That Crazy Reality Show

by Natasha Kent

  “Sounds pretty mature.”

  “Well, I’m not 15 anymore.”

  The producer had some more questions and then they finally wrapped things up. Thank God! I was getting sick of her questions. Why couldn’t people figure out the answers when they watched the show?

  “Oh by the way,” she said, “we’ve decided to extend the show by three weeks.”

  “Do what?” (That's Southern for "what?")

  “Yeah, we thought it might be interesting to see how things went after the actual reunion party.”

  “Well, goody gumdrops! Eight weeks in an apartment with seven other people. What if they smell?”

  She just laughed.

  “And how about their work. I’m a teacher so I have the whole summer off but most people don’t have that schedule.”

  “Well, that’s where the twist comes in.”

  “What twist?”

  “If I told you then there wouldn’t be a twist, now would there” she said with a smirk on her face.

  “Welp. I guess not.”

  So that was finally over. Thank God! It’s not like it went bad or anything, I just wanted to get back to packing up the last few things before I left in the morning. I had really psyched myself up for this adventure. Yes, I was sure that it was going to be an adventure.

  * * * * * * * * *

  “Awwww shit!” I hollered as I looked at the blinking “12:00” on my alarm clock. I knew I should have put a backup battery in the damn thing. Dumb ass. It started raining the night before, right after the folks from the reunion show had left and I guess the power went out sometime during the night. It was still raining outside so there was no real sunlight to try and figure out exactly how late in the morning it was. I grabbed my watch: 9:45. Oh hey-ell naww. I really wanted to get my homely ass there early so I could meet people as they came into the “studio.” I hurried into the kitchen and grabbed a quick bite to eat before I started my shower. It felt great and I wanted to stay a while but figured I better get going. It was still going to take 45 minutes or so to get down to midtown. In Atlanta, it takes 40-50 minutes to get everywhere, even to the nearest Kroger. I was in too big of a hurry to shave so I got dressed – jean shorts and a polo shirt. Leather sandals. Probably not smart for rainy weather – oh well! I did a quick run through the apartment and made sure what needed to be off was off, and what needed to be on was on. I had a couple of lamps set on timers; never been gone anywhere for 8 weeks before. After making sure I had my bags fully loaded (bathroom crap, lube; you know – I’m a guy) I opened the door, stepped out onto the porch and stopped.

  Standing out in the rain in a poncho or slicker or whatever you call them was a cameraman. “What in the hell,” I said.

  “The only thing that I can tell you is that I’m to film you on the way down to the studio.”

  “Why? You gonna get lost or something?”

  He just stood there with his camera aimed at me. I made a face at the camera and said “Shit-ass; you could have at least gotten me up this morning” laughing a bit. I usually laugh whenever I say something, especially when I’m talking to people that I don’t know, ‘cause I never know when they’ll get my sense of humor. My friends know that I’m a real sarcastic bastard, but they say it’s a part of my charm. Lick me.

  I didn’t think I’d ever get to I-75, and heading downtown was easy – for about a minute or two. It seems that whenever people drive in the rain they have a bizarre tendency to remove their own heads before going out on the road. There were like three wrecks between Smyrna and Atlanta, which when added with rain added about twenty more minutes to my drive. Finally, I hit the connector (that’s where I-85 and I-75 come together in the city) and exited at North Aveune, near Georgia Tech. I crossed over the connector, zigged and zagged to Ponce De Leon and headed east toward the factory/apartment. By the way, nobody in Atlanta pronounces that name correctly, which is “Pon-say day lee-own;” we pronounce it “Ponce de Lee-on.” Most of us just call it “Ponce”. There’s your useless trivia for the day.

  Back to the story. Wait. Should I describe myself here? Oh, alright, you’ve convinced me. I’m 5’11”, weigh about 180 and have hazel eyes, brown hair and I sport a goatee. I keep in shape by not eating a lot of shit and jogging. I have ten-pack abs and a ten inch cock. Now, take 8 away from the first number and 3 away from the second and you’ll have my actual belly and ….. well, you know. (That's my attempt at being coy).

  Ok, now back to the story. I know exactly where the factory apartments are where we’ll be living for 5 – make that 8 – weeks, and head over there. I spot the old Sears building and know that I’m almost there. Parking for the factory is in the rear, or south side of the building. Dude, there’s nothing like an Atlanta summer rain. Your car fogs up quite nicely when it’s really muggy outside, which it was. The rain had started to pick up and now it was also thundering and lightning. Lovely.

  “Grab a bag?” I ask the camera man. The camera stays on me. “Great.” I take a deep breath, blow it out and head out into the maelstrom known as an Atlanta storm. I ran around to the back of the Jimmy, opened the back and grabbed my bags. At this point I’m completely soaked and cussing up a storm, out loud but to myself. I close the back and almost trip running into the camera man. I really had to start remembering that he was there wherever I went. As I headed toward the building I remembered to set the alarm on the Jimmy and turned around to aim my remote at it. I ended up backing into a cameraman, but not mine.

