by Maggie Way
The lump in my stomach flip-flops when T.J. refers to me as 'poor, sweet Ruthie.' I figure any kindness from him is in preparation for the cold-blooded snake to strike. When he moves toward me, I can feel my hands breaking out in a clammy sweat. What is he going to reveal about me? I'll have to wait to find out because when he gets beside me, he says, "I'm too upset by all of these shocking revelations to continue. Let's take a break and come back with Ruthie after these messages from our sponsors."
I can barely breathe through the anxiety. I don't have any secrets, do I? My only secret was Andrew, and he is here, so that seems a little anti-climactic. Why did they save me for last? Are they going to tell him about the school picture of him that I've saved all of these years? That is embarrassing, but doesn't seem quite as earth-shattering as some of the juicy tidbits that have already been revealed. Will Andrew be uncomfortable with me once he finds out I have secretly liked him since we were teenagers?
Or do they have some other secret they think they know about me? They could probably say almost anything they want to and, even if I deny it, I'll look guilty. Is that what happened with the others? Did they realize that denying their accusations would only make them look guiltier? I lean out to glance down the row at my co-stars. They are all wearing similar pale-faced looks of shellshock. My gut is telling me that the secrets revealed about them are all true. I feel bad for them. They have had their dirty laundry aired for the world to see. It's not fair. I wish I could rewind the last ten minutes and give them back their privacy.
I turn to give Andrew a sad smile, and he grins back before taking my hand in a show of unity. He has to be wondering what bombshell will be dropped about me. They must think it's shocking to have saved me for the end. As the music for the show starts, my mouth feels like I have just swallowed a wad of cotton. I lick my parched lips and fidget nervously in my seat.
T.J. appears behind me, but I remain facing forward, not wishing to make eye contact with him. "And we're back, with one original cast member left for us to get to know better: Ruthie!" He says my name enthusiastically, like we are great friends as he places a hand on my shoulder. I want to shrug it off, but force myself not to while the cameras are capturing my every move.
"Your co-stars have some shocking skeletons coming out of their closets, don't they?"
I'm not sure why he is asking me this or what he expects me to say. Despite my nerves, I want to stick up for my friends while I have the opportunity. "Everyone probably has something they wouldn't want the entire world to know," I start, but he starts talking before I can add, 'including you.'
T.J. evidently senses and doesn't like where this is heading because he cuts me off. "Indeed. And what about you, Ruthie?" He asks in his smooth and sleazy show-host's voice.
"What about me?" I ask, sounding much more snappy and confident than I feel. My mind is whirling, trying to figure out what they think they know. I smile in the camera's direction, in an attempt to seem calm.
"Nothing to admit before the video rolls?" the slimeball asks.
That's when it hits me. He is fishing for clues. They must not have anything of substance. "Not a thing." I flash a winning smile at the camera now, feeling much more confident.
"It's true," T.J. raises his shoulders as if he is stumped and barely able to hide his disappointment. "We didn't dig up anything too scandalous about you, Ruthie. The only interesting thing that we found out about you is your long-time crush, Andrew." He sweeps his hand out to make sure the audience realizes we are talking about the man on the other side of me.
T.J. puts a hand to his mouth as if he is telling the audience a great secret. "She has kept a photo of him from high school all of these years," he stage whispers. Then he holds up his thumb and pointer finger to indicate the size of the tiny picture.
Andrew squeezes my hand, and I turn to him. The look he is giving me isn't appalled or frightened at all. It's actually one of unbridled adoration. The ice chunk in my tummy melts from his warm gaze. I had been so afraid of my obsessive crush being revealed. Now that it has, the man in question looks amused and happy. Sweet relief floods my system as Andrew and I continue holding hands and presenting a united front.
"So, Ruthie, I guess you win by default." I suck in air, but struggle to hear what else he is saying. "The others have all misrepresented themselves and broken the terms of their contract."
I cringe as he goes down the line, calling each person out for public shaming. "You didn't mention that you are gay," he says to Josh. "Your application said you didn't have any children," he stares down at Tiffany. "I don't recall anything being listed under felonies on your application for the show, Paul." He moves down the row to Bellamy. "I'm the most surprised by you, Dear," he says in his syrupy voice. "I really thought you were destined for stardom." Moving on, he shakes his head. "Cam, someone who has been married eight times and is still married to the most recent one does not get to check the 'single' box on any form ever again."
He moves in front of me. "That leaves you, Ruthie. We didn't find any misrepresentations or outright lies on your paperwork. So, you are the only one of the original six to still be eligible for the money," he informs me.
My breath is coming in shallow pants. That prize money will change my life. Andrew and I will be able to buy a home or travel or start a business or donate it to causes we believe in or do any number of things. That much cash is a game changer and will set us up for whatever we want in life.
I turn to smile at Andrew in my excitement, but he is facing forward. Our hands are still tightly interlaced, but I sense a subtle change in his demeanor. Maybe it just hasn't sunk in with him yet that we will have this much money. I smile to myself because it doesn't even cross my mind to not share the windfall with Andrew. He and I are a team now––an unstoppable, unbeatable team.
