by Maria Geraci
Six men stood together, all rose-less. Sam, the guy in the duck suit, and four other guys. They all looked like they were facing the firing squad. Surely Hannah wasn’t going to cut Sam, was she? Not that she deserved a nice guy like Sam. Not when she’d already given a rose to that sleazy Dave. But Annie didn’t want Sam to go through the humiliation of being cut on the first night.
Annie reached out for her fourth, or what, fifth chocolate chip cookie? Tomorrow, she’d have to hit the gym.
Hannah looked at the six men left with sympathy in her eyes. “I wish I had six more roses to give out, but unfortunately I don’t.” She picked up the lone rose and gazed at it sadly. “My last rose of the night goes to … Mitch.”
The three older women recoiled in horror.
“Which one is Mitch?” Annie asked.
“No! Not the duck!” wailed Millie.
The duck waddled over to get his rose. Despite all the feathers, he still managed to give Hannah a hug.
“Gentlemen,” Don What’s-his-name said, “if you didn’t receive a rose tonight, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Mom threw her hands up in disgust. “I’m never watching this show again.”
“What could she be thinking?” asked Charlotte. “How could she not give that adorable Sam a rose?”
Personally, Annie thought Sam was better off not getting a rose. “Looks to me like the two of them didn’t connect.” She studied Sam’s face. He looked shell-shocked. Poor guy. Putting yourself out there was hard enough, but on live national TV? Annie could never do it, that’s for sure.
“Didn’t connect? What has that to do with anything?” wailed Millie.
Charlotte pointed at Annie’s phone. “What is that Twitter saying now?”
Annie glanced at her phone screen. “It’s saying … Huh, that’s weird. It’s not saying anything.” She refreshed her phone, but nothing happened. “I think my Twitter app crashed.”
“Crashed?” Millie looked confused. “You mean, it got in an accident?”
Annie scrolled through her phone apps. Everything else looked fine. She uninstalled the app, then reinstalled it, but nothing happened.
She went to Google and typed in the word TWITTER. The first thing that popped up was: SINGLE GAL FANS SWARM TWITTER WITH PROTESTS AFTER FAVORITE GETS THE BOOT.
“Oh my God.”
“What? What’s going on?” Mom asked.
Annie bit back an incredulous laugh. “I think your guy Sam just crashed Twitter.”
3
Sam did a double take. The guy in the duck suit got a rose. Was this a joke?
Don Carmichael, the show’s host, gave the remaining men an oily smile. “Gentlemen, if you didn’t receive a rose tonight, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Not a problem. Sam was more than ready to get out of here.
Dave turned and gave him a bro hug. “Tough luck, dude.” He leaned over and whispered, “Make sure you cry in your exit interview. Either that or get really pissed. It’s the only way you’re going to be able to milk this.” Then he slapped him on the back and went on to give some advice to the next rose-less chump.
Exit interview? Not likely. It was time to cut his losses. First thing on his agenda was getting out of this sweaty suit and into a hot shower, followed by a solid eight hours of shuteye, then a plane trip back home to Texas.
In twenty-four hours, he’d be back at the ranch, working from his home office, eating his mother’s shepherd’s pie and trading quips with Becks. After supper, he’d drive his pickup into the nearby town of Baylee Flats. Maybe go to Wilbur’s Bar and Grill to play a game of pool with the guys. There would be some good-natured ribbing about tonight, but that was to be expected. He could hear his buddies now.
Hey, Sam! What’s the duck got that you don’t?
For God’s sake, man, did you just let out a supply of gas?
Telling Hannah he “supplied” gas hadn’t been his finest moment.
Nothing he could do about it now, though.
He went through the loser gauntlet, shaking hands with guys he barely knew, accepting their words of condolences. Finally, it was time to say goodbye to Hannah.
One by one, the other rejects went up to give her a hug. He’d be okay with slinking out the door, but it was probably best to say his goodbyes too.