  “Dammit y’all!” I said. I started looking around to find my cameraman, spotted him a few feet away and then walked right into a wall. Or at least I thought it was a wall. Quickly I saw that it was a person and for a second I thought it was the second cameraman and was saying “What in the Goddamned hell….” when I noticed that it wasn’t him at all. It was the person he was following.

  It was Matt Wellington.

  Part 3

  We stood there staring at each other in the pouring friggin’ rain for twenty minutes. At least that’s how long it seemed. More than likely it was three seconds but who’s counting. He looked the same as he did in high school, only…..better. Damn. What’s funny is that even back in the 7th grade I thought he was handsome, in a sort of rednecky and gruff way. Puberty was good to him in high school, as opposed to how it eviscerated me. I had zits and coke bottle glasses – what a beaut! He had retained his good looks into his twenties and his body had certainly matured. You could tell that he had remained athletic throughout college because his body was nice and solid. No, my x-ray vision hadn’t kicked in, it was raining, remember? His clothes were stuck to his body just like mine were.

  “Do you always bring your own cameraman wherever you go?” he asked, smiling. Fucking perfect teeth, too. Bastard.

  B-duh, b-duh, b-duh I stammered in my head. It took me a second to speak as I looked around at the cameramen patiently enduring the rain in their fashionable ponchos. But hey, at least they were dry.

  “Well….” I tried to think of something funny to say (surprise) but couldn’t. “These poor saps are gonna really hate their jobs if we keep venturing out in the rain.” Mentally I squeezed my eyes shut. That was a pretty dumb thing to say.

  Holding out his hand he said, “You’re obviously part of the reunion show too. I’m Matt Wellington.”

  “Yes, I remember you,” I replied smiling. Only I didn’t smile for long. I was still carrying my bags, one in each hand, and as I extended my own hand to shake his, the bag in it swung through the air and crashed into his shin.

  “Damn!” he said, wincing, “what in the hell’s in that bag?”

  “Dude, I am so sorry! Are you ok? This friggin’ shit-ass rain’s got me kind of flustered.” That and the fact that my childhood bully was standing there with hunky body and perfect teeth. Ok, so he’s the one that had me flustered.

  “Rain gets you flustered?”

  “Only when I’ve been standing out in it for twenty minutes,” I said laughing.
r />   “Well, when you laugh, the rain just goes away.”

  My eyes shifted back and forth between cameramen. “On what planet is that logic true?” still smiling. At this point I was contemplating building an arc and rounding up the Good Lord’s creatures.

  “Oh, it’s just something that my….a friend used to tell me.”

  “Oh really? Is that friend here today?” What the fuck am I doing? In the damned rain?

  “Oh no.”

  “I wish he’d start laughing, then.”

  Chuckling, Matt said, “Why’s that?”

  Putting my bags down I cupped my hands around my mouth like Elaine on Seinfeld and said “Because it’s raining out here! And we’re getting soaked!”

  “Shit, you’re right. Dude, I’m sorry. Let me take your bag.”

  He took the suitcase that clobbered him and headed toward the shelter at the main doors of the factory. I was completely soaked and so was he. But hey, he looked good wet so I wasn’t going to complain. Ok, so I had bad memories of his personality, but I sure had good ones of how he looked. Once we got inside he set my bag down.

  “No, no baby, you aren’t dropping that this quick," I said.

  Sticking out his hand he said “Nice to meet you.”

  I set the bag down that I was carrying and shook his hand. “Well, it’s good seeing you again.”

  “Again?”

  “Yeah, in case you’ve missed it, we’re at a reunion party, which means we’ve met before” I laughed.

  “True. I'm just having a hard time placing you, that’s all.”

  “Oh. Good.”

  “Huh?”

  “That means that you don’t recognize me, which is good because I really hope that I look nothing like I did in school. I’m Mike Martin.”

  “Well the name sure sounds familiar,” he said.

  You should always know the names of the people you bully in school, jag-off. Broke my pencils, threw my books on the floor, called me names. Fucker. Oh come on Mikey! That was a long time ago, remember, you’ve changed in the years too. Give the guy a break.

  Ohhhhh, all right…..dammit.

  “Yeah, I remember that we went to elementary school together too.”

  “No kidding?”

  “Yep. Seventh grade, at least. That’s when I moved here.”

  At this point we were walking toward the elevator. “From where?” he asked.

  “Arizona.”

  “Yankee” he said smiling. Perfect teeth. Fucker.

  I laughed my belly laugh and said, “You know, that’s what you said way back then. Douchebag.” Shaking my head I was still smiling. Changing the subject I asked him where his bags were.

  “They’re upstairs already. I had forgotten to lock my truck and came down….shit, I ‘ll be right back. Forgot to do that. You had me flustered!” he laughed as he ran out of the building. Sighing inwardly I watched him run away. At least I watched his ass while he ran. God, I remember his ass. But that was just high school ass. You remember the 80’s don’t you? When guys wore jeans that did a fantastic job showing off their ass-ets? Well now he had a mature 28 year old ass. Yummy yummy yummy I got love in my tummy…..

