Chapter 19 Garrick
Garrick
‘I’m sorry about all this,’ I say to Kahoa as the cameras shut off and the mics are removed.
The second elimination was done against the backdrop of the Sea Monsters’ Swing and it was as easy as the first. Still, I don’t like making anyone feel bad.
I’m the guy who makes sure everyone is comfortable and having a good time.
‘I know it’s cheesy to say, but it really wasn’t you – it’s all me. ’
She leans in close, so the nearby crew doesn’t hear. ‘Can I tell you a secret?’
I nod – I do love a good secret.
‘I didn’t even want to do this. It was my older sister’s idea. She would’ve loved to be on the show but is too old. I’m just grateful you didn’t keep me longer.’ She cringes. ‘Sorry, that sounds harsh. I’m just happy to be getting home early for Christmas.’
I shake my head. ‘Not harsh at all. I like to think that my job as Santa made one Christmas wish come true.’
She’s been quiet this whole time, and now I know why. Elimination has made her suddenly lighter. ‘You’re a good guy, Garrick. I do hope you find your Beeloved.’
Production whisks her away for final interviews, and I’m down to eight contestants.
My eyes track Riya and Desiree as they head off to their post-elimination interviews.
I’m not supposed to know about the little screaming match they had last night, but Nathan is terrible at keeping secrets.
He didn’t give specifics, but said Desiree and Riya know each other from before and got into it.
I have a sneaking suspicious it’s about Riya’s boyfriend.
A tidbit I’ve kept to myself because I actually am a great secret keeper.
When this whole thing started, I thought it would be a breeze, but dating so many girls and dealing with the politics of the show and the internet is draining.
I’ve stopped replying to the comments on my posts.
Who knew I could get tired of all the attention?
But if I have to answer one more person asking who I’m falling for, or if I’ll take them on a date after the show, I might start acting a lot more like Mr Grumpy Tristian.
‘Hey there, Stranger.’ I bump Ripley with my shoulder.
‘Nope,’ she says, not looking up from her tablet.
‘Nope? I didn’t ask a question.’ My body sags in relief at not having a camera shoved in my face.
‘I could just hear it brewing in your brain and decided to nip it in the bud before it completely formed.’
At first Ripley’s indifference to my charm was irksome, but now it’s a welcome reprieve. ‘OK, what if –’
‘I got to go.’ Those blue eyes meet mine for the briefest of seconds – just long enough to make my heart skip a beat – before she’s walking away.
Even with the elimination done, my job is not.
Ever since Dad decided we needed to have a bigger part in the park – we can thank Tristian for that – we’ve been included in more meetings, even Aldrich.
And that kid is barely out of diapers. OK, he’s definitely been out of diapers for like a solid ten years, but he’ll always be a little kid to me, even if he’s only two years younger.
I’m ten minutes late to the meeting because I’m me.
However, I’ve brought a tray of peppermint mochas to smooth it over.
I could have whipped them up at home, but I decided to take the drive to the coffee shop down the road.
Waiting in line with the caffeine-starved hordes made me feel invisible for a few minutes.
It’s not my usual preference, but since starting the show, everything has been about me and required more responsibility than expected.
A brief interlude was needed so I can turn back on the star power later.
‘You’re late,’ Dad says as I stroll into his office wearing my Santa hat.
‘Sorry, filming duties.’ This is a lie. But it’s a great excuse. I like to play one against the other when I want to get out of something. So far, only Ripley’s called me out on it.
‘Is this supposed to be a bribe?’ Ivor says, grabbing a coffee from me. His normally perfect waves are covered with a gray beanie.
I plop down on to the couch, careful not to spill. ‘Would I do such a thing?’
‘Yes,’ Aldrich says, swiping the other drink. He’s got paint on his hands. We had a debrief after his date. There had been plenty of awkward silences, but all things considered, I gave him a passing grade.
I hand a coffee to Tristian and keep quiet as Dad starts, or continues, the meeting – not really sure since, again, I was late.
It’s stuffy in here, the sun bright through the windows.
I pull at the collar of my sweater, trying not to fidget.
But I can’t help it. These types of meetings make me feel strange.
Like, I don’t want to know the budgetary numbers or the attendance decline.
Just put me in my leathers and hand me a sword.
This makes the park less a fairytale dream and more like the business it is.
‘Sons, I’m not going to lie. We’re not doing as good as I would’ve liked. Thanks to Garrick, we’ve had a boost with Christmas and the reality show. But it looks like we’re still going to have some layoffs.’ In his defense, he does look devastated by the idea.
My heart plummets like a six-ton stone swirling around in the sludge of my peppermint mocha.
‘Fire people?’ I choke. ‘I thought the whole point of me doing the show was so we wouldn’t have to do that?
’ FTG is a family; firing someone will feel like losing one of our own.
My chest tightens and my fingers start to go numb.
‘I know, Garrick. It’s not the news any of us wanted.
But we’re all going to have to make hard decisions.
You and Jin must pick who we let go of from food and beverage.
When the new year comes, I’m afraid we’ll have some more hard decisions to make.
’ Dad hasn’t drunk any coffee, but he swirls the cup around as he speaks.
‘There has to be another way,’ Tristian argues. He still feels guilty about last summer’s scandal – even though we all know it wasn’t his fault. But that’s my brother for you, constantly feeling like he has to carry the weight of it all.
‘Can we stay open all year?’ Aldrich suggests. ‘Or maybe we could sell more merch. I have some drawings I’ve been messing with.’
Dad’s face remains solemn. ‘This park will survive, sons. It just might look a little different.’
I won’t let anyone be fired. The rest of my brothers look like they’re feeling the same. But I can do something about it. This reality show was my idea to save FTG from having to make any terrible choices. So, I just need to drum up more business.
