Chapter Eight
Mikey
All the contestants but Aaron had gathered in the parlor, chit-chatting about their meeting with Cliff Walker.
The British man was as ignored as I was, glancing around the room seemingly seeking an ally.
I mustered the courage to approach him, but the talkative platinum-haired twink latched on to him before I could.
British guy appeared to be tolerating the conversation as opposed to enjoying it.
“Champagne?” James, Cliff’s butler, asked, holding out a tray with multiple fluted glasses.
I had already downed three of them since coming inside, which was a lot considering I didn’t drink.
I didn’t know what to do with my hands otherwise, though.
I grabbed another glass and thanked him.
I nearly begged him to stay to talk to me so I wouldn’t appear lame, but I didn’t.
He had a job to do, and he continued circling the room to ensure everyone had what they needed.
I chugged down the champagne, hoping it would give me the fortitude to make it through the evening.
“Being antisocial?” It was Aaron’s voice booming from behind me.
I spun around, relieved to see his smiling face. “Why did they have you meet Cliff Walker last? I’ve been dying here without you.”
He wrapped an arm over my shoulders. “Awe, pookie, you missed me?”
More than he knew.
“They all hate me already,” I muttered. “Or they know I’m the one with the least chance of winning and they don’t want the loser stench to soil them.”
Aaron chuckled. “You’re being dopey. You’re just giving that bug-off vibe.”
I blinked a few times. “I am? What do I do? I’m not trying to.”
“Try smiling,” Aaron suggested. I forced a grin. He frowned. “Okay, don’t.”
I flushed. “See? I can’t fit in with all these…attractive men.”
Aaron sighed. “They’re not that great.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Are you kidding me? I feel like I just stumbled onto the set of some gay Mr. America contest.”
“Impossible,” Aaron replied. “One of the guys is British.”
I scowled. “Fine. A gay Mr. Universe pageant.”
“Yeah? For the swimsuit contest, would you wear trunks or Speedos?”
I pursed my lips. “Are you asking what I recommend you wear? Because I wouldn’t even make it past the introductions.”
“I’d wear trunks. Speedos are kind of gross. And who can walk around stage with a smile on their face when all they’re thinking about is giving the boys some air and freedom to move?”
Aaron grabbed a glass of champagne when James approached. I took another for myself.
I guzzled my fifth drink of the evening, placing the empty glass next to the first four on an intricate side table. “Shit, you don’t think those will leave rings, do you?”
Aaron glanced at the table and shrugged. “Too late now. Why are you drinking so much, anyway? You never drink.”
I crossed my arms, the movement making me wobble. “Why do you think? I should never have let you talk me into this.”
“I also told you to behave with confidence and stop whining like a child, but you don’t seem to mind ignoring that advice,” he pointed out.
I sighed, my body starting to feel warm and my head beginning to fog. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I’m just…scared.”
Aaron put an arm around me again. “I’ve got you, Mikey. Come on, how did your meet and greet go with Walker? Did you still get butterflies when you saw him up close?”
My cheeks heated. “It was awful.”
“Awful?”
“Wonderful. I mean, he’s so good looking. But I stammered like I was being judged at the pearly gates. I was probably three seconds away from him calling for medical assistance.”
Aaron laughed. “For you or for him?”
I winced. “Both. One to address my malfunctioning brain, and another to help revive him from a boredom-induced coma.”
“It was only sixty seconds. I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Aaron assured me. “You look cute. He must have noticed that. And he remembered your conversation. He mentioned to me that there was another guy from White Pines competing.”
I shrugged. “Considering I had just mentioned it to him about three minutes before you spoke to him, that isn’t that big of an accomplishment on my part.” I glanced around the room, envious at how everyone else seemed to be mingling without issue. “How did your time with him go?”
Aaron shook his head. “Fine. It was too early to sing your praises. I promise I will, though.”
“S’okay,” I replied, suddenly feeling woozy. “I’ll bet he…thought you were…hot.”
Aaron peered at me funny, and I knew it was because my words were becoming slurred and delivered slower and more emphatically. My brain knew what I wanted to say, but it couldn’t seem to coordinate with my tongue.
“Are you okay?” Aaron asked.
“Yeah,” I replied, though I was concerned that the room had begun to appear hazy. “Maybe I’m having…a stoke.”
“Stoke? Mikey, you drank too much. You’re not used to it.” Aaron took hold of my arm. “Do you want to find a place to sit down?”
I believe I nodded yes, but the room had gone quiet after the show’s host, Emilio Nunez, clinked a utensil against a glass to get everyone’s attention.
