Walk of Shame (25 page)

I turned to Troy. "Will he
still have his chauffeur job?" I asked.

Troy nodded.  "Once he's
cleared by a few doctors, it's my understanding that, yes, he can go back to
his regular job. Again, he's never given anyone cause for concern. We'll just
want to make sure that the job won't trigger episodes for him after being
here."

I looked over at Trevor doing
laps and shook my head at his lot in life. "It sucks, what war does. I
don't know which one has it worse, Mike without the leg, or Trevor with the
scars you can't see."

"He can't stay here,
Em," Troy said.

My head whipped back around.
"I know. It wouldn't be good for him."

"Well, that, and now he's
swung at another cast member. He has to go. I hope that doesn't make you want
to walk away from your opportunity here," Troy said.

Troy and I shared a long look.

Dad's eyes moved back and forth
between the two of us. "If she wants out, I'm putting her butt on the next
plane to Philly."

"That's not what he's
asking," I told Dad. "He's asking if I was thinking that Trevor could
be the last man standing at the end of this."

"And?" Troy asked.

"And...  I think, no. I
don't think he would have made it into the last four, with the way things have
been going lately."

"Good," Troy said.
"You don't really want him thinking that this is why you're walking away
from him, either."

"No," I agreed.
"It's just a shame that, because of this, I won't get to see how it all
could have evolved, especially seeing as how my opinions on frontrunners change
and shift from one week to the next. Trevor and I were getting there slowly,
but we were getting there. "

"I just wanted to make sure
you understand why he has to go," Troy said.

"Oh, yes. I get it. It's a
matter of safety. I agree. He needs help, not more stress over being
here," I said.

When Trevor finally decided that
he'd swam enough laps, he came out of the pool and Troy went over to talk with
him before returning to the depths of the production trailers. I stepped over
to Trevor and invited him to stay for dinner with Dad and me, then Troy offered
to have the makings for steak, baked potatoes, and veggies sent over that we
could grill.

"I don't know," Trevor
said.

"Sure you do. You could go
pack and get out of here, if you want. Or, stay, talk, have dinner, and let
them all wonder what the hell is going on."

That got him to smile. "By
now they'll all know I took a swing at Mike. They'll be expecting me to come
crawling over to pack my bags and leave with my tail tucked between my
legs."

We shared a smile.
"Exactly," I said.

"But why would you do this
to help me save face?"

"One, because you are my
friend. Two, because I respect and appreciate your sacrifice in service. Three,
because I care, I give a damn about you. And four, I want to know how they all
feel about it when you don't come home tonight, but yet your stuff is still
there."

We ate, talked, joked around, and
laughed when we spotted Drake peeking through the bushes. We couldn't imagine
what they thought was going on over here, to see the one who took a swing at
somebody to be the one hanging out with my father and me for the evening.

Trevor got a kick out of it. And
that's how I wanted to end it, on a good note, with him laughing and smiling
instead of sad and angry.

"You know," Trevor
whispered as we walked up the path between the houses in the wee hours of the
morning, "if you end up alone at the end of all this, you look me up. I'd
like to give it a try without all the extra stressors."

I nodded. "Deal. You focus
on getting it all together, follow doctor's orders, and we'll see where I stand
in a few weeks."

I went
upstairs with him, quietly helped him pack, and followed him back down the
stairs. I walked him to the waiting car and kissed him goodbye. Then I went
back to the cottage and crawled into bed.

I skipped my workout the next
morning and didn't move until Troy walked in with the makeup artist, carrying
my clothes for the day. I got up and drug myself into the shower. Then I sat
there in a near stupor as they fussed with the hair and makeup, while Troy went
over what little agenda there was for me.

"And the camera crews over
there are picking up on some interesting pieces of conversation," he told
me.

"I figured," I
muttered.

"Just remember the position
they're all in. To them, it feels like you may have cheated, but they know they
can't label it as cheating because while they're supposed to be dating only
you, you're dating all of them. It's a very difficult position to be in."

I nodded. "I get it. I won't
take their opinions and griping too close to heart."

I went downstairs and tiptoed my
way past the office door, where my Dad was sleeping on the guest bed. Up the
path I went, creeping along. I heard voices and got just close enough to make
out what they were saying.

"I'm not okay with
this," Jared said. He looked around, "Am I the only one who's not
okay with this?"

