Chapter 17 #2
I let him take my hand and lead me to a cabana at the edge of the pool, away from the other guys. Relief coursed through me that he had at least made a move. At this point the production-requested kiss was causing me anxiety. I just needed to get it over with, and I didn’t even care who it was.
My mom hadn’t raised me like this. To be assertive, I mean, especially not with men.
Or anything in life, really. I should be meek and quiet.
Pretty and not heard. And when I did open my mouth, I should sound intelligent, but not in an intimidating way.
Years and years of her pageant training were hard to unlearn.
“I’m glad we’re finally getting a chance to talk,” I said, slipping into the cabana after him, a cameraman hovering just in front of us. I adjusted the puka shell necklace around my neck that held my microphone.
“Finally is right. You’re a hot commodity.”
I forced a laugh at the joke, but my body heated up at his words. Commodity. An object. That was exactly what I felt like.
“So, you’re in security? Tell me more about that. It must be exciting. Is it like cyber security?”
He frowned and tilted his head back and forth. “I mean, it’s more local than that.”
“Like a family-owned company?” I wasn’t following. I knew little about Christian other than he was quiet, competitive, and said he worked in security.
“I, uh. Let some people in, keep some people out.”
“Of what?”
“Chronic.”
“Is that the company?”
“The club,” he said, clearing his throat.
“So…so you’re a bouncer,” I clarified, while he continued to remain vague.
“They call us security experts.”
“Cool,” I said, brushing off the sleazy vibe I got from his answers. I didn’t mind that he was a bouncer. I’d spent most of my adult life performing in bars before I got signed. But he was intentionally trying to lead me to believe he did something else, and I didn’t like that.
I asked Christian about his family, and he finally opened up more, telling me about his little sister and his home life.
I waited for him to ask a question about my family, but it never came. In a way, I was grateful. It was hard talking about my parents in a relatively neutral way.
It was funny, I hadn’t realized when I agreed to this show just how uninterested the guys would be in learning about me. I’d been worried about breaking people’s hearts, but most of these guys couldn’t care less about anything other than ‘winning.’
“Can I steal you?” I looked up to see Tripp standing there, his hands cupping his opposite elbows.
“Aw man,” Christian said good naturedly, but I noticed a hardness in his expression. “She’s all yours, buddy.”
Tripp winced at the words and shot me an apologetic glance. That made me happy. Maybe he didn’t see me as an object. Maybe he just saw me. Trace.
Tripp reached his hand out, clasped Christian’s and helped him up.
“So, is this the best pool party you’ve ever been to?” he asked, sliding in next to me.
“Oh, yeah. I love it. I’m having the best time. So natural, with the entire crew of the show just circling us.”
“Watching us,” he continued.
“Probably waiting for one of us to slip into the pool.”
“I’d watch out for Grant,” Tripp said, pointing to where Grant was tossing a football with Isaac. I nearly snorted when he “accidently” threw it right in the direction of Austin’s head. “He mentioned before we got out here that he was definitely throwing you in the pool.”
I sighed. “Of course he did.”
Brady, who had been hovering behind the camera near us, drifted away when he heard shouting. Austin had gotten up and was now angrily waving the football in Grant’s face.
Tripp’s gaze flickered to mine and back to the pool. “So, uh, Grant…Do you really think there’s more than friendship between you two? I know you’ve known each other awhile.”
“Um, well…” I stuttered, not wanting to admit anything with the cameras right there, even though there was absolutely nothing more than friendship between Grant and me.
Negative romantic vibes, if that was possible.
“I’d rather just focus on us, if that’s alright.
It makes it harder to get to know you when we’re talking about the other guys. ”
His cheeks went pink. “Right, yeah. Sorry. That makes sense.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I added quickly. “This is obviously a weird environment.”
An only slightly awkward silence followed as I scanned my brain for what to say next. “Is it hard in the main house? All of you guys sharing a room, and everything?”
Tripp shrugged. “Not really. I’m used to a full house.”
“Big family?”
“Huge. I have three sisters and two brothers. We all still live by my parents.” He glanced at me nervously. “It can be kind of a lot.”
