Chapter Five
Cliff
A few weeks had passed since I had signed the paperwork to begin His Choice, and I continued to have feelings of regret and dread and, to a lesser extent, excitement about the possibility of meeting someone.
The house had been in turmoil as the producers, set designers, and director transformed as much as possible into different settings that would work for various scenes.
The spare bedrooms were readied for the potential suitors, as I learned I was to share the house with them.
Because the nearest nice hotel was miles away, the show’s crew opted to stay in RVs that were positioned out of the way on the grounds.
My attorney navigated many of the potential legal hurdles I faced with people living on my property, including temporary changes to insurance policies which transferred responsibility for injury to the production company.
There was just so much I hadn’t considered, and I hoped all the hassle would be worth it in the end.
I was glad it was just a week-long, limited series, and not one of those season-long affairs that similar shows on network television were.
“What do you think?” Keller asked, showing me the stats on the web pages he had designed and published.
I was astounded by the number of views, as well as the volume of followers I had amassed on Facebook, Instagram and X—platforms I had wanted no part of but had agreed to join for the sake of the show.
“Frankly, I’m surprised there’s this much interest in something that hasn’t even premiered yet,” I admitted.
Keller shrugged. “There’s been decent promo on the part of the DP network, including on other streaming channels and social media. They were smart to get some shots and video of you shirtless. Nothing drives up interest more than a thirst trap.”
I flushed. “That seems so gratuitous.”
Keller appeared puzzled. “If gratuitous means hot, then I agree.”
“It doesn’t,” I corrected.
“Okay, English teacher,” he replied with a snarl. “I knew that. All I’m saying is, I knew you had a rockin’ body, but holy shit. Once I saw you without a shirt, I knew the views would go through the roof.”
My physique had already been conditioned from years of sports, but in my twenties, I’d taken it to another level with heavy-duty gym time.
While I appreciated men with slender builds and typically was drawn to them, I preferred my own to be very well-developed.
I had dark hair on my chest, forearms, and legs, and that just seemed more attractive to me when it was over bulging muscle.
Like most people, I was critical of my face, thinking it too hard—almost mean looking when I didn’t smile.
My mother called it my ‘fuck-off face.’ Yet I had been lucky enough to have multiple men hit on me every night that I was in one of my clubs.
One of them had told me I had a ‘killer face.’ I wasn’t sure if he had meant that it was handsome or if he, too, had thought I appeared threatening.
The producers played up my ‘classic good looks’ in their ads, though, so I figured there’d at least be some viewers who’d agree with them.
While the show aired, I wasn’t allowed to read online critiques anyway, so if lots of folks thought I had the face of a thug, I’d be spared knowing.
“Uh, thanks,” I replied. “So, you didn’t think I could attract interest if I remained fully clothed?” God, I was pitiful. I was asking a former student to assuage insecurities about my face.
Keller snorted. “Yeah, because everyone hates dark-haired, blue-eyed guys who look like those cologne ad models.” He shook his head.
“I remember when I was in detention and you’d be sitting up front in the room on that stool, legs spread, looking down at your phone while I thought about ways to ruin your life.
Even then, I couldn’t deny you were in another league.
When I didn’t stare at your face, I noticed your dress shirt looking like it would tear from your pecs and biceps.
And your sleeves would be rolled up and the top couple of shirt buttons undone.
Kids suspected you were trying to be every horny teenager’s masturbation inspiration. ”
“What? I wasn’t…”
“Sure. Why else would you have worn tight khaki pants over boxer shorts all the time?” he teased.
I gasped. “How the hell would you know what underwear I was wearing?”
“Because there was nothing restricting that giant pole of yours.” He snickered. “Kids used to call you ‘the three-leg Walker.’ Not safe for use by the elderly…or anyone else, for that matter.”
“Jesus,” I muttered. I had never heard that before.
“Yeah, before I met Mitch, I would have been willing to take the pain, though. You were my type, and while I was your student, it made me hate you even more for it,” Keller said with a laugh. “You know, before we cleared things up and I realized you aren’t a cunt-squirt after all.”
I coughed. “Oh…again, thanks?”
Keller nodded, oblivious to the insult he made. “Sure. You know, Mr. W, you should loosen up before they start filming. You always act kind of reserved. Don’t undo all the work I’ve put in to make you seem approachable.”
