The Fabulist

by Chiletz, Dawn L.

  “What in the world are you two doing back here? You’re not allowed in this room. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  “What is this, Herman, and how long has High-Rise known about it?” I ask angrily. Are they working together? Is one of them The Fabulist? I frantically search their eyes for answers.

  “High-Rise? You call me High-Rise?”

  Herman cracks a smile and covers his mouth to hide it.

  I sigh. “Yes, I call you High-Rise. I know your name is Thomas now, but the first day I met you, you said you worked in a high-rise building. And look at you. You could be your own skyscraper. So yeah, I called you High-Rise because I couldn’t remember your name.”

  “And yet you know my name and still refer to me as such?”

  “I like it better. Stop trying to change the subject. How long have you known about this place?” I demand the answer once again.

  Herman glances at High-Rise and back to me. “Thomas didn’t know about this room either, Sam. No one is allowed back here except certain people. It’s how we monitor things on the first floor. Not even the camera crew knew it was here.”

  I turn and look at them. They shrug.

  “I need you both to leave.”

  High-Rise and I exit through the hidden door. George is in the boardroom and surprised to see us. “Where the heck did y’all come from?” he questions.

  “We discovered a secret room,” High-Rise states, motioning to me.

  “No, he found the room and I followed him inside.”

  “Okay, folks, we’re ready to start,” Bryce announces as Hogan and his crew continue to set up. Hogan is chewing something and wipes his mouth. He seems tired. I wonder how much of a dinner break he gets, or if he gets more than a moment to eat.

  I take a deep breath. This could be it. Bryce does an intro and then the screen comes to life with the shadow we’ve come to know as The Fabulist. Seeing that we’ve never been able to talk to him when he appears on the screen, I wonder once again if he’s recorded or live. Herman isn’t here right now. Is Herman The Fabulist?

  “Thomas, Sam, and George. Please take your spaces on the chessboard. Chess is one of my favorite games. It requires anticipation and preparation. You must always stay focused and be one step ahead of your opponent. Standing before me are three highly skilled players. I’ve seen your talents grow as you’ve played and carefully observed the workings of your minds. Your answers may not always have been perfect, but your reasoning has given you an edge over the others. Over time, your skill has improved and I must say all of your answers were well thought out and surprisingly spot on. Any one of you would make a fine addition to my staff. However, there are rules and even though I rarely play by them, I only have one position available. With that in mind, I’m ready to announce the first person who passed this test and will be moving on to the final elimination. That person is…”

  High-Rise, George, and I all stand in the same row. The red and white lights flicker and dance between us. I don’t think I’m breathing.

  “Thomas Moore.”

  High-Rise smiles and turns to George and me, shaking our hands. I’m happy for him. I’m also still suspicious as hell, but I could be going home and the idea scares the hell out of me.

  “Well played, Thomas. Time has stopped for you. You are safe. The other player joining us in the final round for the chance of a lifetime is…”

  Once again the lights flicker and flash. Did I answer correctly? Did George do better than I did? I swear the seconds are passing in slow motion.

  “Sam Wittaker. Congratulations, Sam. You have secured your position in the game. George, checkmate. Your game is over.”

  The screen goes dark and I turn to George. He’s surprised and disappointed. He shakes my hand. I know I made it, but it still doesn’t seem real. I’m in the final two. Could I really win this thing?

  Bryce shakes his hand as he says, “George, it was a pleasure meeting you and we will certainly miss your humor and charm.”

  “Thank you. I’m really shocked. I hate to have to leave y’all. This was an amazing opportunity.”

  “I hate to have to say this, but I’m going to have to ask you to pack your bags. Thanks for being here, George. We wish you well.”

  After George leaves through the double doors, Bryce motions for us to join him on stage.

  “One more challenge. One more vote. The Fabulist is leaving this choice up to the viewing audience. He wants to know your thoughts. You will cast the final vote for the player you think should win the game. Watch next week when the final players face the most difficult challenge in television history. More surprises await on the show where nothing is ever as it seems. Join us here as The Fabulist makes his final move. See you then.”

