My Bachelor (4 page)

Chapter 5

Eliot

I held the
heavy damask curtains leading out to the patio as Jackson tied them off with a decorative gold cord. He’d done a beautiful job hanging crystal colored lights and arranging candles to highlight the food table, the fountain and the cushioned seating area where the bachelor would sit to have his first chat with each of the contestants. The first and final nights were the only parts of the show that were live. Kiley, the producer, had come up with the brilliant idea just before the fourth season. She wanted to give viewers a real glimpse of the first meeting between bachelor and bachelorettes. Of course there was a slight delay in case someone felt compelled to do something that would get us pulled off prime time. The fans loved the live meet and greet. They’d even created a ‘love at first sight’ chat room where they discussed any early sparks. The live show had gone so well, the producers had decided to make the final show, the kiss and proposal, live as well. The fans loved being able to see the whole thing uncut and in the moment.

“You did a spectacular job out here, Jackson. I think you’ve found your calling.”

“Thanks, sweetie. I only wish it didn’t mean that you had to be moved out of the social media office. Tricia is still in a snit about the whole thing. Can’t blame her.” Jackson adjusted the ends of the gold cord so that the tassels were perfectly even and then turned to me and lowered his voice. “So, how is Mr. Spectacular? Is he likable or is he like all the others, a typically shallow boob who is looking for his fifteen minutes of fame?”

“He’s not a boob or shallow, and I have to say, he seems likable. But I don’t think he came here looking for a wife. Something tells me there is no shortage of women in his life.” I decided not to mention the bet to Jackson. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize my job. Georgie’s tuition was due next month, and I was still a few hundred dollars short. I was hoping for a few good nights of tips at Sparky’s to make up the difference, but my job with the network was the main meat of my income. Without it, my life would come crashing down around me.

Jackson glanced around to make sure no one was in ear shot. “Well, I went out to lunch with Nicholas, the new guy in hair and makeup. He is a talker.” Jackson winked conspiratorially. “Sounds like we’ve got an interesting bunch up there in that house. Of course, there’s the usual nutty-butter bars, who the casting director picked just to stir things up, but he said there’s a lawyer, a med student and a lingerie model who are serious competitors, all seemingly here to find a rich, handsome husband and all worthy of landing our dreamy bachelor. They are at the top of the betting pool already, and we haven’t even started filming.”

Normally, I would have been entertained with what Jackson was telling me. A good competition always made for an interesting show and good ratings but hearing about the amazing women who would be competing for Rafe’s admiration left me feeling deflated and a little jealous.

Jackson seemed to notice that his comments had taken the wind out of me. “Uh oh, are you already having problems with your new position? Just try and relax, and if he gets to be too big of an asshole, just remind yourself it’s only a six week job and then you won’t ever have to see him again. Is he already being demanding?” Jackson asked so enthusiastically the tiny diamond stud in his eyebrow twinkled in the candle light.

“No, he’s a perfectly nice man so far.”

“Oh.” Jackson made no attempt to hide his disappointment. “Figures this would be the season they take me out of the bachelor’s house.” He looked around. “But at least I get to participate in the betting pool this year. As bachelor’s assistant, you won’t be allowed to put your money on anyone.”

“And why exactly is that?”

“Please, honey, you’re the bachelor’s wingman this year. He might be asking advice on the women, so be ready for that.”

“Great. Wingman. Just what I always wanted to be.” I startled when my pager beeped. I reached under my shirt and pulled it off my jeans. “Almost forgot I was wearing this. Guess that’s my cue to go pick up the star of the show. I’ll see you later.”

I walked out to the parking spot in the back of the studio that had been designated for the golf cart. The women were driven around in silver SUVs, but the studio had found it saved money and time transporting the lone bachelor back and forth in a golf cart. 

The parking lot was empty as I climbed into the cart. Headlights flashed overhead like the giant studio lights they used to announce opening night at a play or movie. The three SUVs were making their way down the narrow, winding road to the studio. Soon Rafe would get his first look at the twenty stunning women competing for his attention. And I’d fade further into the woodwork. I couldn’t remember exactly when I’d decided to disappear and not care about being seen or turning a head. Even though I remembered the day my life had changed dramatically, down to the last horrifying detail, I couldn’t remember the exact moment when I’d decided I wasn’t worthy of being looked at or even admired. I’d never cared much about this night, when the bachelor met the contestants, but tonight, I was feeling as if my heart had been turned into a heavy slab of clay. I had no idea why except that this time I would be much closer and friendlier with the bachelor than I ever had been in the past. I supposed I was just taking a personal interest in his time on the set. He seemed like a decent man who deserved to be happy. Of course, I could’ve been completely wrong. It was more than possible that by the end of the show, he would be just as unlikable, conceited and jerkish as some of the other bachelors.

