Chapter Seven #2
A pre-taped segment was currently airing for viewers, where they had filmed me introducing myself and talking about my background.
That had been spliced with a montage of clips they’d taken of me over the previous week.
What had been condensed to minutes had taken hours to film, including me working at my New York City club, shooting hoops in my gym, swimming in my pool to create the obligatory eye-candy shots, and making dinner with my mother.
That had been a way to introduce her and alert viewers that she would be a part of the show, coaching and opining.
If people watching paid attention, they would have noticed that my mother and I were simply moving food around the counter and pretending to mix something in bowls.
Neither she nor I were adept in the kitchen.
At least she had behaved and stuck to the lines the director had asked her to say, which primarily focused on what I sought in a partner.
“Well, I’d rather you not put it all on the potential suitor,” Marv replied to my question. “Be natural. Interact the way you do whenever you’re meeting a date for the first time.”
Except that I had never met a date the way this was planned, let alone with hundreds of thousands of viewers judging everything about me.
And I would need to do it with seven different men in the span of seven minutes.
Usually, my hookups were in the cities where I did business.
A guy would start talking to me, maybe flirt a bit, then ask me out.
In those cases, I already knew what they looked like and whether I was interested.
Here, I’d need to remind myself to appear attracted to whomever emerged from a limo, whether I was or not, for the sake of the program.
“Sure,” I agreed, wiping my hands on the legs of my trousers.
“Sweat stains,” Marv chastised as he watched me, then snickered.
“Ha, yeah,” I mumbled with a fake grin.
A couple of minutes passed, then Marv called for quiet on the set. The first limo driver was signaled to make their way down my long driveway to the portico.
“We’re going live, folks,” Marv warned everyone on the set. “Action!”
I swallowed, worrying again about whether I smelled bad. The makeup artist had already felt the need to reapply face powder four or five times in the last ten minutes.
The limo stopped right on the nearly imperceptible x-marks they’d taped on the driveway. There was a pause, I assumed for dramatic affect. One of the cameras was pointed at my face for a reaction. You think they’re gorgeous, I reminded myself before even seeing them.
The back door slowly opened, and I was pleasantly surprised.
The man who stepped out of the car was around my height of six-foot-two, though he appeared to be in his late twenties at most. As he approached, I could see he might have been a mix of Asian and Latino with a very handsome face.
Dark eyes and hair, slender build though fit, and dressed impeccably in a tailored charcoal-colored suit.
“Hi,” I greeted.
He smiled before accelerating his pace to where I stood, then took my hand. “I’m Alex. Nice to meet you.”
“You too,” I replied.
This wasn’t too bad. Alex told me he was from Minneapolis.
We made small talk about the cold winters of our respective towns, and we agreed that we were eager to learn more about each other.
Then, Alex made his way inside where he would be served a glass of champagne to calm his nerves. I’d have no such crutch.
The second limo arrived, and the next guy was a younger brunet, just slightly shorter than me with a build like Alex’s.
He was very good looking in a college-prep kind of way, though there was something about his expression that signaled trouble.
I learned his name was Daryl, and he didn’t seem nervous at all.
In fact, he remarked that he’d blow my world once I chose him for a boyfriend. The word ‘blow’ had been emphasized.
The third limo arrived, and a super handsome, muscular Black man stepped out. He immediately smiled and I was dazzled. His stride was confident and his grip was firm.
“I’m Ted,” he announced. Already, I decided he might be my favorite. I learned he was from Alabama, had been a college football player, and was now a fitness coach. I sighed with relief that I took great care of my body.
If I could have stopped the limos from coming, I would have. If any more of the men were studs like the first three, this was going to end up overwhelming and difficult. But arrive, they did.
The fourth limo dropped off a guy who was much shorter than the others. He also seemed very young, making me muse how he could have been a former student of mine.
“I’m Mike, but people call me Mikey,” he announced, appearing more nervous than I was.
