PleasureGames: A Games Novella (2 page)

"
I
s this sneaky
? Sure. Do I give a shit? No."
-- Heathcliff Forester, the Billionaire Bachelor, Pre-Show Interview

I
t turned
out that both Leona and I were 'exactly what the producers were looking for'. We were both selected to be on the show, along with twenty-eight other women. After a flurry of paperwork and meetings with the network lawyers, a cringeworthy physical, and then a series of measurements sent off with instructions not to gain or lose weight prior to the show, as wardrobe would be provided for me.

Two weeks later, Leona and I arrived at the airport and flew to Miami, Florida. From there, we transferred onto the chartered plane heading out to Eden. Leona and I were the only two on the plane other than the chirpy pilot, Joely. Leona and Joely chatted while I poked through my sketchbook. In between drawings, I'd written notes about Eden and was refreshing myself on them before we landed. I'd done a bit of research on the place, though, admittedly, there wasn't much to be found online. Eden was owned by a man who preferred to remain anonymous to the public. It was located in the Bahamas, in the Bermuda Triangle, so there were lots of speculations online about weird happenings. There was also a big, fancy castle-esque exclusive resort and it was known for being romantic. I supposed that was why they'd selected it for the show. I peered out the window just as we flew over an enormous bronze plaque jutting out of the water.

Welcome to Eden, where reality is whatever you wish it to be...

Ironic, considering I was showing up for a reality TV show. Here I was, trying to escape my own reality of debt, debt, and oh yes, debt. I'd take a slice of un-reality at the moment.

We flew over the island, circling, and it took my breath away at its beauty. A narrow strip of white sandy beaches surrounded what looked like a castle that had been piled atop itself. It was as if there was more castle than island, so it had been squished and compacted into every available bit of space, and the result was like a layer cake that spiraled downward from a tall, central tower down to a thick stone wall edged around the sides of the castle. Wow. It looked like something out of a fairy tale. My artistic brain immediately began to wonder if I could recreate something similar out of glass. Fairy tale blown glass castles? Not a bad idea for next year's faire.

I sketched the island in my idea book as the plane came in for a landing.

"Here we go, ladies," Joely called. "Have fun during your stay!"

I put away my notebook and got my things together, and then Leona and I made our way out of the tiny plane with Joely's help.

We'd landed on the water next to a long, stretching wooden pier, with Joely's plane floating at the end of the dock. Men in tuxedos immediately moved forward to take our bags, and Leona gave a happy shiver of delight and hugged my arm, clearly excited about the pomp.

"Leona Silverton and Juno Ashmore?" A small man with glasses and a clipboard said as the others took our bags away. "I'm with the network. Come with me and we'll check you in, all right? You're our last arrivals and the first event starts tonight, so we don't have any time to waste."

The afternoon was a flurry of preparations. We barely even got a chance to look at the room we were sharing before we were whisked off to hair and makeup. Wardrobe gave us one last fitting and then showed me what I was going to be wearing that night. I was dismayed to see that it was a Grecian-style gown with a high waist, lots of delicate pleats, and a pale, pure white. I was going to stick out like a sore thumb. Leona's dress was similar, but in a dusky pink that would complement her angelic coloring. "Everyone's going to have a themed dress for every event," the wardrobe lady told me. "It's evening gowns for every meet up with our billionaire bachelor. They want to go for a super swanky look for the show."

"You sure they wanted me, then?" I joked.

No one laughed.

Makeup was torture. No matter how much I protested about the amount of makeup they were airbrushing onto my skin, the stylist ignored me and did what she wanted, right down to fake lashes. My eyes watered with the amount of makeup she'd put on me, but I had to admit that it made me look mysterious and stylish. Itchy and somewhat caked with powder? Yes. But stylish!

The worst part of the day was hair. The man in charge of hair declared my fine locks a disaster due to the humidity. When he was done with me, I was chagrined to see that I was now the proud owner of a beehive hairdo with a flower clip in the back.

I looked awful. I also looked twenty years older. When I got out of the chair, I immediately found Leona, who was still in the fitting room (she'd gained weight since the fitting and they'd had to let out her seams). "Leona," I told her, and pointed helplessly at my tall helmet of hair. "Help?"

"Oh dear Lord," my friend exclaimed. "Come sit down and let me fix that."

I plopped into a chair and Leona hovered behind me, tsking at the wealth of bobby pins gluing my hair together. "What the hell is this?"

"A mess," I agreed. "Can you fix it?"

"I can," Leona said, tugging a pin out of the hair sprayed mess. "But I'm just curious why you care? You said you didn't care about the billionaire and just wanted the vacation?"

"That's true," I told her. I really wasn't interested in finding a man. I wanted the money. It was purely mercenary on my part. "But that doesn't mean I want to look stupid on national television."

"Good point." Leona winked at me. "Let me see what I can do."

A short time later, my stiff hair was redone into a variety of smaller braids surrounding a longer, intricately braided one. Since my hair was now so stiff with goo, she didn't have to work hard to give me volume and the result made it look as if I had a thick weave of long, dark hair instead of my normal limp locks. It looked fabulous. I still didn't look like myself, but at least I didn't look like I was going to a 1965 prom. "You're a wonder, Leona."

"Now you need to impress that billionaire bachelor so your good friend can get a national styling gig."

I snorted. "How about you take the guy and I'll take the loser's fee and we'll both be happy?"

"Works for me!" Leona said cheerfully, and began to fix her own hair.

Once we were done with wardrobe and makeup, we were sent to the 'party room'. "This is where the ladies will hang out until it's time for them to meet our bachelor," a production assistant gushed. "Feel free to make yourselves at home. You'll be spending time here each night while waiting for our Decision Ceremony."

