Beefcakes

by Katana Collins

  “If you say so,” Cole grunted. “So, do I redo all of this before we shoot?” She gestured again at my face.

  Elliott winced. “We’re losing the light and fast. Think you can cover it up?”

  “Uh, excuse me?” I held up a finger. “Covering it up with the same makeup I’m allergic to is just going to make me break out in more hives.”

  “She’s right,” Cole said.

  “Fuck,” Elliott hissed. “Okay, take her in the back. Wash her face. Give her some Benadryl. And reapply with the hypo-allergenic makeup and fast. Use extra to cover the hives she has. Go. Go fast.”

  “Uh,” Cole looked between me, Elliott, and the cameras. “Are you sure it’s such a good idea to give Benadryl before she’s scheduled for her interview—”

  “It’s an over-the-counter drug. It’ll be fine! Just go.”

  Cole took my hand and all but dragged me down the hall toward the kitchen in the back. “How are your eyes?” she asked.

  “My eyes?”

  “Yeah, are they itchy or swollen?”

  I thought for a moment. They seemed fine as far as I could tell, so I shook my head no.

  “Good,” Cole nodded. “Then we’ll leave the eye makeup on, and all I need to redo is your foundation with the hypoallergenic makeup. Sit.” She pointed at the stool next to the sink that still had all her makeup and brushes laid out neatly. “Do you react poorly to Benadryl?” she asked.

  “The only allergy I have is to pollen … or so I thought. But I usually only take Claritin. I don’t know that I’ve ever had Benadryl before.”

  Cole sighed. “Well, I don’t think Claritin will help what you’ve got going on here.” She shook the bottle of pills. “It’s up to you if you want to risk it. It might help stop any further hives from breaking out, though. Not much I can do while filming to help if they keep popping up.”

  I sighed and held out my palm. How bad could it be? Benadryl at its worst just makes you groggy, right?

  She popped open the bottle and handed me two Benadryl and a glass of water. “Let’s hope for the best. We’ve got less than ten minutes before filming starts.”

  I had already hoped for the best, and what did I end up with? Hives. Freaking hives.

  We were an hour and a half into filming. They were attempting to get at least two, but preferably three, different interview rounds done between me and the girls to make it look like this series of questions happened over the course of a few days. It’s something I’d seen them do in television before, but it was going to make for a long night of filming. We’d made it through one interview set, and the girls were changing their makeup, hair, and clothes. I had it easy. A quick change of my shirt and pants and I was good to go within five minutes, looking like it was a totally different day.

  I came out into the bakery and set down a tray of cupcakes for the crew. “Dig in!” I shouted as Lainey came out from the backroom. Her hair was up in a high ponytail, and she had changed from the jeans and blazer she wore earlier into a pink sundress. She looked beautiful. Her eyes widened as she saw the cupcakes and came rushing over. “Yes,” she grunted and grabbed a cupcake, tearing off the wrapper.

  “Uh… wow,” I chuckled. “I thought you were boycotting my baked goods after your little display with my croissants the other day.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “Yeah, that was before. Now it’s seven and I haven’t eaten since eleven. I’m starving.”

  She opened her mouth, took a large bite of the cupcake, and moaned.

  She fucking moaned. Like… the sort of moan I used to be able to make come out of her with my mouth on her body. I watched in awe as she ate the entire cupcake in only a few bites and then proceeded to suck the frosting off of her fingers. Her eyes fluttered closed as she finished eating and let out a satiated sigh, leaning against the table.

  “Uh… Lainey, don’t take this the wrong way, but… are you drunk?”

  Her eyes snapped wider. “Drunk? What? No.”

  “Okay.” She sure as shit seemed drunk. Or maybe high. My mom had a medical marijuana license for her cancer… did Lainey accidentally get one of my mom’s special brownies from the freezer? “Then what’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” she snorted. “Geez. Can’t a girl eat a cupcake?”

  Gretchen came out from the back room, glaring at Lainey a moment before softening her gaze on me. Her fiery red hair was parted on the side and she wore a tight green dress. “Oh my God. Did you seriously just eat a cupcake?” she asked Lainey.