The rest of them shook their heads
while still deep in their own thoughts.

"I knocked on his door this
morning, just to make sure. Hell, I opened his door and peeked inside. He's not
in there," Mike said.

"Was the bed even slept
in?" Stephen asked.

Liam shook his head, "You
can't tell by that. He's always so clean and neat. No personal effects sitting
out, clothes folded along crease lines. His room never looked like anyone
stayed there."

"I'm about to go climb up on
her balcony and look in the window," Jared said.

"If she slept with him, I'm
done. I'll pack my stuff and leave now," Drake said.

"I highly doubt she slept
with him," Liam said with a knowing smile.

Phillip had spent the last few
weeks playing his hand very close to his vest, but the smile on Liam's face had
him speaking up. "What makes you so sure?"

Liam dropped his smile.
"Because some things I just know."

"But how do you know?"
Phillip pressed.

Liam sat up a bit straighter in
his poolside chair. "Because, think about it, why would she pick him to be
the one to sleep with, after he took a swing at one of us?  No, she wouldn't
pick him."

"Bull," Stephen said.
"If she's going to pick one of us, why not pick the one on his way out, so
the rest of us never find out?"

Liam didn't have anything to say
to that.

I'd decided I'd heard enough and
cleared my throat before moving from the end of the path and proceeded to go
over to the small buffet table that production had set up this morning and got
a Danish. I shot them all a look before sitting down in a pool chair.

I pulled a piece of Danish from
the rest of the pastry with my fingers and ate it. "Question," I said
to all of them. "Have I so much as taken off my bikini top, or in any way
bared my breasts for any of you?"

No one said anything.

"Then what makes any of you
think I'd take off my bottoms and spread my legs for any of you?" I asked.
"I mean, I get that temptation awaits me around every corner, but you
think I'm going to pick the one night that my father is staying in the same
house with me to have a weak moment that I actually give in to? Really?"

"He never came back last
night to get his stuff. And he still hasn't shown up, what do you think we'd be
thinking?" Stephen asked.

"That I like him as a person
and have enough respect for the cause of his PTSD that instead of tossing him
out on his misunderstood rear end, my father and I would sit down and share a
meal with him. That we'd spend the evening together, talking. And instead of
having security escort him to his room to pack up his stuff like some criminal,
I walked him up after all of you went to sleep and helped him pack his
belongings before walking him down to the car to say goodbye. He's not a
pariah. He's a man with a disorder caused by actions made while defending our
freedom. Now, I agree he shouldn't be here. But I'll be damned if I'm going to
have any part in doing anything that would have him being tossed out on the
street."

Silence reigned as I continued to
pick off pieces of my breakfast and eat them.

"You can't really blame us
for getting a little jealous," Drake said.

"I don't. I just wanted to
be clear in where I was coming from." I pulled off another piece and made eye
contact with each of them before getting up to go back over to the cottage.

"Oh, come on," Jared
called out. "Don't leave."

I looked back over my shoulder.
"I have to. I have a father to entertain. Unless, of course, you all want
me to send him back up here."

Some groaned
and some chuckled as I turned back around and went down the path.

It had been a long week, and the
end of the evening found me standing in front of my group of remaining suitors.

"As most of you have
probably noticed, there's nothing color-coded for you tonight," Troy
announced. "And as you've probably guessed, it's because with Trevor's
leaving, we do not need to have an elimination. But, for the sake of the show,
we do need to have a
Walk of Shame
. It still serves as a chance for
everyone to reaffirm that you continue to want to be here." He turned to
me, "Emmaline, without further adieu, the floor is yours."

Troy stepped back and I stepped
forward. "It's been an eventful week, guys. I'm making progress in
figuring out who might still be standing here at the end. Each week there are
subtle shifts in who is rising and who's falling on the totem pole. So, just
know that as I get to interact with each of you more and more, I am getting
closer to a decision."

I stopped to take a breath and
dig into my resolve. Dad had prompted me to bite the bullet and go ahead and
let go of the one I was going to send home anyway, since I was so certain that
he and I would have absolutely nothing in the way of a future between us. I'd
explained about the dangers of shortening the season of the show, and he
replied that I'd already kept this guy around for an extra week. It was time to
cut him loose.

"Liam, would you stay with
me?"

"Absolutely," he said
and moved to the sideline.

"Jared, please stay another
week."