That’ll be easy, right?
I find Ripley huddled on a lounger by the closed pool, which is shrouded in frost. ‘Isn’t it a little chilly?’ I ask, sitting down beside her on the squeaky plastic. She’s got a blanket over her lap and her coat on. Her nose is bright red from the cold. I miss the fuzzy earmuffs.
‘A little.’ She shivers as if just realizing it. ‘But it was quiet because no one was here.’
‘Yeah, because it’s freezing.’ The sun is bright, but it’s weak this time of year, not strong enough to warm through the breeze that’s picked up and dances with the free strands of Ripley’s dark hair. That trusty pen that’s usually in her bun is tucked behind her ear.
She looks up from her laptop, giving me a stare-down over her glasses. I’ve only seen her wear them when she’s on a computer. They’re cute.
‘Then why are you out here?’
‘Because you are.’ The charm falls off my lips but doesn’t faze either of us. I clear my throat, shaking my head and running a hand through my hair so it doesn’t freeze in place with all the gel they lathered in for the shoot. ‘I’m going to be straight with you.’
‘I didn’t realize you were capable of that,’ she half jokes. But she’s not wrong. Keeping people from the real me is my default.
‘You’re about the only person I am straight with.
’ It could be a line, but it’s not. I guess because Ripley doesn’t fall for my charm, the only thing I can be is real.
The thought sends a spark down my skin, leaving a comforting warmth in its wake.
‘I need more promotion for FTG in the show. Why don’t we do something with catering?
We can show how good the food is.’ The desperation oozes out of me, and I find myself speaking so fast I’m not even sure if she understands.
‘That’s not really in the plan.’ She taps at the computer’s trackpad.
‘Juliet, please.’ This is the first time I’ve said her real name and I haven’t been trying to get a rise out of her. It just slipped out.
A thin line folds between her brow as she frowns. ‘Is everything OK?’
I would normally brush off a question like this – throw out a witty retort and an ‘aw, shucks’ smile to stop further closeness in its tracks. But it doesn’t feel right.
My chin drops to my chest. ‘No. FTG is in trouble, and if I don’t find a way to fix it, people I care about will lose their jobs.
’ I lick my lips, looking up at her through watery eyes.
I hate being seen as anything other than carefree and chill.
That’s the Garrick I make sure the world knows, but Ripley isn’t going to judge me.
She already knows that the other guy is partly an act.
‘I would really love it if we could help FTG together.’
Her eyes roam over my face, mapping the emotions I’m not trying to cover up now. It feels like I’ve ripped open and laid bare everything inside me. It’s scary, but I don’t back away.
‘So, we’re in this together, huh?’ she finally says.
I take her freezing hand in mine, squeezing it tight. ‘From the very beginning.’
Glancing at our hands, she returns the squeeze. ‘OK, I’ll see what I can do.’ She pulls away, snuggling into her blanket. ‘The second episode airs tonight, so we can get a feel for how audiences are responding. Then we can create a plan to work in some extra promo.’
‘Maybe we could do a bonus episode?’
Her eyes narrow, but I recognize this as her thinking face. ‘The production team is already running on super-tight deadlines. I don’t think we can ask them to add another episode.’
‘We can do it. Maybe a cooking segment.’ I shake my hands, vibrating with the idea formulating. ‘I can make one of FTG’s signature items, and then we can edit and post the video on Beeloved’s YouTube channel.’
‘I don’t know how to edit.’
‘No worries, Tyrone does. I’m sure he’d love to help.’
She bites her bottom lip. ‘OK, but we need a plan.’
I grin. If there is one thing I know about Juliet Ripley, she knows how to execute a plan.
‘I need a favor.’ I slide into the spot between Imogen and Tristian right as they’re about to take off on Flight in the Clouds from the Perilous Sea.
‘Garrick – what the heck? This ride is too small for all of us.’ Tristian tries to push me off, but the lap bar comes down and we glide up and into the air on the gondola suspension cable strung above the park.
‘Too late now.’ I raise my arms and place them around their shoulders. ‘But since I have your undivided attention for the next five minutes, we need to chat.’ The wind is colder up here as it blows into my open coat.
Tristian crosses his arms and closes his eyes, probably trying to pretend I’m not next to him. You’d think he’d have learned after seventeen years that I’m impossible to ignore.
‘Garrick, did you just leave poor Ripley on the platform?’ Imogen leans over the front safety bar to spy Ripley getting smaller as we move away.
‘Rude. Of course not. We’re still working on her aversion to theme park rides, but I’m making headway. Anyhow, I need your guys’ help.’
‘With?’ Tristian opens his eyes. Imogen smiles at him, and he melts.
‘Right, before this gets too awkward.’ I watch Village Center bustle below us as we head to Pixie Forest. ‘Ripley and I want to do a bonus episode to showcase what FTG can offer.’
Tristian stiffens beside me. ‘Is this because of the layoffs?’
Imogen inhales sharply but doesn’t speak. Tristian probably already filled her in.
‘Of course. You know we can’t let that happen.’ Acid churns in my stomach, my chest burning.
‘I know. So, what do you need from us?’ Tristian dons that Walton determination.
‘Can you two run interference with production? Keep them away from my apartment for the rest of the day? Tell them I’m sick – whatever you need to do so they don’t interrupt us?’
I was technically supposed to do some interview or B-roll later, I don’t know. I wasn’t listening to Brett rattle on.
‘Oh, Garrick.’ Imogen beams. ‘Distraction is my middle name.’
‘More like Distracted.’ Tristian laughs.
She attempts to kick his foot but hits my shin instead. ‘Sorry. Either way, we got you. Go make your magic with Ripley.’