F*CK Reality: Take One Page 12
Taking a seat next to me on the bed, Brock tosses the towel he was holding to the floor and turns his body in place. His gaze is assessing me as I do the same to him.
With kind eyes, he scans my face. “Stop thinking what you’re thinking.”
“What was that?” I counter.
“That last night wasn’t as good for you as it was for me because I’ve been with other women.”
It’s a good guess, but I wasn’t thinking this until now. As easy as it was being with him, I’m surely not the first woman to experience him the way I did.
“A lot of other women?”
He shrugs. At least he’s honest.
“I should go.”
“Let me feed you,” he insists, running his finger against my bottom lip. “It’s the least I can do.”
My lips purse, so he removes his hand and smirks.
“You don’t owe me anything,” I smart.
“Oh, so last night was free?” he jokes, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “And this morning? Two for one?”
I get he’s kidding. His humor was as obvious last night. Brock’s way of making me feel at ease was one of the reasons I agreed to come up to his room. But this joke isn’t so funny.
Rather than revealing my insecurity, I quip back, “Yep, last night was on the house. So was this morning.”
His sexy grin, the one I also fell for last night, comes to his lips before he inquires, “What do I get if I let you use my shower?”
“A clean breakfast buddy?”
“Dressed or naked?” he presses, staring at my chest without shame.
“Dressed.”
He frowns. “Fuck it. Stay dirty.”
“You’re sick.”
When he laughs, I narrow my eyes and hold my focus to his. My head pounds, but not so much as I assumed it would before I’d passed out in his arms a few hours ago.
“Get your ass up. Go shower. I’ll wait out here for room service.”
When I don’t move from the bed, the sheet is ripped away. Suddenly, in the bright light of the day, I regret not putting his shirt back on after we had sex the second time.
“I’m going,” I snap, grabbing the blanket, and at the same time using my shaky legs to stand.
Once I’ve got everything I need to shower, I turn back to find Brock watching. His gaze lingers on my exposed legs. I’ve been told I have a nice pair, but under his study, I’m convinced he agrees.
“I’ll just...” I point to the bathroom, but awkwardly trail off. He breaks his gaze from my legs to lick his thick bottom lip before he curtly nods.
After I’ve showered, I process my hair as quickly as I can. The voices just beyond the bathroom door are jumbled. I can only make out pieces of what’s being said.
“You’re him,” a man with a voice I don’t recognize enthusiastically accuses. “The guy from that...”
Brock hisses something out in a dramatic whisper to keep the man quiet.
What the hell?
“Dude,” the voice starts again. “You’re the luckiest guy on earth. Have you seen those women?”
Those women?
“I mean, you’re soooo gonna score a hottie.”
“Keep your voice down,” Brock seethes again. This time I hear him clearly. “Put the tray there and go.”
Room service.
“Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to...”
The heavy, wooden hotel door slams shut, and my heart crashes repeatedly against my chest. Slowly but surely, bits and pieces of last night come together, cementing together what I’ve heard.
Brock’s the millionaire.
It can’t be. He can’t be. Can he?
Last night, he said he was here on business. He said he wasn’t engaged, which if he’s on the show, then he didn’t lie. He’s not technically engaged yet. But he acted as if he wasn’t here for an extended period of time— like he was only passing through.
Freaking hell, Brock’s the millionaire.
I have no reason to be pissed or sad, yet my heart feels sick. Last night was great, being with him was...new and exciting. Yet, nothing we did was a promise of anything more. Last night was a great night of sex with a man I’ve never met and doubted I’d ever see again.
Physically, I’m exhausted. Emotionally, I’m close to the same.
Rushing around the bathroom to gather what little I’ve brought in with me, I don’t pay attention to how I look before opening the door. It doesn’t matter. I need to go.
“Your breakfast is...”
When the door fully opens and Brock’s eyes come to mine, he stops talking. His jaw ticks, and a ruined expression washes over his face. I hate it. His sullen look tells me all my assumptions were correct.
Stop thinking what you’re thinking, that last night wasn’t as good for you as it was for me because I’ve been with other women.
Rather than stand too close, and to avoid facing the consequences of my colossal mistake, I push past him and make my way to the door. His hand reaches out to stop me. He pulls my arm and forces my body to his. My shoulder hits his chest. His dark eyes search my face for any chance I hadn’t heard what I can’t ever un-hear.
“It’s too late,” I whisper. “I need to go.”
“Brooke, wait,” he begs. But it’s to no avail.
Do you want to go because you want to go, or you think I want you to go?
“I need to get back to my room,” I insist, turning my focus to the door.
When he releases me, I move fast. With my shoes in my hand, I probably look like I’m fleeing a crime scene. And in a way I am. I’ll pay for this later, I know it. Whether in mind, heart, or in the view of the critical public eye.
Oh, so last night was free? Two for one?
It’s day one, and I’ve made myself the laughing stock.
Chapter Seventeen
That probably could’ve gone a little better.
Brock
-
Fuck...
Fuck...
Fuck!
