Losing to Win (11 page)

 

 

“C
arissa, you've lost a little over eighteen pounds in three weeks, and while that's very impressive, it's also too fast. Since your initial weigh-in, you are down twenty-six and a half pounds. You're averaging a loss of four and a half pounds a week and your body is going to rebel. We'd like you to lose between two to three pounds a week.”

I had been coached to quit rolling my eyes so much on camera, so I flashed a carefree grin and asked, “Does this mean I'll be having a fried crawfish po' boy for dinner tomorrow night?”

Hannah, the nutritionist, shook her head and laughed at me. “I don't think you'll be seeing fried anything for quite some time.”

Of course not. I resisted the urge to heave a sigh and listened while Darcy, super perky trainer extraordinaire, rambled on about pacing my weight loss and concentrating on replacing fat with muscle. Loose skin and jiggly flab were the enemy. I nodded at the appropriate intervals and then thankfully stepped off the scale.

Mal stepped on; he'd lost seventeen pounds in three weeks and got a different lecture about muscle fatigue and hitting the wall. The guest judge this week was in sports rehab, so he and Mal talked about how much stress he could put on his rehabbed knee.

Niecy and Jordy lost ten pounds each over the last few weeks. Suzette and XJ had been up and down but combined for a total weight loss of seven pounds. Apparently, they had been caught on film tipping over to Ruby's to have a decidedly NOT low-fat, not low-carb, not sugar-free dinner plus dessert.

In the end, Mal and I were ahead not only in weight lost but in competition wins as well. When we were paired together we won extra points for sportsmanship and partnership. There had been no more silly-assed challenges requiring us to bare our personal business. We had put whatever issues or conflicts we had to the side for the sake of trying to maintain some dignity throughout this competition. One time with the blind challenge was more than enough. We had no desire to see what kind of crazy scenarios they would put us in if given the chance. All I had to do was get through the last of this weigh-in and then we were off for the Fourth of July weekend.

By off, this meant we were allowed to live in our own homes without microphones or cameras dogging our every step. We were expected to work out and stick to sensible diets, but we had four whole days to interact with people not affiliated with this damn show. Four days where I could walk around in a bathrobe and not fear that my ass was jiggling on primetime television.

Plus . . . let me just be really real for a second. I needed a break from Mal's brooding intensity. And Jordan's hungry gazes. Yes, that kiss he'd laid on me at the “truth or dare” challenge threw me for a loop. I did not know he had that in him. At all. He kissed me like the answers to the puzzles of the universe could be found in my mouth and he wanted to take the time to discover each and every one of them.

That thirty-second kiss instantly moved him out of the friend zone and into the “What have we here?” category. He'd taken a few opportunities to talk with me since then, and so far, I liked what I was hearing from him. To be fair, I couldn't take too many steps toward Jordy until I dealt with whatever was still left between me and Malachi.

Clearly we still had the chemistry, but was that it? I was not going to reinvest in the Malachi Knight brand if he was going to turn back into that guy. So far, he had been open and communicative. We worked well together, we laughed, we talked—it was almost like it had been, before the adulation and the game turned him into more of a personality and less of a boyfriend. He was warm, engaging, and more like the guy I originally fell in love with decades ago.

Given the tug-of-war between whatever I felt for Malachi and the curiosity about what I could feel for Jordy, I was exhausted. Add in Suzette's constant malevolence, the cameras, the production schedule, and the two point two bites of food per day? I was ready for this break.

“Carissa, did you hear what Hannah said?” Jim asked from the podium.

“Honestly? No. I'm daydreaming about sleeping in my own bed without a 4:45 a.m. wake-up call.”

Hannah piped up, “I was reminding everybody to stay on their dietary plans over the holiday.”

“Who do we need to beg for permission for a piece of barbecue?” Niecy asked.

Paul, her trainer, laughed. “You can have one piece if you add an extra ten or fifteen minutes to your workout, wash it down with water, and skip the potato salad.”

XJ sighed deeply. “Barbecue without potato salad? That's downright un-American!”

