Walk of Shame (3 page)

On the upside, I wouldn't have to
cook for myself for a while.

Dad pulled into the driveway,
with a smirk on his face from whatever errand had him running late in getting
back from driving Chloe up to college. He walked around to the passenger side
of his pickup and opened the door. "Easter bunny brought you a gift,"
he said, and pulled out a funky looking cooler.

"Is that what I think it
is?" I asked.

"Well, if you think it's a
thirty-four quart, portable fridge and freezer, then yes."

"But, why?" I asked.

"Because I know your mother,
that's why," Dad said with a laugh. "Besides, if you can keep it in
the cab of the truck, then you can have cold drinks and stuff for your long
hauls between campsites. But it's portable. You can set it up wherever you want
it when you're stationary for a while. You can set it for whatever temperature
you want it to be. For now, you can set it to freeze."

"Wonderful!" Mom
gushed. "Now I can go back in and bring out-"

"No!" I said with my
hands up. "Mercy! I cry mercy! I love you, I do. But you're not getting
your hands on that. I want to stop at the farm market and pick up some things.
I'm going to need some refrigeration for what I buy. Please don't ruin my farm
market happiness."

She shot me a look. "You
could just stick to buying their canned goods."

"Yes, but then I'd be
deprived of their flavored meats, their homemade cheeses, their produce, their
spice mixes..."

She grunted at me. "Well at
least let's move some of the stuff out of the refrigerators and put them in
here to freeze. At least then you won't be throwing so much of it away a week
from now."

She turned away and I rolled my
eyes at her back again, which made Dad laugh.

"What did Chloe get?" I
asked.

"Money towards a down
payment on her own car."

That did make me laugh. Technically,
she had the money to buy a car. But Grandpa's will had specifically said that
he wished us girls to use our inheritance towards houses of our own. While that
particular string wasn't directly tied to accessing and using the money, it was
something we both felt an obligation to honor. Mom and Dad had gotten an
inheritance too, with the wish that they use it to pay off the balance of their
mortgage, which they did.

That's when my phone rang and I
saw that it was Elaine. I walked a few steps away and answered,
"Hello?"

"Hello, Emma! How was your
Easter?"

"It was good, and
yours?"

"Very nice. Listen, I just
wanted to let you know that the group just finished discussing you. And we
would love it if you would be the next lady on our show!"

My mind had just come to a
slamming halt. "Wow."

"If you're still
interested..."

I was probably supposed to start
up with some sort of enthusiastic affirmations at this point, but my mind was
still on pause.

"We'd love it if you could
be out here mid-May. That'll give you a month to tie up loose ends and make
plans."

I still had no words.

"Bring the fifth wheel and
truck. We're working on securing a parking lot near the house. You know, that
way you can check out everyone's rigs, so how they each live. The producers are
actually kind of excited that they can find out, with you, how all these guys
make it work. And bring Goldie. She can stay with the producers during the
beginning when it's all so chaotic. They have a couple ideas on how to
incorporate her on the show, with your permission of course."

I was nodding, not that she could
see that.

"Emma? I'm going to need
some sort of verbal response. I know it can all be a bit overwhelming. I'm
going to send out emails with all the specifics, and a contract for you to
sign. For now, I need a verbal 'yes' that you're on board, or 'no' that you're
no longer interested."

"O-o-okay."

"Okay as in you know I need
an answer? Or okay, you'll do it?"

"Yes, I'll do it."

"Excellent! You signed all
the preliminary paperwork when you were here. So if you could print the last
page of the contract I email to you, sign and scan it, and send it back, that
should be all we need until you get out here. The wardrobe department has all
of your photos and measurements. They'll be sending you numerous pictures of
clothing and accessories in a survey format. If you could just fill it out on
your computer about which ones you like and don't like, that will help them put
together your outfits. Hair and make-up will be doing the same thing. You'll
also be getting a number of surveys on what kinds of dates and destinations you
like. We do have access to the network's private jets, but we still need to
register the dates and destinations so we can secure the airtime. If you could
keep up with the emails, that would be great. As they all figure out what you
like and don't like, they'll send out more surveys to narrow it all down a bit
more."

"Okay."

