Date With A Rockstar (15 page)

BAM! I'm on the floor. Shelley Anne looks down her nose at me. Morning light fills our room and she's playing Jeremy's “Ocean” compilation on the hotel room's sound system. Guess that explains the dream.

“You'd better get up if you plan on watching my date today.”

Ugh. More dates with other girls. If it was just between Claire and me, my odds of winning would be excellent, but who knows what will happen on the other dates? I get up off the floor and climb back in bed. Shelley sorts through her suitcase with short, deliberate motions and power-walks back and forth between her bed and the bathroom. I sit in bed, just watching. I'm tired. I want to finish my dream.

Shelley Anne flops around in a big, white robe and appears ready from the neck up. She has on subtle brown eyeliner. Her lips are shiny pink and her blonde hair falls in a soft wave.

“You look nice,” I tell her.

“Wait until you see my suit.” Right, how could I forget? Shelley Anne and her victorious canoeing trip with Jeremy. But how good can she look? I mean, she's no Jasmine. I'm not worried. Until she opens the robe.

“What do you think? It's genius, isn't it?” She drops the robe to the floor and I'm speechless. Where did the weight go? How the hell—

“Promise not to tell how it works?” she asks. She rises up on tiptoes, eager.

“I promise.”

“Good, ‘cause I don't want Jeremy knowing I'm not perfect until he's already hooked on me.” She rubs her hand over her bare belly. “This part of the suit forms a clear, skin-like barrier.”

Huh?
From my perspective she's wearing a two-piece bikini. Her stomach is thin and toned; her breasts are huge and levitating.

“It's actually all one piece.”

I can't even believe how good she looks. “How much did that cost?”

She winks at me rather than reveal the price.

“But Jeremy has already seen you in clothes.”

She shrugs. “Duh. I wore another figure enhancer for the interview. Bet you didn't even notice.”

“No, I didn't. That's neat technology.” I wish I had one. “When are they coming to pick you up?”

“Half an hour.”

“I bet you'll have a great time.” I pace to the window. “The weather is nice, too.”

She goes back to her suitcase and slides a sheer black swim cover-up around her hips. The supposed “cover-up” doesn't hide a thing. She might as well be wearing lingerie on her date. The TV audience will probably love her. Is Jeremy the kind of guy to be impressed by big breasts and super suits? I think back to my simple purple bikini. I'd feel more confident about my chances if I had a super suit that would cover any evidence of Fluxem.

From my bed, I can see the door to the room, and if I sit at the very end, I think I'll be able to see Jeremy. Shelley Anne and I watch the clock in the corner of the room. I almost want to tell her about last night out of spite, but I keep my mouth shut.

Finally, the knock comes. Jeremy stands in our doorway wearing a light blue T-shirt for the date. The corner of a camera protrudes from behind him, though this time the focus is on Shelley Anne, not me. When I catch his expression, he's gazing down. Down into her cleavage. He blinks quickly, probably stunned by the gravity-defying effect. He smiles at her, not me.

I should've left the room. And I have this dumb feeling like I'm watching my boyfriend cheat on me…but that isn't the case. But, crap. This is shitty.

He turns his head slightly and our eyes meet. His eyebrows rise in surprise. I guess he didn't know
which room was mine. Shelley Anne brushes past him on her way out, and the moment is broken. She shuts the door behind her, harder than necessary. I'm left staring at the white rectangle, fists clenched. I'm trembling with anger and I have no justification for the feeling. Damn Shelley Anne and her miracle bikini.

I give them five minutes to get down the hall before I stalk downstairs to the viewing room. All of us assemble in our usual spots, ready for whatever blows this date will deliver. From the grim expressions, I assume they've already gotten a good look at the swimsuit. Jaime's purple contacts look extra creepy when she's upset. I rub my temples, trying to massage away the stress headache, or maybe it's Jasmine's perfume.

I focus my anger on Jasmine. “Do you have to wear so much damn perfume?”

Jasmine turns on me like a snake. “I've been told Jeremy loves this perfume.”

I crack my knuckles. I've already had my chance. There's not much more I can do to win over the viewers now, and the helplessness sucks.

