Losing to Win (15 page)

 

 

“J
ust follow us and we'll get you out of here,” I screamed over the wind to Jordy and Niecy in the flatbottom swamp boat behind ours. This challenge is what the hell happened when folks who didn't know a damn thing about the swamp tried to do something fun in the swamp. It was supposed to be a ride up a pretty fork in the bayou to an obstacle course and then a race back down the swamp in the boats.

The day started off poorly. I had some business to attend to and then my drills ran late. I had to race over to catch up with everybody. Then we had to give out a few lessons on how to pilot a swamp boat. And then came the weather. No one checked the forecast before sending people out on a body of water? Suzette got violently sick less than a mile out, so she and XJ had turned back. How sad was it that people were actually wishing for seasickness to get out of this challenge?

After arriving at the site, the skies unloaded and there was no way we'd be doing anything on that soggy ground. Standing in a windy tent on swampland waiting for the rain to stop was another on a long list of things from this summer I had no desire to repeat.

The next issue kicked up when the motor went out on Jordy and Niecy's flatboat. We tied it to the back of ours and were trying to get back to the dock before the sun went down. If the bayou was a bad idea in the daytime, it was worse at night.

Carissa was standing beside me; we had two of the crew seated behind us. The rest of the crew took the powerboats and were probably somewhere discussing what a bad idea this turned out to be. As if reading my thoughts, Carissa spoke up. “Someone did not do their research. Whoever dreamed up this challenge needs a severe beat down.”

“At the very least,” I agreed, maneuvering the craft closer to the shoreline.

“You're different,” she said, watching me steer.

“What?” We had to scream at each other to be heard.

She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled into my ear. “I said you've changed!”

I glanced over at her briefly. “Hold that thought a second.” I pulled the boat up and motioned for her and the crew to hop off. They looked overwhelmingly relieved to be back on solid, dry land. I navigated forward so Niecy and Jordy could exit their disabled craft as well. Cutting the engine, I grabbed the rope, jumped to the dock, and secured both vessels. “That will have to do.”

“That was some quick thinking and fancy navigating. Good looking out, Captain.” Niecy smiled at me and I gave her a half-assed salute.

“We're going to ride back with the crew. Carissa, you coming?” Jordan asked.

She shook her head. “You two go on ahead. We'll catch up.”

The four of us looked at each other for a moment before Niecy linked her arm through Jordan's and turned toward the van. “Later, you two.”

By mutual accord, Carissa and I climbed into my car and rode to my rental house in silence. Weird as it sounds, I enjoyed these moments of silent comfort with Carissa as much as I did our more energetic activities. There was something about being able to just chill with someone who really knew you that made all the stresses of the day ebb away.

Probably because of the earlier storm and drama, for once there was no one following us with cameras and we pulled into the garage without incident. We walked through the living room and I paused. “Bath or dinner?”

“Bath, please.”

Those Bisset boys could build the hell out of a bathroom. This one featured a deep and long soaking tub set into a glass-tiled platform wide enough to sit on. I sat on the edge of the tub testing the temperature of the water. Tossing in a few muscle-relaxing salts, I turned toward her.

“I'm not like your father.”

“I know that!” she protested.

Where's that coming from?

“I hope so. I would hate for you to think the men in your life just use you for their convenience. I'm not like that.”

She sent me a soft smile. “Believe me, I know that.”

“Earlier you said that I've changed. What did you mean?”

“I mean, you've changed. We've basically blown a whole day in really uncomfortable conditions and you've been a trooper, a leader even. There was a time when you would've let everyone know how important your time was and how we were all wasting it and how someone was going to have to make it up to you.”

I winced. “I wasn't that bad.”

“Mal, you made our last housekeeper cry because she vacuumed on your day off.”

“I was tired.” A football player usually had only one true day off during the season. Those hours were precious.

“It was two in the afternoon,” she returned wryly, toeing off her socks and shoes before setting them to the side.

“Oh. Well, I could've been more sensitive about a lot of things, I guess.” I kicked my shoes off and watched as she retrieved them and placed them by the bathroom door.

“That's what I'm saying. I think you've matured.” She pulled her shirt off over her head and set it on the counter before wriggling out of her pants.

I tugged my shirt over my head and dropped in on the floor. Interpreting her look, I reached down to pick it up and set it on the counter. Carissa liked things in their place. “When you say matured, that sounds like aging. Maybe I've mellowed.”

“Fine. Mellowed.” She smirked and put her hand on my shoulder. “It's nice to see.”

“Did you think I'd stay the same selfish asshole I always was?” I pulled the drawstring on my shorts and pushed them down with my boxers. I pitched them toward the hamper.

“Who called you that?”