"And remember to be honest.
Your clothes and shoes say a lot about who you are. Plus, you get to keep them
at the end! Not the jewelry and makeup, of course. We do ask that you don't put
on any weight before you come out here. All the clothes will be tailored to
your size. Of course, if you should lose weight, or tone anything up before
filming," she said, her tone suggestive, "it would be super easy for
them to do little nips and tucks with the fabric."

I just looked over to my mother
who was trying to cram more stuff into that brand new freezer unit... As it
was, I was sure I'd have to drop a pound from yesterday's smorgasbord of an
Easter dinner. I was still going to the farm market, though.

"That all sounds like a
plan," I said.

"Wonderful! We'll see you in
about a month."

"Yes, goodbye."

"Goodbye."

I hung up the phone and looked at
Dad. "Looks like you won't have to worry about me for awhile."

"You're not really going to
do this!" Mom said, immediately knowing what I'd meant.

"Yeah, I really think I am.
You're the one that always says if your life isn't going the way you want it
to, get up and do something about it. So, this is me doing something about
it."

She harrumphed and went inside.

Dad sighed and closed up the
freezer and the grill fridge. "She's not going to come around on
this," he warned before he lifted the freezer to put inside the rig.

I followed him in. "I know.
She still hasn't come all the way around to my living on the road."

"I haven't used any of my
vacation time yet, so if you need me, just holler. I've never been to
California, and I wouldn't mind making the trip. And you know Chloe. She'll be
on the plane with me."

"Thanks, Dad."

"I just want you to pick out
a good one. I hope they give you good ones to pick through. Despite the fact
that it will all be on TV, you are being given an opportunity. Make the most of
it. But, if your Mr. Right isn't there, then don't try and force it."

"Yes, Daddy."

"No. I'm telling you. Those
people running the show might try to push you in a direction. Or try to talk
you into choosing the one they think the fans might like the most. You don't
let them do that. Listen to your heart, then fact check with your brain. Do not
come out of this miserable just because they want ratings."

"Yes, Daddy."

"And know going into this,
everyone you know is going to be watching, once they find out it's you. Your
readers are going to be watching. I won't be, because that's just not something
I want to see when it's all said and done-"

I burst out laughing.

"But everybody else will.
You be true to you."

"Yes, Daddy."

"And stop saying 'yes,
Daddy'. Every time you do that I think you're tuning me out instead of
listening."

"Okay, Daddy."

"Good morning,
Princess," Troy said when I opened my fifth wheel door for him.

I'd received, in one of my many
emails, an introduction to the show's host, Troy. I'd been told that he'd be waiting
for me when I arrived on location.

He walked in with coffee for himself,
tea for me, and a couple fruit plates.

I'd gotten to the lot, that
they'd cleared land out on the estate to install, around eleven last night. Security
was expecting me, and had even helped me get the rig backed into the spot where
they wanted me to park. They had a temporary setup for electric and water for
some of the spots, including mine. And now, in the light of day, I saw a spot
to pull up to for emptying wastewater tanks and filling up on propane. These
people were setting up for a small RV invasion.

We hooked me up, they'd said
goodnight. I opened up my slide-outs and went to bed.

"Are you the welcome
wagon?" I asked as I gestured at the table to invite him to sit.

"More like your custody has
been turned over from Elaine to me," he said as he handed me one of the
plastic containers of fresh-cut fruit.

"Aha."

"Everyone on the show needs
a point man, someone to go to if there's an issue. I'm yours."

"To stand between me and the
guys, or me and production?"

"Both. I am everyone else's
gateway to you."

"Including camera
crews?"

"To an extent. I can at
least get them to back off for a minute and stand at a distance while you
compose yourself."

"So you're the 'host with
the most'?"

He smiled. "My job is to
help you juggle and navigate what the producers want with what you're trying to
accomplish. They can get so caught up with trying to mold good TV that they
lose sight of the main goal. At the end of the day, they want a marriage to
show off to the world. Despite trying to entertain people while you get there,
they're every bit as invested in finding you a husband as you are. That's why
you have me. You have a measure of latitude in following their guidelines. You can
veto a suggestion. Or, I can help you push for something that will help you get
closer to the end we all want."

"You're the
go-between."

"Why, yes, I am," he
said with a smile. "But more than that, I'm here for you. I've never gone
through this, obviously. But I've watched more than a dozen others go through
this before you. I've seen it all. So I'm here to talk to, to lean on, to go
out and defend you, or explain your side. I can step in on your behalf. I'm
here to do whatever I have to, in order to keep your emotional war as painless
as possible. I'm here to protect everybody's interests in finding you a
mate."

