Chapter 5
Chapter Five
A GRAND ENTRANCE AND A GREAT ESCAPE
E ven though stamps from such exotic locales as Thailand, the Maldives, and Fiji filled the pages of Jack’s numerous passports, he couldn’t help but appreciate the simplistic beauty of Avi’s immense estate from his oaken hiding place. Sitting on the grass behind the northern field’s tallest tree, Jack was supposed to be watching for his cue, but he couldn’t help it. The setting sun’s ochre glow with all the greens it gilded was too irresistible to neglect. Besides, why did he need a visual cue when Mick had given him that fancy, in-ear communication device?
“Diana,” he heard Mick say, “I know you’re nervous, but can’t you just hold it? We’re going on in like three… Great. There she goes. Sorry, Jack. We’re experiencing a delay due to an upset tummy.”
“Gross! You and Diana are ruining this sunset for me,” Jack responded. “Good news for the bodybuilder, though: she may have some competition for first girl sent home .”
“Everyone poops, Jack. Haven’t you read the book?”
“Read it? I can recite it. And it’s because of that fact; I can guarantee you - nowhere in those pages does Taro Gomi specify women . Until he does, I refuse to believe that such an attractive demographic is capable of such ugliness.”
Mick did not respond. Sensing this may not be the best time for his brand of humor, Jack changed the subject.
“Mick, we better get a move on. If we’re going to get this shot, we may need to go without her. No one will notice if one of the contestant’s reactions is missing from the scene.”
“I hear you, Jack, but let’s give her a minute.”
Jack had pleaded his case to wait until morning so his grand entrance would look even more authentic. Unfortunately, Mick couldn’t justify the delay. He was paying too many people too much money to sit around twiddling their thumbs until dawn. However, Jack was able to convince him to shoot it at dusk when the natural lighting would be at least somewhat similar to the scene they were replicating, but that also meant Jack waiting out of sight of the women - all alone and thoroughly bored - for the better part of the day.
With a frustrated sigh, Jack kicked at an acorn on the ground and missed just as he heard a familiar voice.
“Jack Adamson.”
“Avi…Avi Hawthorne? I mean MacKinnon! Haha! How are you, mate?!” Jack exclaimed as he removed his earpiece.
Smiling, Avi lowered herself from her horse. Jack stood up and ran over to give Avi the hug, which had, for too long, gone ungiven. Amongst the frantic joy, Jack hadn’t even noticed the little girl Avi left in the saddle.
“And who is this lovely lady?” he asked.
“Nessa,” Avi responded vicariously.
“Nessa, you are absolutely gorgeous! I’m Jack. And how are you?”
With a gentle nudge from Avi, Nessa displayed her mother’s green, oversized, and very coy eyes and said with the cutest, little, raspy voice, “Fine. Hou dae ye dae?”
Jack responded confusedly, “Umm…who do I…who do I date?”
When her confused expression matched his, Jack tried again.
“How…how will I die?”
Avi laughed and said, “How do you do?”
“Oh! Oh my goodness, Nessa. You may be a spitting image of your mum, but you sound just like your dad. I’m doing well. Thank you for asking, young miss.” Then, turning to Avi, he asked, “Is it alright for such a little girl to be on such a big horse all by herself?”
“Mhm. Gluestick Two is well trained.”
“Gluestick Two? Does…does that mean Gluestick One got turned into…an actual gluestick?”
“Haha! No! He’s just gotten a little too feeble to ride. But Gluestick Two is more than capable of carrying Nessa, me, and…this snack we made for you.” Avi handed Jack a bagged sandwich and said, “When we heard you’d been down here since eleven, we figured you were starving.”
“Wow! Thank you both! Honestly, I’ve been too nervous to even realize I hadn’t eaten anything all day.”
Jack immediately removed the sandwich from its bag and started eating.
“Nervous?” Avi asked. “Trust me, there’s no need to be nervous here.”
“What do you mean?” he asked as he spotted Nessa eyeballing his sandwich.
He tore it in two and gave the little girl the bigger half.
“I mean, you know how magical this place is. It’s where I found Mr. MacKinnon…where Thomas found Jada…where my sister fou-”
“Where Mick found Bonnie…” Jack interrupted with sarcasm.
Avi brushed off Jack’s negativity with a gentle smile and continued, “...and where many others have found love without the faintest of intentions.”