  “And cut…” the voice overhead booms.

  Bryce turns to us. “Congratulations to both of you. Get some rest. Tomorrow will be a long day. There will be an interview in the morning as part of the game and others scheduled for you once the show airs, as per the contracts you signed. Tomorrow’s challenge will be a big one. We’ll start at 10:00 A.M. Breakfast at nine.”

  I’m still in shock. America gets to vote? Well, shit. I bet I came off as a total bitch. Am I a bitch? I don’t mean to be. I guess it’s kinda what I signed up for and agreed to, but is it possible they’ll spin the clips so people hate me? What if after all this, I lose because people don’t like the way I played? I imagine what the interviews could be like. I’m sure they’ll want to know about my nicknames, alleged alliances, and the games I played with people. I feel physically ill.

  When the lights dim, I realize I’m still standing in the middle of the board. Bryce and High-Rise have cleared out and one crew member is speaking to Lori up front. I turn to step off the chessboard and Hogan holds his hand out to help me down. I see my cameraman filming from the left. I place my hand in Hogan’s. He turns to his coworker.

  “I’ll film from here. You deserve a break.”

  “Thanks, man.” He seems relieved. As I step down, Hogan releases my hand and bends to pick up the camera.

  “You all look exhausted,” I say with concern.

  “Yeah. Late nights lately, with tons of issues. It’s almost over though.”

  Almost over. His words play on repeat in my mind as I stroll away from him and toward the elevator. He has to hurry to catch up to me. When I hear him wrestling with his equipment, I apologize.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take off without you. My head’s all over the place.”

  He pushes the Up button and after we enter, he lowers the camera to the floor. “Are you okay?” he questions, eyebrows drawing together.

  “It’s just, well, I’m worried how the audience is going to feel about me. I bet I seem like a real pain in the ass.”

  He laughs lightly. “Have you ever cared what anyone thought before? Why start now?”

  I can’t look at him. He’s right. Everyone knows that about me. I’ve made it clear from the start I didn’t care what people thought. Why, all of a sudden, is it bothering me now?

  The elevator doors open and I hurry to my room.

  “Sam, wait.”

  I slide my key card and open the door, rushing in. He holds the door behind me and places the camera on his shoulder. He can’t talk to me in here and I know it. I don’t know what to say. I feel weak and needy. It’s a horrible feeling, one I rarely let myself feel. I don’t like it at all and I don’t know how to make it go away.

  I kick off my shoes and slouch on the bed. I glance over at where Brenda used to sleep and I miss her. I wonder how she’ll feel when she hears I called her BM. My heart constricts. I am a bitch. I pick up my notebook and flip through the pages. I sense Hogan’s eyes on me, but I can’t bring myself to look at him.

  Out of the corner of my eye, an irregular movement catches my attention. He places the camera on the floor and picks up my sweater from the bed. Tossing it upward in one fluid motion, it lands on the camera and covers
it. He crouches down to gaze into my eyes.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he whispers.

  I shake my head, feeling the need to lie. “You didn’t. I think I always wanted to make it this far, but I never expected it would really happen. I’m just shocked. I’ll be fine.”

  “Look at me.”

  I lift my eyes and remember how much I adore his face.

  “One of the things I admire most about you is that you say what you feel. I know my opinion doesn’t mean a lot, but I see who you are and I happen to think who you are is pretty damn amazing. Don’t ever change for anyone, Sam. In my opinion, this whole show would have been boring without you. Yeah, you fought with other people, but you had your reasons and I think once this airs, everyone will see them and back you up. Don’t worry. Don’t second-guess yourself now or ever. Understand?”

  He warms my heart. Why is he always so good to me? I glance up to the covered camera and his eyes follow mine. “Are you going to get in trouble?” I whisper, pointing.