"Emotional war?"

"Oh, Princess, you have no
idea what you're in for. I've seen guys walk away who would have won the girl's
heart, except he didn't feel that way for her. I've seen guys use the girl just
to get their fifteen minutes of fame. There's been guys who were turned away
and tried to come back and not take no for an answer. Then there's the pull of
the producers trying to tell you who to eliminate, who to keep, who to take on
what date, all in the interest of telling the story going on with the men in
the house. And the hair, makeup, and wardrobe departments will drive you loony.
Some nights we're filming all night, and then they want to start bugging you
just past dawn. You will be emotionally shot and physically exhausted by the
end."

"Why did they hire you
instead of a female, if you're going to be acting on a female's behalf?"

"Simple psychology. Guys
listen to other guys."

I pointed to the containers on
the table. "Do you also determine what I eat?"

He chuckled. "No. You never
have to eat what I bring you. But once we get going, it'll be a blessing for
you not to have to worry about cooking. And it's not all rabbit food. If you
have a request or a craving, just let me know. Although, keep in mind, I'm the
one that hears about it if your clothes start fitting too tight. You are always
welcome to cook for yourself, and keep whatever you want in the fridge in your
house. You can also make a grocery list to give to me. Your requests will
appear in your kitchen within hours."

"Is someone going to write
my novels, articles, and blog entries, too?" I joked.

"Uh, no. And I'm really
hoping you don't have very much of that to do while you're here."

"No, I've gotten ahead on
all of that. I have plenty of writing banked. Though I'll probably still write.
It relaxes me during whatever downtime I get."

"Okay, excellent. Because
what few spare moments you have, you won't want to spend working on anything stressful."

"So, what's on today's
agenda?"

"First off, we're going over
to the Hair and Makeup trailer for them to play around with your head and see
what styles they like on you and what they don't. Then it's over to the
Wardrobe trailer to make some final decisions on outfits. And I'm warning you
now, shorty, they have some five-inch heels over there they want to try to talk
you into wearing. And then I'll show you around the property and both your
house, and the men's house."

Goldie ventured out of the bedroom
and I tossed her a piece of honeydew. She caught it in midair and swallowed it
down before coming over to check out Troy.

"She's pretty laid back
about other people coming into the rig," he said.

"Yeah, as long as my voice
is calm, she's calm. But if my tone changes and she thinks you're the cause,
she'll chase you out."

Goldie finished her inspection
and then sat, staring at me.

Ever the dutiful human, I tossed
her a piece of cantaloupe.

"She likes fruit?" he
asked.

"She likes whatever she can
get you to feed her off the table. I do stick ninety-five percent to dog food
for her. I just don't care for melons, except watermelon."

"I'll make a note of
that."

"So, at what point do I move
into the house?"

"Set Design will have you
pick from a selection of linens, draperies, and accent colors today. It's their
way of letting you put your temporary mark on it so you can feel a little more
at home there. They should have everything in place at some point tomorrow. You
can move in on Wednesday. Thursday, a film crew will come in here and film how
you live. They'll probably have you set yourself up with your computer and do
some writing and fixing a snack and so on. Starting Friday, you won't have
access to this place for a couple days. The guys will start arriving Friday
afternoon and we don't want any interactions until Monday night when you greet
them all."

"You guys are going to hold
them in this parking lot all weekend?"

"No. They're allowed to
start showing up here Friday afternoon, and have to be here by Monday morning. They
can go off-property all they want. They just can't go through the gates to the
main part of the property, until Monday night. All Monday afternoon and evening
they'll be with production, getting ready."

Goldie followed us around. I wanted
everyone to meet her, and I wanted her to see that I was okay here. She was
going to be able to have a fair amount of freedom, within the gated portion of
the estate. Which was good, because production didn't necessarily want the guys
to know she was mine. I wanted her to be comfortable enough to explore around
without always being glued to my side. This was a new concept for the pooch. At
night, she'd be staying with Troy in his trailer, they'd decided that last
night. We wanted Goldie to get the idea that I was all around and not in any
one fixed place, because if she realized where I called home, she'd be there
all the time.

