Chapter Eleven
Cliff
The men had all finished having their photos taken for the television commercials, and now we were ready to begin the first challenge. We had all been escorted to my kitchen, which fortunately was large enough to accommodate the cast and crew.
“Boys,” Emilio called out, banging a spatula against the bottom of one of my pots. “We’re about to start the challenge…the first step as we help Cliff—on his journey to love.”
Barf. I wished Emilio would stop dropping that stupid tag line and saying it like the creepy investigative reporter from the television show Dateline. If he had been one of the contestants, I’d already have walked him out of the door.
“Uh, we’re not cooking, are we?” Ted asked, scanning the kitchen as if he had been thrown into a fantastical, scary world.
“Not quite,” Emilio replied. “Each of you will be given a baked, unfrosted sheet cake, along with a vat of buttercream icing, utensils and decorating tools, and various other treats to choose from to help you create your vision. You are free to do as you wish with the cake, but remember, whatever you produce for a final product, it should reflect a message that you want to send to our bachelor. You’ll have twenty minutes to finish, then you will each present your work to Cliff with an opportunity to express its meaning. ”
I had been briefed on the challenge, and it seemed harmless enough, providing the men didn’t destroy my kitchen in the process of their task.
I was to leave the room so the director and cameraman could focus on what each of the men were doing in my absence.
First, I was supposed to address the group with a couple of prepared lines.
“I can’t wait to see what each of you comes up with,” I said. “This is a chance for you to show off your creativity and most importantly, tell me what I would have to look forward to if you become my choice.”
Double barf. I wondered why a reality show needed a writing staff at all. I had to believe the viewers cringed at the scripted words coming out of our mouths as much as I did.
I exited the room and made my way to my office where James sat chatting with my mother. They were sitting side-by-side on the sofa, but James rose when I entered. He was so formal and job-focused, despite my history of protests.
“Sit,” I offered in a soft tone so it would sound more like a request than a command. “I’d enjoy just spending the next twenty minutes talking to you both.”
James sat back down, and I took a chair opposite the pair. My mother passed an iPad to me.
“What’s this?” I asked. “We’re not supposed to have internet-enabled devices.”
“It’s not mine, and I haven’t gone on the web. It belongs to that bohemian photographer they hired. Tucker? Tyler? Tiger? Whatever. He told me he uploaded the photos of the contestants on this thing, so I flirted with him until he agreed to hand it over. I explained my role as coach to you…”
“You’re not my coach,” I reminded her.
“And that you’d value my assessment of each suitor’s physical attributes,” she continued. “James and I were just checking them out.”
I looked down at the screen and began to scroll through. I wished I could have done so in private, as I might have enjoyed some of the shirtless pictures more if I didn’t have my mother eyeing my reactions. “Um, these came out nice.”
“Maybe it would help to tell us which person you’re looking at and your initial reaction to their photos,” James suggested. “You know, an unfiltered first impression of each person’s looks.”
I shrugged and started back at the beginning of the slide show where there were a few photos of Alex.
“I still think Alex is very good looking. He has an ethereal beauty. And I like that he’s probably only a year or two younger than me.
” I swiped right, and there were a couple of shots of him shirtless—one in which he was smiling and one where he was not.
“Honestly, I prefer the serious-looking expressions. In those pics, he reminds me that he’s a smart, medical student. I find that appealing.”
“You don’t like his smile?” my mother asked.
I didn’t want to come off as petty. “Well, I imagine if he was my boyfriend, I’d want to see him happy. But it isn’t his best feature.”
“There’s something evil looking about it,” James added.
I nodded. “Yes, that’s it. It isn’t his fault. There’s something about the shape of his mouth and the prominent eye teeth.”
“Maybe he’s a vampire,” my mother suggested. “That would be sexy.”
I scowled at her. “You’d be okay with me dating a dead person?”
She pursed her lips. “They might feel they have something in common with you, Mr. Excitement.”
“Ha-ha,” I muttered.
“At least he’d never age,” she reasoned. “I wish I was a vampire.”
I shook my head. “Don’t add to the town folklore. Some people already explain away your youthful looks to being a witch.”
She grinned. “And here I thought they were just repeating what you call me.”