  “Yeah,” Lainey said, sucking her teeth. “They’re delicious. You should try one.”

  Gretchen snorted. “Yeah. Right.”

  Elaina blinked, her expression one of total innocence. “Back off, Gretchen,” I muttered. She was unfortunately the longest relationship of my life. She was also the most volatile. We fought constantly. She was jealous and petty and so typical of an LA girl who was aspiring to be an actress… I had just been too young to know or see it. I knew it was over… truly over… when I wasn’t hurt that she’d cheated on me. I didn’t even care. It’s not a good sign if you don’t care enough to get mad.

  Gretchen snickered. “Oh my God. She’s just making this so easy for the rest of us to win. It’s almost not fair.”

  I scowled at her. “I run a bakery. The fucking premise of the show is Bake it or Break it. We’re going to be tasting cakes and icings all day long.”

  She scrunched her nose. “Yeah. On camera, I can pretend. Just like she’s pretending she’s not just here for the money.”

  My gaze snapped to Lainey. She told them that? They might seem friendly… well, not Gretchen… but the other two. The truth was, we didn’t know what their motivations were. People on reality shows played dirty. “And you’re not?”

  Gretchen bit her lip and took a step forward toward me, running her fingers up my chest to the back of my neck. “Would you believe I wanted to see you again?”

  I narrowed my eyes, glaring at her as the other two women came out from the back. “No. I wouldn’t.”

  When I looked up, Elaina had moved across the room toward Shayla. “Lainey, wait.” I moved Gretchen out of my way, but she tugged me back into her.

  “Don’t tell me you’re into that nerdy girl.”

  I yanked my elbow from her bony grasp and ignored her as I walked up to Elaina, Shayla, and Margarita. I swear to God, if Gretchen is voted in with me, I will quit this show so fast.

  Shayla had her hand on Elaina’s shoulder. “How you feeling, girl?”

  Lainey shrugged and reached for another cupcake. “Another?” I asked.

  “They’re protein infused, right?” Lainey asked as she tore off the wrapper and bit into it.

  I nibbled the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing and nodded. “They are.”

  “There’s also a Kraft services table in the back,” Margarita said, glancing briefly at me. “Want me to go get you some carrot sticks?”

  Lainey’s nose scrunched in a way that you would have thought Margarita had just suggested eating dirt. “Carrot sticks?” Lainey repeated. “Why would I eat carrot sticks when there are cupcakes?” she gestured at the table of baked goods, then laughed, nearly falling into Shayla behind her. “Or should I say, Beefcakes? Because that’s your brand!” She bent over laughing hysterically, half eaten cupcake visible in her open mouth. “Beefcakes. It sounds so gross… not like a dessert at all.”

  Shayla raised a brow at me. “She’s being weird, but she’s not wrong.”

  Okay, she was definitely drunk. This was not the fussy, rigid Lainey I’d gotten to know over the last few weeks. This was drunk Lainey. This was the girl I used to party with senior year of high school.

  Not that I minded. I missed drunk Lainey. She was the life of the party. But now? As we were about to film for a show, and I was counting on her getting voted in as my partner? I needed her to sober up and fast.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, jerking upright with a finger pointed in the air. “Is there yogu
rt at Kraft services? I love yogurt.”

  “I… don’t know,” Shayla said. “I can check...”

  “And bacon,” Lainey added. “For Neil. He loves bacon.”

  “I’m going to make you some coffee,” I grumbled.

  “Wait, I’ll come with.” Elaina stumbled as she crossed the bakery with me. “Whoa, slow down, tiger. What’s the rush?”

  I paused, glancing at Margarita and Shayla, who were looking at her half-concerned, but also half-amused. “What’s she on?” I asked.

  Shayla winced. “I don’t think she wanted you to know, but she had an allergic reaction to the makeup. Elliott and Cole gave her Benadryl.”

  “You took Benadryl?” I asked, bending to meet her gaze. I cupped her jaw and studied her silvery blue eyes. Her pupils were a little dilated, but she seemed able to focus on me. From somewhere behind us, I heard Elliott whisper, “Roll film, roll film.” He was pointing at us like he wanted the camera to capture Elaina acting loopy.