She heard every word that pimple faced bellman said. There’s no other explanation. The beautiful, friendly, fun, and sexy woman who went into the bathroom to shower, came out as a timid, reluctant, and scorned one I no longer recognized.
Last night was a bad idea. I should’ve stayed in my room as I told myself I would.
If I had, I wouldn’t have been so careless.
If I had, I wouldn’t be sitting here stewing in guilt over hurting a girl I hardly know.
If I had, though, I wouldn’t have met her in the first place.
Running my hand through my hair, I sit in this chair, only half-ass listening to Jerry as he continues walking me through what’s about to happen this evening.
“You’ll meet all the girls together first, then one by one tomorrow. There’s nine this season,” he says to my surprise.
“Nine?” I question. I didn’t get nine files. I haven’t read them all, but I can count and there were only eight. “How’s it nine?”
“Late arrival. Willow added that last one.”
I don’t think Jerry likes Willow. He’s shown contempt anytime he’s talked about her this morning.
“Anyway, so tonight will be simple. You’ll all meet in the Civic Room here at the hotel for a drink—no cameras, no crews, none of that. Just you and the girls.”
“And what am I supposed to do with them?”
Jerry smiles, but my question isn’t what he thinks it to be. After spending last night with a woman I hated watching walk away, my disdain for this dare has reached its limit.
If there’s one woman like Brooke Malloy in this world, it’s possible there’s more where she came from. I was too stupid to realize this sooner.
“You talk, converse, carry on,” he advises. “Get to know their names and faces. At this point, personal details don’t matter.”
“Those come later,” I guess. It’s the right one.
“Yes, you’ll be required to date each girl once. With one
exception.”
“Exception?”
He nods. “Yes. If you know right away there’s a woman you have no chemistry with, then you tell me, and I’ll handle it.”
“Got it,” I confirm.
“If there’s a connection, great. If not...” He moves his flat hand out to emphasize. “Then send them on down the road.”
“Harsh.”
“It’s not so bad. None of the contestants will know once they haven’t been considered. Their heartbreak comes at the end, and there they have each other to console.”
“Except the one I choose.”
Jerry smiles. “You got it. I should prepare you for something, though. Some of these women aren’t necessarily here for you.”
My confusion is obvious.
“I mean, sure. In a sense, they are here for you, don’t get me wrong. I’m saying a lot of girls who audition for this show are also here for its notoriety. Last season, we had that plumber...” He rolls his eyes before continuing, “Willow was insistent we find an everyday blue collar prospect. Believe me when I tell you that poor man was as blue collar as they come. It turned out to be a fiasco.”
Again, his distaste for the producer and host of this show is evident.
“Will you be having any guests join you for the duration of your visit?”
“Guests?” I don’t understand.
“No one explained this to you?” he questions. I shake my head, and he goes on. “Family, friends, whoever you choose. We’ll cover the cost. The process of the show can be daunting.”
It already is.
“Some find having their loved ones within reach, even for a few days, helps to ground them. But please, no personal relations.”
“Personal relations?”
“Two seasons ago we had that lawyer, Marcus Wellman. Do you remember?”
I don’t, simply because I’ve never watched the show.
“Well, he had his ex-girlfriend flown in from Tallahassee. He told us they were still very close friends. When the other girls found out who was sharing his room, chaos erupted. The whole season was a public relations nightmare. Name calling, cat fighting, and threatened lawsuits had us busy for three months after the show ended and aired.”
My interest in what he has to say is waning. I want to go back to my room and process, so I ask, “Are we about done for today then?”
“We are, but I’ll need you to take these and look them over. Pictures are included this time. It’s good to get a head start. So many girls, so little time, as they say.”
No one says that, Jerry.
“All right, thanks.” I accept the files with no interest in reviewing them.
“Well, then.” He stands, extends his hand, and gives mine a firm shake. “We’ll see you at six.”
Chapter Eighteen
Here, hold my whorish, but now bleeding heart.
Brooke
-
“All this isn’t as heavy as you’re making it out to be, Brooke,” Addie soothes. “I mean, so what? You had fun, didn’t you? You did something crazy for once in your life, right?”
There’s a point she’s trying to make, I’m sure. But I don’t see it. I’m simmering over my loss of self-respect.
“Wait. You’ve never slept with a man you just met?” Ryleigh interjects, coming from the bathroom draped in a small, white towel. Obviously, she’s overheard our conversation. “A hot, steamy, one night of animalistic sex with a stranger is good for the soul, woman,” she adds.
I’ve hardly had the chance to introduce myself, let alone the opportunity to take in all her beauty. Right now is not the time.
Ryleigh’s eyes widen as she waits for a response. When it doesn’t come, she asks, “You’ve really never had one?”
I shake my head. Fortunately, she has no idea who we’re talking about.
When I came back to the room this morning, Ryleigh had already left to meet some of the other girls for breakfast. Thus, thankfully, I had my best friend to myself.
