After he exits, I turn back to the monitors. I’m used to people telling me what they think I want to hear. Bryce seemed genuine. He strikes me as the kind of guy who looks for the best in others. But the truth is, most of the people around me probably lie to me daily. The thought hits me like a ton of bricks. It’s not like I haven’t thought about it before, but something about standing in front of those people made me feel I needed to be more real. I’ve been living in my own personal fantasy, believing the lies people tell me, and I’ve accepted it for some reason.
Deep down, I knew the concerts weren’t as packed as they used to be, but I kept telling myself everything was fine. Everyone around me agreed with me, even Clark, until recently. Come to think of it, even Shaw has stopped arguing with me about songs and arrangements. That can’t be good. Am I that much of a dickhead that the people closest to me are afraid to tell me the truth? I suppose the fact that Clark, a man I’ve known for a decade, kept the serious decline of my finances from me answers that question.
When did I start accepting and wanting to be patted on the head like a dog? The people I’ve respected more than anyone else have always been the ones who say what they think, even when I’m angry or don’t want to listen. Those are the people I need around me. I know someone cares when they tell me what I don’t want to hear. It’s a hard pill to swallow, but looking back, the people in my life that made the most difference were those with the backbone to own themselves and their opinions.
My life has been on a downhill track for a while now and I’ve been coasting. I’ve worked my ass off to get everything I have. For a while it seemed almost easy, but I’m getting older, and the things I did before aren’t working anymore.
The words in my video introduction replay in my head. “Rock legend… redefining his sound…” Am I really a legend? Do I try that hard to stay current? I stare at the screen and note the varying ages of the contestants. I wonder how many of them had even heard of me before they entered this competition.
I’ve lost my vision and the blind can’t find their way without guidance. Two months ago I was receiving death threats and I laughed about it. I’m lucky Dawson stuck by me. I never listened.
As I watch the contestants prepare for a chance to work for me, I’m in awe. They think working for me is an opportunity. Ha!
What do I need from them? Honesty and dedication. I need more people like Dawson. I need to start listening and stop getting pissed. What I want and need more than anything is to push uphill again. The climb has always been worth what’s waiting at the top. I’m going to use this show as the foundation to rebuild Roman Creed once again. I think about Natalie and the secrets I keep. I have way too much to lose. My fight starts now.
That was a load of crap if I ever heard it. He’s watching for professionalism, yet he stops directly in front of me and undresses me with his eyes. If he thinks for one minute that all I am is a piece of ass, he’s in for a rude awakening. My fears about him being an asshole have been confirmed. I’ve learned to recognize a pattern with the type of men I seem to be attracted to. For some reason, I allow myself to be wooed with charm, good looks, and fake promises. Then low and behold, they change. I’m a magnet for men with problems. I’m sure a therapist would tell me I’m projecting daddy issues, but it’s the God’s honest truth.
Did I find Roman Creed attractive for half a second? Yes. But that was because I got caught up in the pageantry. I was attracted to the power, not him. I will not allow myself to be drawn in by his beautiful blue eyes and killer smile. I’m here for a job. I pray he’s smart enough not to cross that line, but if he does, I’ll be happy to drop-kick his ass all the way back to his throne of lies, television or not. I am nobody’s fool.
As I glance around at the other women, I notice all of them are quite beautiful. Why did he stop in front of me? Maybe I’m reading too much into it. The more I think about it, the clearer it becomes. He probably stopped because I was the only one not wearing makeup and it shook him in his overpriced combat boots. I chuckle quietly.
As much as I try not to draw attention, it always happens. I need to be careful here. I need to shine but stay under the radar and watch my mouth. If I win, I’ll keep the money and turn down the job. My friend Andrea calls me an odd duck. She tells it like it is. It’s what I respect most about her. She doesn’t lie or sugarcoat the truth. In a world of political correctness that borders on being offensive, it’s nice to have someone who will be honest.
“If you’ll take your seats, we’re about to get started.”