Jack took a deep breath as if to inhale the beautiful optimism Avi exuded. With that, Avi climbed back into the saddle and sat behind her darling daughter.
“Don’t worry, Jack. You’ll find what you’re looking for.”
“I hope so,” he replied before noticing Avi’s attention shift to something in the distance behind him.
As he turned to see, he heard Avi say, “I believe that’s for you.”
It was his cue. The thin veil of vapor he’d been waiting for perfectly hovered over the field as it dissipated from the fog machines. It was everything he’d envisioned halfway between his oak tree and Avi’s mansion. Jack rushed to reinsert the communication device into his ear canal and turned around to see the sun on the verge of setting.
“Jack, come in. Where are you?” he heard Mick ask.
“On my way,” he said before taking a massive bite of his sandwich, chewing it, swallowing it, and stuffing the rest of it into the bag. “You just make sure Dawn by Dario Marianelli and Jean-Yves Thibaudet is blaring in the speakers by the time my silhouette pierces the mist. You hear me, Mick?”
“It’s a click away from being unpaused. Now get here!”
As Jack waved goodbye to Avi and began walking toward the haze through the nearly darkened field, he unbuttoned the top two buttons of his white dress shirt underneath his already unbuttoned and flowing frock coat.
In his ear, he heard, “And action!” followed by, “Alright, ladies…are you ready to meet… the man of your Regency dreams?”
Some of the women shouted in the affirmative, while others cheered and whistled in response.
“Well, don’t look now, but…here he comes.”
Jack couldn’t see much through the murk, but he pictured Mick gesturing for the women to turn around. In his mind’s eye, they were busy sharing expressions of intrigued impatience. Certainly, they were waiting for the same moment he was: the exact second when his shaded form first became visible, sparking a chain reaction of piano music and feminine fanaticism.
All at once, it happened. The soundtrack sounded. The high-pitched yet undainty screams resounded. And Jack luxuriated in an auditory heaven of angelic applause. He had spent some of his time under the oak tree studying one of the most famous scenes from Pride and Prejudice via YouTube and felt ready to recreate all of Mr. Darcy’s movements with frightening exactness. He overemphasized the jerks of his shoulders so his frock coat could better catch the breeze. He knew to look down at his feet seven seconds into the song and back up after eleven seconds. He even matched Matthew Macfadyen’s walking pace. Jack found it synched up perfectly with the tempo of Bryan Adams’ Diana. However, after hearing about the digestive debacle of a contestant with the shared first name, Jack chose to march to the identical beat of a different song: Boy George’s The Crying Game .
“Oh my gosh! It’s Mr. Darcy!” One of the girls screamed.
At first, he welcomed their unending acclaim. But when Jack realized they’d been clapping for over a minute and he still had another fifty meters to go, he panicked. And while speed walking was far from an aphrodisiac, there wasn’t anything in Jack’s mind less romantic than awkwardness. So, speed walk he did.
By the time he completed the last five-meter stretch up the slight incline of the northern yard, Jack was only somewhat sweating and partially panting. Still, he was certain even if he were flooding the grounds with his perspiration, nothing had the power to unpique the interest he’d generated with that entrance. Jack gave the women a Zoolander-inspired smile and stood next to Mick Morris.
“Oh! He’s so dreamy!”
“So worth the wait!”
“I couldn’t sleep,” one of them said, quoting the next line from Pride and Prejudice .
Jack noticed the others were all forcing laughter yet trying to withhold their envy - clearly wishing they’d all thought to say it first.
Before responding, Jack turned to Mick and quietly asked, “Is that Diana?” But when Mick shook his head, Jack said to his Elizabeth Bennet, “Nor I,” before breaking character and adding, “I love it. Bonus points for this one.”
Had Mick affirmed it was Diana, Jack would have recommended magnesium or Pepto Bismol instead of reciting the movie quote.
The women were stunning. And not in the usual pub or clubbing sense where they cake on the makeup and take off as many layers of clothing as is legally possible. Sure, a couple of them were more contemporarily hot than traditionally beautiful. Perhaps the modest regency attire they were forced to wear played some small role, but the majority of his suitresses had that certain sparkle in their eyes - upon which clothing could bear no sway. It seemed to emanate from each one like a light of kindness and dignity, shining like a scream: beckoning pick me ! Even the bodybuilder, who Jack had earlier in the day predetermined was going home first, had that special something that made Jack reconsider his prejudice.
Mick then said, “Welcome, ladies, to the first-ever season of Vermin of the State.”