In the meantime, Troy talked to
her incessantly, when he wasn't addressing me. He made the introductions
between Goldie and all the crew we came into contact with along the way. And he
kept the treats flowing from a bottomless pocket in his trousers. His goal was
to become Goldie's newest best friend, so the dog would come to him when
called, and maybe not freak out when he locked her up in his trailer at night.

I kind of wished I had taken my
Kindle with me to Hair and Makeup. I could have been reading while the ladies
played with my hair. As it was, I closed my eyes and daydreamed about a new
novel idea while they messed around with makeup ideas.

Wardrobe had me exhausted. And I
did my absolute best to talk them into much safer three-inch heels. As much as
I would love to be five-eight, five-six was a more realistic goal, especially
when the ground cover was uneven.

The property was laid out on the
side of a gently sloping mountain. The main house sat the highest, towards the
rear. The small house, which they called the cottage, sat to one side, a little
lower on the hill.

There were a dozen or so other
trailers grouped onto a corner of the property, placed so as to be out of the
camera's line of site when filming for the show took place. I assumed they were
places for the crew to stay.

Elsewhere in the enclosure were
signs of a desire for hot bodies. Off to the low, far side of the property was
a basketball court and a tennis court. And even further down was a wide running
track that ran the length, inside the gated portion from one end of the
property to the other, land having been cut out of the mountain to maintain a
level track. Each of the two houses had a pool and a gym. The crew even had a
gym in one of the many trailers.

The main house, where the men
would be staying, had the best view of all the lush growth that the grounds crew
kept carefully tended, to keep each area of the property separate, so little
direct spying could happen. And little interference with filming could take
place between areas. There was a rooftop patio for sunning, if you didn't want
the shade. There was a large patio, with a large pool to match, that sat mostly
in the shade, as well. The patio even had an outdoor kitchen and bar under an
overhang and awning. The finished basement held the gym.

The cottage had its own small
patio, pool, and hot tub, plus it housed three bedrooms, though one was for a
small gym. I was told most girls use the ground floor bedroom because it had a
better view. But I was drawn to the remaining upstairs bedroom. It had a
balcony that faced the main house, though growth blocked the view. And bonus,
it faced east. I was hoping the sun shining in would help me get my butt up in
the morning. Because if the nights were going to be late, I was going to need
help in getting myself moving come daylight.

In the coming days, I'd get
acquainted with the house and grounds. They wanted me to write short blog
entries for the show's website as the experience progressed, so I adopted the ground
floor bedroom as an office. They put a small desk and chair in there for me,
still keeping the room as doubling for a guest room, just in case I needed it.
They also placed a basket filled with personalized stationery on a side table.

Those first days and nights
passed in a blur. I hadn't even met the guys yet and I was already going insane
with all the decisions they wanted me to make. Yesterday they had me pick out
cars and vehicles to travel around in. All were this year's models or test cars
for next year. It seemed like everybody wanted a piece of the pie and had bid
to get their items onto the show for advertising. It felt weird to be a little
bit in charge of what made it on and what didn't, based upon my personal likes
and dislikes. But, then again, they were here to make money off me, so I
guessed it all balanced out.

As the clock counted down to
Monday night, one thought turned into a worry, which turned into dread. And now
it was Monday morning and I still hadn't come up with a way to fix it.

Troy entered the house through
the patio doors with a smile on his face.

"I've got a problem," I
told him.

His smile faltered. I'd been
doing my best to just roll with it all, answer questions, make decisions, and
listen to instructions. Never once had I told him something was off, wrong, or
a problem. "What's up?"

"I'm horrible with
remembering names and faces. I mean, horrible."

"How horrible are we
talking?"

"Like when I go back and
proofread my drafts of novels, I find that I'm calling the same character by
two different names, or spelling it two different ways. I've run into people
that I went to school with and I don't recognize them, even though they claim
they had a bunch of classes with me and we talked all the time before the
teacher got started. I've done table hosting at conventions with the same
people year after year and I can't remember their names."

"Okay. No problem. We'll put
nametags on everybody. And we'll line them up in the room by alphabetical
order, or something. We'll figure it out, let me make a call."

He stepped into the kitchen to
talk it over with whomever he was calling.

But none of that was my real
problem. My real problem was in making sure I didn't send the wrong guys home,
especially on the first night. It was very likely that I'd get them mixed up.
And I didn't want to be standing there playing Eeny-Meeny-Miney-Mo, when trying
to choose who went home tonight.