  I turned to my cameraman. “Got a towel?” No response from him. “Prick.” I wiped the rainwater out of my eyes as Matt came jogging back into the foyer. The front of him looked good too. Criminy. Eight weeks slobbering over this hot guy, knowing I can do absolutely nothing about it. I mean come on, we were to be on television and I was still in the closet then. And the sheer fucking irony that he used to be such… a…dickhead. Back to the front of him. He had nice solid legs that were good and hairy. His arms were hairy and tanned and he was also sporting a goatee. Oops sorry, I need to describe him. He’s a little taller than me, about six foot or six foot one, and probably weighed around 195. Blue eyes and brown hair a little lighter than mine. Woof! You could see at least a 15” kielbasa in his shorts. Well, not really. He looked pretty good in the package department but I couldn’t tell anything else. Just that he fit his shorts well. (Okay, stop slobbering, size queens.)

  “Nice day, isn’t it,” Matt said.

  “Well maybe things’ll start looking up. Hey is anyone else here? I know it’s kind of late in the day already” I asked.

  “Let’s see…I think her name’s Amanda, a chick named Jessica, and the other guys, Eddie and Albert are here. Six down, two to go.”

  After we all unloaded from the elevator I got to see the inside of the factory better. We were on the 4th floor of the building, which was also the top level. There was a huge skylight in the center of the building and all of the apartments opened up onto balconies that you could look over and see the ground floor. Matt showed me to our apartment and I finally got my first look inside. What an apartment! There’s no telling how much this place must’ve leased for. We took the entire west side of the building. Basically the factory was an old car factory, rectangular in shape with the long side running north/south on the property. The building immediately next to us was the old Sears building. It was a bit taller but you could still see the Atlanta skyline which also runs north and south on Peachtree Street. The windows went almost floor to ceiling and the floors were made up of huge wooden planks. The concrete columns were exposed, as was the ductwork and electrical conduits.

  “Hey man, let me give you a tour.”

  “Alrighty.” Just so you know I have this tendency to say goofy shit like “alrighty” and “goody gumdrops.” I’m sure you’ve picked up on that already.

  “Well, it’s pretty obvious that we’re in the main living area, with a ton of seating and the kitchen area open. Hey man, check it out. We have a pool table and a big ass t.v. with Playstation and Nintendo. On that side of the loft is the girls’ bedroom.”

  “One bedroom?”

  “Yeah. I guess they want to be able to—“

  “catch us on t.v. yentering about each other in bed?” I interrupted.

  He chuckled. “I guess so. The girls’ room overlooks Ponce. Here’s our home for the next five weeks” he said leading me to the other end of the building.

  “Eight.”

  “Shit, that’s right. So the place is basically three rooms; the two bedrooms and the living room slash kitchen.”

  “With one helluva view! Check that out! I’ve always wanted to live in the city but I know there’s no way I can afford it on a teachers’ salary.”

  “Oh, so you’re a teacher?”

  “Yep. History.”

  “Cool. Where at?”

  I told him the name of the school and he recognized it. “I have a nephew there. It’s supposed to be a really good school. What grade do you teach?”

  “I teach U.S. history to the juniors and seniors. What grade’s your nephew in?”

  “I think he’ll be a junior next year.”

  “So your nephew…is he your wife’s sister’s kid, or whatever?”

  “No, actually he’s my sister’s kid. I’m not married.”

  “Wanna be?” Matt looked at me kind of funny. “I mean, most guys our age are married by now.” Was that a Freudian slip? Nope.

  “Ah. Not right now. Here, check out our room.”

  I checked out the bedroom. It was huge! There were four double beds throughout the space, each with a night stand. A couple were against the windows and the other two against the walls. At one end of the room was a cool bathroom with this really big walk-in shower/steam room. Hmmm….the possibilities…..not! All of a sudden I realized that something was missing.

  “Well Matt, where did the cameramen go?”

  “They pretty much stop at the door. Look out here.”

  I poked my head out into the bedroom and looked to where he was pointing. Cameras in various locations meant to pick up on any and all activity within the apartment. I turned around quickly and checked out the bathroom.

  He chuckled. “Nope. None in there. I already looked for them.”

  “Good! At least we can take care of our
‘bidness’ in private” I said with a wink. Oh yeah, I also have a tendency for inappropriate humor.

  He laughed out loud. “Oh my!” and it sounded exactly like the “oh my” from the Howard Stern show.

  “Hey, you listen to Stern too?” I asked.

  “Every chance I get. Dude cracks me up.”

  “Me too! I love all of the sound effects that Fred plays throughout the show. That’s what usually cracks me up the most. Always love Robin’s newscast with Stern’s commentary. Not a big Jackie fan, though.”