“Just because you didn't use those exact words doesn't mean I didn't take your point, Ms. Wayne. I was selfish, I was thoughtless, I was shallow, I was arrogant, I was greedy, I was shortsighted . . .” I stopped talking when her underwear came off and she slid into the water.

“Keep going, you're on a roll.” She smiled and scooted forward to make room for me.

“Feel free to cut me off and correct me.” I slid in behind her and pulled her up against me. We both leaned back with a sigh.

“I'm too mellow right now. I can see where you've made some improvements. I didn't love you because you were perfect. People always thought I hero-worshipped you, but that wasn't it.”

“What was it?” I handed her a washcloth and a bar of soap.

She started sudsing the cloth. “I saw through all of the other stuff and I liked what I saw. Plus you're easy on the eyes.”

“Ma'am.”

“And you adored me. God, I loved being adored like that.”

I was glad she couldn't see the stunned expression on my face. “You think I quit adoring you?”

“You quit showing me how much you did.”

“I took you for granted. But I'm better now.”

“Are you?” She ran the washcloth along my arm before picking up my hand and toying with my fingers. She rested her palm against mine. Her small hand with pink-tipped nails sat in contrast to my larger one that had a scar across the back and nails that needed trimming.

“I'm starting to get to you, Carissa. You say you see the real me? You tell me. I'm not that guy, right? I'm not still the guy who let you down. You're not still the girl who let me hurt you and then walked away without trying to fix it.”

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and frowned. “This isn't us. We don't talk like this.”

“No, this
wasn't
us. We
didn't
talk like this. But we're here now.”

“I don't know what you want from me. Besides the obvious.”

“Sure you do, you just don't want to talk about it because you're scared.”

She turned to look at me. “Oh yeah? What am I scared of?”

“You're scared you want the exact same thing. You're scared I'm going to hurt you. You're scared of history repeating itself. And you're scared of what comes next.”

She kept her eyes cast downward and maneuvered us until she was straddling my lap. Out of habit, my arms went around her as the water sloshed around us. “You know what I'm scared of right this very minute?”

“What might that be?”

“I'm scared the water will turn cold before I've had my way with you.”

I recognized her stall tactic for what it was. But neither of us were going anywhere for weeks yet; I still had time. “Well, that won't happen,” I reassured her.

“And why's that?” she murmured, draping her arms over my shoulders.

“Built-in heater. The water stays hot as long as it's full.” I licked along the side of her throat before biting down lightly on the pulse beating strongly at the base.

“Remind me to thank the Bissets.”

“I will and I'll also pick this conversation back up where you abandoned it.”

She tilted her head back and met my eyes. “You've definitely changed.”

“For the better, I hope.”

“Time will tell.”

“Indeed.” I covered her lips with mine and soon all conversation became unnecessary.

 

 

“W
ha—?” Niecy grabbed my hand and pulled me down the hallway at a near sprint.

“Come with me.”

“Okay, but slow down; you know that peppy, sadistic Darcy kicked my ass on those squats today and my entire body is screaming.” What I wouldn't give for a spa day and mountain of chocolate right now. Oooo, yes: spa, chocolate, shrimp scampi, and champagne! Champagne sipped off of Malachi's abs, which were coming back to definition in fine form. Mine were still missing in action. I snapped back to the moment at hand as Niecy yanked me into a janitor's closet just down the hall from the confessional.

“I need to talk to you before you go in there,” Niecy whispered urgently.

“Well, all right, then.” I snatched my hand back before she tore my whole arm from the socket. “Why are you whispering?”

“I wouldn't put it past these people to have bugged the mops and brooms up and through here. Ever since they caught Suzette ‘reuniting' with her husband in the indoor sauna? I've been extra paranoid.”

The
Losing to Win
staff were doing the utmost to catch us in ratings-worthy compromising positions. It was a daily chess match between the crew and the contestants. Suzette's husband had come down to visit for the holiday, and instead of staying behind closed doors, they decide to “celebrate” all over Belle Haven. The cameras were rolling the minute they set foot on Havenwood's campus. Why she thought it was a good idea to get naked with her husband in the sauna we used every day was beyond me. The cameras captured that hot mess of a hookup using that eerie green night-vision lighting. Not flattering. I almost felt sorry for Suzette. Right until she had the nerve to go on camera with some story about me trying to steal her man for the last fifteen years. Like really? Jerome Allendale hadn't aged any better than Suzette, and even back in his cute days, he had the personality of a wet walrus stranded on dry land.

But back to Niecy. “Um, is that why you have Meshach climbing up the emergency staircase like Spiderman damn near every night?”

She gasped. “You know about that?”

Six people living within thirty feet of each other had very few secrets. “He climbs into Malachi's room, which is attached to mine, girl.”

“Oh,” she said, chagrined.