“I’m so sorry it didn’t work out between us,” she said, her eyes all big and sad-looking like she was about to cry. “I just know one day you’ll find someone really special. Someone who can appreciate all the wonderful qualities you have to offer a woman.”
“Yeah, sure,” he mumbled. How she knew he had all these “wonderful” qualities from one clumsy conversation, he had no idea.
She leaned in and gave him a quick hug. “Goodbye, Sam.” At least she remembered his name this time.
“Bye, Hannah. Best of luck.”
“Best of luck to you too.” She gave him another sad smile. This time, there was something in it that reached her eyes the way the other smiles hadn’t. Like she knew something that he didn’t and she felt truly bad about it. Then the smile vanished, and that was that.
He headed out the door, where he was welcomed by a blast of crisp, cool late-night air. This was more like it. He’d suspected that the heat had been on inside the mansion. Either that or all those lights with the accompanying cameras had produced the equivalent of Dante’s Inferno.
He stood in the courtyard for a few seconds, unsure where to go. Was he supposed to get his own ride back to the hotel? They’d taken away his cell phone, so he couldn’t call for an Uber.
“Not so fast, my friend,” came a voice from behind. He turned to see one of the camera guys gesturing to him. Shit. Was he still on camera?
“I thought the live portion of the show was over.”
The cameraman laid down his equipment. “We’re on a commercial break. Then we’re coming back to Hannah and her guys. We only have time for one exit interview, and the boss says it’s gotta be you. You got thirty seconds, so make it good.”
“No, thanks. Just hand over my cell phone so I can get out of here.”
“C’mon, man, throw me a bone.”
Sam put his hand out, palm up. “I said, I want my phone back.”
The cameraman shook his head like this was the last thing he needed. “Tammy to the set pronto,” he said into his mouthpiece.
Almost instantly, Tammy Prentis, the producer who’d been assigned to help him acclimate to the show, emerged from a side trailer and rushed toward them. Tammy was a little high-strung but nice enough. “Sam! Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” She gave him a hug. “I can’t believe Hannah didn’t give you a rose. The network is furious with her. We all are, actually.”
“Not a problem. Listen, Tammy, I need my phone back so—”
“Of course! But first, we have to get your exit interview.”
“I’m not too good with these things, so maybe you can get another guy?”
“Another guy?” She pulled out a phone from the back pocket of her jeans. Unfortunately, it wasn’t his phone. “You have no idea what’s happened in the past two hours since the show’s been on the air, do you? Sam, you’re this season’s big thing! People can’t stop Tweeting about you.”
Tweeting about him? What was she talking about?
“Thirty seconds till we go back live, Tammy,” announced the cameraman. “Let’s just get another guy.”
“Let me handle this, Jed,” she said to the guy behind the camera. She turned to plead with him. “Please, Sam, I know you probably think I have this glamorous job, but I’m a single mom with two kids, and I barely make ends meet. The network wants you, and I promised them I’d deliver.” Her eyes filled with tears. What was it about the females out here in California that they could all produce tears at the drop of a hat?
“Please,” she whispered desperately.
Only a dick would say no. “Okay, but then I want my phone back.”
“Great!”
<
br /> “We’re live in ten seconds,” said Jed.
“Can I have some water?” Sam asked.
“Not just yet,” said Tammy. “You can have anything you want right after the interview. I promise.”
“Five seconds!” yelled a guy holding a light. He flashed it in Sam’s face. A crew hand ran over to straighten his mic.
“And, we’re live!”
“It must be awful being eliminated the first night. How do you feel about that?” Tammy prompted off camera.
“It sucks,” Sam said honestly.
Tammy beamed like she was pleased. “Was Hannah your idea of the perfect woman?”
“Sure, I guess so.” Tammy made a rolling motion with her hand, urging him to say more. “Yeah, Hannah was awesome,” he added.
“Why do you think you didn’t get a rose?”