  “It’s only for a minute. Who cares?” He shrugs. His eyes meet mine and he huffs a small smile. I wonder if he understands what his words mean to me.

  “Better?” he asks as he pushes to his feet.

  “I am now.”

  He nods as he turns back to pick up the camera on the floor. I have to decide quickly what to do. I need him to know how I feel. This is my last night in the game and with him. It’s my last chance to show him just how much I care. I reach out my hand to stop him. He rotates to face me.

  “What is it?” he asks with concern.

  I rise from the bed and move to stand in front of him. I’m trembling and I don’t know why. I’ve never ever been nervous with a guy before. But Hogan Harper isn’t just any man. I place my hand on his cheek and lift up on my toes, pressing my lips to his.

  He hungrily accepts my kiss. In that moment all my doubts fall away. I want him.

  He winds his hands through my long blonde hair, holding on like his life depends on it. The kiss is deep and filled with… something, but it’s different from before. I pull his T-shirt from his jeans.

  As quickly as it starts, it ends. He breaks away and glares angrily down into my eyes. “I told you, we can’t. I can’t,” he whispers. “I’m sorry you took me the wrong way. I shouldn’t have said anything. This was always a mistake.”

  His words are curt and his face is cold. He lifts his equipment onto his shoulder, pulls the sweater from the room camera, and begins filming me again. I’m hurt, but I don’t want him to see. Couldn’t we have at least talked about it?

  This push and pull with him is confusing, painful, and exhausting. I left myself open and weak and he rejected me. Now that the show is almost over, is he trying to cut me loose?

  Attempting to appear unaffected, I pull out my business attire for tomorrow, as required, and lay it on Brenda’s empty bed. My lips sting from his kiss. I don’t know what to make of him, but if that’s how he wants this to end, so be it. Something shifts in me and I feel more like Sam Wittaker from New York City than I have in days. I’ll never beg for attention from any man. If he doesn’t want me, I’ll walk away. I won’t let him know I care.

  After packing my things, I get ready for bed. I don’t give his presence another thought. If it was always a mistake, I need to push him out of my mind. I slide into bed and turn off the light. Tomorrow I will fight. I’ll give it my everything. I’ll win this thing no matter what it takes and I’ll leave L.A. and Hogan behind forever.

  AFTER BREAKFAST, WE get one-on-one interviews with Bryce. I’m pleased Hogan isn’t filming me directly, even if he is in the room.

  “Tell me, Sam. What do you think has been the biggest challenge of the game?”

  I exhale slowly. “Knowing what he wants. All of us were here with the goal of uncovering the lies in others, yet we were never allowed to read him. We never saw his face, his hands, or any movement whatsoever. There was never a chance to understand him or get in his head. My gut tells me that’s how he wanted it. I think…” I pause to collect my thoughts. “Thomas and I might have had a bit of an advantage. Winning the chance to sit with him, even though it was brief, was helpful. He was direct, but he never gave away much about himself, and it might have given us some extra insight the others didn’t have. If I hadn’t asked him what I did wrong in the first two games, I wouldn’t have known how to make myself better. Maybe we’ll see our shortcomings when it airs, but not knowing what we guessed incorrectly left us playing blind. Those few minutes with him changed the way I presented myself in the diary room. I’m not sure I’d be here if I hadn’t won that card game,” I say with a laugh.

  “Good thing you’re competitive all the time,” Bryce adds.

  “I’m always out to win.”

  “Drama followed wherever you went. Why do you think that is?”

  I shrug as I ponder his question and the best way to respond. I dig down deep into what I’m feeling at this moment. “I never meant for there to be. I’m reactive. If I see something I don’t agree with, I let it be known. Someone once told me life’s too short to feel regret. You have to take a chance. Sometimes it pays off and sometimes you’re left standing there alone, but either way, you’ll never hear a yes or no unless you ask. I’ll leave here knowing I put it all on the table. I don’t know that everyone can say the same.”