I'm busy daydreaming about all of the wonderful things we can do with the money when I realize that T.J. is still yammering. I manage to focus my attention on the croc as he rubs his chin seeming to deeply to contemplate something. "You know, it just doesn't seem like an exciting ending to our action-packed show." He pretends like he is just coming up with all of this, but I'm confident he has it all carefully orchestrated and planned out in advance.
"It's so much money...a quarter of a million dollars," he continues as if he is still mulling things over. "It doesn't seem right to just hand it over to someone simply because her competition was disqualified. That's anti-climactic, and I won't stand for it. We need more of a challenge than that."
"Let's see," he paces dramatically back and forth as if he is frantically trying to come up with something so he doesn't have to hand over an enormous check to me. "The only rules in this game are that there are no rules. I get to make the rules," he adds with a gleam in his eye, and I sense that he is about to reveal whatever challenge I will need to face to win the money.
"I've got it," he holds up a finger indicating his aha moment. "It's a lot of money, Ruthie. In fact, it's enough money to completely change your life, but it doesn't seem fair that you should get both love AND money. So, you need to make a choice," he informs me, "Andrew or $250,000?"
"Now let's be clear here," he interjects before I can say anything, "you don't get both. You have both signed contracts that stipulate you will agree to our terms. Our terms are that if you take the money, you have no further contact with Andrew after tonight. We will take the money back and sue you for damages if we should find out the two of you are sneaking around behind our backs. I think the others on this panel," he sweeps a hand out to indicate the rest of the group, "can attest to our snooping capabilities."
"So, what will it be, Ruthie...love or money?"
I don't even have to ponder my answer. The money would be great, but we can always make more of that. There will never be another Andrew. I haven't been able to get over him in the years since high school, so I'm certain I would never be able to get over losing him after all we've now been through together. I say the words
loudly and clearly, "I choose love."
T.J. turns to the crowd with his mouth open in mock amazement. "Well, folks, I am stunned. I thought for sure that one was going to go the other way. Didn't you?"
Baggy and a few others yell, "No!" Some people clap and others whistle and cheer. I have apparently finally won over the audience.
"Love wins over money." T.J. is shaking his head as if he truly can't believe it. Then, as if he has forgotten something, he holds up his pointer finger. "Wait, there's one person on stage we haven't spoken to." He wheels around on his heel to face Andrew.
"Andrew," T.J. says his name, but gives me a snide look. I can tell by the gleam in his eye during the dramatic pause that I am not going to like whatever is coming one bit. Finally, he speaks, "We brought you onto this show to win Ruthie's heart, and it looks like you have succeeded, my man."
The blood is rushing in my ears. Andrew was a plant by the show's producers. They brought him here to seduce me. Everything that I have built up in my head about us being in love is built on a lie. It was all completely fake on his part. This version of reality is too difficult to comprehend. Everything seems to be moving in slow motion as I try to make sense of the harsh truths I am being presented with. I am aware that my body is shutting down, but I don't know how to stop it. The spotlights are swirling and the world is spinning in disarray as I feel myself falling to the ground.
Chapter Thirty-Three
I vaguely remember waking up and feeling safe with Syd carrying me in his arms. The next recollection I have is of a helicopter landing on the ship's helipad before whisking Baggy and me away to an airport. Baggy had me take a sleeping pill before the flight, so things are hazy about the rest of the trip home. The next time I become fully awake and aware of my surroundings, I am safely ensconced in my own bed at home. Baggy is sitting up next to me, watching Family Feud at a volume level that could easily be heard across town.
She yells at the television, "Titties! Why aren't you guessing titties?"
When I sit up to see what in the world she is talking about, she turns to look at me, seeming startled that I'm awake. "Oh, hi, Sweets. These morons are driving me crazy...the question is to name a body part that starts with the letter T, and they will not say titties."
She seems completely appalled that they aren't listening to her through the tv. "Umm, I don't think they can say that word on television, Baggy," I inform her as she finds the remote and clicks off the set, grumbling about idiots that censor her television viewing.
Finally, she turns her full attention to me. "How are you feeling? Better?"
I nod in answer.
"Good. Everyone has been so worried," she informs me, picking up her cell phone as if that provides proof. There is only one person who I really want to know if he has called, but I hate myself for caring. He sold me out, yet he's still the first person I want to speak with. I can't just shut off feelings I have had for so many years––especially not now that I know the man that teenaged-heartthrob turned into. Well, I thought I knew that man, until I learned of his betrayal.
"Did I pass out on live tv?" I ask my grandma when the fuzziness begins to fade.
"You sure did!" She says it like it's something to be proud of. "Your eyes rolled way back in your head like you were possessed, then you slithered down to the floor like a snake. Didn't hit your head on the chair or anything. It was an excellent blackout. If I ever pass out on television, I hope I do it just like you did...super slow and slinky-like."
