The Detective and Her Bachelor

Chapter 7

Reality Television is a glamorous lie. A lie where the chosen storyteller cuts things together that were never said, showcases reactions that were never given, and plays emotional music that fills awkward silences with nonexistent tension. It paints people at their best and worst while wrapping it all into a bow that convinces viewers to believe every single moment to be true. I mean, after all, it's called reality television for a reason, right?

And I was about to step head first into the glamorous lie, determined to find the hidden truths beneath all the illusion. Because that's who I was. Someone who could spot a liar. But where do you even start when everyone you meet is lying? When everyone is pretending to be the best version of themselves with nothing to hide?

I was ushered into an enormous foyer that glistened in the afternoon sun Stretching long shadows across the two sets of stairs that wove up onto a second story that overlooked the first. A dozen women stood on the balcony, staring down at me with their appraising eyes. The contestants. 

The look they gave was all too familiar. The same look that most girls gave in high school when they meet someone new. That quick full-body scan, assessing for weaknesses or flaws. And there it was, repeated across every face. A dozen glitzy terminators scanned me in unison, trying to decide if I was a threat.

Ladies, you can have him. I really don't care, I thought as I adjusted my beat-up duffel bag over my shoulder and moved towards the stairs.

"We have a luggage carrier who would be happy to take your bags for you," the Clipboard Woman murmured.

I offered her a grin. "Nah. I got it." Then I hiked up my sparkly green dress in the most unladylike way, and climbed the stairs, watching every woman on the balcony smile that fake cold smile that told me everything I needed to know.

I had failed the threat test. They felt safe with me around because there was no way, this unladylike chick was taking their Single Stud away. 

Good, fight amongst yourselves. 

I shot them a salute as I reached the top of the stairs, and walked down the hall to my assigned room, trying to ignore the way they erupted into cold laughs. Laughs that were similar to the ones I grew up with, adding to the collection of sounds that still haunted my dreams.

To say the room I had been assigned was fancy would be an understatement. It was lavish to a disgusting level. Like a monarch had thrown up in the room and used it as inspiration.

The Victorian cherry oak four-poster bed could easily fit five people and sat against a wall covered in baby pink flower wallpaper.

A large vanity mirror sat against the opposite wall next to a wardrobe that had already been filled with clothes Allie had picked out for me. A large two-door window sat against the far wall, with a reading bench attached to the window sill, covered in deep green upholstery. Sheer dark green curtains hung on either side of the window, flapping gently in the breeze from the open window. 

I had just managed to sit down on the bed, trying to wrap my head around the fact that I very clearly did not belong in a place like this, and needed to find a way to make it less obvious, when the clipboard lady knocked and came in unannounced.

Yeah, we aren't going to be friends if you just walk into rooms like that, lady. 

Without waiting for an invitation, she walked over to me and held out a schedule. "We have our meet and greet in five minutes. First, the girls get a chance to chat with each other."