His hand was pale and slender, but I could tell Mikey had some muscle under the suit he wore.
His face wasn’t classically handsome, but he was very cute and rather adorable.
The poor guy was way more stressed than I was, and somehow it relaxed me.
I went into former teacher mode, patting him on the shoulder and assuring him that I was glad he was there.
He forced a grin, then bolted toward the house.
I was about to greet the next person when Mikey turned.
“Oh, I live in White Pines, too.” He blushed, then scampered into the front door.
“Huh,” I whispered. Now I worried Mikey really had been one of my students.
The man from the fifth car wasn’t as young as the others.
While I would have guessed Ted to have been the oldest so far, he was still around my age.
This latest arrival, though, had to be pushing forty, based on the crinkles near his eyes and the silver specks in his sideburns.
But man, he made middle-aged look appealing. His features were perfection.
“Good evening. I’m Brighton,” he announced, his piercing blue eyes never leaving mine.
“Cliff,” I returned. “Nice to meet you. Is that a British accent I detect?”
“It is,” Brighton replied with a grin. “I’m from London. I’m a model, but I’m probably edging towards the time to start a new career.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said, meaning it. “You look pretty great to me.”
He smiled broader. “My daughter tells me I should keep going…in support of older men, I suppose.”
“Oh. You have a daughter?” Duh, he’d just said that.
“Clara.” He had the proud expression of a father.
“She’s my world. But I believe she’s hoping I’ll meet a nice someone to distract me from being in her space now that she’s seventeen.
She’s known for a few years now that I’m bisexual, so when she saw the advertisement for the show, she persuaded me to apply.
Clara was quite taken with you.” His eyes scanned my body. “I was, too.”
“Uh, thanks. That means a lot coming from a model and all.” I gushed like a loser, probably with a face reddening like I was having an allergic reaction.
I could imagine that if Mitch and Adam hadn’t been barred from watching the show right now, they’d be howling.
Perhaps the program’s rules weren’t so bad after all.
Brighton clapped my upper arm. “I look forward to a lengthier conversation with you.”
“Me too,” I replied with a smile, watching him walk to the front door, his gait very much how I envisioned that of a model would be.
I had feared I wouldn’t be interested in anyone, but so far, all the contestants seemed like they had potential.
The next gentleman might have been the one who attracted me the least. He introduced himself as Dani.
Unlike the others, he was anything but tailored.
Based on his outfit, he must have thought there was a rave party inside the house.
Dani was a twink—blond, slender, and over-the-top flirtatious.
I was sure there would be many viewers who would think he was the best choice, as there was a delicate, sensuous beauty about him.
Unless he impressed me with his personality, though, I struggled to envision him coming out on top.
Dani just wasn’t the type that turned me on sexually.
To my relief, the last limo arrived. Out stepped a guy who, like Daryl, reminded me of a college jock.
I was surprised how young most of the contestants were, considering I had indicated to the producers I liked men around my age.
Still, I couldn’t argue that some of them were stunning, including this guy.
Unlike Daryl, this man exuded friendliness.
“I’m Aaron,” the young man stated, holding out his hand.
It was warm, just like Aaron’s smile. “Nice to meet you. Where are you from?”
“Los Angeles,” he answered. Figured. Though his hair was a very light brown—almost ash blond—he still looked like a lifeguard who’d walked out of a suntan lotion commercial.
He had a very nice build, striking green-blue eyes, and a face that likely had viewers perking up in their seats. “But I live in White Pines now.”
“Oh? That’s funny. I just met another man from town,” I answered.
“Mikey, yeah,” Aaron said. “He’s my roommate.”
“You mean, here in the house during the filming?” I asked, confused.
Aaron nodded. “Yes, here, too. But we both share an apartment on Spruce Street.”
“Ah.” That felt like the producers had set up a competitive situation for the sake of drama, and I wondered how many other surprises they had in store. Though Aaron’s smile remained, mine had fallen.