Reality Check (15 page)

M
ason wasn't himself, Charly noticed. It'd been less than two months since she'd seen him after the
The Extreme Dream Team
's first taping in Chicago, but there was something different about him. For one, he seemed taller. Charly raked her eyes over him, wondering what else had changed. She tilted her head, pressed her lips together, and put her hands on her hips. She sniffed. He'd always smelled good, but now his scent was better than usual. More expensive, as if money had an aroma.

“What's wrong with you?” Mason asked, his lips in a half smile. He licked them, then ran his hands over his waves.

Charly nodded. That was it. Mason wasn't wearing a baseball hat like usual. That's what had changed about him. “You just look different. Thinner, taller, something.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “I guess I just missed you. There, I said it.”

Mason spread his lips into a full smile. He blushed a little. “Really?” His exhale came out in a half snort. “Even though that Liam dude—”

“Stop it already, Mason,” Charly said, cutting him off and pulling him back out of the restaurant's entrance. The breeze blew her hair away from her face as they walked toward the parking lot. “What's your problem? I already told you there's nothing up with me and Liam.” She turned toward the back of the restaurant.

Mason grabbed her arm, stopping her. “So that's it? You think you just get to say there's nothing up and I'm supposed to believe you? Even after I saw you and him kiss? Worse, even after the whole world saw you two kiss?”

Charly reared back her head. “Listen. I don't know what else to tell you. I already told you it was scripted. The kiss was scripted,” she lied.

Mason laughed, then shook his head in the negative. “Nah, Charly. You've got your dudes mixed up. You didn't tell me that.”

Charly exhaled, letting her shoulders sink toward the ground. She was defeated, but she was no quitter. She was going to fight until she won. “So if it wasn't you, it was my dad. Same difference.” She threw her hands in the air like
so what
. “Both of you are wrong anyway. The kiss was scripted for Liam and Annison.”

Mason looked away, then shot her a glance. Her heart melted because his eyes were tearing. She couldn't believe she'd made him cry.

“I'm sorry,” she began, then was silenced by his loud, raw laughter.

“Yo, Charly. I'm no fool,” he managed between laughs. “The kiss wasn't scripted. Period.” He kicked at loose gravel, then began to walk away.

“Where are you going, Mason? You know I'm not here long. I gotta be back sooner than later, and I still don't know what I'm doing with Stormy. I don't need this now,” she said to his back, hoping he'd get over himself.

Mason stopped, then turned around. He licked his bottom lip, then bit it a little, baring his teeth like a dog about to attack. “
You
don't need this now?” He parroted her words, then spat on the ground. “Well, what about me, Charly? You ever consider what I don't need? Let me tell you what I don't need, Charly. I don't need a girl who lies and cheats. There was no script for the award show. You know it and I know it. You and that dude are together—”

“No, we're not, Mason!” she yelled, cutting him off.

Mason laughed again. “Word? Well, what's this then?” He pulled a folded magazine out of his back pocket and tossed it to her.

Charly shrugged. She wasn't a dog, and she wasn't going to fetch anything, especially something thrown at her like a dog biscuit. Her phone rang, and she ignored it.

“What's the matter, Charly? You too afraid to face who you are?” Mason asked.

“Charly! Charly! You okay? TMZ . . . really?” Lola asked, her footsteps getting louder as she made her way to Charly with Stormy on her heels.

Charly looked around. She didn't understand what was going on or why Lola was so out of breath, asking about TMZ. “What?”

“Mason, you know better . . .” The words hung in the air, a statement that came from Stormy's mouth.

“What?” Charly asked again. Her mouth was moving, but her brain wasn't working. Though she wanted to deny everything that was happening in front of her and look into Mason's eyes and dare him to treat her like the scum of the earth again by throwing a gossip magazine at her or calling her a cheater, she couldn't. Her eyes couldn't leave the ground.

“Charly? Answer me,” Lola demanded. Her voice was more than concerned. “You okay?”

Charly nodded her head. She and Mason were having a boyfriend and girlfriend disagreement. He wasn't putting his hands on her or calling her out of her name, other than calling her a cheater.

“Yeah,” he spat. “Until you can prove otherwise—which you can't—I'm out. One.” He turned his back to her, held up the deuces sign, his index and middle fingers displayed in a V, and walked away.

Charly nodded, and a tear tracked down her cheek. On the ground in front of her, in color and black and white, was a huge picture of her and Liam kissing in a car.
It can't be.
“That's impossible,” she said.

 

“So what are you going to do?” Stormy asked, sitting back in her seat inside Smax's.

Charly shrugged. “I don't know. But I'm going to find out who lied on me and Liam. That picture was taken when we—me and the driver—picked him up from Whole Foods in Atlanta. He went to peck me on the cheek and the car pulled off, making him accidentally brush against my lips.” She turned the page, then cringed. “This one is when we were leaving the hotel in Miami—we didn't spend the night together! I'm not like that!”

