“What did you think of today?” he asks as we walk through the back of the house toward the forum.
“I thought it was good TV.”
“So you hated it.”
I chuckle. He knows me so well. “I know the purpose to all of this is to keep people watching.”
His face contorts, and he pulls at his tie to loosen it a bit.
“What did you think?” I ask.
“I think there’s a whole hell of a lot of information out there about you now that’s going to open you up for more problems.”
I don’t respond because he just confirmed my deepest fears, and the show has barely begun.
In the dressing room is another change of clothes laid out for me on the couch. How many times can I change in one day? It’s a little after ten and this will make my third change so far. Ridiculous. I scrub a hand over my growing beard, noticing the monitors are on. I could have sworn I turned them off before I left to play. I must be more tired than I thought. Sleep and I might have had a fight. She doesn’t come around much anymore.
As I’m about to turn to get Dawson, I see the contestants entering the forum. They all look nervous. I can’t help but laugh. I’m glad I’m in the know for once. I can’t wait to see how they react to what comes next.
Plopping down in my desk chair, I swivel back and forth, studying the contestants, thinking about what I saw while I was performing.
I was concerned about Matt when he made a beeline for the buffet, but after getting a drink, he approached my gardener. I wonder if he was able to get my morning run times out of him? My eyes dart to Naya. She’s quite alluring, even though she never smiles. I wonder why? I feel it’s my duty to get at least one smile out of her before she leaves. If she leaves. Maybe she’s the female equivalent of Dawson. He never smiles either. They’d make quite a pair.
Naya goes to her seat, sits, and crosses her legs. She’s confident and tough. I like the vibe she gives off, although her attitude is shit. I wouldn’t want to get on her bad side. She was the only person who approached my ex, Mandy. Even though Mandy and I dated right after high school, she still knows me better than anyone. I’m glad she was briefed not to discuss my family situation. I don’t want anyone knowing that part of my life.
Tori walked right past her and didn’t give her a second look. Maybe she didn’t think Mandy was worth her time. That was an oversight on her part, but she did speak to my chef and I bet he told her all kinds of interesting things. After all, he’s been asked to make some odd foods to satisfy my late-night guests and food cravings over the years. I laugh to myself over my request for rock candy at 2 a.m. the night of my release party. His expression was better than the candy.
Dawson opens the door. “Roman? Ten minutes. Jen is here to help with wardrobe.”
Jen has her hair down now and it frames her face. She reminds me of someone, but I can’t think who. She notices me staring and shyly pushes a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Hi. I’m here to undress you. I mean, dress you. I mean, help you with whatever.”
I realize she looks like pigtails Jen and shrug it off. I’m tired. Too many people in my house and too much thinking about a certain ponytail. “I’ve got it. How many changes of clothes can I expect today?”
“Um, there’s this one, the diary room outfit, and then the one for dinner. Then I think you’re done.”
“I sigh. “Give me a second to change.”
She nods and closes the door slowly as she exits. I can only assume it’s to see as much as possible. I feel bad. Maybe I should flash her a little bare ass, so she has something to fantasize about at night. Pulling my shirt off over my head, I remember I don’t want to encourage her. She’s cute and I would have banged her a few months ago without a second thought, but these days I find myself more drawn to tough-as-nails women with smart mouths and freckles.
I gaze at the monitor as Reed picks invisible lint from her pants. I wonder why she does it. Is it because she’s nervous, thinking, or does she have cheap clothing?
I’m pulling on ripped blue jeans when Dawson knocks. “Five minutes, Roman, and you’re on.”
I rub my hands together. Shit’s about to get fun.
Crap. I wonder if I got enough information. I wish we could talk to each other and compare notes. It’s times like this when allies are really appealing. Tori gazes at me, eyes wide, from across the forum and I wonder what she knows that I don’t. Damn, I don’t like uncertainty. I like facts and right now I wish I had more of them.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we appreciate your patience as we set up. Please continue to remain silent and sit tight. It should only be a few more minutes.”