I moved on to the next person. It was Ted. He was ruggedly handsome. I might have hurried through the clothed photos to find the ones where he was shirtless. I wasn’t disappointed. He had a muscular chest, velvety brown skin, huge arms, and six-pack abs.
“Someone has your interest,” James mused.
“Huh? Oh, Ted. He’s um…handsome.”
“You’d make beautiful babies together,” my mother added.
“You might need to retake biology,” I joked.
She narrowed her eyes. “I meant if it were possible. Honestly, you talk about vampires and witches, but suddenly I’m ridiculous for mentioning a world where men can breed and give birth.”
I cringed. “Eww. Please don’t ever talk about pregnant men again. I don’t want to think about what the birth canal would be.”
I swiped the screen to pictures of Dani. He was cute, but he was too frail for my tastes. “Dani. He’s some people’s dream, I suppose. Just too much of a twink for me,” I announced. “And too theatrical. Every pose is…”
“Coquettish?” my mother asked. “Dramatic?”
“I guess. I have the feeling he’d need lots of stroking, too,” I explained.
“No pun intended,” James piped in.
“Definitely not,” I agreed before reaching the photos of Daryl. “Daryl. Very nice-looking, college-type guy. Nice hair and face. Slender, but in a gym-bod way. Well-toned. There’s just something about that smirk…”
James laughed. “I know! Somewhere along the line, his mother needed to smack it off his face at least once. And after serving the contestants, I can tell you it matches his demeanor. I get the sense he thinks the others can’t hold a candle to him.”
“He was probably the prettiest all through school,” I reasoned. “But you’re right, the other guys here are just as good looking. I’d argue, some are even more so. Welcome to the big leagues, Daryl.”
Brighton was next, and his modeling experience showed.
Every shot of him was a winner. The man might have had tiny creases at the corner of his eyes when he smiled and a stray silver hair here and there, but age didn’t detract from his attractiveness.
When I viewed the slides where he was shirtless, I marveled that his body was just as fit and toned as Daryl’s, who had to be more than a decade younger.
Unlike Daryl, Brighton had a dusting of light brown hair over his pecs. It was very sexy.
“Who are you looking at?” my mother wondered.
“Brighton,” I answered.
“I call sloppy seconds,” she announced. I glowered. “You know, if you pass on him.”
“He has a daughter, Mom,” I pointed out. “You don’t seem too enamored with having one child, let alone two. Maybe think about that.”
She pretended to be offended. “I might enjoy having a child who isn’t a brat. Let that sink in instead.”
I chuckled. “Maybe she’s worse.”
“Impossible,” my mother countered. “She’d be in prison for having committed some heinous crime, I’m sure. Anyway, I think Brighton is a good choice for you. The others might be too young. Brighton also has money, so I’d guess his intentions are pure.”
“Or he could be straight, pretending to be bisexual,” James cut in. He shot me a knowing glance—a reminder of Aaron’s secret. “You know, just to get some publicity. Maybe he’s thinking of going into acting or something now that he’s aging as a model.”
I hadn’t thought about that, but after learning the producers had sprinkled some surprises into the show, I had to face the possibility. “I hope not. He’s one of my favorites.”
I scrolled over to pictures of Mikey. Even if he wasn’t technically the best looking of the contestants, there was something magnetic about his shots.
The man exuded feeling, but I couldn’t quite figure out what it was.
I just knew that he wasn’t some empty, pretty vessel.
When I got to the photos of him shirtless, I was surprised.
He was buffer than Daryl or even Brighton.
Despite his terrific body, he didn’t have the arrogant expression that I saw in every Daryl photo.
It was as if Mikey didn’t realize he was beautiful.
“Mikey shots?” James asked.
I nodded. “He’s…got something special going for him.”
“Yes, Aaron,” my mother cut in.
“Huh?” I hadn’t told her that Aaron and Mikey had concocted a plan where Aaron would pretend to slowly fall for Mikey. “What do you mean?”
My mother shrugged. “There’s something about the way Aaron interacts with him…and looks at him. I could be wrong, but I’d be careful. I worry that maybe they’re more than roommates, which means they’re playing you for some reason.”
My mother’s instincts were scary spot-on. I would need to warn Aaron that he was amping up his pretense too quickly and it could turn viewers against him who, like my mother, would question his motives for being on the program.