Lola popped her gum, nodding as she pressed the phone against her ear. She moved the cell, then pressed a button. “Sully said he had no idea, but word is spreading. Liam knows, and we're sure Mr. Day does too. You gotta get back.”

Charly nodded. “I just don't understand. Why would they print that I'm out to destroy Annison and her career? And over a guy? Liam and Annison aren't even a couple.”

Stormy laughed. “You may not think this is funny, and believe me, it's really not. But you wanted to be famous. This is what happens. Reality shows . . . messy shows that mimic messy lives.”

Charly nodded her head. Stormy was right. Her life had become a mess, so now it was up to her to clean it up. She'd begin when she made it back. Right now, her sister needed her, and she needed to be home around her family—the crew at Smax's. “Stormy, I was thinking I should stay a couple of days. I'll see if Bathsheba can call the studio for me.”

Stormy smiled. “Really? You'll stay?”

Charly nodded. “We're between tapings and don't have another for almost a week.” She looked at her calendar. “Most people are flying home, I guess, but some are staying in Florida. Or I can just meet them in Virginia.”

“T
hey love you, Charly. The audience absolutely loves you—the network too,” Mr. Day was saying on the phone, his voice getting more excited with each syllable. “The ratings have been through the roof, and it's thanks to you, Charly. They were higher the first time you filled in for Annison, but they were even higher when Marlow made her appearance. And the tabloids—perfect. I know you don't see it now, but it's just a sign that you've made it. Don't worry about your dad. I'll handle him.”

Charly half smiled. She was rightfully upset, but had been pacified. Four networks had contacted her for interviews so she could defend herself, and that'd made her feel better. So had Mr. Day. She'd been avoiding both her dad's and Mr. Day's calls since she'd darted away to Illinois to see about Stormy, and had finally decided to take Mr. Day's call after she'd learned from her voice mail that he was bursting with good news and told her to enjoy her few days at home with her family. Charly smiled. She was thankful for Bathsheba, who had been more than willing to call the studio. Charly was also happy because Bathsheba got information that prevented Charly from flying to the wrong location. It turned out that most of the crew was still in Miami for an all-male show, where Liam and Sully made over an all-boys-school dorm.

“Okay,” she said, listening intently as Mr. Day told her how fantastic everyone thought she was, as she sat in a restaurant in Miami International Airport stuffing her mouth with overpriced french fries. One of the cameramen walked by her and waved, then shrugged his shoulders. Charly plastered on a smile, wondering why he shrugged, then held a fry in the air, saluting him with the ketchup-drenched tip in the air. She'd touched down in Miami less than an hour ago and had barely made it to another terminal where she was scheduled to take the next flight out to Virginia with the rest of the cast and crew, but had gotten more strange looks than she could count. She blamed it on the tabloid with the pictures of her and Liam being sold in the airport store. She'd autographed two of them while buying junk food for the airplane ride. “That's great, Mr. Day! I'm happy to hear it. Does this mean Marlow can be on the show? Permanently?”

“The flight's been delayed, love. Or shall I say, lover?” Liam laughed. “Anyway, they're saying something about rain; that's the excuse this time.” His voice reached her from behind. His accent seemed to float through the air and tickle her ears, and it sounded absolutely beautiful. After the rough twenty-four-plus hours she'd spent sneaking in and out of Illinois to check on Stormy, she needed a diversion. She was glad it happened to be him. “You hear me, love?”

She nodded her answer and turned sideways so she could see his face, and a smile spread across hers. She held up a finger to let him know she was on the phone and would be with him in a second. “That's cool, Mr. Day. I'm excited, and I know Marlow will be too. She loves being around people—and not just pet sitters,” she said into the cell, happy that Mr. Day had given Marlow the green light to be a part of the reality series. Her eyes saucered when Liam was in her full view, and not because he was his usual gorgeous self. “I gotta go, Mr. Day. I think they're calling us for our flight,” she lied, ending the call. “Liam, where's Marlow?” she asked, looking at his hands, which were empty except for the messenger bag he had.

“It's good to see you too, Charly. And you're welcome. You don't have to thank me for watching Marlow or covering for you while you snuck away—or for standing up for your honor and grace and telling the stupid people who keep calling me and my agent that you and I are strictly friends,” Liam said.

“Sorry,” she said. “I appreciate you. Now, where's my dog?”

Liam shrugged, then pulled out a chair and sat. “I'm afraid there's no more room, love. Seems there were too many dogs booked onboard the cabin. They had to check her with the baggage.”

Charly jumped.
Check her?
“Excuse me?”

“Well, it seems there's only a certain number of animals that can be on the plane with the passengers—”

“But we prebooked, right?” Charly asked, sure they had.

Liam crossed his arms over his chest. “The
studio
booked the flights in advance, and according to the reservationist, there was only one kennel ticket booked. Annison got it. I don't know how, but she did. I'm thinking they gave it to her because she's in first class.”

