Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“You can’t be serious.” I took in the rows of bunk beds wedged into what would otherwise have been a spacious bedroom. Open suitcases littered the floor, and clothes had been strewn about. The scent of foot odor and body spray clung to the air.
Brady’s assistant, the same one who had been fake-officiating the wedding, stood in front of me, a bored expression permanently on his face. “It’s where the guys sleep,” he said.
I dragged a hand down my face. “This house has like fifteen fucking bedrooms, and we’re all crammed in here?”
He sniffed and shrugged before pulling on a headset. “Look, I’ve got to go. We’ll get you for filming and interviews in the morning.”
I turned to ask a question, but he was already backing out of the room.
I’d been mic’ed up and shoved in front of a camera for the past few hours so the show could get interview footage.
Brady had been less than thrilled with my one-word answers, but what the hell did he want from me?
I’d never been a man of many words. The only person I had any interest in talking to was Trace, and unfortunately, they’d ripped her away from me for the time being.
I dropped my nylon black duffel bag to the floor and scanned the beds. While not all of the twelve were still taken, not a single one was made. Were the sheets even clean?
“Hey roomie, wanna bunk together?” I spun around at the familiar voice.
“Grant?”
The last person I’d expected to see in this madhouse had just strolled into the room like he owned the place.
“What the fuck is this?” I demanded.
Grant snorted. “What? Were you expecting private quarters?” He ducked past me and peeled his shirt off, tossing it on the bunk below the one I’d been looking at.
“No,” I said, struggling to remain calm. “I mean, what are you doing here?”
“I’m on the show, genius.”
I mentally scanned through every article I’d ever read about the show. “You weren’t on the cast list. Why are you here?”
“To explore Trace’s and my previously undiscovered feelings of course.” He blinked innocently and I glared at him. He raised his hands. “I’m here because my agent set it up, alright? I’m not gunning for your girl, D.”
I’d never much cared for Grant. Since the moment I met him, he’d been full of himself, always cracking obnoxious jokes. But in this sea of sharks, he was practically a minnow.
I decided to let it go. Grant being here just meant one fewer douchebag fighting for Trace’s attention.
“Why is it such a fucking mess in here?” I asked, taking what I assumed was a free bed. At least there were no suitcases piled around it, and the sheets were relatively unruffled.
“So sorry. Our maid service was supposed to tidy up.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Can you be serious for, like, one second?”
“Can you stop asking stupid questions? We’re a bunch of guys staying in a cramped room and we’re only here to crash at the end of long filming days. What did you expect, The Ritz?”
I unzipped my duffel and pulled out a clean shirt. I needed a shower.
“Brady just gave us the rundown, by the way. Crashing a wedding? I knew you were trouble.” Grant tsked as he picked up a shirt from the floor near a suitcase and pulled it on.
“Yeah, well,” I answered, not actually saying anything.
“I’m personally fine with it. I know you two are meant to be, and all that crap. The other guys, though?” He whistled and fell back on his bed. “They’re pissed.”
“Tough,” I said.
“Prepare for an ambush.” Grant pretended to check his wrist. “They’ll be here any second.”
As if on cue, four guys piled into the room. I recognized the fake groom from the wedding earlier, solely because he was still wearing the suit, his tie loosened and buttons undone.
One of the others was shorter than me and stocky. The other two looked like they could be models, much to my irritation. Camera operators trailed behind them.
Fucking great. We were still being filmed.
“Who do you think you are?” one of the pretty boys asked, taking a step toward me.
“Back up,” I said, glaring at him in warning.
Grant pointed. “Danny, that’s Austin. Austin, Danny.” He pointed to the shorter one and then the other pretty boy. “And that’s Christian, and Isaac.” Then he pointed to the guy in the suit. “And I believe you’ve already met Tripp.”
Tripp pushed past Christian and Grant. He barely acknowledged me other than a small nod in greeting.