Jim chortled loudly. “It may be un-American, but it's the
Losing to Win
way. Good luck over the weekend and remember, we'll be checking in on you. See you next time!”

We stood still with fake smiles on our faces until Bliss called out, “And we're clear. Thanks, everybody! Carissa, can I talk to you for a second?”

I wanted to stomp my foot and say no, but then I remembered that I'm supposed to be a grown-up woman. “Sure, Bliss.”

Bliss, Marcy, and Ren circled around me and led me over to a cluster of rooms they had set up as production offices. Once inside one of the meeting rooms, they closed the door and sat down to face me.

I raised a brow. “What can I do for y'all?”

Bliss gave me her most engaging “I want to be serious with you” look. I didn't trust it. “Carissa, we've conducted the focus group, where we show a few episodes of the show to a market research team, some focus groups, and our network execs.”

Hoping it sucked and was about to be canceled, I answered with cautious optimism. “And?”

Marcy bounced in her seat. “They love you. People absolutely love you!”

I blinked twice. “What? Why?” I hadn't exactly been warm and fuzzy.

“You've got that certain something that people can relate to. You're pretty, you're real, and you are a bit of a drama magnet. Whatever the combination, you're a hit. We're a hit. They are predicting the biggest ratings ever this season.”

“Oh. Well. Good for you,” I responded lamely.

“Good for all of us,” Ren added. “Of course, the tension between you and Malachi is testing uber high.”

“Really,” I said drolly. “Who knew my discomfort could be others' entertainment? I'm here to help.”

Completely ignoring my sarcasm, Marcy continued. “Yes. After the first few episodes, the people in the focus group started taking bets on whether you'd end up with Mal or Jordy. Isn't that awesome?”

My brows drew into a frown. Perfect strangers betting on which guy I'd end up with and I hadn't made a move in either direction? Wasn't that even more damn intrusive than before? “Awesome, when does the first episode air?”

“Sunday night. This means that we're going to spend more time focusing on you. You were always the centerpiece of the show, but now you're the crown jewel!” Marcy added.

“Does the crown jewel get a little more privacy and respect?” I asked hopefully.

“Um . . . 'fraid not. Pretty much the same as it is now,” Bliss answered with a twist of her lips.

“Does the crown jewel get an extra check?” I wondered out loud.

“Well . . . actually. That's one of the things we wanted to talk to you about. We're hoping to do some additional footage of you with members of your family, friends, and townspeople. That sort of thing.”

“Uh-huh.” It felt like they were building me up for something so I waited for the other shoe to drop.

“And we are going to want to feature you in some promos. Commercials, ads, things like that. You will get extra money for that.”

“Uh-huh.” Still waiting.

“And we'd like to offer you your own reality show after this one wraps.”

“I beg your pardon?” No. As a matter of fact: Oh hell no.

“Yes, sort of like ‘what's next in the life of Carissa Wayne.' Of course, we'd be thrilled if you ended up with Malachi and that would be extra viewership, but you're fun enough that you'd make a great show all on your own.”

I snorted with laughter. “Doing what? Believe me, when I'm not battling old high school nemeses or sparring with ex-fiancés, my life is not that fascinating. I teach teenagers. I mentor teenagers. I hang around with my friends and family. I sit at home and watch documentaries on the History Channel. I am not sexy. Truly.”

Bliss shook her head. “We disagree. But take some time to think about it. Think of the exposure for you and the community. You don't have to decide right now.”

“All right, then. Thank you. No offense, but I hope not to see you for the next few days.”

“Understood. Have a great long weekend.”

 

 

I fled that production office like the hounds of hell were on my heels. The last damn thing I needed was more exposure. I wanted to lose another twenty or thirty pounds and then slink back into semi-obscurity. I still couldn't understand what it was about me basically bitching and moaning my way through this process that was engaging. But somehow, I had managed to snag the attention of the network. Apparently my pain was everybody else's damn entertainment.