  “Thank you, Sam. I said from the beginning you were one to watch. We’ll definitely be watching you today. Good luck.”

  After I shake Bryce’s hand and Herman calls cut, I stand and remove the microphone from my lapel. I’d used Hogan’s words. It was intentional. I listened to what he said, and it meant something to me. I was responding as much to Bryce as I was to the way Hogan ended things with me last night. He may not have heard it just now, but maybe someday he’ll realize that last part was for him. I put my heart on the table and he walked away. I won’t ever do it again.

  When I step off the stage, Hogan holds out his hand to help me down. I don’t take it. I step down without any help from him or anyone. Judging by the glare in his eyes, I think it’s safe to say he heard every word. This time I’ll be the one to walk away.

  “Checkmate. It’s a word I’ve used often throughout the show. But what does it really mean? In chess, it’s the act of maneuvering the king into a position which he cannot escape. But in the end, I won’t be losing this game, I’ll be winning. Today, one of you will make your final move. One of you will join me and the other will walk away.”

  I swallow hard and take deep breaths. This is it. One more game.

  “These challenges and every word I’ve spoken have been preparing you for this final quest. In a few moments, you will be sitting in on an actual contract negotiation at one of my companies. I’m in the process of building a new home office. I refuse to pay more than $2.5 million for the facility. Bryce will provide you with the information you need to know in order to appear authoritative. The audience will see that information as well. The parties involved do not know my final number. They only know their job is to present the best offer while still meeting my needs. How might they do it? What lies might they tell in order to convince you they should win the bid?

  “Every good negotiator believes they can recognize a lie. Use everything you know and everything you’ve learned to tell me which bid you feel is best for my business. I take money very seriously and I never like to lose.”

  Well, there’s one thing we have in common.

  “You may ask any questions you see fit. I’ve told them only one of you is working for me and the other is a fraud. They will present to you based on how they read you as well. There are three negotiators. There’s always a little bit of acting in every business relationship. I’ll be listening. Whether you win or lose will depend on how you present yourself, draw out the facts, recognize the unimportant, and deliver your information to me. Nothing is ever as it seems. Just because they lie, doesn’t mean they aren’t the best fit. Figure out where the lies
exist and whether or not they should have any impact on your decision. Good luck and remember, only tell me what I need to hear.”

  After his final words, he’s gone. Bryce hands us each a folder and we read through the information. We’re given twenty minutes to prepare. We are led to the elevators and up to the eleventh floor. I’m reminded I never did have the chance to explore although now is not the obvious time. High-Rise is taken into a room by Bryce while I stand in the hall. Then Bryce leads me to my own room. There are cameras set up from various angles and I’m seated at one end of a table. There’s a water bottle in front of me. I check to make sure it’s sealed before I open it and take a sip. I’ll never drink from an open, unattended bottle again for as long as I live.

  Bryce pokes his head through the door. “We’re having a technical issue. Relax. It’s going to be a few minutes.”

  I sigh in relief. Lori enters the room and speaks with my camera operators. The door is open and no one is watching me. Glancing back between them and the literal open-door invitation, I decide opportunity has presented itself and act.

  I exit the conference room. People are bustling about, going from place to place and no one even seems to notice I’ve left the room. I reach the doors to the room where we played cards and count my footsteps. Forty two, forty-three—was it forty-four? I think it was forty-six. There’s a turn... left? Twelve more steps. I remember that number because that’s how old I was when I began to hate my mother. Then right? There’s a door in front of me and no one in sight. Taking a deep breath and realizing I may lose the game because of my curiosity, I place my hand on the handle. It’s jostled from the other side. I let go and step back when I see the edge of a suit. Someone steps out, and I gasp.

  “Sam, what are you doing here?”

  “What are you doing here, Thomas Moore?” I use his real name for the first time ever. I was right all along.

  “Bryce took me to a different room, and then the equipment went out. I was looking for the bathroom and—”