I stopped at the exit gate and waited for the parade of silver cars to roll past. The windows were tinted dark, but I didn’t need to see inside the cars to know that they were filled with glamorous and giddy women. For many, it would be their first time in front of television cameras. They all knew that for the next six weeks, millions of people would be watching them and reading everything about them on social media. It seemed like a big hassle to go through just to meet the right man. And nineteen would walk away from here without even that. I sighed thinking about the lucky one who would be walking off set on the last day, hand in hand with Rafe, her finger wrapped in a diamond ring. And then there was the kiss, the event the show was named after. I didn’t have to actually experience it to know with great confidence that Rafe was an excellent kisser. He just had that highly skilled kisser aura surrounding him.

I put the cart in gear and headed up the road. It had been a long eleven hour day. The first day of filming was always infinitely long. The meet and greet party was filmed at night, and the crew was expected to work overtime. I never minded because I needed the money.

I reached the massive entrance gates to the estate and pushed the button on the remote. They swung open in their usual grand fashion. The cart chugged through and puttered up the steep driveway. Sadly, the golf cart had more power than my real car. In fact, I wondered if Henry could even make it to the top without dying.

The front door of the house swung open before I’d turned off the motor. I got out and walked up the steps. The door was open but I knocked.

“Come in, Eliot. I need help with the tie.” Rafe emerged from the hallway. I inadvertently gripped the edge of the front door to steady myself. It was just a suit and tie, but somehow, he gave a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘cleaned up nicely’.

Rafe dropped his chin and fidgeted with the necktie. “I don’t usually wear one of these nooses around my neck. Shit, I’m making a mess of it.” He looked at me and held out his hands.

“Helpless is not a good look for the newest bachelor. Besides, it really doesn’t work with the rest of you.” I stepped forward. “Lucky for you, I used to help my dad with his tie before work.” I could feel his warm gaze on my face as I concentrated on my task. Without warning, he reached up and pushed curly Jack off my forehead. I quickly told myself to ignore the sensations his light touch sent through my entire body.

“I’ve spent my whole life dealing with that rogue curl. Sometimes I think it has a mind of its own. Once, I cut it off, but it just left me with a stub of hair right in the center of my forehead.” I steadied my hands and concentrated on the tie, also trying to ignore the fact that his soapy scent and aftershave were already becoming a bit too familiar and way too pleasant.

“Why would you cut off something that makes you different? I like it. I already think of that curl when I think of you.”

I peered up at him but had no idea how to respond. I couldn’t imagine why or how the man could possibly come to think of me at all but then I reminded myself that I was his assistant and the person on the other end of his pager. I had to stop reading so much into his words. He was obviously blessed with the skill of knowing just what to say. Most people kidded me about the stray curl, yet somehow, he’d made it an important part of me.

I patted the finished tie. He lifted his chin as I straightened his shirt collar. For a fleeting moment, I imagined myself fixing the shirt of my incredibly amazing husband. The image dissolved quickly. I had no time in my life for dreams or amazing men.

I stepped back to admire my handiwork but couldn’t help staring at the man behind the tie. Rafe had pulled his long hair back off his face, but he’d left a good deal of black beard stubble on his finely chiseled jaw. Something told me the director had asked him to keep the five o’clock shadow. I was sure Doug knew exactly what a gold mine he had this season. And it was wrapped in a six-foot plus package that was going to have sponsors clamoring for air time.

Rafe dropped his black lashes to stare down at the tie. “Nice job. What does your dad do that he has to wear a tie for work?”

It wasn’t a question I’d expected. “He used to sell construction equipment, tools and safety gear. He died of cancer when I was in my last year of high school.”

“I’m sorry.” I’d had dozens of people give the same response when I told them about my dad, but he managed to make me believe that he truly was sorry to hear it. It was rare for me to ever continue on about my dad, but there was something about Rafe that made me want to just talk about things, things that I’d never told other people.

I picked the coat up from the couch and handed it to him. “He’d been really sick for a good six months before he broke the news to us. At the time of his diagnosis, he’d been told he had less than a year and that there wasn’t much that could be done. He just suffered quietly, stoically, bravely.” I took a deep breath and was sure I’d already bored Rafe with my story. But as I peered up, I saw that his gaze was riveted on me. He was listening. The man was about to be in front of cameras and the entire country, and soon he’d be judged and scrutinized by millions of Sealed with a Kiss fans, but he was standing calmly in front of me, listening to every word.