The women cheered once more, but most kept their eyes fastened on the vermin rather than the host.
“I’m your host, Mick Morris. This is the man of the hour, Jack Adamson: The Vermin of the State, and you ten lucky women from all over the world have been chosen from literally thousands of applicants to compete for the heart…of our vermin.”
The cheering commenced, then died down again.
“This season will be full of laughter-inducing competitions, Michelin star meals, and romantic dates as you embark on a journey of finding true love. But…it will not be easy. Not only must you navigate the awkwardness, drama, and jealousy of sharing your home with the same women who are simultaneously falling in love with the same man, but you will be doing so under the challenging circumstances of the Regency era.”
The ladies looked around at each other, seemingly confused.
“That’s right,” he continued. “No phones. No television. No internet. We’re talking early August with absolutely no air conditioning other than the wind you can produce with your brise fan. No hair dryers, no modern makeup…”
“Wait, what?” Jack quietly interrupted.
“And obviously… no electricity! ”
With that, one cameraman spun around as all the lights inside the mansion house concurrently turned off.
While the women focused on the house, Jack grabbed Mick’s arm and whispered violently, “I need my hot showers, Mick! And I need them to have makeup!”
“Fine, you can have your hot showers, but the makeup rule stands!” Mick whispered back before the women turned around.
“So, ladies…first things first. I’ll need you all to hand over your devices: all phones, smart watches, tablets...that’s right. Thank you. Thank you, my dear. Thank you.”
As Mick made the rounds, stopping in front of each contestant one-by-one with an outstretched hand, Jack couldn’t help but feel sorry for them. Six years earlier, he’d learned for himself just how difficult it was to surrender one’s phone in the name of historical authenticity, and Jack never wanted to experience that feeling again. Then Mick stopped in front of him with the entire stack.
“Mr. Adamson…?”
“Yes?”
“Your phone?”
Jack scanned Mick’s face with some confusion.“Ah! You mean, ‘your phones.’ Certainly. I will serve as steward and guardian of these phones to make sure no one is tempted to…”
“No, Jack. I mean, please place your phone in the pile.”
“What? Me too?” Jack asked under his breath.
“Of course.”
Slowly and begrudgingly, Jack unsheathed his phone with a frustrated scoff. He dropped it atop Mick’s cradled heap before shooting him an unforgivable glare.
“There we are. Thank you, Jack. Now that we’ve got the hard part out of the way, are you all ready for some good news?”
“Yes!” some responded as the rest nodded.
“Well, we all know the real prize is walking out of here with the love of your life. What you may not know is the winner of this show will also receive…well…I can’t tell you that. Not yet, at least. You’ll have to be one of the remaining contestants at the final elimination ceremony to find out.”
While some of the contestants appeared excited by the news, others seemed frustrated.
“Now, Mr. Adamson…why don’t you tell these wonderful women what they’ve been waiting for: who is this Jack Adamson, and why is he worth such a demanding process?”
With that, Mick stepped aside.
“Thank you, Mick. You, sir, are a true treasure. Well, ladies…I’m Jackson Reginald Adamson. I reside in London, and I was an Aquarius, so I used to be very creative, intelligent, and independent. Unfortunately, the UK Space Agency, along with NASA, changed the Zodiac dates at the beginning of 2024, so I’ve recently become a Capricorn. Which means, now I’m sensitive, reliable, and…huh…I can’t remember what else. Clearly, I’ve already begun losing the powers of intelligence I possessed as an Aquarius. But you know what? That’s okay. I’m at a place in my life where I’m ready to be more sensitive, reliable, and…whatever else I’m becoming. After all, what woman wants a man who is more creative than she is when she’s the one who creates life? In the age of shattered glass ceilings, what woman wants a man who’s more smarter than she is? And finally, what woman wants a man who is independent, when she’s there to be depended upon romantically, emotionally, financially…massagingl?—”
“Aha!” Mick interrupted with an improvised laugh as the women seemed to wonder whether or not Jack was joking. “Very good. Thank you, Mr. Adamson, but why don’t we let the women find out more about you at tonight’s first competition: The Speed Date!”
Their muddled expressions reverted back to excited countenances.
“That’s right! Each of you will have exactly fifteen minutes of alone time with Mr. Adamson to leave a lasting impression. And lasting it must be. For not only will nine other women be desperately seeking to do the same, but after the last date…we will immediately begin our first elimination where one of you…will be going home.”
