How To Lose A Bachelor (17 page)

Just then, they heard the far off cry of an ambulance. They exchanged looks. “You don’t think that’s for Maya—” Rochelle said.

“We’d better go check it out.” If Maya actually
had
drowned…

“We can’t get caught together,” she protested. “I’ll leave the room first. You wait a few minutes before you come downstairs.”

“Chelle, I’m not even supposed to be here. But I suppose I could use this as an opportunity to show Richie just how sorry the security is around here.”

She rolled her eyes. “Let’s go.” She made her way out the door and down the hall. When he could hear her tennis shoes on the stairwell, he followed behind at a slower pace. At the bottom of the stairwell Rochelle rounded the corner—and stopped abruptly. “Richie!” she said loudly. “You startled me.”

“Did I?” Grant heard him say, sounding undeterred. “I’m so sorry to tell you this, dear, but we’ve called an ambulance for Maya. It seems that woman has gotten herself into another mishap, and she’s just about drowned. Did she mention anything to you about going to the pool?”

Rochelle nodded to Richie, who Grant still couldn’t see behind the wall. “Yes, she said it had been a long time since she’d taken a swim.”

“Hmm. Interesting. When she filled out her questionnaire for the show, she indicated that she didn’t know how to swim. Funny that she would get in a pool with no lifeguard, not knowing how to swim, don’t you think?” He stepped forward, into Grant’s line of view. Grant slid behind the wall at the head of the stairs. “You know what else is interesting, Ms. Ransom? The fact that Maya has been acting so…well, so much like
you
lately. At first I was delighted, of course, because scandal is a ratings booster. But after a while, I thought that these little displays just didn’t make much sense. Maya is very down to earth and has been since the start of the show. Much like you would be, if you didn’t have your own agenda, right?” Grant didn’t like this line of questioning. Richie was too curious, and too observant. They’d have to be a lot more careful from now on.

“Well, maybe she does have an agenda,” Rochelle said. “It is a game, after all. Maybe she’s finally started to play it. You’d have to talk to her about that, though.”

“Perhaps I will.”

“I was just checking to see what the sirens were all about. I hope Maya is going to be okay,” Rochelle said.

“Oh, I think she’ll be just fine. It was nice chatting with you, Ms. Ransom.”

“See you later, Richie.”

Grant could hear Rochelle bound up the stairs. She didn’t look at him when she passed him on the top, just kept walking toward the room she shared with Maya. Richie must have still been watching her. At the door, she paused and gave him a warning look. “He’s still down there,” she mouthed.

Rochelle’s eyes got wide when they heard a second set of steps making their way up the stairwell. Grant decided it was time to go. Richie was apparently already suspicious that something was going on under his nose, and Grant wasn’t about to give him more fuel for that fire. He backed up quietly to the next room, and finding it empty, shut the door swiftly behind him. Luckily, the room had a window. Add that to the piss poor security of the mansion in general and Grant could make a clean getaway easily. Richie would be none the wiser.

He landed effortlessly on the sidewalk running between the east and west wings on the mansion. As he dodged each surveillance camera on the way back to his room, he contemplated the package he’d received from Colby this morning. It had been filled with documents he needed to sign in order to keep their business running smoothly. But taped to one of the papers in the middle of the stack had been a diamond ring. A ring he’d been too stubborn to retrieve from his pocket ten years ago.

I
f he could, Grant would walk onto the veranda, grab the two bouquets of sweet peas, throw them at Cassandra and Jacquelyn, and flip off the camera as he stalked away. Tonight would be the Double Elimination round, and he couldn’t be happier about it. Tonight he would narrow down the competition to two finalists, Rochelle and Maya. Or at least, that’s what Richie and Chris thought.

Absently, he reached into his pocket and clutched the ring there. He’d decided he was sick of this game and sick of being apart from Rochelle even a second longer. Tonight he hoped to change everything. Tonight he hoped to correct the wrongs of the past.

Chris interrupted his line of thought. “Richie wants you to drag this episode out. We’ve got a lot of sponsors to please, so the more painstaking the decision, the better.”

“Richie is sick.”

Chris gave him a crooked smile. “He’s a bastard, yes. But his instincts with ratings are uncanny.”