A quiet laugh fell from my mouth. “My mom, God love her, is a first class, textbook hypochondriac. She’s had every disease in the book. Or at least she thinks so. She was always complaining about aches and pains and dragging herself to the doctor’s office. And there was my dad, silently dying. I’ll never forgive myself for not realizing that he was losing too much weight or that he was sleeping all the time. I was in my last year of high school and couldn’t be bothered to notice.” I swallowed hard to keep myself together. And all the while, Rafe listened. “Anyhow—” I took a deep breath. “I’ve never said that out loud before.”

“You know high school, El, it’s that time in everyone’s life where the world is centered around them. And it sounds as if he was pretty good at hiding the pain. I guess that’s why you’re thinking about going into cancer research.”

I nodded and took a deep breath to get past an emotional few minutes that I hadn’t planned or expected. “Someone needs to find a damn cure. Might as well be me.”

“I agree, and I’ll be rooting for you.”

“Thanks. Now, it’s time for me to deliver the leading man to the television set.” I dusted invisible specks off the lapel of his coat. “How are you feeling?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I spent the last few hours asking myself how the hell I managed to get talked into this.”

“Huh, not the answer I was expecting. Nervous, jittery, excited maybe, but not that. If it’s any consolation, I’ve heard there are some stunning women waiting to meet you.”

“That helps. I do like stunning women.” He held out his hands. “Do I look presentable?”

I rolled my eyes at the question and motioned toward the door. “Your chariot awaits.” I looked back at him. “I just hope you don’t tip it over.”

***

The hurried frenzy that always took over the set when filming was about to start greeted us as we walked in from the parking lot. Doug rushed over. “Christ, Eliot, what the hell took you so long?”

“My fault,” Rafe said quickly. He pressed his hand against his stomach. “A case of nerves. Might not have come down that hill without my assistant’s encouragement.” He winked my direction just before being dragged away. Every head on the set turned to watch as Rafe was led through to the front steps where he would greet each woman as they arrived in a special horse-drawn carriage. If not for the dozens of crew members, cameras and bright lights, it could’ve almost been considered romantic.  

With my main task for the evening, getting the bachelor safe and sound to the set, completed, it was close to quitting time for me. I hopped into the golf cart and drove the half mile to the offices and break room. I’d hardly stopped to eat all day, and my head was starting to throb from hunger.

A few people lingered in the office building but most had either gone home or to the set to watch the first night of filming. It was hard to know how entertaining or dramatic it would turn out to be. It always depended on the contestants and the bachelor. From what I could tell, this season’s bachelor was calm, cool and smooth. It would be left to the women to stir things up. The producers never came right out to admit it, but I knew that after many interviews and even a psychologist’s screening, they made sure to pick women who were certain to be catalysts for
drama
, a synonym for good television. If things went along swimmingly, the ratings would tank and the show would be in danger of losing its coveted prime time slot.

I walked through the corridor and noticed a light coming from my old office. Tricia would be expected to work late tonight to keep up with Facebook and Twitter and the various social media outlets that would be lit up with posts from the show’s fans. I’d seen Tricia several times throughout the work day. Her plumped-up lips had attempted to twist into an angry knot at the sight of me, so I decided to avoid her completely.

I was relieved to find an empty break room. The trash can was overflowing from the long day, and the remnant odors of various lunches being heated in the microwave lingered in the room.

I walked to my locker, my new mini office, where I’d placed a box of granola bars and a water bottle. As I reached inside for the bars, the envelope slipped out and fell to the floor. I plucked out a granola bar and picked up the envelope. Normally, I kept my phone with me in case my mom or Georgie needed me, but today it had just been too much of a hassle to carry around. I held my breath as I pulled it out, hoping I hadn’t missed something important. Aside from a few texts from Jackson and a message from Simone that the electric bill was overdue, there was nothing urgent. My mom had apparently calmed down about the prospect of dementia.I pulled out a chair and sat at a table. The noise on the set had fallen to a hush and the only sound was the clatter of horse hooves on asphalt. The first contestant was arriving. I should have been there watching like the rest of the crew. Especially if I was to be Rafe’s wingman and advisor if needed. That thought made my stomach tighten into a knot. First, I was safe, and now, I was a wingman. Depressing. I really had to applaud myself for, as Jackson liked to tell me, working so hard to be un-pretty. My questionable best friend had come up with the term just for me, not to be mean but to gently prod me into rethinking my social life, or lack thereof.

I placed the envelope on the table, only to realize, too late, it was covered with a layer of sticky stuff. I picked it up and left half of the dark yellow envelope on the table. “Bunch of slobs,” I muttered as I pulled out the contents. Deciding the damage had already been done, I laid the envelope back over the sticky shreds stuck to the table. I placed the stack of papers on top of it and ripped open my granola bar package.