“And yet you are here like me.”
“Yes, I am. Maybe we have similar agendas. Maybe we should form a pact.”
Damien huffed. “I think I’ll be okay by myself.”
She raised an eyebrow, thin and curvy. “You think so? The other housemates are here to party and cause chaos. When they see you sitting here and judging them like you’ve been doing all night, they’re going to vote for you every time. If you want that prize money. You have to start thinking smart.”
Damien thought about it. As much as he hated being inside the house, he was there for a reason. If he didn’t win at least some of the money then this whole thing was a colossal waste of time. And he would have failed a dear friend.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll think about it. Let’s just see what tomorrow brings first.”
Danni smiled and rubbed a hand on his thigh. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Damien sighed. “I’m not.”
Day 2
Damien’s back was aching when he opened his eyes. The sun was out and shining through the long glass window. But it was a dull sunlight and looked in no way warm.
Damien was sprawled back on the sofa with his legs stretched out on the floor. It took him a moment to get his blurry mind focused and figure out what was going on. The smell of stale cigarette smoke and standing alcohol brought it all rushing back.
Must have fallen asleep. Wonder what time it is.
Oh yeah, that’s right. No watch.
Some of the other housemates were already milling about, nursing obvious hangovers with tall glasses of water, while the rest slept on the sofa alongside Damien. Danni was still beside him, snoring softly with her head tilted back on the cushion. The metal collar around her neck blinked green from its LED lights. She still managed to look pretty somehow. Her long legs still managed to catch his gaze.
Alex came over to the sofa and handed Damien a glass of water. The man’s eyes were red and bleary, his cheeks blotchy. His tie was loose and his top button was undone, while his slicked-back blond hair was hanging limply across his forehead.
Damien took the drink and thanked him.
“Think we’d have been better off following your lead,” he said. “I feel like a bag of shit. Tracey’s been throwing up in the toilet for over an hour. God knows what percent that wine was.”
“When did you wake up?” Damien asked him.
“Wake up? Most of us haven’t been to bed yet. Not that we’ve actually been given any beds to sleep in. You got a couple hours, though. I envy you.”
“Did I? Feels like I was out longer.” Damien pointed his toes and sighed as his calf muscles shuddered awake. He got to his feet and rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck. “Right, well, I could do with something to eat. I’ll go see what I can rustle up.”
Alex clicked his fingers and pointed them at Damien like guns. “Good man. You’ll be the most popular guy in the room if you can find some bacon.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
A large, barrel-chested bald man stood in the kitchen, pouring a pint of milk with a meaty hand covered in scars. He looked up with a fag in his mouth at Damien and nodded. “How’s it going?” He managed to speak while still holding the cigarette in his mouth.
Damien nodded back at him. “Good, thanks. Sorry, I can’t quite remember your name.”
“Chris. Don’t forget it again.”
Damien smiled, but wasn’t entirely sure if the guy was being serious. The dirty black stubble and wide scar across the larger man’s chin gave him a menacing look that suggested any sense of humour was completely absent.
“I’m Damien, by the way. I was going to see if I can rustle us up some breakfast.”
“Want me to go get you an apron and some tampons?”
Damien frowned and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Let the split arses do the cooking. You’re not a split arse, are you?”
Damien shook his head and sighed. “Seriously, dude. It’s not the fifties anymore. Besides, I like to cook.”
The bigger guy just pulled his face into a frown and walked away, shaking his head and chuckling to himself. Apparently Damien’s intention to cook was highly amusing to Chris.
Don’t see him making many fans amongst the ladies of the house.
Either that or they’ll be falling all over him. You never can tell with women.
I certainly got more interest back when I was an arsehole. That was definitely one of the fringe benefits.
Damien headed over to the kitchen’s large refrigerator and yanked the door open. To his delight there was a shelf piled high with bacon rashers. The door’s inside compartment housed a dozen eggs.
If I can find some bread, we’re all set.
Damien turned around to check the cupboards for the rest of what he needed and was greeted by Danni. Her brown eyes were sleepy but a pleasant smile adorned her face.
“Hey, partner. Want some help?”
“I haven’t said I’m your partner, but sure. I would love some help. We need bread.”
Danni went over to a cupboard and pulled out a loaf of half-white. “Spotted it last night,” she said. “What are we making?”
“Bacon and egg sandwiches.”
“I think Jade is a vegetarian.”
“Then she can feed herself.”
Danni laughed. “You’re not really a morning person, are you?”
“Not really an anytime person. This is all a bit bizarre to me, being around so many strangers.”
Danni stepped behind him and started rubbing at his trapezius muscles. “We won’t all be strangers for long,” she said. “After a day or two we’ll all be settled in. Besides, people will be getting voted out every day, so it won’t be long before the numbers start to thin out.”
Damien nodded. He liked the sound of that. The house would already benefit from seeing the back of thugs like Chris and temperamental divas like Jade. As much as he found Danni presumptive – and invasive with the way she was massaging his shoulders – she was probably the most tolerable person in the house.