I can't believe that she's proud of me for my mad fainting skills, but I guess if I'm going to do it for all the world to see, I might as well do it with finesse.
I don't want to ask the burning questions that are most prevalent in my mind, but I have to know the answers. "What did Andrew do when I fainted? Is he still on the ship? Did he win the money? Has he called? Is he never allowed to see me again?"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, here. Let's back this little red Corvette up a little bit. You are worried about the traitor who came on the show to seduce you and take your money?" Baggy looks disgusted with me.
"No, I just...it's not that...well, yes," I finally admit, feeling ashamed by my weakness, but still needing to know the full story about Andrew. "Just because his feelings for me were fake and staged by the producers of the show, doesn't mean that mine weren't real––very real. Knowing that he lied to me hurts deeply, but it doesn't mean I can just turn off my feelings for him like that." I snap my fingers.
"Hmph," she grumbles before saying, "I really don't know what happened. I called for the helicopter and had Syd carry you to the med center on the ship. You kept waking up and shutting back down, like your body refused to let your mind grasp what had happened."
I decide that sounds about right because I don't remember being in the medical center at all. I hope the cameras weren't recording the entire fiasco. I wouldn't put it past the producers of the show to put together and air a "Cruising for Love––Fainting Debacle" episode.
"Several people kept coming to the physician's cabin to check on you, but we sent them all away," she informs me. She seems to be debating saying something. Evidently making her decision, she adds, "Including Andrew."
I feel my face light up at this news. I can't help myself. As much as I want to be angry with him and not care what he thinks or does, I just can't seem to give up hope. I've felt too strongly about him for too long. My heart wants to believe that there has to be some plausible explanation for what he has done, although my mind can't muster a believable or excusable one.
Baggy seems to want to set my mind at ease that she protected me from Andrew. "I went all grandmama bear on that louse," she informs me. "I told him to stay away and that he doesn't deserve you."
I try to hide the disappointment on my face because I know that her reaction had arisen from a place of love and that she had my best interests at heart. I do wish that she had at least listened to what he had to say, though. Some hopelessly optimistic side of me desperately wants to believe that Andrew had a good reason for what he did and that he is worthy of my love.
Baggy's milky blue eyes light up with an idea. "We could watch the show to see what happened after we left!"
I'm not sure why I hadn't thought of that. Perhaps my mind still isn't quite firing on all cylinders. "Yes!"
I can hardly stand the wait as she goes to retrieve my laptop and pulls up the website. Eventually, she gets the show going, but she seems content to watch the entire thing through from the beginning.
Not having the patience for that, I grab the computer from her. "We already know what happens during this part." I fast-forward all the way to the last couple of minutes. Watching it as an outside party like this, I can see the guilt creep into Andrew's eyes when I say that I choose him over the money. At least he has some remorse.
Baggy mumbles some vulgar curse words when T.J. reveals on the screen that Andrew has been playing the game from the beginning. I watch myself pass out in slow motion. Baggy had been right...it was a graceful dismount from my chair, considering that I was not awake.
"Excellent fall!" Baggy tells my limp body on the screen.
A flurry of activity begins as people rush forward to help me. Andrew looks really worried, but Baggy shakes her finger at him until he backs away. I can't tell what she is saying because she's not wearing a wireless microphone like the rest of us, but I have a pretty good guess at the gist of her words.
For as slender as Syd is, he picks my dead weight up from the floor effortlessly. Baggy parts the crowd and leads the way as Syd carries me away to get medical help.
This is where the show should get really interesting, I decide as I lean in to see what happened next.
T.J. looks stunned for a moment, but he quickly recovers. "Okay," he starts. "We will post an update on Ruthie's condition on the website." Turning to Andrew, who looks utterly stunned, T.J. says, "We only have a few seconds left. You completed your mission, Andrew. Ruthie chose you over the money, which me
ans you win the money––as long as you stay away from Ruthie. How does it feel to be a very wealthy man?"
The shot closes in on Andrew. His mouth is hanging open and his eyes are staring straight forward as if he can't believe everything that has just happened. "It feels...I feel..."
The screen goes dark indicating the playback is over before we hear what he said. "What?? No!" I yell at the computer. "How could they just leave us hanging like that?" I ask Baggy.
She shakes her head. "I don't know, but it sure does make for riveting television."
Chapter Thirty-Four
I examine the entire web site, but can't find what I'm looking for. It indicates that I am at home resting and recuperating, but it says nothing about Andrew or the next episode of the show. It's like they have just ended it, leaving the world (especially me) with this huge cliffhanger of how Andrew feels.
I am tempted to throw my laptop across the room, but since I'm still making payments on my credit card for it, I manage to stop myself. Besides, that kind of outburst would only feel good for a second. I'm proud of myself for realizing that in time to curb my destructive instinct. There was a time––not too long ago––when I would have pitched a hissy fit, without any concern for the consequences.