  “The lighting isn’t right,” someone else said.

  “I don’t care,” Elliott hissed.

  I rolled my eyes and glared at him. But I knew contractually, I couldn’t stop him from filming us while we were on the clock. That was the deal with these types of shows.

  “Why did you take a Benadryl?” I asked her, then looked around at the crew, now all turned and focused on us. A boom mic was over our heads. Another PA shined a hand-held light onto us, and our camera operator was three feet away, filming.

  Lainey lifted her hand and dragged her fingers down my face, dipping her index finger into my chin dimple. “I’ve missed this chin dimple,” she muttered, her eyes looking heavier than before. Each blink was slower. Longer.

  My heart raced at her admission and I gulped. More than anything I wanted her to kiss me. “Don’t you remember the last time you took Benadryl?” My voice sounded tighter than usual. Raspy with need that I desperately tried to pretend wasn’t there.

  She blinked, looking up at me and tilting her head. “I’ve never taken Benadryl.”

  “Oh, yes you have. In high school. We were drinking out by the football field and you stepped in poison ivy. Jason Peters had a Benadryl and gave it to you and it… well, let’s just say you did not react well to it.”

  “Huh,” she said. “I don’t remember that.”

  “Well, it happened. I suspected it was worsened by the fact that you took it with alcohol. But apparently, since I’m assuming you weren’t drinking heavily before the shoot, maybe you just react severely to Benadryl.”

  “Well, hell. Where were you thirty minutes ago when I was breaking out into hives?”

  Gretchen snorted a laugh beside us, covering her mouth quickly with the back of her hand. “You broke out into hives?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “It’s been years since I wore this much makeup. I guess I’m sensitive to it now.”

  I smiled, shaking my head. It was strangely comforting, after so many years of being surrounded by women in LA wanting fame and fortune, to spend time with a girl who didn’t value that at all. She was here for the same reason I was… money. “This type of makeup is different than what you probably normally wear, too. It’s heavier. Stronger.”

  “Are the hives noticeable?” she asked, blinking up at me, her blue eyes watering.

  I shook my head. “Not at all.”

  “So, I’m not hideous? Gretchen said I was hideous.”

  My blood simmered as I snapped my gaze to Gretchen, seated in her tight dress, scrolling through her phone. Even though she wasn’t looking at us, I knew she was listening. Paying attention. What a bitch. How did I ever date someone so terrible?

  Lainey pointed a finger in the air. “Well, actually, her exact words were, ‘Good luck. There’s not enough makeup in the world to cover up those hideous hives.’ That’s what she said.”

  I shook my head, grazing my thumb over her cheekbone. “You’re not hideous. You’re the farthest thing from hideous in the world, Elaina.”

  Her lips parted and she looked up at me, blinking, her coal-lined eyes brimming with moisture. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me in a long time, Neil.”

  I swallowed, gritted my teeth, and shook my head. “Come on. That’s not true.”

  She blinked. “It is true. We aren’t typically very nice to each other. Not lately.”

  “Yeah… well. I sort of deserve that.” I didn’t deserve for Lainey to be nice to me. I walked out on her in the worst possible way. If I were her? I’d be pissed too. Even after ten years.

  “I used to think you did. But now? Now I’m not so sure.”

  I dragged my hand away from her face. It would have been so easy in that moment to tug her body into mine. To wrap my arms around her slim waist and press my lips to hers. But that wasn’t fair to Elaina. She was loopy on medicine, and I wasn’t the kind of guy who kissed without consent. Hopefully, we’d have a lot more opportunities to kiss in the future… without the damn cameras on us.

  I was sort of counting on it. “Come on. Let’s get you to your stool.”

  I cleared my throat and stepped back from her as Elliott whispered, “Cut, dammit. Neil, why didn’t you kiss her?”

  I glared at him but didn’t answer. Finally, after a few moments of a stare down, Elliott called out to the crew. “Okay, let’s get into positions for the second interview portion.”