"Of course," he said
and walked over.

"Mike, I would love it if
you stayed."

"I'm not going
anywhere," he said with a smile and took his place in the lineup.

"Stephen, please join me for
one more go around."

He raised his eyebrow at me,
catching my intentional wording. "I'd be glad to," he said and moved
to the side.

"Phillip, I'd like you to
stay."

"I have no intentions of
leaving," he said with a wink.

I took a breath, turned to Troy,
and smiled.

Troy nodded and returned a
knowing smile.

"I'm good," I said.

Drake looked stupefied.

Troy stepped forward.
"Drake, I'm sorry, but you have not been invited to stay."

"Why?" Drake asked me.

"Come on," I said.
"I'll walk you out."

Drake let out a disgusted sigh
and shifted his attention to saying goodbye to the others. He looked at me,
shook his head, and headed for the door.

I followed behind him, and then
waited while he paced and ran his hand over the top and back of his head.

"I can't believe this,"
Drake said. "I thought we were good."

It was my turn for my mouth to
drop open in stupefaction. "Good? Good with what?"

"Good together. You and me,
we're good together."

"In what world are we
good?"

Drake's face dropped. "You
don't feel it."

"No. I tried. I wanted to.
But I just didn't."

"You could have just told me
that instead of kissing me back."

"I kissed you back to find
out if I could feel a spark. I didn't. And I never gave you any indication that
I had." I made a face. "You had to know you weren't in the best of
positions here."

"So everything I'm feeling
is one-sided?"

"I feel a friendship towards
you. I've enjoyed spending time with you. But there is no spark for me. There's
no heat. It's like we're trying to force-"

Drake held his hand up.
"Enough. I've heard enough. I get it. Sorry I wasted your time."

"Oh, God. Don't apologize. I
feel like I wasted yours."

"Well then, why didn't you
send me home sooner? What happened to your not keeping guys around just for the
sake of keeping them around?"

I blew out a frustrated breath.
"Because I wanted to feel something. I was trying to force it. You're a
good man. Hell, you're a great man. What the hell is wrong with me that I can't
feel something for you? You're an awesome guy, you are. I like you. I'm just
not falling for you."

He accepted it, but he didn't
like it. There was no goodbye, no hug, or even a muttered demand to go to Hell.
He just harrumphed and got into the waiting car.

I stared after the car for a
moment while I gathered myself to go back inside the room of waiting men. When
I did go back inside, I stood in front of them and laid it all out for them.
"I'm out of throwaways. This is it, the five of you are the ones left that
I have felt, or am feeling, things for. Just so all of you know, there's no one
here that I'm waiting to see if there's something there with them, or not. I
know there's something there with each of you. And now we begin the portion of the
season where I stop trying to figure out who I want to keep, and I start trying
to figure out who I can bear to let go of."

"The game just
changed," Mike murmured.

I nodded. "The game just
changed."

"Production wants me to
express to you their frustration in your sending so many guys home so
fast," Troy said with his voice laced with sarcasm.

"Well, kindly tell
production that if they wanted someone who would follow their rules, they
barked up the wrong tree by picking me."

Troy shook his head. "They
picked you on purpose."

I looked up at him, my eyes
crinkled in question.

"The show was getting stale.
The faces changed, but the storyline was basically the same. They needed
something different. Really different. And then up pops the application of a
girl who breaks all the rules by living her life differently than any of the
other applicants. They went out and searched for single guys living like you
do, for all different sorts of reasons."

I smiled. "Well then, they
don't get to be upset when we don't follow the rules, now do they?"

"Still though, once you
shorten the season, it does make it harder on them to scramble around, trying
to change plans."

"What do you want me to
do?"

"Nothing. Just be you."

"They why-"

"Because it's my job to pass
along the messages. And it's your job to be you. Finding you a husband is what
the viewers want, despite how you get there. Production wants the happy ending
above anything else. And the only way for everyone to get what they want out of
this show is if you be yourself and let the guys fall in love with you."

Troy looked around. "Where's
your Dad?"

"He's up with the guys, talking
to them all between their interviews."

"Is he going to be an
issue?"

"No. He's just here to make
sure I'm not going to make a huge mistake."

"He's not going to think
anybody is good enough for you."