I was tempted to pull a
Gladiator
during the next confessional and hurl a knife at the audience while screaming, “Are you not entertained? Are you not entertained?” Let's see how that plays with the focus group. Shall we?

Giggling to myself, I grabbed my purse, keys, and laptop bag and practically skipped to my car. XJ, Suzette, Niecy, Jordy, and Mal had cleared out the minute the panel was over, so I didn't have to say any good-byes to anyone.

Settling in my one concession to vanity, the Benz, I headed home with a smile. I considered the car to be my “thanks for playing” parting gift. I loved this car. It drove like a dream and never gave me a moment's drama. Unlike its rightful owner.

Speak of the devil. As I pulled into my driveway, I noticed several parked cars, Mal's included. So much for getting some alone time to dance around in my bathrobe sans jiggle worries.

I waltzed in the front door. My mom, Ruby, and Renard were sitting in the long living room on my sectional with Mal, Meshach, and Niecy. Lounging nearby were Pierre and Mal's parents, Henry and Val.

“Hi, everybody,” I called out. “Am I having a party and didn't realize it?” Through the doorway, I saw Sugar, Middle Mike, Tay, and Mac in the kitchen. Something smelled amazing and not the least bit fat free.

“We just wanted a quick get-together to check on you and Mal,” Eloise said.

“So you thought you'd come over and cook things I'm not allowed to eat?” I joked.

Valentine laughed as she got up to give me a hug. “We wouldn't do that to you, baby. Ruby has been working on approved recipes with Hannah and we think we've come up with one or two that you'll like. You look wonderful by the way, dear.” She patted me on the arm.

I glanced down. The dreaded yoga pant tank top outfit wasn't as tight as before, but I still had a long way to go.

“She always looks good,” Meshach said with a smile in his brother's direction. “Isn't that right, Mal?”

Mal's eyes tracked up and down my body. “I wouldn't kick her out of bed. Then again, I never did.”

I gasped. “Malachi Henry! There are parental units in the room!” So embarrassing.

Henry guffawed. “Baby girl, how do you think we became parental units?”

Ruby threw up her hands. “We've entered the oversharing zone.”

“Most definitely,” I agreed and strode into the kitchen. Taylor and Mac were fighting over a large pot of something that bubbled on the stove. As I watched, Tay grabbed the spoon from Mac, he grabbed it back, and when their hands touched, they both froze before pretending like nothing happened. I held back a sigh. Could the two of them fall naked on top of each other already? Sugar was pulling some wheat rolls out of the oven and Middle Mike was stirring up his infamous party punch. No one knew exactly what was in that stuff, but it had five different types of liquor and “mystery” juices. I never attempted more than two small glasses of the stuff at a time.

Mal came in behind me and settled his hands on my shoulders. “What part of this meal are we allowed to eat?”

Taylor grinned. “This is guilt-free étouffée with brown rice and roasted veggies. If you limit yourself to half a wholegrain roll with the butter spread, you're clear. Everything here has been inspected and blessed by your Bod Squad.”

Mac piped up. “By the way, the bod is starting to look right, Cari.”

“How many men in this town are checking out your bod?” Mal asked in an exasperated tone of voice.

I wasn't going there with him. “I have no clue, but no doubt after this first episode airs on Sunday, the number will be going up,” I replied cheekily. “Are we not to speak of the Mal Knight groupies that have started to show up on set?”

Mal shrugged. “I pretend not to notice.”

Pierre walked in. “Speaking of groupies . . . Cari, are you going to tell everybody about the offer you got today?”

I forgot Pierre was my agent too and had obviously already received word of the network's offer. Before this damn show, I hadn't needed or wanted an agent.

Sugar stopped in the process of setting the long table. “Girl, you holding out. What's up?”

I waited for everyone to file into the kitchen before I spoke. “Well, apparently, Malachi and I are a hit.” Pierre sent me a look. “Okay, apparently
I'm
a hit,” I amended. “And the chemistry between me and Mal is an audience draw. They want me to do promotion shoots. Film extra scenes around town with me and all of you fine people.”