulls a face. “Not a good example. We’re not bad people. I’m not going to be played like a pawn and told to fall in love, when the one I want is standing in front of me.”
“You don’t want to be played,” she says, her tone suggesting her concern is not with me.
“No.”
“Neither do I,” she says quickly.
I stare at her a moment. “Is it what you think I’m doing? Have I given you any reason to think that?”
Tori’s expression softens. “No. I’m sorry. Ingrid kept reminding me of your reputation and I—”
“That’s the thing with reputations,” I say, knowing she isn’t trying to hurt me. “Most are formed unfairly and the accused isn’t given a chance to redeem himself. I’m a lucky bastard because I get a double shot.” I smile when she frowns at me. “With you, and with my footy. We’ll make this work, Tor.”
She nods at me, eyes wide. “I believe you.”
“Good. Now let’s get dinner out the way so we can spend the entire night in your bed.”
The way she smiles makes my heart pump with excitement and anticipation, like it’s the beginning of a game. I’m running out on the field in front of an enthusiastic crowd.
Except Tori is the only one I need to impress.
TORI
Endured a double eviction. Sucks to be a bastard. Miss you x
I tap out a reply to Rhett’s text message. A double eviction! How did you handle it? No scrap that I bet you handled it like a gentleman! Because you are one. Okay, maybe I’m rambling because you rocked my … well, everything last night. I miss you too x
I’m smiling at my phone, deliriously happy and still basking in the afterglow of sex, sixteen hours earlier. Never had I felt so deliriously happy, lying in his arms, relishing every touch, every sweet stroke. Last night was—
I stop thinking about the sex for a moment and realise Rhett has sent a text before I’ve made a visit to the hotel—where the crew and contestants are now located for the next four weeks—to check out the hidden cameras.
Where are you texting?
Don’t panic. I’m in bed and texting under the covers. I needed to talk to you. There’s so much I want to tell you. It’s been a day in hell and now Ingrid is acting weird.
Oh shit.
Who did you send home?
Sienna and Monica
Damn it. I liked Sienna and thought Monica brought something different to the show. Oh hell. Sienna was one of Ingrid’s.
Rhett replies: You’re going to have to tell me who exactly are Ingrid’s girls.
I bite my lip. What the heck? He’ll know soon enough when it’s down to the final four. It feels wrong divulging information, but I’m going to reality hell anyway.
The competition is down to five.
Lucy, Sally and Fleur are Ingrid’s girls. Emma, and Kaetrin are with Paige. A question. Do you have a favourite? ;-)
His reply comes fast.
You xx
And there were my kisses.
You’re my favourite too xx
I better be. When are you coming to the set?
Relationship discretion is my friend, so I don’t want to rock up and have Grant question why.
Hopefully Wednesday or Thursday. Be careful with the phone use in the meantime. Big Brother is watching.
Who is Big Brother?
I want to say everyone.
Ingrid and Paige have access to footage. So does the director of photography, Jim, and number one cameraman, Ethan. But Grant is BB, so to speak. Dale usually sees footage after Grant. Those cameras are rolling 24/7. Be mindful, please.
I will. Can’t wait to see you. Miss you, Boss xx
Like a love-sick teenager, I kiss my phone and turn out the light, with thoughts of Rhett making me warm and fluttery inside.
Tuesday morning the office is quiet, since most of my department are on location. I’m focused, and quietly content while ploughing through my emails. One highlighted email from Grant catches my eye. I need to book flights next week to Sydney and Brisbane to close on potential stars for the next reality show. I’ll be the assistant to the exec producer if I get a promotion. Nevertheless, I need to close on these girls, and prove I can do the job.
Grant’s next big show is AniMate, a show where a wildlife park ranger is looking for love, and the females are required to bond with the animals along with their potential husband. Yes, Grant hopes for a wedding, with real wildlife guests on this series. So far, signing the candidates for AniMate has been a tough gig, when they learn the main attraction of the park is a five-metre croc!
But I’ve never been one to back away from a challenge so a reptile, one that could star in Jurassic Park, isn’t going to stop me now.
On Wednesday I discover more AniMate prospects from Darwin, Cairns, and Perth. As I’m gearing up to leave the office, I receive a phone call from Ingrid asking me to come to the hotel tonight.
I arrive on the set as Rhett and the contestants are eating a candlelit dinner outside near the pool, and under the stars. It all looks magical, with fairy lights strung through the trees and tea lights lining the paths around the table and beyond.
“Thank god you’re here,” Ingrid says, linking her arm through mine and guiding me to stand behind a camera pointed at the table. “What happened between you two on Sunday?”
“Nothing. I told him it was a mistake and he has to focus on the show if he wants to be re-signed.”
Ingrid’s lifts a solitary blonde brow. “And how did he take it?”
“Like water off a duck’s back. I’m not going to be his last lay,” I mock.
“Well this duck’s feathers are ruffled.” She places earphones over my head and secures a mic to my blouse. “You can talk directly to him.”
Him.
I refrain from commenting to observe. Everything appears fine. The red roses give the table a romantic touch, and the girls are chatting amongst themselves. Rhett is showing table etiquette and responding to the waiters, eating whatever is placed in front of him.
Sally makes a joke and he doesn’t look up.
At all.
“Rhett.” My voice is soft. His hand freezes half way to his mouth. “I think you should acknowledge a lady when she speaks.” His eyes flit to the camera but I know he can’t see me. I’m barricaded behind sheets of tarp, and the camera light blinds vision. My first impulse is to talk to him gently, as though he’s my lover. My tone swi
tches to authoritarian mode. “Apologise to Sally and say you’re feeling unwell, then initiate the next conversation.”
He places the food on his fork in his mouth and chews it slowly. Ingrid and I watch the screen patiently. Then he picks up the next piece of lamb and eats it without saying a word.
“Shit,” Ingrid says sharply. “I thought if anyone could get him to stop acting like a prick you could.”
“Has something happened?”
“No, he’s been like this since Monday. He’s pissed off at you,” she whispers.
My heart misses a beat.
“Oh for goodness sake.” I roll my eyes. “It was two times. He needs to grow the heck up.” I press the button for the mic. “Acting like this is not going to get you re-signed, Mr Williams.” Rhett’s lips twitch. It’s a quick movement but I notice it. “Straighten your shoulders, sit tall, and adjust your tie.” Rhett does exactly what I tell him. “Now apologise to Sally and ask if she’d like to take a stroll around the gardens with you after dinner.” His eyes narrow a little before he dabs the corners of his mouth with the napkin, then he turns to Sally and apologises.
Ingrid gives me the thumbs up. “I was going to call yesterday but didn’t, hoping he’d snap out of it.”
“We both know his type,” I say, like we have an understanding. “Going by his past his problem isn’t with me.” I glance around, making sure we’re out of earshot. “And he certainly didn’t appear worried when I put a stop to things after I spoke to you on Sunday.” I shrug and do my best to act nonchalant. “I mean, he took it so well. It should’ve hurt a little, but hey.” I give an awkward smile. “It wasn’t real.” Ingrid nods. “He was going to meet with his team mates then call his mother on Sunday, as far as I know. Maybe something was said then …”
“Maybe. Do you mind hanging around here for a while?”
“Sure.”
Ingrid signals to Grant’s PA to grab a chair for me. I sit and watch the end of the dinner play out. It’s fairly trouble free. I only have to alert Rhett on one more occasion to a contestant speaking to him. “He does seem preoccupied,” I say to Ingrid. “I hope everything’s okay with his family on the farm.”