Esto walks over to Bryce after making the announcement, and they dive into deep conversation. I try to read their lips. I think I make out diary room, and I swallow hard. This had to be a challenge. I review what I learned about Roman today and attempt to remember the stuff I read online, assuming the internet stuff is even true.
“Okay everyone, filming is about to start. Grab your seats and remember to smile,” Esto says, patting Bryce on the back. Esto whispers to a camera operator and heads to the curtain behind the throne. Leaning slightly in my chair, I notice light when Esto pulls the draperies aside. I would love to see what they see for once.
“In three… two… one….”
Bryce smiles as he strolls the perimeter of the room. “Welcome back to The Praetorian. We’ve assembled the contestants in the forum. It’s time we find out what that party was all about. I defer to our head judge and protection expert, Jean Paul Beck.”
Jean Paul darts down the steps near the tapestries on the side of the room in a slight jog and stops in the center of the half circle we’ve formed with our tables.
“Thank you, Bryce. As I mentioned before, being an EPO is about knowing your principal. It’s about knowing their routines, their visitors, and their likes and dislikes. It’s being ready at any given moment for the one thing that seems to be out of the ordinary. Let me give you an example.”
Beck moves the side of the circle and the camera follows him. One is fixed on me as well. I do a double take and then refocus on Beck. I’m instantly reminded that my every move is being watched and judged. It’s like the cameras the police officers have to wear. It seems like it’s for the public’s safety, but it’s really for our own. I need to appear confident at all times, like I’ve had to do on the force. It’s not easy to rise up the ranks as a female in a male-dominated profession.
Beck continues. “While I was working personal security for a well-known criminal defense attorney about ten years ago, his assistant brought him his mail. This wasn’t abnormal. It was a daily occurrence. But there was one letter that remained sealed. It was customary for the assistant to open everything. I stopped my principal and asked him to move away from the desk. He stood immediately, and I called the assistant back into the room. The assistant was nowhere to be found. Carefully collecting the mail, I moved the suspicious letter out to the patio and contacted the police. The envelope was unmarked except for the word Confidential. In short, the assistant had been paid to deliver what can only be described as enough powder to take down the entire room.”
Beck raises his leg on a step, revealing the brown leather of what I assume to be a gun holster. The fact that he’s armed stirs feelings of unpreparedness in me. I don’t like being weaponless. It makes me feel vulnerable and there’s nothing I hate more.
“As an EPO your job is to know your principal, his regular contacts, his staff, and his habits. Everyone is always a suspect and you can never have too much information. Today you had the opportunity to meet with various people from Roman’s past and present. Although we told you this wasn’t a challenge, you should know by now, nothing is as it seems. In the next few moments, you will each have the opportunity to ask Roman two questions in the privacy of the diary room. Choose those questions wisely. The questions you ask and the answers you receive could make or break you in
this game. After you meet with Roman, you will meet with me. I have a series of questions you will also answer. One or more of you will be going home tonight.”
I tense as a collective sigh comes from the group. Bryce steps forward with a large red velvet sack. “There are ten of you and ten numbers in this bag. Number one will head to the diary room where Roman is waiting. Once that contestant leaves the room, the person with number two will enter and so forth. Obviously, there is a benefit to drawing a higher number. May the luck of the Romans be with you.”
Bryce approaches Cedric, since he’s on the end. I’m glad he didn’t start with Logan this time. I thank my lucky stars Bryce was standing on this side of the room.
“Please pick a tile and hold it up for the room to see,” Bryce instructs.
Cedric reaches into the bag. He glances at the number, smiles, and holds up a tile. “Lucky number eight.”
Matt squirms. Naya glances at Logan. I’m guessing she’s trying to figure out her odds, since she’s second to last.
I reach in and take the first tile I feel. When I see the number on it, I want to scream “Fuck,” but all eyes are on me so instead I feign excitement and display the tile. “Number one.” Akio cracks a smile and Raul cringes. “Looks like I’ll be setting the standard.”