“If I knew the answer to that, then I’d have one, right?”
“Let’s examine that a little closer. You’re a good-looking guy. Why do you think you’re thirty-five and you still haven’t found anyone? Do you think you’ve been too picky? Or maybe there’s something we don’t know about you? Something that women find a big turn-off?”
“You mean besides the fact that I still live at home with my mom and my teenage sister? Yeah, I’m sure some women might find that a little off.”
Behind the camera, Jed snickered. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“Let me get this straight,” Tammy said. “You still live with your mother?” She snapped her fingers at someone with a notepad. “Why didn’t I know this before? This is great stuff!”
Sam had no idea who Tammy was talking to right now, but if talking about his home life meant he could get the camera off him and restore his cell phone, then he’d give them exactly what they wanted.
“My mom and my sister,” he clarified. “I live out in the middle of nowhere. I work twelve, sometimes eighteen hours a day. And I don’t pick up my dirty socks either. Anything else?”
Tammy’s eyes gleamed. “I think we have all we need.”
“And, cut!” someone yelled.
“Sam!” Tammy crowed. “That was fantastic!”
“Can I have my phone back now?”
“Sure. You can have it back tomorrow after the morning show.”
He stilled. “What morning show?”
“Didn’t I tell you? Oh! This is the best part. Good Morning, USA always has one of the rejected suitors on their show the morning after the premiere to talk about what went wrong. And you’ll never guess who they want? You! Isn’t that fabulous?” Tammy checked her watch. “We need to swing by the hotel, pack up and catch the redeye to New York. You’ll be live with them in eight hours, so we don’t have much time.”
“That would be a big no.”
Tammy’s eyes went round. “But Sam, you can’t say no. It’s in your contract.”
“Bullshit. I read my contract. It doesn’t say anything about being required to be on any morning show.”
“Oh, dear.” Tammy started hyperventilating. “Please,” she whispered, “They’re listening.”
“Who’s listening?”
“The executive producers. I absolutely have to get you on that show. My job depends on it. I have two kids and a mortgage, Sam. Two kids,” she repeated, her eyes once again welling up with tears.
Aw, crap.
4
Annie sat in front of her computer screen, engrossed by the image in front of her. Hopefully, no one would catch her doing what she most certainly should not be doing at 4 p.m. on a weekday while at work. She should be working on this quarter’s budget. Or on the latest figures for the upcoming Memorial Day weekend marketing campaign. But she wasn’t interested in ROI or invoices or advertising costs. Not today, anyway. She adjusted her earbuds and turned up the volume on the computer.
A knock on the door caused her to jump. Bridget, her father’s personal assistant, poked her head in the office. “Want a cup of coffee?”
In the entire time Annie had worked here, Bridget had never once offered to get her coffee. So why today of all days? Annie pulled out her earbuds. “No, thanks.”
Instead of leaving like Annie hoped, Bridget strolled over to her desk, her eyes glued to Annie’s computer. Using her upper body as a shield, Annie tried to hide the screen from the other woman’s prying gaze. “What are you working on?” asked Bridget.
She shouldn’t answer. What she should do is tell Bridget that it wasn’t polite to open closed doors even after knocking until the person inside gave you permission to enter. But that would be futile because Bridget wasn’t just her father’s assistant, she was also the company busybody. Correction: more like the town busybody. She was in her late thirties and married to her fourth husband. There wasn’t anyone in town Bridget wasn’t related to, either by blood or marriage, which was par for the course in a place like Old Explorer’s Bay.
“If you must know, I’m working on the sales reports,” Annie lied.
“Which ones? Last month? Or this month?”
“Um … last month.”
“Your dad already has those on his desk. Should I tell him they’re not finalized?”
“Did I say last month’s?” She tried for a casual laugh, but it came out sounding more like a donkey bray. “I meant to say this month’s figures.”