One of her lookalikes wrinkles her nose at me. “Not in the best of moods this morning, are we?”

I want to flip the table onto her. I've got to get a grip. There are more dates to come.

“Want to make a bet?” Brie, a.k.a. clone number two, asks. “Twenty says she jumps him within an hour.”

Jasmine leans in. “Jumps him as in, has sex?”

I cringe. Jeremy wouldn't do that. I'm almost sure of it. Brie drums her fingers on the table. “No, no. Makes him kiss her.”

Jasmine shakes her head. “I'm not making that bet, even if it is only twenty.”

Brie shrugs and goes back to watching the screen. I'd take the bet, but don't have the money.

Shelley Anne sits in the limo at Jeremy's side. They both drink from reusable water bottles with Key West logos.

Praline starts chewing her thumbnail. “Was my date this boring to watch?”

It's Claire that speaks up. “No, there were all those jewels at the exhibit, and the cameraman did a fair amount of panning around.” I think she might have meant the bit about the camera as a slam, but since I didn't watch the whole date, I have no idea if she's lying or not.

“How was your date, Praline? I didn't feel all that well and missed the majority of the feed. I did like your dress.”

She sits straighter at my compliment. I hope my explanation will make the other girls think I didn't leave yesterday because I was jealous.

“Thank you. I think Jeremy loved it.” Looking around the table, I know these girls want to win just as badly as I do.

Jeremy and Shelley Anne are in the canoe now. He's in the back, doing all the work, and she's in the front. He wipes sweat off his brow with his shoulder as his muscles strain to paddle. Then he pauses and removes his shirt.

“Ooh's” go around the table.

His skin glistens in the sun. They must have a camera mounted on the bow of the boat because I'm pretty sure a third person wouldn't fit. Shelley reclines slightly, waving a decorative Japanese fan in front of her face. I hope she doesn't think she's being coy, because with that outfit, it isn't working. Luckily for me the camera is just over her shoulder, so I don't have to stare at all of her assets the whole time. The focus is all on Jeremy as his muscles flex. God, he looks so yummy.

One of the other cameras films from another boat out in the water. Trees surround the lake, and I'm struck by how much money Key West must be spending to preserve their natural resources. Jeremy hands Shelley Anne a bottle of water. She accepts, tipping her head back suggestively and letting the liquid pour down her throat. I'm developing an advanced hatred for my roommate.

She leans forward in the boat. Her lips move, but I'll have to wait ‘till the show airs to hear what idiot excuse she comes up with for getting closer to Jeremy. He nods and keeps paddling. From the side camera angle, she's only a foot from his knees. She reaches her hand out to point at something off to the side. The boat rocks. She tumbles head first into Jeremy's legs.

Jasmine pounds her fist on the table. I dig my nails into my hand.

Shelley's throwing herself at him. Literally. Jeremy pulls the paddle into the boat and reaches down to help her back up. He clasps her arm and leans in to steady her, or is that her stretching up to get closer to him?

The camera following alongside zooms in for a better shot of the disaster. Then Jeremy's lips are on hers. They're kissing. Bile surges up my throat. He's having fun. No big deal.

It'll be over in a second. He's going to pull away. Any second now.

They keep kissing. The camera bobs up and down. The cameraman must be standing up to provide this in-depth angle. Jeremy's hand comes up. Thank God, he's going to push her away, but he brushes her breast. Well, he's having a lot of fun. My odds of winning are plummeting.

I'm ready to snap. I want to punch everyone and scream at the top of my lungs. I want to run so fast and far away that I disappear. Erin throws her sandal at
the wall. They start fighting about whether the breast brush was an accident or not. I feel sick because he's still frigging kissing her.

The kiss finally breaks. Praline coughs, hacks, and grabs her stomach. I reach over to help her as she staggers out of her chair. Her eyelids flutter shut and she tips headfirst into the wall. I thought she was about to vomit, but this reaction doesn't make sense. Is she unconscious? Did she just ram the wall? I turn her over onto her side in case she pukes.

“Oh, my.” Erin fans her face with one hand and flips her hair back and forth with the other. “My, my, my.”

Praline murmurs and clutches her heart. Wow. My own anger is diffused by the spectacle of her on the floor. “Should we call Eleanor?” I ask.