When I walked in looking frazzled, Addie put forth her best effort not to laugh; however, she failed. Her flair for finding humor in my first adventure stung, bad. It wasn’t long after when I finally broke down into tears of humiliation in knowing I was going to have to face him again.
Tonight, I’m sure.
Once she’d collected herself, I told her what I had done. Not only is Brock an incredibly handsome man we met in a bar by chance, he’s also the man I’d be interviewing with to become his wife.
God.
None of this seemed to be a problem for Addie, though. She was elated I had a ‘head start’ with being the one he chose. Truth be told, I’m not here to be chosen. This was supposed to be an ‘adventure,’ nothing more. Not once had I given thought to being the one standing at the altar. Not as I left my house, not as I stood in the center of all those women, not even as I sit here remembering last night.
Adventure, damn it. That’s it.
“Brooke,” Addie lectures, still sitting on the bed, holding me at her side. “I mean it when I say this, so don’t play it off as my crazy talk.”
“Say what?”
My legs are folded and so far, I’d been looking down at my fingers, twisting them in my lap.
“Your Dad would be proud.”
She’s nuts.
My father would certainly not be proud of my recent, albeit only, act of slutism in its worst form.
He’d be completely mortified.
“Highly doubt this.” I internally cringe as I stand. An image of my father’s most disappointed expression crosses my thoughts with a degree of clarity I can’t escape. “Addie, there was nothing about last night any parent would be proud of.”
“I disagree,” she objects as she gets up and adjusts the hair from my neck to my back. “I’m proud of you.”
“You would be,” I smartly return. “I’m not you. I get attached to people. You don’t.”
“This is true, but, Brooke, it was one night.”
Honestly, I know this. However, stating the facts is one thing, feeling them is another.
“What are you wearing tonight?”
“Do I have to go? Am I required?”
Nodding, she sighs. “Most definitely required. It was in the contract, remember? All appearances are necessary.”
“I’ll wear a sack. A big one.”
“You’re talking crazy. We’ll find you something perfect,” she encourages. “I’m here to help you. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”
This morning, after my initial breakdown, Addie physically put me back together and followed me downstairs as emotional support. There, this year’s chosen women were herded into a small break room around the corner from the downstairs bar, or as I now refer to it as the scene of the crime. Addie was prohibited from going any further. A man named Jerry insisted I go in alone, but I wasn’t alone for long. I met a few of the girls, and immediately observed some were more friendly than others.
Our bunkmate, Ryleigh Summers, just as I’d suspected in my short time of knowing her, is a social butterfly. She walked around to every girl, shaking their hand, and wishing them luck.
Emilee Cruz, a Hispanic goddess with perfect skin and seductive features, is the youngest in the group. She turned twenty-one just last week. She told me she auditioned for the show as part of her ‘living life’ new year pledge. She was really nice, but talked very quietly—awkwardly so.
Kylee Simmons is a bitch. I don’t like to label women this, but some just earn the right.
My first impression of her would be to say she thrives in being the center of attention. Before the meet and greet had a chance to start, she had insulted one of the contestants I hadn’t met. I never got the chance because the woman ended up in tears, wasn’t consoled by anyone, and fled the scene as quickly as she could.
Kylee is tall, blonde, and fake; boobs, hair, tan, and possibly her ass. She’s also, by pure and evil coincidence, the woman Brock and I shared an elevator w
ith before our drunken sexual escapade last night. She didn’t recognize me today, which isn’t surprising. I didn’t give her my attention as we rode to her floor. She didn’t give hers to me either. We both had eyes for Brock.
Brock.
“I had fun with him,” I admit, looking down then closing my eyes.
“Well, yeah,” Addie tells me. “You got laid. That’s always fun.”
“No, Addie. There was more than that,” I return. “I mean, yes, the sex was great, but the after was better.”
Addie doesn’t respond. When I look up, her eyes are wide and her mouth is hanging open. She also doesn’t look like she’s breathing.
Concerned, I ask, “What’s wrong? What is it?”
“After was better,” she utters. Once she’s pulled herself together, she probes, “What do you mean after was better? What after? What better?”
Clearly noting she’s stumped, I explain. “I mean after we had sex, we talked.”
“Shit,” she bites out, taking the seat next to me again and stroking the back of my head gently. “You’re saying you two didn’t, um...” She pauses and tightens her lips before stuttering on. “You two didn’t...um...”
“Addie, what?”
“Hit and quit it. Fuck then flee?” she asks it so fast, I have to blink to keep up.
To her amazement, I answer, “No, Add. We fell asleep.”
“But you talked first?”
“Yes.”
“Damn.”
“Then talked again after we...”
Her head rears back in shock and maybe a little bit of panic. “You had sex with him twice?”
“Yes,” I answer. “Why do you look like that?”
“Fuck.” A thousand words she doesn’t say slips through that one. Sitting up, Addie prods, “And you liked him?”
Yes, I truly did, which seems to be the bitch of this entire mess. Tonight, eight other girls who not only look like me, but are much prettier, will be vying for his attention. I know because I’ve seen them. We’re all competing. My face will be lost to him within that crowd, and it sucks.