Page 24 of House of Desire

The others who are picked squeal, while those who weren’t grumble. Not only will they not get to see Parker, they’ll be stuck at the house for the entire day. The butler produces another card for them as those of us picked run from the room to get ready.

I pull out the bands holding my hair and look at my disheveled appearance, nervous to see Parker again. Not sure what to do with the strands, I throw it up into a bun for the time being and make my way to the bathroom to shower. After a quick rinse, I rub my favorite lotion into my skin, making sure I smell of warm vanilla and tonka bean for the date.

The dressing room is awash in activity. Every woman has their own vanity with a lighted mirror as well as a closet and dresser. My face is dewy from my shower so I slather on various serums, trying to keep it that way. One benefit of Lorelei’s friendship has been learning about fabulous products she recommends. In anticipation of the hot night, and not wanting to look like I’m melting, I apply minimalist makeup. A makeup artist friend of Lorelei’s taught me how to highlight my eyes, cheeks, and lips in a way that makes it look as though I’ve put in a ton of effort without weighing down my face in layers.

“I’m going to put some texturizer in your hair. Lean into the waves the braids gave you,” Zoey says as I finish lining my eyes.

“If you make me look stupid, I’ll shave your head in your sleep,” I warn.

“Please, like I’ve never had a shaved head before. And I rocked it, FYI.”

The disembodied voice of a production member floats out of the house-wide speaker system, announcing we have ten minutes to be at the entrance of the mansion for our date. Izzy squeaks with stress as she tries to untangle her bracelet that has somehow attached itself to her curls. One of the other girls assists her, but she quickly slaps them away. They seem to be doing more harm than good, so I can't say I blame her.

Zoey deems my hair finished, and I move to the closet in my towel. I grab my white midi halter dress, espadrilles, and a few pieces of gold jewelry, aiming for the understated and sweet look.

“Olivia, can I borrow your black dress?” Lucy asks, grabbing the garment and holding it up to herself.

As a fashion designer, Olivia’s clothes are perfectly tailored to her body. While they will fit others, you can tell they weren’t made to do so. It also doesn’t help Olivia has about four inches on Lucy.

“Sweetie, are you sure you don’t want to wear something else?” Olivia asks. “That dress won’t really hit you in a good spot. It's meant to be above the knee. And for bigger boobs.” She whispers the last bit, but since I’m the only one close to her, I don’t think anyone else hears.

“No, I think it’s gorgeous! Plus, I hate everything I brought with me,” Lucy says.

Shrugging, Olivia turns away and looks through her closet, planning her outfit for the group date for the other girls tomorrow. While production made it clear everyone will get a chance to see Parker each week, everyone wants to be on the first one. To be picked instead of left for the second date.

“Everyone to the entrance, please,” the voice says over the speaker.

Everyone takes a final look and then moves to the front of the house. Only six of us are going on the date tonight, yet everyone is expected to come to the front of the house, with the ones left behind waving us away. It seems silly to me, but there’s not much we can do about it.

Lucy climbs into the limo first while I say goodbye to Zoey.

There are a few camera people moving around us as we get into the limo, capturing the various angles as well as the other women being left behind.

“This isn’t fair!” Victoria cries, stamping her foot. The cameras swing to her, focusing on her anger.

“Not everyone is going to go on every date. You knew that,” Leslie says before she climbs into the limo.

“I should be going. He’ll want to see me!” Tears start streaming down her face and I know this will be airing, their goal to create the most dramatic show possible.

I climb into the car, the reality I’m dating the same man as thirteen other people hitting me. I want to see Parker. The man is extremely attractive and seems very charming, but a part of me wonders how much is for the cameras and how much of it is him. So far, I’ve not seen or talked to him when cameras weren’t around. Lorelei promised he’s a great guy, and I trust her, but I think of Miles and how he seemed like a great guy. Kind and attentive.

Who’s to say that the person I’m meeting is the person that any of us are deep down inside? With the cameras there, everyone is going to try to present their best selves, me included.

Taking care to smooth out my dress as I sit down so I’m not a wrinkled mess when we arrive at the date, I slide into the limo, taking the seat next to Lucy.

“What do you think we are doing?” Leslie asks the group, smoothing down her pin straight hair.

“The card was sent to Lucy and mentioned singing. We are going to do some sort of karaoke or something,” I say.

The other girls explode into conversation.

“If we have to stand in front of people and sing, I might quit on the spot,” Leslie says and I nod my head in agreement.

There are few things I would rather do less than sing on national television.

The limo door swings open, giving me a peek at Parker standing there with cameras all around him before Lucy’s butt blocks my view while she climbs from the car.

Nerves hit me as it’s my turn to exit, counting to five like production told us before we left the house, and I pray to anyone who can hear me I won’t face plant again. Walking across the pavement, everyone stands and watches me. Parker’s green eyes feel heavy on my skin, but it’s a weight I enjoy, unlike the cameras.

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