Of course it's Jasmine who answers, “Let's wait until the date is over.”
Heartless bitch.

Praline's eyelashes flutter. “Oh, Jeremy. Why, Jeremy, why?” She's lost it.

I offer her my hand. “Come on, I'll help you back to your room.” The black bracelet Jeremy gave her slides down and she splays her fingers to keep it on. Her palm is sweaty where our skin meets. It's like Jeremy overloaded her system. I know the feeling. At least she got a bracelet.

I glance back at the screen before I walk out of the room. Jeremy is still paddling along and Shelley Anne is splashing water on her chest. Praline looks back and starts panting. “Don't watch,” I tell her and let the door close behind us.

Eleanor meets us in the hall. “You okay, honey?” Praline's head wobbles. She is so not okay. “Let's drop her off at the salon,” Eleanor suggests. “That will calm anyone down.” Which is a good idea, because she's leaning on me hard, and I don't think I can carry her all the way back to her room.

The masseuse at the front of the salon scans Praline's chip and whisks her off. Eleanor and I walk away.

I lean in quietly to talk to Eleanor. “I don't know how to say this, but is Praline mentally stable enough for this competition?”

Eleanor laughs with a tiny grunt at the end. “You mean you wouldn't normally ram your head into the wall?”

“Does that mean you watch what goes on in the viewing room?”

Eleanor shrugs. But obviously she was watching, or she wouldn't know about Praline.

“I hope they won't show that.”

She shrugs again. Of course they will. Everyone will laugh. I feel terrible because Praline really is suffering, and now the world will think she's a joke.

“Don't worry. I'm sure they'll edit the footage into a whole bloopers episode. The cameras will pick up embarrassing moments from all the contestants.”

Oh, great. I wonder what idiotic actions they caught me doing. I walk toward the restaurant. I need to be reminded about one of the good things about this contest because right now, after seeing my roommate kiss Jeremy, I feel like getting the hell out of here.

“Have a good lunch,” Eleanor tells me. She folds her lips in as she smiles. I wonder if she's secretly on my side and that's why I'm the only contestant who knows the location of Jeremy's room.

I eat a brownie sundae and a piece of apple pie. The flavors are amazing and comforting. But I can't forget the image of Jeremy's hand reaching out to Shelley and her mouth locked onto his face like a sucker-fish.

I trudge back to my room, making sure to scan my hand in at the elevator. As I walk, my hip starts to ache.
Oh, God. What now?
The key card dings and the door opens. As soon as I'm inside the room I slip my pants
down to the tops of my thighs. I don't see any new marks. No redness, but when I press my fingers into the skin I get a throbbing pain. I pull my pants back up. I'm either getting worse, or I'm paranoid, and I can't do anything about either one, so I sit on my bed and try to formulate a strategy.

I need a backup plan for getting the money. It will probably have to be illegal. Nothing comes to mind, or at least, nothing I want to contemplate yet. Do I go see Jeremy again? What if he likes Shelley? What an awkward position to put him in. At this moment, he's shared more physical contact with my roommate than he has with me. And Shelley Anne, what do I say when she returns from the date? How can I stand to be in the same room with her after what I saw?

I straighten my back against the headboard of the bed.

I will not run off and question Jeremy.

I will not let Shelley Anne see me upset.

I will not give up.

I'M TAKING A nap when Shelley Anne comes back from her date. Truly. I'm sound asleep, not just holding my eyes closed listening to her every move. She whistles the tune to a shampoo commercial; I wonder if she realizes.

“Wakey up, roomie. Don't you want to hear about my date?”

Hmmm. Will she go away if I pretend to be dead?

“Helloooo, anyone home over there?”

She'll never leave me alone. “Oh, hi, Shell.”
Let's see how she likes her new nickname.
My address makes her pause. I rub my eyes, feigning sleepiness. She puckers her lips at me, sour.

“I actually prefer to use both my full first name and middle name.”

“Oh.”

“So, did you see when Jeremy leaned in and kissed me?”

Now that's an exaggeration. “From the angle of the camera I couldn't see anything. It looked like you bumped your head on his knee.”