“Long fucking day, eh buddy?” Grant patted him on the back as he passed.
“You can say that again,” Tripp muttered. He stopped at the bed next to mine and ripped his tie off.
Part of me almost felt bad seeing his defeated expression. But then I remembered how close he had been standing to Trace at the altar, her hand in his, and all the sympathy in my body dried right the fuck up.
“I can’t believe this,” Austin muttered, shouldering his way past me.
I narrowed my eyes, stepping back to take him in. He looked well-groomed in a way that said he cared way too much about his appearance, like he probably spent more time in a given day making eye contact with himself in a mirror than he did with any other person.
“Hey, man.” Isaac extended a hand. I stared at it for half a second before shaking it. “Good to meet you.”
“You too.”
Christian’s eyes shot daggers at me. “It’s messed up. We’ve been here for weeks and then you just get to show up at the final five? It’s bullshit.”
Grant laughed. “Like you were making it to the end anyway.”
“I’d make it further if this dickbag wasn’t joining at the last minute!” Christian said before turning to me. “No offense.”
My brow furrowed, but I remained silent.
“I liked your documentary,” Isaac said, still lingering next to me. “It was badass. I was thinking of getting into backcountry skiing.”
“How’d you see it?” I asked. We’d only done a handful of screenings so far, and it wasn’t streaming yet.
“Downloaded it from some sketchy website.”
“Thanks, man,” I said, patting his shoulder. “But hot tip. Don’t admit to pirating, especially not to the creator. It’s literally stealing.”
Christian laughed. “Idiot!”
“Shit. Sorry, dude.” Isaac’s eyes went wide. “I swear I’ll watch it wherever it comes out officially.”
Christian snapped his fingers. “The skiing documentary, that’s right! I saw the teaser. I forgot that was you. There was a bidding war for it, right? That’s pretty badass, I’ll give you that, but it’s still bullshit that you’re here.”
So they were all familiar with me. Great. I wasn’t sure whether that was a comfort, or something that should put me on even higher alert.
“Wow, flying down a mountain. So impressive. Really evolved,” Austin spat out.
I looked to Grant for help. He sighed and pushed himself off the bed.
“Okay, here’s the breakdown,” he started. “Christian is just kind of loud and present; maybe a touch too competitive.”
Christian looked offended for a minute, then shrugged. “I’ll take it.”
“Isaac is the looks. I’m the entertainment.” Grant put a hand on his chest.
Austin barked out an angry laugh. “You wish.”
“Austin is the asshole everyone hates,” he continued.
Austin’s face got red and his eyes narrowed. “Say that to my face.”
Grant sighed. “I literally just did.” He swung around and took a step toward Tripp. “And Tripp here is—well, was, the frontrunner. Sorry, buddy.”
Tripp sighed and sank down into his bed. I almost wanted to apologize, but I didn’t feel that guilty. There was no way he could fathom what Trace meant to me. None of these clowns could.
“Whatever. If he had to break into the show to get her to talk to him, maybe this guy isn’t as special as he thinks he is,” Austin said.
I knew who my least favorite of the bunch was.
I glanced at the cameras and then back to Grant and Isaac, who were the only two still acknowledging me. “How much longer will they be here?”
Brady’s assistant let out a loud huff. “Don’t talk about us!”
In response, I just stared directly into the camera.
The assistant pulled off his headset in irritation. “Fine. Whatever. We got what we needed. Filming starts at eight AM tomorrow. Be ready.”
With that, he and his two camera operators finally shuffled out of the room.
“Typically, they don’t film us right before bed, but with all the commotion…” Grant clasped his hands and shrugged.
“I’m going to shower,” Tripp said, not looking at any of us.
“Oh, right, there are three showers. The other bathrooms are down the hall. I can show you,” Grant said.
“Feel free to drown in the bathtub,” Austin called from behind us.
“What the fuck is his problem?” I asked.
Grant sighed. “He’s a prick. Probably born well-off and used to getting everything he wants.”
