Naomi & Bradley, Reality Shows... (Vodka & Vice, the Series Book 3) by Angela Conrad, Kathleen Hesser Skrzypczak Page A

unfinished.
    “He has a point,” Mason agrees.
    “Shut up, Joeson,” I say through clenched teeth.  “Nobody asked you.”
    Tim Smith holds up a hand.  “Actually, I did ask them.  I asked all of your housemates to vote on whether or not you should break off your engagement to this cheating bitch.”
    “Easy,” I warn.
    “Anyway, they were told that after this special ‘movie,’ they would be asked to vote on what should happen next.  So if you’ll all hand in your votes right now, we’ll calculate the results.”
    “This is madness.  I don’t care what the results are because I’m not breaking up with Naomi.  And that’s that.”  I start toward my bedroom but the camera guys jump in front of me, blocking my dramatic exit. 
    Paolo edges toward me.  “Si, it’s true what they are saying, paisano.  Unfortunately, once a cheater, always a cheater.  Che schifo—how disgusting.”
    I should not have been listening to any of it.  But they all kept commenting, goading me, pushing until a little crack of doubt opened in my heart.  She did once cheat on me with Viktor, letting him buy her all kinds of clothes and jewelry before my side of the bed was even cold.  And all the stuff he told me about his KuKu and their marathon sex sessions before we both knew the truth about her was disgusting, like Paolo said.  Except it sounded better in Italian.  In Russian, it’s moshennik.  Was my Naomi a moshennik?  A cheater? 
    Tim Smith must have seen my hesitation.  He moved behind the camera guys and said, “How about a confessional?  You can get out everything you’re feeling.” 
    “No.”
    “Maybe get a message to her?”
    “One you doctor to make me look bad?  No thanks.”
    “Listen, I’ve tallied up all the votes and all the guys think you should lose this cheating whore.  Move on.  She has.  You could be the next Bachelor.”
    I shoot him a look meant to show surprise.
    “Oh come on.  I know you’ve heard the rumors.”  Tim Smith sounds like a used car salesman.
    Mason yells from the couch, “WE’VE ALL heard the rumors.”
    The other guys make noises in agreement.  I feel like a cornered animal.  Anger wells up inside of me.  I’m angry with Tim Smith, the other models, Viktor, and if I’m gonna be honest, even Naomi.  Why hadn’t she made Viktor move out?  And who were the two people filming the whole thing?  How many people did she have living in our loft, without even one word of discussion with me? 
    After a long, long silence, the camera guys finally shut it down and start packing up their equipment.  Tim Smith steps into the middle of the room. 
    “I guess Brad here has a lot to think about.  I’m sure for those of you who’ve been through a bad break-up, you will be struggling with your own personal memories tonight.  I, myself, have been the victim of three bad marriages.  Believe me, I understand.  That’s why I’ll be in the confessional for the next two hours, if anyone wants to come in a get something off their chests.”
    “You’re a real humanitarian,” I say to Tim Smith.  “I’m going to bed and don’t call me Brad.”
    I slam the door behind me.  I get into bed without changing or brushing my teeth.  My eyes won’t stay closed, though, because every time they do, all I see is images of Viktor, crawling all over Naomi and that damn smile of hers.  Maybe I should set her free.  At least until the show’s over.  Maybe doing the Bachelor would be a great career move for me.  Maybe.
     
     

Chapter Twenty-Three
Den of the lioness
     
     
    NAOMI
    Tuesday, May 3rd
     
     
    I enter LaLa’s grand old building in the East Eighties.  The same doorman opens the door and I imagine it must be a coveted position working the door for the very rich.  His Christmas tips probably amounts to a tidy sum. The very same young lady behind the front desk offers me a warm smile and says, “Miss Swanson, Mrs. Lucille Rochefort De La Cologne is