"No, but he does want to see
me married, or at least with someone, because he doesn't like me gallivanting
across the country by myself. So he's not going to come back down here and tell
me they all suck. But if he does have a strong aversion to any of them, I'd
rather know now."

"So we are valuing Daddy's
opinion?"

"Yes."

"Okay," he said with a
nod and stood. "I'm done with you for the day."

I spent the afternoon banking
more blog entries. Then I had to deal with a phone call from the travel
magazine I was working with. They were having issues with the network giving
them dates as to when different date destinations would be aired so that they could
coordinate the release of the mini-articles I was writing for them about the
individual places of interest. The show might not be into cross promoting my
work, but they were conscious of the fact that I had work obligations
nonetheless, plus the places we visited wanted me to write the travel articles
about their establishments. But, production also didn't want my destination
articles to provide any spoilers, in any way, by coming out ahead of the show's
airings.

I had to woman-up and take some
of the responsibility for throwing production for a loop with not letting them
have as long of a season as they'd wanted. My editor asked why they didn't just
split some of the weeks in two and I had to respond with the whole point of the
Walk of Shame
show being that each episode had a
Walk of Shame
scene in it. We didn't really get anywhere with the conversation, but at least
now the editor understood why the network couldn't give them a straight answer.

Dad came in and flopped down on
the end of the couch with a groan. "Well hell, kid."

I closed the lid on my laptop and
put it on the coffee table. "What's up?"

"Phillip is old. He's just
old."

I raised an eyebrow.
"Okay."

"And do you remember the kid
from Charlie Brown that was always so dirty?"

"You mean Pigpen?"

"Yeah, Jared is
Pigpen."

I smiled through the creased brow
I was giving him. "He's always been bathed and clean when I've seen
him."

"Yeah, but you haven't seen
him in his, in his, like, natural habitat. You've only seen him away from the
smelly swamp and cleaned up pretty for the cameras."

I almost laughed. "Natural
habitat?"

"He works with creepy-crawly
things. And you're not a creepy-crawly girl."

"Well, I'm not a
girly-girl."

"No, but you're more, you're
more of a, a- Okay," he sat up a bit, "if you go zip-lining, would
you want to do it through a swamp, or over a lake? Through a rain forest, or a
swamp? Through a canyon, or over a swamp? You get my point?"

I got the point, but I just sat
there staring at him. "Are you drunk?"

He shrugged. "Maybe."
He looked around the room and nodded. "Yeah, probably."

I smiled, turned sideways on the
cushion, propped my arm on the back of the couch, and leaned my head on my
hand. "What about Stephen?"

"He's the photographer one.
You'd enjoy zip-lining with him."

"Because his natural habitat
changes?"

"Yeah. You can zip-line the
world with him."

The wattage of my smile turned
up. Drunken Daddy opinions were just as fun as sober Daddy opinions. "And
Liam?"

"He's a very. Big.
Man."

I tried not to chuckle. "But
what about him besides the height and muscle?"

"You like mountains."

"I love mountains," I
agreed.

"But," and then he let
out a heavy sigh.

"But?"

"He's all mountains and you
like more than just mountains."

I nodded as my lips set a grim
line. "I do."

He nodded, leaned back into the
cushions, closed his eyes, and sighed in contentment.

I started laughing.

He cracked open an eyelid.
"What?"

"You do realize that you
have completely reversed your opinions from yesterday."

He scrunched his face at me.

"Yesterday everyone else was
okay except for Stephen. Today Stephen is the only one suitable."

He rolled his eyes and closed
them again. "The big one was still too mountainy yesterday, too."

"True." I angled my
head more. "You never did tell me what you think about Mike."

"Him, I like. He's strong,
smart, and capable. He thought he knew what was going on with Trevor and pushed
his buttons on purpose, to test his theory, then treated him with nothing other
than compassion and caring."

"What do you think about him
for me?"

"I'm not here to make your
decision for you."

I chuckled. "That means he's
your favorite."

"I never said that."

"Then what are you
saying?"

"I'm saying he's your
decision."

"What?"

"Do you want to live with
the reality of that leg? Phantom limbs, chaffed and painful stump ends. Dealing
with him, when his lifestyle breaks the artificial leg and he's hobbling around
while waiting for an expensive replacement. Tripping over crutches on days he's
resting the leg because it's sore. Is that what you want to live with?"

I started to form an answer, but
he waved a hand at me.

