Page 23 of House of Desire

There was no way I was giving into that request.

“Ladies, you have all drawn numbers. This will determine your opponent. One will play two, three will play four, and so on,” Olivia says as she points to the whiteboard with the bracket taped to it, all of our names written down.

The twenty-eight-year-old fashion designer was bored and decided an elimination style ping pong tournament would be a great way to pass some time. All of us are thrilled except for Victoria, Meghan Markle’s lookalike. When we are not doing individual diary style interviews, most of us enjoy the various available games. The attorney, however, has decided to be the referee and make sure all rules are followed despite it giving us uneven numbers since Amber was eliminated the other night.

“Numbers one and two, please step up to the table,” Victoria instructs.

I walk up, picking my paddle up off the table. As number two, I am playing Jasmine, our resident wildlife photographer. Her face is flushed with excitement as she steps up to the table opposite me.

“You’re going down, Anya!” she taunts. The first few days, I received some cold shoulders after being the recipient of Parker’s attention that first night. Thankfully, being together all day and night warmed them to me quickly enough.

“We’ll just have to see about that!”

We play a quick round of rock, paper, scissors to determine who serves first. Anticipating Jasmine is a paper first kind of girl, I throw scissors and win.

She sways back and forth like she’s waiting for the opening serve at Wimbledon from Venus Williams. Not letting her get into my head, I knock the little white ball over the net and into the rectangle opposite me. She returns it and the ball spins away.

My mouth drops open while I stare at her. Her predatory smile lets me know exactly how much I underestimated this cat loving woman.

“Point,” Victoria calls out.

“What the hell? Are you some sort of ping pong prodigy or something?” I ask Jasmine.

“No. But it was one of my brother’s favorite things to play growing up. He didn’t have anyone else to play against.”

I just look at her.

She shrugs. “I got tired of losing.”

Now that was something I understood. I always hated losing to Dominic. He was the worst. Not only was he a sore loser, he was a sore winner! If I won, he would whine and cry, but if he won? You’d think he cured cancer, solved world hunger, and reversed global warming. “I would have stopped playing with him.”

“That wasn’t an option. He did go to the Olympics one year and medaled so I like to say it’s all because of me.”

“You have got to be shitting me. I feel like I deserve a redo against someone else,” I say, exasperated and ready to have my ass beat.

“No. No redos. You knew the rules when you agreed,” Victoria says from her judge’s chair.

Jasmine serves the ball right past me and I groan. Luckily, she decides not to toy with me, quickly racking up point after point. Saying she won removes the flavor of how badly I lost.

She decimated me.

The paddle clatters against the table as Victoria stands, drawing a line through my name and advancing Jasmine’s. I slump down into the empty chair next to Zoey while Aisha and Emily get up to play the next game.

“Sorry you lost,” Zoey says as the girls play their quick game of rock, paper, scissors.

“It’s okay. I have a feeling a few more people are going to lose to her, too. It always feels better to lose to the one who wins the championship.”

The door to the rec room opens and the butler, Sam, walks in carrying a silver platter with a dome on it. Aisha’s return volley is completely ignored, Emily staring at the man.

“Excuse me, ladies. I have a card for Ms. Lucy Swan,” he says, his free hand tucked behind his back as he offers the country singer the card.

Lucy stands from her chair squealing, rips open the card under the silver dome in the butler’s hand, and clears her throat as we all gather around.

“Lucy, the night is singing its sweet song for us. Please pick five other women and get ready for our group date in one hour.”

We all wait for who she’s going to pick.

“Um. Let’s see. Izzy, Emily, Mia, Leslie.” She looks around at the rest of us. Weighing us all. “Anya.”

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