Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
“Yeah, my girlfriend was really upset,” I say. “They filmed her, then tricked her into signing a release so they can use the footage. I’m not thrilled.”
“That’s not cool. Kelly signed a lot of the same stuff I had to sign.” He shrugs. “I guess ’cause we’re married or whatever. They wanted to know we’re both on board.”
That’s where I might’ve messed up. Wanting to protect her from any reality show drama, I downplayed Molly’s significance in my life when I interviewed with the other producers.
Although Diane had shown up to my apartment prepared with that contract.
“Boys.” One of the producers, whose name I haven’t bothered to learn, steps around the corner and snaps his fingers at us. “We’re doing icebreakers in the main room. Come, come.”
He snaps those fingers at me again, he’s gonna lose ’em.
Venom slides his gaze my way and seems to be having the same amputating-the-producer’s-fingers thoughts. “I wasn’t a fan of being called ‘boy’ when I was one,” he grumbles.
“Same.” I push to my feet and follow him into the main room.
We join the loose circle, standing behind one of the couches. Some of the guys are sprawled out on the fluffy white furniture. Some of them chose to stand like Venom and me. With all the perfectly angled bright lights and the white furniture, my eyes won’t stop twitching. A low, painful throb pounds through the top of my skull.
Someone passes out bottles of beer. I stare at the fancy IPA in my hand and my lip curls. This isn’t gonna help my headache. And the last thing I need is to lower my inhibitions my first night in the house. I walk over to the kitchen/bar area and set the bottle down. In the fridge, I find rows of bottled waters, and I grab two of those instead.
“You Mormon, Royal?” someone shouts behind me.
“No.” I uncap the bottle, checking first to make sure it’s sealed. “Lights are giving me a headache. Don’t want to make it worse.”
I return to the group and hold out the extra bottle to Venom. I must be feeling guilty for not loaning him my burner to call his wife. He accepts the drink and nods his thanks.
“All right!” Diane stands in front of the fireplace and claps her hands like a maniacal cheerleader. “How’s everyone feeling?”
“Pumped!” someone shouts.
“Let’s do this!” someone else adds.
Caution and distrust still rule me. I can’t help it. I’m not wired to trust anyone outside of my chosen family. But a bit of excitement wedges its way inside my chest. I’ve never done anything like this before. It’s different. I’m eager to pick up some new skills.
And I definitely want to win that money.
I want to make Molly proud and return home as a champion.
“Let me introduce your host.” Diane extends her hands like she’s welcoming a revered cult leader into our midst. An older man in a black suit, with a shaved head, joins us. He has the frame and posture of a retired athlete and even looks vaguely familiar. Hard to tell underneath the layers of orange foundation someone spackled over his leathery face.
Venom leans closer and murmurs, “Someone’s had one too many eye lifts or Botox.”
I mash my lips together to contain my laughter. Now that Venom mentioned it, my attention’s drawn to the host’s almost cat-like squint.
The host—Matt—recites a long list of the belts and championships he’s won. His record’s impressive, actually. I’m just having a hard time taking him seriously when he’s wearing so many layers of foundation that don’t match the rest of his skin.
“Here’s what it comes down to, boys.” Matt takes a long, dramatic pause.
I cross my arms over my chest and rock back on my heels.
“Great moments in your life are born from great opportunities,” he says in a low, melodramatic tone that tickles my get-the-fuck-outta-here laughter response.
“That’s what you’ve been given with the chance to be part of this show. Opportunity.” Matt draws out the word and widens his eyes as much as the laws of Botox allow.
For fuck’s sake, it’s reality television. It’s not that deep.
“Whether you stay until the end or get sent home the first round, you’re all champs. You’ve been given an opportunity to do something great, and you seized it!” Matt lifts his hand in the air like he’s reciting the speech from Braveheart. “Be proud of that! Most people don’t seize the opportunities they’re given. They let fear hold them back or they’re not smart enough to even recognize what’s in front of them.”
He drones on about fear, opportunity, and fighting, working a different variation of those three themes into every sentence. Is he trying out a few different speeches that they’ll edit later? Or does he really love the sound of his own voice that much?
“Okay. Let’s go around and introduce ourselves. Ring names only,” Matt says, wrapping up the inspirational speech. “We’ll film your individual intros later.” He points to a guy perched on the arm of the couch.