“On the first night?” one of the girls asked, mirroring the disappointment of the entire group.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Will we at least get to keep the makeup we already have on?” another asked.
“Unfortunately, no. Once we conclude here, all ten of you will head over to makeup and styling, where you will get to choose just how much…or how little…white powder and rouge you’ll be wearing for this evening. However, before you go, there is one other wrinkle - pun intended - to this show…”
Immediately, an angry, elderly woman appeared seemingly out of nowhere. She scampered slowly towards the women, shouting, “Tsk-tsk! Tut-tut! Your time tonight is done! Tsk-tsk! Tut-tut! For now you have been shunned!”
Mick proceeded, “I’d like you all to meet…Maude the Shunner. Remember, this isn’t the twenty-first century anymore. You’re now back in Regency England with its own set of social norms and taboos. If our producers determine at any point in the show that you have violated the Regency Rules of Decorum - which will be posted in your rooms - you may receive a visit from…the Shunner. She will escort you out of the house and into the Shunning Place. There, you will find only a straw bed, a sack of potatoes, some flint, a small fire where you must cook your own meals, and no access to a warm water basin for washing. You will not be permitted to return to the house until the conclusion of the following day’s challenge. So, I advise you all to at least look over the Regency Rules of Decorum before your time begins with Mr. Adamson. Thank you, Maude. You are excused…for now.”
As the old lady disappeared into the dark of new night, tsking and tutting, Mick turned his attention back to the contestants.
“To the rest of you, I say farewell. We shall meet again shortly. And unfortunately, for one of you…it will be…our last meeting. And cut! Thank you, all. I think we got everything we need.”
The cross-eyed cameraman kept breathing through his mouth. Jack thought his name was Norman but couldn’t be certain. He and the other two cameramen stationed in the puzzle room with Jack only rarely spoke, and when they did, they only spoke to each other in hushed, paranoid tones, regularly trailing off beyond anything audible - like they were trying to conceal the Republic’s battle plans from the ears of the Empire.
“So, uh…how long have you three been making television programmes?” Jack asked.
“Oh, umm…I don’t know. What’s it been, like fo…years, Jo…?”
“Yeah, Nor.. y…nd I got hired aro…the same t...”
Jack was making progress. He now knew one of the other guys’ names was either Josh or John…or maybe Jabba. And he and Nor… had been working together for either four or fourteen years. They were, after all, too young for forty to be conceivable.
“Wow! That many years, huh?”
They both nodded, breathing heavily. Jack wasn’t sure which was more uncomfortable: their brief conversation or the next ninety seconds of silence. But eventually, the faint sound of footsteps reverberated through the hall and into the puzzle room. As Jo… Nor… and the other guy readied their cameras; Jack sat up straight in his chair only to be left disappointed by who he saw entering the room.
“Mick! Come on, man. Where are they?”
“They’re ready. I just came down to ask if you had a preference for who you’d like me to send in first.”
“I don’t know. I don’t even know their names.”
“What about Diana?”
“Ummm…yeah, let’s go with her first. Get her out of the way.” But as Mick turned to head back into the hall, Jack blurted out, “No, wait! Let’s start with a confidence boost.”
“So, like…someone you’re better than?” Mick asked.
“No. I mean, like…someone who you think would be a good fit...someone who gives me hope that I might walk away from this thing with my one true soul mate.”
“Wow!” Mick gasped with pleasant surprise. “Jack, I’ve never heard you say anything with such maturity and sincerity. You know what? I think I have just the one.”
Jack nodded as Mick disappeared from the room. Not more than a minute later…there she was: standing in Mick’s place.
“My lady,” Jack said as he stood, somehow pulled to his feet by the will of her enchanting beauty.
He kissed her hand. More wisp than woman, she made it impossible for him to do anything but stare fully into the deep blue of her oceanic eyes. He searched his memories of his first encounter with the woman but found no recollection of her face among the contestants. Did she really look that different in Regency makeup? Or perhaps the gaffer’s bright lights had caused him to miss her in all his squinting. Either way, it was of little difference. She was there now. But only for another fourteen minutes and forty-five seconds.
“Monsieur Adamson,” she said with a French accent and a slight bow.
“Please, call me Jack. And might I have the pleasure of your name?” he asked as he escorted her to the chair next to his, waited for her to sit, then joined her.
“Ensley.”