“So did you get much sleep?” he asked her, moving out of the grasp of her kneading palms and turning around to face her.
She moved to the counter and started pulling slices of bread out of the bag. She placed them down in a line. “I got a little bit. I must have zonked out right after you did.”
Damien rooted around a low cupboard and found some frying pans. He placed them on top of the kitchen’s range cooker and lit the gas hob. “I was completely knackered after all that travelling,” he said.
“Me, too. They drove me all the way up from Kent. I was stuck in a car for twelve hours.”
Damien winced. “Wow, I thought I had it bad. Strange that they didn’t just fly you up. I mean, it’s not very TV-like to stick one of their stars in a cramped saloon for that long. A flight to Edinburgh would have been – what? – a couple hundred quid?”
Danni stopped what she was doing and looked at him. “Hmm,” she said. “I guess it wouldn’t have cost very much. I suppose they’re just trying to stress us all out, make us tired and more prone to combustion. You know how much reality TV producers love a bit of tension.”
Damien nodded. “Unfortunately that’s what people seem to enjoy watching.”
“Human nature. We love conflict.”
“Not all of us do.”
“You think us all philistines, don’t you, Damien?”
Damien grabbed a couple of eggs and began cracking them into one of the pans which he had just laced with cooking oil. “I don’t think I’m better than anybody else, but I have a better grasp on my priorities than most.”
“How old are you?”
He shrugged. “Twenty-three, why?”
Danni patted him on the rump with an unexpected slap. “Because you’re twenty-three-going-on-fifty. Try to remember that you’re still young.”
Damien broke another egg. He knew he was prone to being a stic
k-in-the-mud, but it was just the way he was – at least how he was lately.
“I’ll try to loosen up,” he said. “No promises, though.”
2
The egg and bacon sandwiches went down well. Everybody, with the exception of Jade who had located some cereal for herself, polished them off in minutes. It was perfect timing because, right when they were finishing off the last morsels, the voice of The Landlord came over the speakers.
“IN EXACTLY TWO MINUTES, THE DOOR TO THE GARDEN WILL OPEN.”
That was it. The speaker crackled and went dead.
“The plot thickens,” said Danni.
“I hope they have a hot tub,” said Jules, sweeping back her orange hair so that it sat behind her ears.
“They always do on these things,” said Alex. “They want to see us all naked.”
“Let me have a few more drinks,” said Jade, “And they might get to.”
Two minutes went by and the patio door clicked.
Jade was the first one there, shoving people aside on her quest to be at the front of the pack. She pulled down the handle and slid the patio door aside. The cold, autumn air came whistling in from outside, along with some sideways-falling rain.
“Wow,” said Jules. “I had no idea the weather was so shit from in here.”
Damien agreed with her. The glass windows must have been double – or maybe even triple – glazed.
“Well, I hope they’re going to give us our luggage,” said an older woman named Catherine, “because it’s not right letting us freeze out in the cold. My creaking bones can’t take it.”
“I totally forgot about our luggage,” Jules said, folding her arms to fight off the chill.
Everybody filed out into the garden and started looking around. To Jade’s glee there was indeed a hot tub bubbling away and emitting the recognisable smell of chlorine. There were also a couple of benches around the perimeter and a long picnic table at one corner. The whole area was laid out like a grassy central courtyard, with buildings on all four sides. Directly opposite was an open door, but the other two buildings, the ones to the left and right of the courtyard, were just brick walls; no doors or even any windows. What one of the walls did have was a huge painting of the staring eye that seemed to be the television show’s logo. A large CCTV camera sat immediately above it.
“That door over there is open,” said Jules, pointing.
“Yeah it is,” Damien concurred. “Let’s go check it out.”
Luckily Jade was already stripping down to her undies and leaping into the hot tub. It meant he could check out the other building in peace.
The grassy area in the centre of the courtyard was almost a perfect square of about sixty-feet. It was large and heavily waterlogged, which meant it took them a good few paces before they reached the building on the opposite side. The door still remained open, just slightly ajar, suggesting it was okay to enter.
Damien pushed the door wider and stepped through. He was pleased by what he found, but also a little dismayed.
Guess this is the bedroom.
Not exactly five-star.
The large room consisted of six single beds – not enough to supply them all with a place to sleep. It could, of course, be just one of two bedrooms, one for the men and one for the girls. What really worried Damien, though, was the state of the beds themselves. They were antiques. Grimy sheets covered the threadbare mattresses atop rickety metal frames. They were not even fit to bed prisoners in.
“No way am I sleeping on one of those,” said Danni, who entered the room behind them.
“Me either,” said Jules. “What the fu-”
“It’s just another game,” said Damien. “To see how we react.”
Jules sighed and prodded at the bracelets on her skinny wrists. They looked like giant bangles in the dim light. “So you think there’s a real bedroom hidden somewhere?”
Damien shrugged his shoulders. He was regretting his decision to enter the house more and more. “Maybe,” he said. “Or perhaps this is it.”