Grant followed Chris to the pedestal where two bouquets of sweet peas resided. “Why did you choose to be a reality show host anyway?” Grant grumbled. “You could have been an actor, maybe in one of those comic book movies. You’d look cute in tights.” In a way he felt guilty about what he was about to do. Still, both Chris and Richie would get their precious ratings, he was sure of it.

Chris smirked. “You always did like my ass.”

“No, I always
kicked
your ass. There’s a difference.”

Chris held up his hands in surrender. “Touché. Look, ratings seem like a shallow concern now. But wait until the Golden Rose Ceremony. Then maybe you’ll appreciate Richie’s drive for audience captivation.”

“What do you mean?”

“All I can say is that the finale will go out with a bang. Now wait here. It’s time to start.” Chris turned to the camera. “We’re rolling in two! Everyone take your places!”

Within minutes Chris was inviting the last four contestants out onto the veranda. Maya, Rochelle, Cassandra, and Jacquelyn made their way through the French doors. Chris ushered them in to sit on the edge of the fountain. “Tonight will be a sad farewell to two of you lovely ladies. Before we speak to Grant about the choices he’s made though, we want to take a minute to review the time each of you have spent on the show so far.”

Grant cracked his knuckles nervously as two men in tuxedos wheeled out a flatscreen TV sitting on a cheesy golden cart sprinkled with pink rose petals. For the next ten minutes, the contestants would watch footage of themselves and supposedly think about what they could have done differently to increase their chances of staying on the show. For the next ten minutes, he would have to relive the humiliation this show has caused him.

Sheer ridiculousness.

The video began with Maya’s expression when she saw Grant for the first time. Her smile was radiant, breathtaking. In the background, the sound of shattering glass could be heard. The screen switched to the fundraiser, showing Maya working in her booth and greeting Grant with a shy grin. Next up was their dinner; their one-on-one date; meeting her father at the airport; lying in the back of a truck bed with Grant. Last, the clip showed some behind-the-scenes footage. Maya getting ready in Wardrobe and Makeup, Maya ripping her tight dress and uttering an expletive that only she could make sound lady-like, Maya jumping out of the closet and scaring one of the twins. By the end of the clip, Maya was in tears.

“That was beautiful, Chris,” she sniffled. “Thank you.” Maya was a good friend and a good faker.

Chris’s smile was kind. “You’ve been a wonderful addition to the show, Maya. Good luck to you.” He settled his gaze on Rochelle. “Next, we’ll get to see Rochelle in action.”

Rochelle was shown dropping her wine glass—an image Grant would never forget; Rochelle staggering through the garden maze in a drunken stupor; Rochelle kissing a handsome patron at her kissing booth; her attempt to puke outside of the plane, and failing miserably at it; her comforting Ellie at the dinner table; her getting her lips stained with a certain blackberry cobbler. The behind-the-scenes footage revealed Rochelle looking longingly at Grant as he talked to Chris before a show; her glaring at some of the other contestants while they chattered in the mansion’s living room about Grant’s exceptional body; the silhouette of Rochelle and Grant’s mother walking down the lane illuminated by white Christmas lights.

Grant didn’t even know that had happened.

To a stranger, Rochelle might have appeared unaffected by the video. But by the way she shifted from one foot to the other, Grant knew that she was very moved. It had been a long show for both of them. But at least it had been worth it. And it was almost over.

Absently, he watched the other two videos for Cassandra and Jacquelyn. He vaguely remembered the list of “don’ts” he’d received from Jacquelyn’s father. For Cassandra’s turn, they chose to show the food-fight fiasco and Cassandra’s mother slapping him upon entering their house for the first time.

And just as he thought the clip would come to an end, the screen revealed the kiss he and Cassandra had shared in the Dream Suite. Cassandra, in her nearly naked glory, pressed against him, her mouth on his, and her hands everywhere they could reach.

Grant immediately cut his eyes to Rochelle and cringed. She stood there watching in apt attention, a scowl etched onto her face.
Not good
.

As the video came to an end, Grant hurriedly picked up the first bouquet of sweet peas from the pedestal, not waiting for Chris’s cue. Then he picked up the other. Chris gave him a look of warning. Oh, right. He was supposed to make this painstakingly slow. He set one bouquet back in place and tucked the other under his arm without thinking.