"Everyone is going to have
health problems eventually. But he's going to have this on top of whatever
other health problems life throws at him."

I started to talk again, but he
sat up with more enthusiasm and waved me off.

"And what about when you get
sick, or have a baby to take care of, or you're all old and wrinkly and your
Mom and I are gone? Will he be able to give you the same level of care and
support that you give him? That one of the others could give you,
instead?"

I sat there in silence for a
moment, absorbing what he said. "I know what you're doing."

He harrumphed. "What I'm
doing is not telling you what to do."

I grinned. "Wow, you must
really like him."

"I like how he handled
Trevor. He's a good guy. But if one of the others had been there when it all
went down, maybe I'd like that one just as much."

"Or maybe not."

"Whatever. I'm not telling
you who to pick and I'm not telling you who not to pick, not really. Pick who
you want, they're all good guys." He nodded to himself and stood up.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to book a flight
home for either tonight or the morning, and then I'm going to go sleep this
off."

"But you just got
here!"

"I came and screened them
for you, weeded out the one with real issues, and now it's up to you. No father
wants to watch his little girl try to land five guys. I've done my duty. I'm
headed home."

The network put Dad on a nine
p.m. flight back to Philly. He left the house at seven, having pumped himself
full of coffee and tacos.

No sooner had the sun gone down, Liam
was at my door, knocking.

This is a first,
I thought
as I opened the door for him. "You wanna come in?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No, I
just have a question for you."

"Okay." I moved to step
outside, to sit at the table out there, but he didn't budge.

"You said that everyone left
was someone you had feelings for."

"That's right."

"Am I a real contender? I mean
one that has a chance to be the last one left. Because at this point, if you're
having feelings for all five of us, that means I'm sharing you with four other
guys, actually sharing you. I have issues with that. Real ones. I have feelings
for you, big time feelings. Em, I swear to God, you just might be the one. But
if you aren't feeling all your feelings strong for me, and I mean strong, just
let me go home now. Because this, for me, is torture."

"I understand where you're
coming from. I get it." I glanced at the patio chairs. "If we could
just-"

"I don't want you to mistake
what I'm saying," he started and took my hand. "If you're feeling it
for me, I'll stay and deal with it. I'll deal and fight my way through to the
endgame for you,
if
you're having strong enough feelings for me. But I
swear to God, if you're just keeping me around to see if lukewarm feelings can
maybe turn stronger, just put me out of my misery now. I'd rather go now than
in a week or two."

I stood there and watched him for
a moment, waiting to see if he was done. And in waiting, I remembered that this
wasn't the first time he'd needed some reassurance about his place here. Then I
let the real meaning of his words wash over me. I could feel my expression turn
soft and I searched his face. "You're falling for me."

His eyes met mine. "I'm
falling for you."

"Does that scare you?"

"It scares the hell out of
me."

I smiled, "Me, too,"
and I grabbed him by the front of his shirt, taking him by surprise, and pulled
him into the house.

I had been writing in front of
the fake fireplace. I quickly moved my laptop and notes to the side and sat him
down amongst the pile of blankets and throw pillows I'd put there.

I watched him a moment, deciding
how much was safe to tell him at this point. "Are you sure you want to
know?"

He took a determined breath.
"Yes."

"I'm just going to lay it
all out for you."

He nodded.

"You caught my interest that
first night by coming out of that limo in a kilt and pom-pom hat, complete with
a sporran, playing the bagpipes. I mean, how could I not notice that? And then
you put the bagpipes aside and walked around for the rest of the evening with
your top shirt buttons undone, still confident enough to keep walking around in
the kilt. At first, I was worried that it was your strong connection to your
culture that I was attracted to, or maybe your accent. It's no secret that I
love everything I know about Scotland. But I've gotten to know
you
over
the last few weeks, and I like you. I really, really like you. You have a plan
to stay mobile, you enjoy your fieldwork, and I like where that fieldwork takes
place. I like the possibilities of tying our lives together. So, do I see you
being around for the part where I go and see where you come from? Yes. Do I see
you being around for the twenty-four hour lockdown? Yes. Hell, yes. I'm not
sending you anywhere, anytime soon. I like your being here and I intend to keep
you around for weeks to come."

"You're falling for
me," he said.

I smiled. "I just might
be."

His eyes
settled on my mouth and he smiled. "Then I just might stick around."