“Good evening, studs!” he greeted too noisily, followed by the men cheering even louder.
“As you know, tonight’s episode is being brought to viewers live!
Starting tomorrow, we do a mix of same-day filming to air later in the evening, as well as some parts live.
Either way, there’s always a camera around, so be on your best behavior… or not!”
Some of the other guys laughed, but Aaron rubbed my back instead. “Just hang back this evening. You can be the man of mystery,” he whispered.
“Cliff just shared some first impressions with me,” Emilio continued. “And I’ll bet you’d love to know what he said!”
He communicated that they need to get rid of the stuttering boy from White Pines, I imagined. I leaned against Aaron, suddenly feeling I might stumble without his support. “Dude, straighten up. You need to get through this,” he warned.
I blinked a few times, hoping it would make me more alert.
“I’ll remind you that you’ll have no access to media devices while you’re on the show, so you’ll never be privy to what Cliff is saying…or hear what your fellow contestants confess during one-on-one testimonials. You won’t know until our finale who is…his choice!”
People clapped. Even in my diminished capacity, I thought the attempt to work the title of the program into his speech was cheesy. “Tacky,” I blurted, apparently louder than I should have. Aaron pinched my arm. “Ow. Stop it.”
“Shh,” he ordered. “Snap out of it.”
I chuckled. “Okay, Cher.”
“Huh?”
“You were supposed to slap me across the face when you say it,” I explained, even though I was sure he missed the Moonstruck reference. Aaron was straight, after all.
“I considered it,” he whispered. “Get a grip.”
I scanned the room, but nobody seemed to be paying attention to us. They were too enthralled with what was happening, eyes glued on the host.
“Just be yourselves and ignore the cameras and microphones,” Emilio instructed. “Cliff will be making the rounds to talk with each of you some more.”
The pain in my chest and head increased. I didn’t understand what was pleasant about getting drunk.
“Maybe you should go to our room and lie down. I can tell Cliff you aren’t feeling well,” Aaron suggested.
Before I could respond, the man of the hour appeared, crew and camera equipment in tow. He was a little blurry, yet still so handsome.
“You’re like a fairy-tale prince,” I uttered, then belched.
Just as obnoxiously as when Aaron would do it to taunt me.
It was as if the noise was played in slow motion and at the highest volume.
Even though I was fast becoming incapacitated, it wasn’t lost on me that I should be mortified.
I was always the polite one who tried to suppress a burp into my fist. I put my fingers over my lips, as if I could still prevent the offensive sound.
“Excuse me. Must have been too many bubbles.”
Cliff raised an eyebrow, appearing confused though slightly amused. “Are you enjoying your evening?”
I shook my head, touching my chest. “Reflux. I don’t drink.”
“He really doesn’t,” Aaron jumped in. “Mikey just had a…few…because he’s nervous and shy.”
Cliff leaned toward me, then winked. “I’m a little nervous, too…and shyer than most people believe.”
“See? You already share traits with each other,” Aaron said, smiling at Cliff. “If you’re one of the sweetest guys on the planet, then you’ll have another thing in common with Mikey.”
Cliff glanced Aaron’s way before chuckling. “Aren’t you supposed to be competing?”
Aaron shrugged. “Just being honest.”
Cliff touched Aaron’s shoulder. “You’re being gracious and a good friend.”
Even when he tried to elevate me with others, Aaron always came off as the better of the two of us. “He is,” I agreed. “I’m sorry, Mr…Cliff. I didn’t…mean to be rude.” The words came out stilted and odd sounding to me.
“It’s fine…” Cliff began.
“Mikey,” Aaron finished for him.
“Yes, Mikey,” Cliff said with a nod. So much for Aaron’s belief that I had made a lasting first impression. I was sure the second one would be.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated, not that anyone paid attention. “I’m not feeling too well.”
James appeared by Cliff’s side. “James, would you escort Mikey to his room? He’s feeling a little under the weather.”
“Of course, Cliff,” James replied, casting a sympathetic glance my way.
“I’ll take him,” Aaron cut in, putting an arm around me.
Cliff held up a hand. “I promise, Mikey will be in good hands. If you don’t mind, I’d love for you to stay so we can become better acquainted.”
* * * *
Even in my worst nightmares, I hadn’t thought things would go as badly as they had. I would have yelled at myself that I was an idiot, but my head hurt too much, and James was by my side.
“I can make it,” I said. At least that’s what I believe I said. My tongue was still inexplicably twisted.