Page 7 of The Charm Offensive
“Ladies!” he greets as he slides inside. “How’s it going in here?”
They’ve all had another two hours’ worth of limo champagne fed to them by their new handler, Kennedy, who looks slightly shell-shocked by their sudden, unexpected promotion. The women hoot and holler in response. They seem to be in the middle of a dance party. Dev briefly mourns the fact that he’s not going to be spending the next nine weeks with these amazing women. “Sorry I abandoned y’all, but they’ve got me working with your Prince Charming. He’s a little bit nervous about meeting so many beautiful women.”
A collectiveawwripples through the limo.Perfect.“I think he needs y’all to help him loosen up.”
Dev turns to Angie Griffin, the medical student, and the next woman out of the carriage. Angie has a beautiful, heart-shaped faceframed by a pretty Afro and bearing a mischievous smile, which suggests she’s the perfect candidate for loosening up their tech nerd.
“Here’s what I’m thinking: Angie, what if you go out there and get him dancing a little bit?” Dev shimmies his shoulders demonstratively.
Angie appears to weigh the risk of potential humiliation on national television against the thrill of dancing with Charles Winshaw and slams back the rest of her limo champagne. “Let’s do it!” she says excitedly, and Dev knows it will be perfect. That part is done.
He climbs back out of the limo and jogs back to Charles for part two.
“I’m going to touch you again,” Dev warns, and good Lord—Charlesblushesas Dev reaches up and adjusts his blond curls beneath the crown. Dev can’t imagine how he’s going to survive nine weeks of being groped by the women. “Okay. I need you to turn it on now.”
“Turn it on?” Charles repeats each word slowly, turning them over on his tongue. Dev watches his mouth puzzle it out, watches him press his tongue against the back of his very white, very straight teeth. Dev gently reminds himself to stop staring at this man’s mouth.
“Yes. Become the cologne ad guy. Whatever you used to do when you had to perform in front of crowds at WinHan.Turn it on.”
The expression on Charles’s face would be comical if it weren’t so thoroughly pathetic, and if this man weren’t at risk of ruining their entire show. “You can do this,” Dev says without evidence or proof that he can. But he’s good at putting faith in things other people are quick to dismiss. “I believe in you.”
Dev slides back out of the cameras’ view.
When Angie comes out of the carriage a few minutes later, she sambas over to him, and Charles doesn’t look repulsed when he sees her. He lets Angie put her hands on his hips and tango him around the courtyard, and he smiles genuinely for the cameras. It’s reality television gold. Skylar sounds pleased in Dev’s earpiece.
After that, Charles relaxes more with each woman he meets. When the contestants make bold choices for their entrances, like coming out in a kangaroo costume because they’re Australian or wearing a pregnant belly because they want to be the mother of his children, he takes it all in stride. He makes it through all twenty carriage exits without vomiting again, and everyone is impressed with Dev’s coaching, because apparently that is where they’ve set the bar.
“You’re doing fucking spectacular!” Dev tells him as the cameras get ready to move inside for Charles’s welcome speech to the gathered women. Charles blushes and smiles down at his feet in response, like this is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to him.
Dev temporarily worries thisisthe nicest thing anyone has ever said to Charles Winshaw. He swoops in to adjust Charles’s hair. “So, based on first impressions, which of the women would you describe as your type?”
Charles arches away from Dev’s fingers. “Uh, none?”
Annoyance spikes in Dev’s chest. “What about Daphne? You’re both shy and a little… awkward.”
“Which one was Daphne, again?”
“Blue dress. First out of the carriage. We filmed the scenefive times.”
“Oh… I…” End of sentence.
A camerawoman is nearby, and Dev lowers his voice. “I can’t coach you if I don’t know what you’re looking for in a partner.”
In response, Charles does an elegant sidestep that almost ends with him facedown in a succulent. “A partner? With a womanhere? B-but… I mean, I’m not. That’s not why I… But this show isfake.”
The crackle of annoyance shifts to a full-blown wildfire inside Dev’s stomach. “What do you mean,fake?”
His eyebrows are scrunched in confusion. “I mean, the show—it’s not really aboutlove.”
Charles Winshaw is standing in front of him, but all Dev can see is Ryan six years ago when Dev first joined the crew, fresh out of USC. Ryan Parker: leather jacket, dark hair falling in front of his eyes, apathy perfected. “This show isn’t really about love,”Ryan said as he gave Dev a tour of the castle. “We aren’t here to help people find happily ever after. We’re here to help Maureen Scott make interesting television.”
And Dev was already so smitten—with Ryan and with this show and with the idea of being behind the cameras, making the stories come to life—all he’d said in response was, “There’s nothing more interesting than love.”
Ryan never misled him. Dev can give him credit for that, even now. From their first night together, Ryan told him he didn’t believe in soul mates or fairy tales or loving one person forever. Dev willingly threw away six years on a man who told him from the beginning exactly how their love story would end.
Now Dev is going to throw away nine weeks on another man who thinks this show is fake. He’s about to fly around the world with a man who isn’t here for love; he’s about to spend everywaking minute next to a man who is clearly only here to use the romantic expectations of twenty women for his own selfish needs.
On this show, in this world, happily ever after is supposed to be a guarantee.