Bryce moves to Raul and I stop paying attention to the drawing of numbers. My mind races with questions for Roman. Why are you such a douchebag? Where you always this arrogant? If you were an animal, what would you be?
“Reed? Reed?”
I don’t hear him the first time, but Bryce’s movement grabs my attention.
He smiles kindly. “Looks like you’re first. Please make your way to the diary room.”
I was so quick to feel lucky when Bryce started with Logan and now look at me. Maybe luck doesn’t really exist. My future has always been in my hands. It’s about being in the right place at the right time with the right set of skills. I know I have the skills, but time definitely isn’t on my side.
As I make my way to the diary room I take a deep breath. This is a game. I’m a detective. I’ve got this. I’m conducting an interview. It’s no different from any other day on the job.
Since I’ve never used the diary room and didn’t check it out during the tour, I have no idea what to expect. It’s dark inside and almost cozy. The first thing I notice is a long red couch that curves upward into a hook. On the couch is a single black pillow. The walls have different drawings of the Core Damage logo on them. They catch my attention and for a moment, I forget why I’m here. Then he clears his throat.
Swirling my head to the right, I see him sitting in a tall-backed chair with his arms crossed. He’s wearing faded, ripped blue jeans, brown leather boots that probably cost my rent for the month, and a white V-neck T-shirt. A tear on his thigh reveals toned, tanned skin and I feel like someone turned up the temperature in the room. I gaze at the tattoos lining his arms and the one that stretches up the side of his neck. He smirks, and I realize I’m staring. I hate myself immediately. Why does the room smell so good? Is that him? I decide it’s not, because he’s an asshole and assholes smell like turkey farts.
“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the couch. “There are two cameras in this room.” He motions to the one in the corner opposite him and then the stationary camera next to him. “We’re already filming. You have two questions to ask me. Make good choices.”
Taking my seat, I observe a pad of paper resting on his leg and wonder if he’s drawing, like Kurt, his previous guard, said he did.
What in the fuck am I supposed to ask him? I close my eyes briefly to collect my thoughts. This is about getting to know him. “If I were your personal guard, what might be some things you would expect me to know about you?”
He rolls his eyes and sighs. “Well, that’s a boring question if ever I heard one. I guess I shouldn’t have expected you to be creative or interesting. You are just a flatfoot after all. Right, Reed? I mean, Ms. Manning.”
What a jackass. There’s a moment between us I’d call a stare-down. He’s silently waiting for me to get angry and I decide not to let him see any emotion at all. I mimic his posture. It’s a technique I’ve used when interviewing suspects. As expected, he shifts back in his seat. I do the same. He nods. I nod back. He doesn’t like it and it gives me sick joy.
“Are you trying to intimidate me, Ms. Manning? That’s very unbecoming of a future employee.”
“May I withdraw the question and start over?” If he wants difficult, I’ll give it to him.
“I haven’t answered yet, so go ahead. I hope the next one is better thought out,” he states, crossing his arms over his chest once more.
I lean forward and gaze directly into his eyes. He’s an artist. A smug one, but no doubt he’s right-brained. He’s all about what makes him feel. “What is the one thing in your life that causes you the most pain?”
His eyes widen, and his Adam’s apple visibly moves as he swallows hard. His eyes fall briefly, then meet mine and darken. He’s almost angry. I’ve touched a nerve.
“I don’t like that question. Ask something else,” he says.
I don’t even try to hide my smile. “I believe you wanted more depth. You’re supposed to answer any question I have. Isn’t that right, Mr. Creed?”
His jaw tightens. Why am I acting this way with him? He’s not a criminal, yet I enjoy treating him like one. This feels so wrong, yet so right. It’s like a dance and I’m the fucking prima ballerina. I want an answer.
“One thing that causes me pain?” he asks as if he didn’t hear it correctly. I sigh like I’m bored.