Bridget eyed her suspiciously. Clearly, she wasn’t buying it.
Annie should close the screen before Bridget got a look at it. Because if Bridget found out what she was doing, Annie was toast. She reached for the keyboard as discreetly as possible, but instead of closing her screen, she accidentally knocked out the audio cord.
“And we’ll be back in just a moment,” came a woman’s voice over the computer’s speaker.
“I knew you weren’t looking at sales figures.” Bridget scurried over to Annie’s side of the desk to look at the screen. “What are you watching? Porn? I promise I won’t tell your father.”
“What? Of course not. Do I look like someone who watches porn?”
“You look like someone who needs to watch porn.” Before Annie could respond, Bridget waved a hand in the air. “Forget I said that. What are you looking at? Netflix?” She studied Annie a moment. “Nah, you’re more of a Disney Plus kind of gal. Isn’t that Baby Yoda adorable?”
“I’m not watching Netflix or Disney. And I am most certainly not watching porn. If you insist on knowing, it’s today’s episode of Good Morning, USA.”
“Then why are you acting all sneaky?”
“What do you mean?”
“This morning you came in with a weird look on your face. You haven’t been to the break room all day for coffee, and you didn’t take a lunch either. I figured that meant one of two things. The company is in big doo-doo, or you and Walter broke up. I know it’s not the first one because, like I said, last month’s sales figures are on your dad’s desk, so it has to be the second one. At least, that’s what I’m hoping for.”
“You keep tabs on how many times I go to the break room?”
“I keep tabs on how many times everyone goes to the break room. How do you think I know everything that goes on around here?”
“Wait.” The second part of Bridget’s little speech just hit her. “You’re hoping Walter and I break up?”
Bridget blanked her expression. “Well … the two of you have been dating an awful long time to not be engaged or at least living together. Are you sure he’s not yanking your chain? You know, like Russell?”
Annie stiffened. Not this again. It’s like the whole town had nothing better to do than keep track of her love life. “That’s a bit out of line, don’t you think?”
“Sorry.” Only Bridget didn’t look sorry at all.
Annie shouldn’t feel the need to explain, but she couldn’t help herself. “This is a completely different situation from Russell. Walter and I are taking our time before we decide to get engaged. Not that it’s any of your business.”
Bridget still looked unconvinc
ed. “If the company is okay and you and Walter are fine,” she said, making air quotes, “then what’s got you all tizzified this morning?”
“That’s not a real word.”
“Let me rephrase. What’s got you acting like not you?”
“I can’t believe my father hasn’t fired you.”
“Your father can’t find the paper clips without me. Besides, he’s a sweetheart. He doesn’t fire anyone. That’s your job.”
True.
“And in the four years you’ve been here, you’ve only fired one person, and that’s because he stopped coming to work, so that was kind of a given.”
Also true.
Oh … why not show Bridget what she was watching? Miss Nosy Pants was never going to stop digging until she found out the truth. “Close the door, and I’ll tell you what’s going on. But only if you promise to keep this between us.”
Bridget eagerly did as instructed.
Even though the door was now closed and they were alone, Annie still lowered her voice. Just in case. “So, there’s this silly show on TV that Mom watches called Single Gal and last night—”
“I love that show! Did you see how she kept the duck? What was she thinking?”
“I know. I mean, what kind of guy goes on national television wearing a duck suit?”
“Is that what you’re looking at? Last night’s show?”
“Not exactly.” Annie hit the play button on the YouTube video.
The screen came alive with a shot of Kelly Seacrest, Good Morning, USA’s bubbly host, sitting on a couch wearing an overly tight black dress and a sly expression. “We’re back with Sam DeLuca, one of the contestants who, unbelievably, didn’t get a rose last night on Single Gal.”
Bridget gasped. “It’s Gas Station Sam! I love him. Hannah was crazy not to give this guy a rose. I wouldn’t kick him out of my bed for eating crackers, that’s for sure.”