“It can’t be!”
“Makes sense,” said Danni. “With only six beds, there’s going to be conflict between us, choosing who gets one and who doesn’t. The mere fact that the beds are so awful is going to lead to a lot of grouchiness.”
Jules leant back against the nearest wall and seemed to deflate. “They must really want us to kill each other.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” said Damien, “but it sure looks like they’re hoping for some good television.”
“What the hell, man?” It was Alex. He had entered the bedroom and was now staring around in disbelief. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows and his smart suit jacket was gone. He looked a little sweaty and pale. “This can’t be the bedroom. There’s not even enough places to sleep.”
“All part of the fun, I suppose,” said Damien. “I don’t want to sleep in one those things, anyway. I’m happy to opt out of having one.”
“Me too,” said Danni.
“Suit yourselves,” Jules said and headed off to the row of beds, “but even this is better than no bed at all.”
“They’re all dirty,” said Danni, wrinkling her dark eyebrows and screwing up her plump lips in distaste.
Jules stared back at the other woman as if she were an idiot. “It’s just theatrics. They probably just stained it with stage paint or something. It’s not going to be real muck on the sheets.”
“Well, I’m not taking the chance,” said Danni. “You’re welcome to it.”
“What about you, Alex?” Jules asked. “Best claim one now or you may not be able to later.”
Alex looked at Damien and Danni for a few seconds and then shrugged his shoulders. “Better than the floor,” he said, and then took the bed next to the one that Jules had picked out for herself.
Danni leant into Damien and placed a hand on his back. “See,” she said. “Alliances are already forming.”
Damien looked at her and let out a sigh. He had no doubt that alliances would begin to form, but that didn’t mean that one was needed to win.
He walked away from Danni and re-entered the garden.
If I win this thing, I plan on doing it with my integrity intact. No alliances, no tactics. I’m just going to be me and hope that’s good enough.
Harry wouldn’t accept it any other way.
Suddenly Damien started to feel like winning the money might be out of his reach.
3
When everybody else saw the state of their sleeping arrangements they had been angry, yet had slowly come to the same conclusion: it was all part of the game. It was decided that the beds would be divvied up later and that those without would make do on the large sofa in the living area. It was only a problem if they made it one.
The garden was chilly, but it was where half the group had congregated since the rain had stopped. Jade and a handful of others had settled into the hot tub with a bottle of wine and a pack of cigarettes, while the other housemates took naps in various places both inside and out.
Damien was sitting alone at the picnic table, his hands clutched together in front of him. There was a stain on its wooden surface that looked a little like paint or maybe even blood. It wouldn’t be the first time a clumsy woodman had left a piece of himself on the furniture he made.
Damien was thinking about Harry and feeling guilty for having left him alone to run the business for the next two weeks. They worked well together. They were a team. Leaving behind their small woodwork shop felt like a neglect of duties. But Harry was the reason he was doing this. Harry needed money and Damien was trying to get it for him. He just hoped that his friend understood.
Course he does. Harry is the most compassionate person I know.
At least he was until recently…
I really shouldn’t have left him alone.
Damien’s mind was just about to take him down a dark alleyway when two people sat on the bench opposite.
The couple were Lewis and Sarah.
Lewis was an immigrant from the Ivory Coast, but had come to the UK as a child and, as such, had a strong Manchester accent. Sarah was an Office Supply Manager from Luton. The inactivity of her job was present on her curvy hips.
Damien nodded to them both but chose not to speak. Sometimes he felt it easier to read people if you let them do the talking.
Lewis was the one to start. “How you doing, mate? Bit surreal being in here, innit?”
Damien nodded.
“You doing okay?”
Damien nodded again.
“You’re Damien, right?”
Damien nodded.
“Sorry, are we annoying you?” said Sarah.
Damien shook his head.
“It’s just that you’re not talking back to us.”
Damien thought about his intention to integrate and decided to open up before he annoyed them too much. “I was just a bit lost in thought. Sorry.”
“That’s alright, mate,” said Lewis. “I get lost in a daydream now and then as well. So, what were you doing before you signed up to the show?”
“Just working, I guess.”
“And what do you do, Damien?” Sarah asked. She seemed to be getting a little irritated by his reticence.
“I’m a carpenter,” he said, forcing a polite smile. “I run a little woodwork factory with my business partner. We sell bespoke pieces mainly, but we also help out local charities with various things they need. We just recently outfitted the local church with new pews.”
Sarah’s eyes went wide. “Wow! I wouldn’t have expected that from seeing you. No offence, but you don’t seem like the caring type.”
“Really?” said Damien. “How so?”
“You just come across as a bit…standoffish.”
“I’m just not good with people,” he admitted. “Perhaps I was hoping to overcome that by coming here.” It was a lie, of course, but he hoped it sounded convincing.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll have no problem making friends if you win a million quid,” said Lewis with a greedy sparkle in his round eyes.
The Housemates: A Novel of Extreme Terror Page 3