“Interviews. Interviews cause me pain. Especially with reporters trying to get a scoop and snide, arrogant people who think they know me when they don’t. See, I’m a very private person. If you want to get to know me, then ask me about my music. My songs tell you everything you need to know.”
“I didn’t say one thing that causes you pain. I said the thing that causes you the most pain,” I clarify. “I highly doubt interviews are the most painful thing in your life.” I sense I may be pushing myself right out of this game, but I will not back down from a challenge and he didn’t answer my question. He asked for it and he’s getting it.
He takes a deep breath and I think his eyes even soften. “I live with a lot of regret. It eats me up inside. Every second of every day. Next question.”
He gazes at the clock on the wall and there’s something about his discomfort that makes me feel guilty. I shouldn’t have strong-armed him like that. Whatever he’s referring to is big. I can feel it. It’s hidden behind his cocky exterior, but it’s there. He’s in a lot of pain. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was staring into my own eyes. I see myself in him and suddenly I like him a little more and myself a little less for pushing him.
I’m supposed to get as much info as I can, but I don’t want to ask any more hard questions. I don’t want to see that look in his eyes anymore. I want the smirk back. What’s the opposite of pain?
“What’s the one thing that gives you the most pleasure?” I ask.
He smiles bigger than I’ve ever seen, and my cold heart feels a flicker of warmth. Is it possible I get more gratification from his happiness than one-upping him? That’s not me at all. I look away. I refuse to like him.
He clears his throat to draw my attention. “I take pleasure in finding beauty in things that often go unnoticed by others.”
He’s excited. He likes this question and I feel like a teacher placed a gold star on my spelling test.
“For example, do you see the curve in the couch behind you?” He traces that curve in the air as if he’s touching it, but for some reason it feels as if he’s touching me.
“It reminds me of the soft curve of a woman’s hips when she’s lying in my bed. When she’s asleep and she thinks I’m not paying attention. But I do pay attention. I watch the way she moves: the way her chest lifts when she breathes and the way her eyes dance when she wak
es and sees how I’m staring at her.”
Wow. When his words come from his heart, it sounds like a song. I can’t help but picture myself lying naked in his bed as he sketches the curve of my hips. I picture Kate and Leonardo in Titanic and realize I’m getting sidetracked. Aware I’m gaping at him, I close my mouth. He doesn’t seem to notice; he’s too caught up in his thoughts.
“Women are the most beautiful thing in the world and each one of them is a work of art. They are meant to be appreciated and adored. Their bodies are perfection, no matter where their curves lie or how many of them there are.”
He pauses to study me. I make direct eye contact, though I really want to blush and look away. I won’t look affected. I won’t.
“But there are some women who force you to look beyond their outer beauty, because they don’t want people to notice or look at them, or see who they really are inside.”
Is he talking about me? No. He doesn’t know me. I’m not that transparent.
He leans forward in his seat and suddenly feels too close. “Even though you see something special about them on the outside, chances are there’s even more beauty when you break through to what’s really in their heart. The ones who make you work hard are usually worth fighting for. They’re also the ones that make you hard.”
And there he is. Is this all about his dick? There’s a moment of silence until he breaks it.
“Your two questions have been asked.”
That’s it. I’ve gained absolutely nothing from this interview. Defeated, I stand to leave.
“Wait,” he says sincerely. Flipping the switch on the camera next to him, he stands to get the one on the wall.
He takes a step toward me and our eyes meet. He tucks a strand of loose hair behind my ear. My breath hitches. What’s happening?
“I’m only going to tell you what I think you don’t already know.”
I nod, although I don’t understand.
“No one gets to me unless they get past Dawson, my head of security. He checks everyone out. I’ve recorded six CDs, but I’m most proud of Annihilation. It’s not only because it won awards, but also because I drew the cover art. Almost no one knows that. All the art in the house is my own work. I draw and paint to release stress. I’ve done it since I was a kid. I was and am a spoiled rotten rich kid to my core, but my family is as dysfunctional as they come. I have a love/hate relationship with water and I go for a jog almost every single day.”
The Praetorian Page 12