Charly crinkled her brows together. He wasn't making sense. “I'm sorry. Did you say she got it because she's in first class? We're all in first class, Liam. You sure it's not because of that stupid gossip magazine? Is that why I'm being mistreated?”

Liam's expression dropped and his head did the twist. He reached over and grabbed Charly's hands. “Listen to me, love. You didn't do anything wrong, and no one is going to punish you.” He turned his face, then smiled. “Now, smile for all the people who'll probably report that we're having a lovers' quarrel,” he said, nodding his head toward the camera flashes from the cell phones of travelers who'd stopped and were taking pictures of them. “We're not together, and we didn't do anything wrong. After this—this moment—we don't ever have to discuss it again. Okay?” He shrugged.

Charly smiled, then said okay through gritted teeth. She was playing it up for the fans and their cameras just as Liam had suggested.

“Come over here,” Liam said to her, patting his lap. “Come sit on my lap and take a picture. I've learned that the best way to make people go away is to give them what they want. The same with reporters—always smile for the paparazzi, take a few pictures and give them short interviews, and they'll leave you alone.”

Charly nodded, taking in his advice. “Okay,” she said, then got up and rounded the table. She sat on his knee.

“Back to what you were saying,” Liam said after the fans left. “Yes, we flew first class to Atlanta and here, to Miami . . . that's true. Just not anymore. I don't know what's happened since, but now only the hosts—the main ones, me and Annison—are flying first class. The rest of the cast, including cohosts, which I think is totally absurd—have to fly coach.”

She rolled her eyes. An announcement that their flight was boarding was broadcast over the sound system. Her phone vibrated. A calendar reminder popped up on her screen with a picture of the itinerary embedded.

 

EVENT REMINDER:
Location Taping
7
AM

 

THE EXTREME DREAM TEAM
Show 4 itinerary

 

Recipient information:

 

Preschool

NAME WITHHELD DUE TO NON-ADVERTISING CLAUSE

Three-year-old preschool that opens its doors to underprivileged.

Enrolls 10 children for free in summer school and free breakfast/lunch programs.

No government grants or public monies given; school does fundraising to support charity.

EXTREME DREAM TEAM Mission: Design and build a new state-of-the-art kitchen, pantry, and 2 classroom additions.

Locale: VIRGINIA BEACH, VIRGINIA

 

What happened? What was going on? Charly questioned everyone and everything in Virginia. She'd been all but removed from the show, and she couldn't understand why. First, she was given directions to help the local crew that was hired to gather an audience around the set. The producer, some new guy she'd never met, hit her with an excuse that she should interview neighboring businesses to see how they felt about the preschool helping the underprivileged. Then she was asked to take Marlow and Doll for a walk because the pet-sitter/dog-walker had to rush away because of some emergency. Now she was sitting in the truck at a local big-box do-it-yourself hardware store waiting for Eight, Sully's assistant and cameraman, to get his cue to start filming her picking out supplies and bargain shopping. She was disgusted. In less than three tapings she'd gone from cohosting to hosting to who knew what?

Charly pushed open the heavy truck door, then slid out and down to the ground. Her cute combat-booted feet landed with a thud. She was tired and thirsty and, more than anything else, fed up. “Still nothing, Eight?”

Eight shook his bald head and batted his hairless eyelids. He climbed out of the driver's side of the truck. “Nothing.” He walked around to the passenger side and looked at his watch. “We've been here for like four hours. It's almost quitting time,” he said. “That's not good. I wonder how Sully's doing.”

Charly shook her head. She didn't understand Eight and Sully's friendship, and really didn't see why Sully and Annison got to have an assistant when she and Liam didn't. “Me too,” she added. She had a lot going on, but she wanted to know why Sully kept flaking on Lola. Lola was her best friend, so it was only right that Charly look out for her. “How is Sully? I mean, I don't see him much. Is he dating someone?”

Eight shook his head, then laughed a little. “Sully doesn't have time to date. He's busy doing
other
things.”

Charly made a face. “Well, excuse me,” she said, laughing. “Tell him he could be a little more considerate of my friend.”

Eight's phone started ringing. “You mean that weird-looking Lola girl?” he asked, and Charly almost keeled over. She couldn't believe Eight had called Lola weird looking, considering he was the one without body hair. “One sec.” He answered his phone, said a couple of okays, I gotchas, and no problems, then hung up. “Well, he likes her. He does. He just can't see anyone seriously right now, Charly. It's not her.” He straightened his shirt, then walked away.

Before Charly knew it, Eight had climbed back into the truck and started it. “Where are you going?” she asked through the open passenger door.

“That was a production assistant on the phone. The taping has wrapped.”

Charly's eyebrows shot up. “We're doing a two-day taping. That's weird—”

“No. We're done here in Virginia. They've completed the design. Without us. But there is a party later. What's Virginia Beach without the beach?” Eight asked. He'd been laughing while he was speaking, but Charly could tell that he was just as disappointed as she was at not being included in the taping.