“Why is he still here?”
“My guess is that they’re making Trace keep him. She hasn’t said it outright, but it’s pretty obvious. I heard that she looked completely disgusted when he went to kiss her. They almost couldn’t salvage the footage.”
My blood boiled. Kissed her? I hadn’t thought of that.
“Who else has kissed her?” I didn’t mean for the question to come out so menacing.
“Oh, uh.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know. Tripp, I guess.”
I hated that. I knew I had no right to feel that way, but I didn’t want her anywhere near these guys. It was my fault, though. I’d practically hand-delivered her into this situation.
“At least I don’t have to worry about that with you,” I said.
Grant swallowed. “Uh, yeah. Right. Of course.”
“Hey, is there any way I can use a phone? I need to make a call.”
“We don’t exactly have a lot of rights in here.”
“It’s important.”
Grant frowned and looked around before leaning in close to whisper. “Do you still have your wallet?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
He nodded toward the end of the hallway. Some crew were there, still cleaning up. “The shorter guy, Jamie—Brady’s assistant—will let you use his phone. Twenty dollars for five minutes.”
Maybe it was the desperation in my eyes, but when I walked over to Jamie and shoved a twenty in his face, he smirked and insisted on forty dollars for five minutes. I begrudgingly handed over the bills, and he looked around before slipping me his phone underneath the table.
“Seriously, five minutes or I come knocking,” he said, narrowing his eyes but not looking the least bit intimidating.
I took the phone straight to the bathroom and locked the door before dialing one of the few numbers I had memorized.
“Hello?”
“Mom? It’s Danny.”
“Danny? Whose number is this?”
“It’s a long story. Look, I can’t talk for long.”
“Where are you?” I could hear the concerned edge to her voice. I hadn’t exactly had the chance to call her and fill her in before they’d taken my phone away.
I talked with my mom every day. Firstly, to check in, and secondly, so that she knew I was alright. She knew I was supposed to be at the cabin with Jaylon this week and if she didn’t hear from me, she’d worry. I hated making her worry. More than I already did, at least.
“I’m not at the cabin anymore. I…I went out of town,” I whispered.
“What? You’re not at the cabin? I thought you were coming home. You said you’d be at dinner the day after tomorrow.”
“I’m not going to make it.”
“What’s going on?” she demanded.
“I’m in Florida.” I sat down on the edge of the massive soaking tub. Thankfully, unlike the sleeping arrangements, the bathroom was spotless.
“Florida? You hate the beach.”
“I don’t hate the beach.”
“You grew up less than two hours from the beach, and I used to have to drag you kicking and screaming.”
“It’s not two hours in LA traffic,” I muttered. “But that’s not the point. I’m not here on vacation.”
“Why—”
“Trace is here.”
“Oh.” Realization coated the word. She knew how I felt about Trace, the only woman I’d ever fallen for.
“I’m trying to get her back, Mom. But she’s filming a show, and I won’t have my phone for a bit—”
“Do whatever it takes,” she said.
My heart swelled a little. I’d been so scared of love for so long, but my mom wanted it for me. She always had. Her shattered heart was the reason I was so scared to open myself up, and yet here she was, wanting love for me so fiercely.
“I’ll do my best, Ma. I love you. I’ve got to go.”
“Love you, too. Be safe.”
“Always.”
We hung up and I rushed the phone back out to an annoyed-looking Jamie before I hopped into a cold shower.
I washed the day off. Exhaustion clung to me more than the sweat.
I was stuck on another reality show. I fucking hated reality TV.
I was sharing a room with a bunch of guys, some of them pricks.
And to top it all off, I was being watched like I was a bug under a microscope.
But I didn’t care about any of that. I found myself in the vicinity of the only person who mattered.
Even though she hadn’t wanted me here, I saw the way her eyes still softened when she looked at me. There was still hope.
When I crawled into bed, I slept better than I had in months.