“Ensley?” Jack asked as she nodded. “That’s beautiful. I’ve never heard it before.”
“I believe it means meadow.”
“Wow. I love meadows.”
“Me too,” she responded.
And just like that, Jack ran out of things to say. Never a believer in love at first sight, he sought any other explanation for his muted reaction, but he found none. He had always been an unemptiable well of words. Whether cold turkey sober or uninhibited drunk, if ever a problem arose from his dialogue, it always stemmed from having too much to say, never too little. But if it was love at first sight, the last thing he wanted to do was sit and say nothing, so he drew from himself the very first thought that came to his mind.
“So, what’s your sign?”
“Oh, umm…my Zodiac? I sink I’m Pisces, but with zee change you mentioned, I can’t be certain.”
“Brilliant! Well, depending on your birthday, you still might be Pisces, or you’ve become an Aquarius like I used to be. That means you’re…”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude or interrupt or anysing, but to be honest, I don’t like messing wis eet.”
“Oh? Why?” he asked, feeling the heat of embarrassment rush to his cheeks.
“Oh, no. I’m not judging you. I know many people who love eet because eet’s fun, and to zem, it’s completely innocent. But with eets ties to witchcraft, I…”
“Witchcraft?”
“Oui.”
She must have been joking. Jack would never do anything even remotely associated with witchcraft.
“Oh, you’re good!” he said. “You really had me going there for a second. Hahaha. Witches came up with the zodiac…you silly goose!”
“Well, I sink zee Babylonians and Greeks came up with eet, but eet still - how you say - freaks me out to do anysing zat real-life witches use in their…”
“Wait. You’re serious?” Jack asked as the room started to spin. “I’ve been dabbling in…”
There wasn’t anything in the world Jack hated more than witchcraft, but to be accidentally taking part in it for so long…the thought physically made him sick. He felt the sweat dripping from his forehead, and his throat began to tickle with discomfort. The room spun faster and faster and faster until Jack felt the color abandon his face, and his sandwich began the process of evacuating his stomach.
“Are…are you alright, Monsieur Adamson?”
“ Blehhhh.”
In an instant, Jack discovered the one thing less romantic than awkwardness: accidental regurgitation. It wasn’t much - just a little acidic spittle, but any amount of up-spit was enough to ruin a romantic rendevous.
“I…I’m so sorry. I…”
“Eet’s okay,” she said, unable to hide her disgust. “Eet’s…eet’s completely natural.”
Jack didn’t have the courage to look up from his liquid bite of bread- half on his trousers and half in his hand - but judging by the sounds of Ensley’s dry heaves, he knew it was pungent. Still, the fact that she was at least attempting to play it off gave him hope. Perhaps they could move past this. If she could move past him retching, and he could move past her off-putting noises, maybe years from now, they’d be able to look back and laugh as they told their children about…
“I’m sorry. I must go,” she said as she burst from her chair and ran down the hall.
“Ensley…”
It was no use. Even if she came back, Jack had no convincing reasons why she should stay. Without the money…without the booze, he was nothing more than a two-bit loser who had for so long unknowingly dabbled in witchcraft. Obviously, his approach wasn’t working, but which would he succumb to first? Telling the other nine women about the money or chemically taking the edge off? With Ensley, knowing about his wealth wouldn’t have helped. She was already into him, as were the rest of the women.
“Hey, Qui… wanna go grab some mouthwa…a towel and some soap or someth…?” Nor… asked as Quinton or Quinn or Quincy put his camera on the table and left the room.
“Thanks, mate,” Jack said. “But you know, what I really could use is something to get me through this thing. Neither of you would happen to know where they keep the ‘juice’ around here, would you? I’ve got about ten minutes to get my head right.”
Nor… glanced over at Jo… as if to inaudibly ask him a classified question. Jo… shook his head over and over again, but Nor… was relentless.
“Ah, come on, Jo… the guy just pu…d in front of a beautiful, French wom... Let him have a little of the after-work serum, would y…?”
Qui… returned with everything Jack needed to disinfect. Jack doused his hands in hand sanitizer, grabbed the mouthwash and towel, and headed towards the doorway to find the nearest bathroom.
But before he could leave, he heard, “Wait.”
Jack turned just in time to see Jo… reluctantly remove a metal flask from the camera bag at his feet. Finally! Some fluid hope. Jo… tossed the container through the air as a rather grateful vermin reached out and caught his first-class ticket to inebriation.