Bryce Donahue is holding a hand to his ear as he speaks. I’m sure it’s an earpiece, although I can’t see it, even when he’s directly in front of me. Only the best for the show, I suppose. As I gaze around the room, I’m even more disgusted at how Creed throws his money around. He must have thought we’d be impressed with him on his throne. Instead it only makes him look more arrogant.
“Once we begin filming, I’m going to ask each of you to tell us a little about yourself. From that point forward, you’ll be able to talk to each other. We’ll assign rooms and end filming for the day. After introductions, we’ll take a brief tour, stopping in the dining room for a late-night snack, if you choose, and then do the close of the show.”
He smiles brightly. There’s something soft in Bryce’s eyes. He’s very believable. I want to trust him, but I’m waiting until I’ve seen more of him off-camera.
“Everyone ready?” Bryce asks. Esto whispers to a camera operator and Creed comes back into the room.
I roll my neck to crack it and attempt to relax my shoulders. Across from me, the girl from earlier fakes yawning and smiles. I smile back, rolling my eyes. She chuckles. Maybe we’ll have something in common after all. I can’t wait to find out everyone’s background. This is where I shine, listening to and reading people. That money will be mine.
“Welcome back to The Praetorian. Our principal will join us once again to the forum.” He motions to Creed and Creed nods.
“We’ve hand-selected individuals from all over the country. It’s time you, the audience learn more about them. We’ll start in front and move around the table. Please tell us your name, where you’re from, what you do for a living, and what brought you to us.”
I mentally prepare what I want to say as quickly as possible, so I can relax and pay attention to my competition. The guy with the baseball cap pulled low over his eyes on the bus is the first to go. He’s not wearing it now, but I recognize him from his Yankees jersey. I’m guessing he’s in his early twenties. He’s got a hungry look about him, and I don’t mean for food.
“My name is Logan Porter. I’m a cop from the great state of New York. I’ve been with the force four years and I’m ready to use my skills for something a little different. I think you’ll be surprised at what I can offer.”
I steal a glance at Creed on his throne. His arms are crossed and he’s listening attentively. I wonder if this is serious to him or just for show.
Porter’s hiding something. My gut told me that when he wouldn’t look at me on the bus, and I feel it even more now.
I eye the next contestant. Her brown hair is pulled into a tight bun, and her dark skin is radiant. I make a pact with myself to drink more water.
“Hey. My name is Naya Moore. I served two tours in the Army. I came back from Saudi and found I couldn’t turn my mind off. When you’re constantly on alert for months at a time, never fully sleeping and listening for every potential threat, it changes you. I thought about becoming a cop but soon realized my skills are way beyond them. I’m originally from Cleveland, Ohio, but I’m ready to go wherever my next adventure takes me. Once you get a taste of me, you’ll know why I deserve to be here more than anyone else.”
Too skilled to be a cop? What the fuck does that mean? I question my original thought of sticking with the women. I can’t be cool with someone who thinks police work is somehow beneath her.
“Thank you for your service, Naya. We’re pleased to have you with us.�
�
She’s staring at Roman. I turn my gaze to Creed; he’s staring at her too, his lips pressed in a firm line. There almost seems to be a competition between them. Does he know her?
“Hi, my name is Matt Xavier, and I’m a bouncer from Philadelphia, P-A,” he says, saying the initials instead of Pennsylvania.
This is the guy who got winded climbing the bus stairs. A bouncer. Hm, interesting. I can see it. He’s got the build I’d expect. He looks the part. T-shirt, jeans, a hoodie with the sleeves shoved up his arms, and a tough guy attitude. He probably sits a lot. That explains him getting out of breath. He has a couple of tattoos on his arm. I can’t tell what they are, but one of them looks like a fist squeezing a tiny person.
“I’ve had to deal with all kinds of situations in my job. We always say tame them before you lame them. The idea is to placate unruly customers. Talk them down and call them a cab. If they can’t be tamed, I lay them on their ass and get them out of my building. They call me Crusher, because when I get on you, you ain’t ever getting up. I’m here because I’m ready for the next step. Mr. Creed, nobody’s getting to you on my watch.”