"Decision Ceremony?" I asked, curious.

The assistant nodded, her eyes wide. "Per the rules of the show and to go with the island theme, our bachelor will have a number of island hibiscus. When he chooses a woman, he's going to tuck the flower behind her ear to show that he chooses her."

"That sounds so romantic," Leona murmured.

"It sounds sexist," I told her. "Why doesn't he just lift a leg and spray to mark his territory? I mean, really."

Leona swatted my arm. "Don't ruin this! You have to play along or you won't get your money."

"Right." I needed that money. I fixed a dopey, blank grin on my face. "I can't wait to get my claiming flower. Whee."

"Better," Leona said with a giggle.

The party room was a lushly decorated outdoor terrace. Overhead, strings of tiny paper lanterns hung, swaying in the breeze. Thick vines of flowers trailed over the pergola beams and the floor was a lovely terrazzo that made me want to examine it closer. On the edges of the terrace, white outdoor curtains fluttered and a large fountain burbled in the center of the terrace. It was gorgeous and tropical and just what I expected at an island resort.

It was just a shame that I had to be trussed up like a show pony to experience it.

"Welcome, ladies," said a man in a white jacket as he approached. He immediately plucked two glasses of champagne off of a tray he carried and gave them to us. "Drink up. There's plenty more where that came from."

I stared at the drink in my hand and watched as the waiter went to a nearby cluster of women and exchanged their empty glasses for new, full ones. "I think they're trying to get us drunk," I told Leona.

"Mm, I wouldn't be surprised. We probably make better TV that way," she said, then sipped her champagne. "Holy shit, this stuff's the bomb. Try yours!"

I took a guarded sip. Sure enough, it was incredible. It took everything I had to sip slowly. The last thing I wanted was to be sloppy drunk on television. Some of the other women didn't seem to have that fear, I noticed, watching one tilt her drink back and take a huge swig.

"Should we mix with the others and see what we can find out about them? See what the competition is?" Leona asked me.

"Wow, do you want to win that badly?"

"I wouldn't mind a little billionaire bachelor action...if he's hot." Leona winked at me. "If he's ugly, you can have him."

I just shook my head at her and took another sip of my drink to wet my dry throat. I wasn't feeling competitive in the slightest. Leona knew all about my past, about the incident more than eight years ago that made it hard for me to trust men, and it had kind of killed the dating game for me for a long, long time. I'd chosen my career over love, and I was here on this island because of my career, not because I wanted some guy to cuddle with.

Even if I did, a dating game show seemed like a stupid place to find a man.

"Hi ladies," Leona said, approaching a small circle of women. "I'm Leona, a professional hair-braider, and this is Juno, who's a glass artisan. What do you ladies do?"

One redhead tossed her hair and gave me a haughty look. "I see you got the white dress."

"Oh. Um." I looked down at the dress I currently loathed. "They didn't let me pick."

"Want to switch?"

I eyed the canary yellow empire-waisted gown she was wearing. On her, it was gorgeous. On me, I'd look like a lumpy, pregnant Big Bird. "No?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Might want to hold onto your glass tight, then. I'd hate for you to spill something."

Holy shit. Did she just threaten me?

"Let's go," Leona said brightly. She grabbed my arm and began to drag me away.

"Dude," I called over my shoulder. "I don't want him. You can have the bachelor."

"Shhh," Leona said, glaring at me. She steered me to a corner of the room. "We might have misjudged the friendliness of the other contestants."

"Yeah," I agreed. "There might be one here that doesn't want to scratch my eyes out to get ahead. Maybe." I gave her a look. "And it's you."

She giggled. "I'm more into paper rock scissors, myself."

"Maybe we should just commandeer a corner," I suggested. "We can people watch and get a good idea about the other women here."

Leona nodded. "And I can protect your dress from any 'accidents'." She made quote marks with her fingers.

We found a bench in the back of the room and sat, fixing our swishy skirts and watching the women mingle. As we did, I grew increasingly jaded about the company here. I was pretty sure most of the girls here were dazzled by the word 'billionaire' more than anything. If this poor shmuck thought he was going to find his ladylove amongst the pile of gold diggers here tonight, he was sorely mistaken. The women are pretty, sure, but as Leona and I watched chatting women drift past, we heard the same things mentioned over and over again.

Net worth.

Money.

Fortune.

I rolled my eyes and fiddled with my still-full glass of champagne. They weren't looking to fall in love, either, these women. They were looking for a payday. For a moment, I felt sorry for our hapless bachelor, whoever he was. Another champagne was quickly placed into my hand by the waitstaff, and even as I turned to tell the man I wasn't thirsty, the double doors at the back of the room opened and a bell chimed. Someone was here.

A gray haired man walked in, dressed in a tuxedo, complete with tails. He bowed stiffly to the women in the room, and it got really damn quiet for a long moment. I knew we were all thinking the same thing - is this the guy? I studied him. Kinda orange - fake tan. Lots of makeup. Big, shiny smile. Definitely at least seventy. Sooo not my type.

I leaned over to Leona. "You can have him."

She giggled into her champagne. "He's not that bad if you're into May-December kink."

I wasn't. Judging from the blank looks on several women's faces, they weren't, either.

The man straightened and cleared his throat. "Ladies. My name is Lawrence Felding. I am your host for Pleasures of Eden. Very shortly, you'll be meeting our mysterious bachelor.

An audible sigh of relief rose in the room, and I muffled a rude giggle behind my hand. Guess we were shallow after all if we wanted a sexy young thing to go with the big fat wallet. Not that I cared, right? I didn't want the bachelor either way. Still, it was more fun, I supposed, if he was mega-hot instead of just...lukewarm. Drooling over a stud for the next month would be a lot more fun than if he was just kind of blah.