“What did you need to talk to me about?”

“Well, along this same subject . . . so you're doing Malachi again, right?”

Like I said: few secrets. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph—can you put it another way?”

“Sorry, Prom Queen. Are you engaged in sexual congress for the purpose of mutual orgasm with Malachi once again?” she singsonged in a teasing voice.

I elbowed her in the side. “Fine, smartass. Yes, I'm doing Malachi. Why?”

“How are you doing it?”

Blinking twice, I had to clarify. “I beg your pardon; do you want an instructional video? PowerPoint slides? An illustrated manual? Kama Sutra checklist? What are you asking me?”

She smacked my arm. “No, silly. I mean, the producers suspect, but as far as I can tell, they don't have you guys on film or microphone yet. So where and how are you getting it on so that it's not ‘film at eleven?'”

“Oh, you mean how logistically.” She'd worried me there for a minute.

“Yes, fool.”

I snickered. “Okay, because I was like—damn, girl, I know it's been a while for you, but it really is like riding a bike. Once you hop back on, it comes to you.”

“Oh. My. Damn. Can you just answer the question so we never have to talk about this again?”

“You brought it up,” I reminded her. “Bathrooms, dressing rooms, and locker rooms are no mic/no camera zones. It was in the fine print of the contract. The only thing is, stay clear of the door and play some music or run some water because they've been known to stand outside the door with the mic.”

She slapped her hands on her hips. “Seriously?”

“Girl, seriously.”

“This is some bullshit.”

“I told you. Also, if you can sneak off campus, Sugar's bed-and-breakfast is all clear if you're not down in the lobby. Our houses aren't wired, but there's no way someone wouldn't notice both of us going into one of those homes, so . . . we've had to get creative.”

“Or you could just stop until filming is over,” she suggested.

A look of pure horror crossed my face. “Girl, what? I'm starving. I'm wearing spandex on camera. I'm sweaty 80 percent of the day and my hair is a frizzy hot mess. They filmed me having high tea with my mother yesterday, for Christ's sake! You think I'm giving up the only guilty pleasure this long-assed summer affords me?”

“That good, huh?” She slid me a look.

“Oh, you know I don't kiss and tell.”

“Carissa, throw me a bone here.”

“You know how Julie Andrews stands and twirls on the mountaintop singing about the hills being alive with the sound of music.”

“Yes.”

“Better than that. My entire body is alive with multiple orgasms.”

“Whew!” She fanned herself. “I suspected he had some moves.”

“He's got moves on top of moves. On top of some more moves after that. It might run in the family, girl. You might wanna get on that Knight train.”

A blush crept up her cheeks. “It couldn't be worse timing, but he is such a nice guy. You've known him forever; what can you tell me?”

“Let me say this. If I had any choice in the matter, I would've fallen for Meshach instead of Mal. If Mal is the bad boy who done good, then Meshach is the good guy who always wants to do better. He's just that rare combination of Southern gentleman, good looks, sweet personality, and something else I can't define.”

“Hotness?” Niecy supplied.

I laughed. “Okay. Anyway, there's not a mean bone is his body, but he is apparently a shark in the courtroom.”

“I might have to send Jordy to Sugar's for the night and sneak Meshach in. Jordy could use a night out anyway; I think you broke the boy's heart.”

I sighed. “I'm actually pretty torn about that. I mean, don't get me wrong; I'm having a hell of a time with Mal. But he's already proven that he's not a forever kind of guy, you know? Jordan has me intrigued. He really shook me up with that kiss. He's got some skills, girl. He surprised the hell out of me. The thing is, he's the kind of guy who sticks, through thick and thin. Mal—well, he didn't stick so well, now did he?”

Niecy shook her head at me. “You truly believe you're with Mal just for the sex?”

“I'm not
with
Mal. I'm having sex with Mal. Period.”

“But you could see yourself with Jordy long term.”

“I think I could. I definitely owe myself the opportunity to find out.”

“You should tell him that.”

“Who?”

“Jordy.”

“I should tell Man B to please wait for me to finish sexing down Man A because I think maybe somehow we can have something real?”

She covered her mouth with her hand and snickered. “Find a better way to say it.”

“Ri-ight. I'll get right on that. When are you giving Meshach the cookies?”

“Girl, cookies?”

“What, we're too grown to say cookies? Cupcakes? When are you serving Mr. Knight your special cupcakes?”

She expelled a deep breath. “As soon as I can find a plate to serve them up on.”

A knock came at the door and we both jumped. Yes, we had forgotten we were hiding out in the janitor's closet.

“Um. Yes?” I asked tentatively.

“Are you two talking about dessert?” Marcy's voice came through the door.