What a character. Creed is smirking. He likes him. I can feel it.
I hate being near the end. I’d rather go first and be the standard by which all others are judged. Good thing patience is one of my strengths. Next up is the dark-haired girl from the water table.
“Hi, everyone. My name is Tori Johnson. I’m thirty years old and a personal trainer and bartender from Salt Lake City, Utah. I’m here because I’m smart. As a trainer, I’ve spent many years reading people who lie to me about working out. That skill has transferred into every other area of my life. Body language speaks volumes. As a bartender, I learned the art of listening, and it is an art. Don’t let anyone tell you it’s not. I can’t wait to show you what I’m made of. I’m going to prove to everyone who ever doubted me that I’m a force to be reckoned with.”
Go, girl. She’s got oodles of confidence. She looked directly at Creed the entire time she spoke. I wonder if she has the skills to back up her words.
“Hey. I’m Bobby McNeal. Representin’ South Side, Chicago.”
He lifts his hands in the air and raises his index fingers as he speaks. Something about him causes me to move to the edge of my seat. There’s an aura of unpredictability around him.
“I’m probably not what all you expect to see here. I don’t got no military skills or special training, though I’ve had some experience with the cops. I’m here ’cause I learned it all the hard way. I’ve known a lot of messed up people in my life. People with hidden motives. Some of them wear their crazy on the outside and some keep it inside until it pops out and you’re all like what? Holy shit, put that shit away. Anyway, I’m here ’cause I think I got what it takes. I got special skills of my own, but you’ll see that for yourself.”
Wow. I guess we really are all different. “Experience with cops” tells me he’s had run-ins with the law. He’s rough around the edges, but he lays it all out there. I can respect that. It’ll be interesting to see how he interacts with Logan and me.
“It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Akio Goro. I am a fifth-degree black belt and martial arts expert from Salt Lake City, Utah. I’ve won two national championships for mixed martial arts, and I plan on confronting this challenge like I face every other one in life—head on. I’m a winner. I always win. You’d be amazed what the silence can tell you. If you close your eyes and focus, you will feel your opponent before you see him. Then you make your move.”
“Is that some Jedi mind trick shit?” Bobby asks, speaking out of turn.
Akio faces him. “Small man knows not when to listen rather than speak.”
“Who you callin’ small, karate kid?” Bobby shouts back.
“Bobby,” Bryce interrupts. “While we all appreciate your enthusiasm, we need to give everyone their turn. Let’s save questions for later,” Bryce says calmly.
Bobby nods and mimes zipping his lips. I steal a glance at Creed and he looks like he’s trying not to laugh. I squint my eyes in his direction. He’s interesting, I’ll give him that.
“Akio, would you like to continue?” Bryce asks.
The cameraman had their work cut out for them on that one. There are four of them in the room and they all moved around when Bobby spoke out of turn. I hope they caught it on tape. I can’t wait to watch it again when it airs. Akio is slender and Asian. There’s not a lot to say about him. He’s a bit arrogant. My gut tells me he’s going to be tricky.
“I believe I have said more than enough,” Akio states. Bryce nods to him and motions for the woman next to him to take her turn.
“My name is Kari Haston and I’m from New York City. I’ve been working in Executive Protection for the past two years. I got my start working security at a semi-large venue downtown. I was approached by the owner of a security company after he observed me doing my job. I’m good at reading people and I’m in excellent shape. I was a gymnast when I was younger, and I’ve stayed physically fit ever since. I consider myself a defense expert, but I’ll let you see that for yourself when I put you on your ass.”
Did Creed raise an eyebrow when she said gymnast? Typical man. She’s tall and slender with long, light brown hair. She’s younger than me and has a grace about her. I would never have guessed her to be in the security business. I suspect that makes her even more valuable.
Logan Porter, the cop from the bus, lifts his lip ever so slightly when she glances at him. They’re both from New York, and he had a similar reaction to her on the bus. Either he knows her, or wants to know her. I make a note to be careful around them.