Grant walked down the line of contestants, who were all in different states of nervousness—save Rochelle, who wouldn’t so much as look at him—as they watched him pace in front of where they sat on the edge of the fountain. The entire set was so quiet that the only sounds were Grant’s footsteps and the gentle lull of cascading water. Finally, he turned to face the ladies. He still wasn’t sure where to begin. He knew who was leaving, but he didn’t want to drag it out for ten years like Richie wanted him to. He wanted it done and over with, so the finale could be done and over with and his new life with Rochelle would start.

The only thing he was sure of was
who
to begin with.

“Rochelle,” he said. “Please stand.”

She complied, her eyes glistening with emotion. He remembered her saying she wished she could un-see his kiss with Tiffany Wallace. Now he wished she could un-see the kiss he shared with Cassandra.

“I was extremely touched by your video,” he told her. “While watching it, I began to realize that your feelings for me may be deeper than what we both might have imagined. Which is something that makes me extremely happy. Honestly, I’ve grown very attached to you over the course of the show. In the beginning, you didn’t seem to adjust well. You didn’t try to make friends with the contestants. You didn’t try to make friends with me. It almost felt as if you truly didn’t want to be here.” He took her hands in his. “I hope that’s no longer the case
.”

When she didn’t respond, Grant sucked in a galvanizing breath. How long did he have to babble on? “I think that night with Ellie was a turning point for me,” he continued for the sake of the show. “You handled the situation with such compassion and kindness. I knew then that you were one to watch in the competition. And so I have.” He caressed her cheek with his thumb and she gave him a look filled with questions and most importantly, a look meant to show that she was outwardly torn. God, but she was a good actress. He almost believed that she wanted to tuck her tail and run off the set. He wondered what the audience would see when they viewed her expression from the comfort of their homes, without knowing what had happened between them. Would they buy it? “What you’ve shown me since then, I’ve liked a lot. And for that reason, I’m keeping you on the show. Please do me the honor of staying for the Golden Rose Ceremony?”

Her eyes grew round as half dollars. Still, she said nothing, offering a slight nod and seating herself back on the edge of the fountain. Her posture was stiff; she carefully trained her eyes on the cobblestones of the veranda. Grant would pay a billion pennies for a glimpse into her thoughts at this moment. She was supposed to be acting resistant—and she was doing a bang up job at it. She almost had him convinced she didn’t want to be there.

And so with as much patience as he could muster, he dawdled before presenting Cassandra and Jacquelyn with the bouquets of sweet peas. He gave Jacquelyn her arrangement first, letting her down gently. But when he got to Cassandra, she snatched the bouquet from his hands, threw the flowers to the ground, and stomped on them as best she could in heels.

“You, sir, are not a gentleman,” she bellowed. “You used me for sex! And now this is how you’re going to treat me?”

Grant felt a cold shiver of dread steal through him. Chris was at his side instantly. “Cassandra, what do you mean Grant used you for sex?”

“I mean that Grant and I have been sleeping together for the entire show. He told me I was the one! He said he didn’t care about anyone else here. He even told me to keep the walnut allergy a secret. That he only used that excuse so he didn’t have to sleep with the other contestants.”

The walnut allergy? As far as he knew, Maya had been the only one to figure it out. And he knew Rochelle wouldn’t have said anything about it. What the hell was going on? Deep down though, he knew.

Chris peered up at Grant, eyes wide. “Grant? What do you have to say about these accusations?”

But Grant was too furious to answer. This was obviously all Richie’s doing—and Chris had helped him. Hell, he’d practically apologized in advance for his betrayal tonight. Grant and Rochelle had stolen time to themselves, now Richie was making them pay for it and Chris was acting like his little puppet.

Grant turned to Rochelle. She was completely buying into Cassandra’s performance, which infuriated him even further. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and her lips turned down in a scowl. Even Maya pulled her friend close, whispering consoling words in her ear. Did Maya believe Cassandra, too? Surely they could see that he clearly wasn’t kissing Cassandra back in the Dream Suite. Couldn’t they?