Niecy and I exchanged glances and nodded. Dessert items were far more innocent conversation. Sure, let them think we were talking about sugary treats.

“We miss cupcakes. Well, one of us does,” Niecy answered with a giggle.

“Aren't you supposed to be in the confessional, Carissa?”

With a muffled sigh, I reached for the door and yanked it open. I looked back at Niecy. “I'm heading to the confessional, then I'm shooting promos. No time like the present, girlie. You hear what I'm saying?” This was my clever way of telling Niecy that most of the production staff would be with me for a while if she needed to sneak out to see a certain Knight brother.

“Bless you and good luck in there!” She grinned at me.

 

 

I had become a pro at the confessional. I gave cutesy answers that didn't reveal too much but made great sound bites. I bitched semi-good-naturedly about the workouts and the strict diet. I made sure to mention local businesses and talk up the town and then I wrapped it up. The show was using me, I was using them. I should have suspected that they would up the stakes of the game the minute I thought I had it conquered. But I didn't suspect because I'm just not that damn devious. So I was not prepared when I walked into the confessional and found Jordy already seated there. He looked up and a brilliant smile crossed his handsome features. “Hey, girl.”

I smiled back. “Hey yourself, good looking.” I couldn't help flirting a little. He was looking good. Though he hadn't shed a lot of pounds, he had flattened a lot of that belly and replaced fat with muscle. His face had started to chisel out around his jaw. If Mal was starting to look like a combination of a muscular Idris/Denzel, Jordan was starting to look like a Boris Kodjoe/Shemar Moore combination. I slid onto the sofa next to him. I glanced at the cameras before meeting Jordan's eyes. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“The pleasure's entirely mine.” Jordan put his arm around me for a quick squeeze before we settled in to await whatever the production team had up their sleeve this time.

“We thought we'd shake things up a bit, mix up contestants in the confessional,” Marcy announced from behind the lights. “You ready to get started?”

“Sure.” I shrugged, anticipating some hot mess.

“Jordan, you and Carissa shared a kind of heated moment a few weeks back. Where does your relationship stand today?”

You would think I would be used to it by now, but I wasn't. I just never got comfortable with people being all up in my business and thinking it was okay. These folks were just gangsta. There was nothing sacred here. You couldn't show them the slightest bit of weakness or scandal because they would exploit the hell out of it for all the world (or the reality TV–watching public) to see. After seeing how they took comments out of context and spliced scenes together to make them look like something they weren't, we had all learned to be extra cautious.

Jordan reached over and squeezed my hand. “Carissa and I have been friends for years and we continue to be.”

“But don't you want more?”

“I think the important thing is that Carissa and I know where we stand with each other and we're okay with it.”

“Are you okay with it, Jordy?” she pressed.

“I'm not a child. If I want something, when I want something, I'll ask for it,” Jordan answered with some steel in his voice.

“Carissa, how does Mal react to the closeness you have with Jordan?”

I was tempted to say “none of your damn business” or “how Mal reacts is not my concern,” but I knew that would only add fuel to the fire. So I smirked and said, “You really have to ask Mal how he feels about things. I wouldn't dare speak for him.”

Sensing that was as far as they could take it, Marcy switched gears and started asking us about the competition and how we were feeling. We gave our customary wow-this-is-hard-but-sure-gonna-be-worth-it-in-the-end answers and they cut us loose.

Jordan and I escaped into the hallway and walked silently to the elevator. “Can we talk a minute?” he asked as the doors slid open. He gestured for me to enter ahead of him. Stepping inside, he leaned next to me against the side wall and pushed the button for the first floor.

“Not here.” I shook my head and gestured toward the camera.

He tilted his head down near my ear and spoke quietly. “Should I not stand so close?”

I didn't want to play games with him, but I didn't want to discourage him either. I liked Jordan and was genuinely interested in him. But the timing was terrible. I'd just started something back up with Mal. Yes, it was super-incredible sex, but I'd be lying to myself if I said that's all it was. Not with our history. When it ended this time, and I was sure it would end, I wasn't going to be broken with nowhere to land. If that made me selfish, so be it, but I was going to play it straight all the way around and let the chips fall where they may. I looked up at him through my lashes. “Who's pushing you away?”

“Rissa, am I in danger of getting my ass kicked here?”

“For talking to me?”

His voice went low and sultry. “You know I want to do more than talk to you, Carissa.”

I flicked a glance at the cameras and inched a little closer. “I know. The interest is mutual. I'm not averse to the idea of exploring our affiliation further. But the timing . . .”

“I'm always one step behind that damn Malachi, aren't I?”

I reached out to stroke his arm. “It's not about him.”

“C'mon, now,” he chided.

“Okay, not
all
about him. Will you do something for me if I ask?”

“Just about anything.”

“Give me a little time.”