I smiled. I’d always fantasized about a big family growing up, fantasized about what it would be like to have siblings and parents who liked to do dorky activities like wear matching Christmas sweaters and go to county fairs together. “No, that sounds nice. You’re close with them, I take it?”
He nodded. “Very. What about you?”
“Um, it’s pretty much just me and my mom. My dad lives out West, so I only see him a few times a year.” Used to, I should have said. He had a new, much-younger girlfriend, and lately I’d been lucky to get on his schedule for Christmas.
“You must be close with your mom, right? I think I read she went on tour with you.” Tripp’s cheeks reddened further. “Not that I’m constantly reading up on you, or anything creepy like that. I just…I think I read it in a magazine or something.”
“No, it’s fine,” I said. Tripp’s nerves helped mask my anxiety about responding.
I wished I could give an answer similar to his, say that my mom and I were thick as thieves.
But there were so many nuances and complications with my mom, none of which I could ever discuss on camera.
I couldn’t reveal my insecurities, most of them gifted to me by her.
I couldn’t speak about the relentless pressure she’d placed on me my entire life.
I couldn’t admit how desperate I was for space from her, or how my own deep-seated issues kept me from getting it.
And I definitely shouldn’t say that I was scared that if I pushed her away, I’d be as alone as she’d always warned me I’d be.
So instead, I just said, “We’re basically inseparable.”
“That’s nice.” He leaned on his elbow with his whole body facing mine. “I’m close with my mom, too.”
Suddenly, it felt like I couldn’t breathe.
The fakeness of the entire situation had finally caught up to me.
The camera that was focused on me. The humidity of the day that clung to my skin.
The remaining guys surrounding the pool all looked more like models getting ready for a photoshoot than real people.
I wanted to rush back to my guesthouse, curl up under the plush duvet still cold from the air conditioning, and hide away from everyone.
“Can I steal ya?” Grant hovered next to the cabana, grinning and offering me a hand. I hadn’t even heard him approach, but he was towering over us like my unexpected knight in shining armor, ready to whisk me away.
Tripp frowned and glanced between the two of us. Disappointment marked his features, but he just nodded. A gentleman.
I took Grant’s hand, letting him help me up.
“Don’t you look lovely,” Grant said, throwing me a wink.
He pretended like he was going in for a hug, but when I looked horrified at the sweat mixed with chlorinated pool water dripping off his bare chest, he shot me a lopsided grin instead.
“Kidding. I won’t mess up your outfit.”
“Don’t throw me into the pool, Grant,” I warned, pointing a finger at him.
“Does that sound like something I’d do?”
“Yes.”
He pouted and crossed his arms. “I get no credit for all the growth I’ve done.”
I let a giggle escape me. Grant was too much. I’d watched one of the shows that he’d been on after Tough Love. If by growth, he meant he’d learned better ways to manipulate people, then sure. He’d done a lot of growth.
He led me to the pool where we both sat at the edge, letting our feet dangle in the water.
“Don’t forget to keep the microphones dry,” Brady barked from the sidelines.
Grant nodded. “You got it, boss.” He dipped his head to whisper in my ear. “Man, he’s on a power trip with this show.”
“I can still hear you,” Brady yelled, his face beet red behind the camera operator, who held up a hand to his mouth to stifle a laugh.
Grant smirked. “Oops.”
“Stop talking about me and the show or I’m cutting you from this scene.”
Grant and I both laughed. It felt good to laugh.
“How’s the new album coming? You were talking about it at the Tough Love reunion last month.”
I sighed. “It’s still in the early stages.
I’m trying to come up with a concept before we sign any contracts and move on with the deal.
” In reality, I’d written more songs than could even fit on one cohesive album, all at Danny’s cabin.
But I hadn’t shared them with my mother or the label for fear they would twist them into something unrecognizable.
“Is it going to be slower? More singer-songwriter vibes? I know you mentioned wanting to do an album like that.”
My chest warmed that he’d remembered I’d said that. Grant had a better heart than people gave him credit for. Under all the forced fakeness, there was a genuine person there. He just chose to hide it a little deeper down than most.