“My name is Raul Martinez. I’m from Los Angeles, California. I served in the Army for ten years and ended my career in Special Forces when I lost my left leg on the field. I use a highly maneuverable prosthetic that in no way, hinders my ability to perform. I believe my injury made me stronger physically and mentally. No man is defined by strength alone. I plan on using my special skills to prove I can do this job better than anyone.”
“Thank you, Raul,” Bruce says. “And on behalf of myself and all of us here, thank you for your service.”
Raul is a little older than the others, but it could be experience that aged him. I’m guessing mid-thirties. His hair is dark and short, but there’s a bit of salt and pepper on the edges. I’m next.
“My name is Reed Manning. I’m a police officer from Los Angeles, California. I’ve been on the force seven years, most recently in the position of detective. I’m here because I believe I have what it takes.”
There, short and sweet. Maybe too short, but that’s how I roll. I’m careful not to look at Creed. Porter nods to me out of respect. I nod back. It’s a cop thing.
“My name is Cedric Calloway and I’m from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. I see that I’m the oldest one here, but I assure you the only difference between me and you is that I’m wiser. I spent twenty-five years in the Navy and I’ve traveled the world. The things I’ve seen and experienced have brought me here. Protection is in my blood. I’m ready to start a new chapter in my life and I believe this is the place to do it.”
I have no doubt he is a man I want on my side. There’s something almost regal about him. I get the feeling he’s a wealth of information. He’s traveled the world? Damn. I’ve never been anywhere. One time on vacation, I drove down the coast. That’s the extent of my travel. I bet he has some stories to tell.
“Again, thank you for your service, Cedric. Welcome to all of you. We are thrilled to have you here.” Bryce turns to the camera. “Do you already have a favorite? Want to know more about our contestants? Visit our website at www.seamore.com/ThePraetorian for behind-the-scenes footage and to read up on our cast.”
Bryce moves next to Roman on the throne. “In a few moments, I’ll be taking the contestants on a tour of the house. They’ll see where their bedrooms are located and discover their roommates. Stay tuned to The Praet
orian. You don’t want to miss a thing.”
“And cut,” Esto says over the speakers. “We need to do one more take here, then we’ll move on. Bryce, can I have you walk along the tapestries? Lighting set, please.”
Bryce moves, and the lights dim. When Esto counts down, Bryce continues.
“Who will have what it takes? Who will surprise you? Will their claims stand up to the test? Join us next time, when the challenge begins, and one contestant is sent packing. Nothing is guaranteed and sometimes even the mighty fall on The Praetorian.”
“Cut and wrap for the forum,” Esto shouts. “You can all relax.”
I immediately extend my hand to Cedric. “It’s nice to meet you. I’d love to hear more about traveling the world. I’m a bit jealous.”
He smiles and shakes my hand. His hands are rough, like he uses them a lot—maybe woodworking or something mechanical—but his nails are manicured and clean. He takes care of himself. “I’d be happy to tell you what I can, but most of my trips were work related.”
I shrug. “I don’t mind work stories. I live and breathe work.”
He smiles again. He has perfect teeth too. “Ah, a fellow workaholic. I think we’ll get along fine.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, if you’ll follow me, I’ll give you a tour and tell you rules of the house,” Bryce begins.
“I guess we’re not done yet,” I whisper to Cedric.
“I don’t think we’re ever going to be ‘done’ here.”
I regard him and his choice of words. He makes me wonder if everything we do is a test. Maybe we’re always competing, and the challenges are things we aren’t even aware of. I think back to the reality show, The Fabulist. That’s exactly what they pulled there too. I decide to stick close to Cedric. He has good eyes.
As I push out from my chair a loud, feminine laugh catches my attention. Kari Haston, the gymnast-turned-bodyguard is shaking Creed’s hand. He hasn’t let go of it. I roll my eyes in disgust as he glances my way. He does a double take at me and I know he saw my reaction. Crap. It’s probably not the best way to impress my future boss. I spin follow Bryce to the doors. There are cameras everywhere and they’re still filming. Guess we really are always on. These next two weeks are going to be even more challenging than I thought.
The Praetorian Page 7