“I’ll do my best.” We rose from our chairs, and I led him to the hall. “How has Flynt been working out as your assistant?”
“Flynt’s great,” Keller replied. “But that reminds me, he said to tell you that he’ll be happy to help screen the guys who get onto the show. He said the producers won’t let you use social media to look up their backgrounds, but he can do it and find a way to sneak you the information.”
“Uh, that’s nice of him, but I signed an agreement, so…”
“Yeah, I told him you’d say that. You were always a rule-follower,” Keller noted as I opened the front door for him to exit.
Somehow, his comment came off as criticism, especially on the heels of his ‘unapproachable’ remark and my mother recently opining that I feared taking risks. If people had intended to bolster my ego for the show, they were failing.
“Night, Keller. Thanks for your help.”
“See ya, Mr. W,” he said with a raised-hand wave.
I was about to shut the door but just then, my mother drove her Escalade under the portico. So much for getting the peace I had been looking forward to all day.
“Hello, Keller,” she greeted my former student after she exited her SUV. She lowered her sunglasses an inch down her nose so she could peer at him over the lenses.
“Hey, Ms. W. Looking fine,” he added with a grin before getting into his own mess of a vehicle. My mother seemed to watch his cute little butt as he hauled himself up into the driver’s seat.
“Mom, didn’t you just recently chastise me for not calling before visiting? To what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked, hoping to interrupt her cougar instincts.
She pushed the glasses back up her nose. “Mothers have a pass. It’s their maternal instincts that determine when a check-in is necessary. And now, it’s time for one with my favorite child.”
“I’m your only kid,” I reminded her.
“That’s why you’re my least favorite, too,” she replied with a sly grin. “Try to change that by being nicer to me.”
“Fine. I’ll start by biting my tongue and not calling you out for leering at young Keller Alden,” I said. “Who is already taken.”
My mother brushed past me into the hall. “Darling, a lady never leers. I was simply admiring how nicely his jeans fit. I’m so glad his generation is past that baggy look to the point where clothes were falling off.”
“Uh-huh,” I mumbled, not buying that for a moment.
“You know, maybe if you had been kinder to him when he was your student, he would be with you now instead of Mitch Winslow. He told me you were quite the crank at school, too. Alas, now you need to do this silly show to find a boyfriend.”
“Silly show? The one you pushed me into doing?” I exhaled in frustration.
She removed the glasses and put them in her purse. “Is that how you remember it? I recall telling you it was your choice.”
I shook my head. “Well, yes…”
“See? Dear, you’re much too young to be losing your memory. You might want to see Dr. Barnes about that. Are you good about getting physicals?”
“Yes. In fact, I just went a couple of weeks ago. He told me my blood pressure was on the high side. I explained to him why.” My stare at her should have prevented the need for clarification.
“I hope he told you to cut back on the red meat and cheese then,” she answered. “Let’s go into your living room. I’ve been shopping all day in these heels, and your lovely Chesterfield sofa is screaming out to me.”
I followed her into the room, watching as she threw herself onto the couch dramatically before repositioning like Cleopatra lounging on a chaise.
“Do you want anything to drink?” I asked.
“The usual,” she replied. That would be a martini. I beckoned James to ask Thad if he’d make the cocktail for her.
“What? No date tonight?” I asked, dropping myself onto the chair opposite her.
She toyed with her necklace. “Not for lack of suitors. I thought it was more important to see how you’re doing before the big debut tomorrow. And to give you a few tips.”
“Tips? Mom, are you going to tell me to try to look more approachable? I can’t help how my face looks in repose,” I said defensively.
She appeared troubled by that. “Cliff, you need to stop obsessing. Maybe that’s why your blood pressure is high. I never said you weren’t handsome, because…well, how could you not be? You’re my son, after all.”
I rolled my eyes. “You have enough ego for both of us, Mother.”
“Ooh, the calling me ‘mother’ card,” she observed with a grin. “I’ve caught you in a mood. It’s a good thing I’m here to cheer you up.”
“When will that begin?” I asked.
She ignored me. “Truth be told, your looks are from your father. He might have been a worthless abusive bum, but everyone agreed he was a looker and an enchanter. He swept me off my feet… He was just so handsome. You resemble his younger self.”
I flushed. “I’ve only seen a couple of old photos…”