  I took my seat across from the girls, and Gretchen raised her hand like schoolgirl waiting to be called on. “Um, excuse me. Are we all going to get to film a private moment like they had just now? Because it’s not fair and it sets her up to get more votes.”

  Elliott cleared his throat. “Every one of you will have private moments with Neil, yes.”

  Gretchen glared at Lainey an extra moment before rolling her eyes.

  “Okay, if there are no more questions, let’s get started. Action,” Elliott said.

  I looked down at the notecards full of questions Elliott had given me to read aloud. “Margarita,” I said, reading the first question, “We didn’t date for very long, but I felt a strong connection with you in our short time together.” I nearly groaned. It was so cheesy and not at all true. Yeah, I’d felt a connection… a sexual one. We’d had two dinner dates and one drunken hook up. That was it. “I’m a beer guy myself, but with a name like Margarita, you must enjoy the occasional tequila cocktail, right? If so, what’s your favorite kind of margarita, and what food would you pair that with?” God that was a lame question. Who wrote this shit?

  She giggled and did some sort of hair flip thing. “I’m a classic girl all the way,” she said. “Just your regular ol’ lime margarita on the rocks. I’ll make my family’s legendary guacamole if you can provide the sopapillas, and we will make the perfect combination of sweet and spicy.” She winked at me in a way that was so rehearsed, so forced, that I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes.

  Lainey, on the other hand, didn’t do so well with suppressing her eye roll. She snorted a laugh and bent over her knees, snickering. “That’s so cheesy,” she said through her fit of laughter. “Oh my God, who says things like that in real life? ‘We will make the perfect combination of sweet and spicy.’” Lainey mimicked Margarita’s voice and did an exaggerated hand gesture with it.

  “What the fuck?” Margarita snapped, gesturing at Lainey. “Elliott, is that even allowed? That was my air time.”

  “Easy,” Elliott said, cutting in. “Lainey, you’ll have your time to answer. And Margarita, don’t worry, we’ll edit her out.”

  But I noticed the smile on his face. This was reality television gold, and he knew it. Lainey was feeding right into the role he wanted her to play. And yeah, the “girl next door” thing was kind of part of it. She was the contestant viewers could relate to. The contestant that said the things they themselves were probably thinking at home. But I didn’t love it happening while she wasn’t of sound mind. I didn’t love her filming while on medication. Even if it was only Benadryl, she was sti
ll high—or at least, high for Lainey.

  “Maybe we should wrap for the night,” I said, eying Lainey, then looking at Liam who was seated behind the camera in the back of the bakery. He seemed to be catching onto the fact that something was wrong.

  “No, no, no,” Elliott said. “We need to get through at least two questions each for the girls. Then we can wrap.”

  I didn’t like it. Not one bit.

  The next few questions were easier, and thankfully, Lainey remained quiet.

  Looking down at the card, I cleared my throat. “Elaina,” I read aloud. “This question is for you…”

  I paused before continuing… and thank God I did.

  How old were you, and where were you, when you lost your virginity?

  I gulped and my eyes lifted, glaring at Elliott. Yeah, sure, some of the other questions for the other women were similar to this—sexual in nature—but there was no way in hell I could ask Lainey to relive our moments together on national television. I already knew this answer… because I had been there for it. She was eighteen, and we were on a blanket beside the lake after we both snuck out of our houses. We were a couple of horny teenagers with a three-pack of condoms, two raging libidos, and one bottle of six-dollar wine that we thought was hella fancy.

  “Neil?” Elaina asked.

  The hard stool was pressing against my ass, and I shifted against it. I wasn’t sure if it was the cheap Ikea seating or the question that was making me more uncomfortable. “It, uh, says here that you went to Harvard for a Political Science degree.” I could feel Elliott’s eyes searing into me, and I refused to look up at him. “Does that mean you’re a politician?”

  She tilted her head, and I gritted my teeth, willing her to answer the question quickly. “No. Not really,” she said. “I’m a town manager, which is not typically an elected position. I’m nominated by city council members and the mayor, and they are the deciding factor in my job. So, no, I didn’t run for any office. Though, my position is certainly political by nature, and I work closely with many of the elected officials.”