“What? No, how would you know? Tell me.”
“I mean, I assume it’s similar to what we just saw.”
Bradley hands me my notebook to read and points to the words, highlighting the fact that I should take a look at what he wrote.
My eyes focus on the bullet points he made:
•There is an audio recorder listening to everything
•Katarina’s father offered me a large sum of money to take part in his venture. Katarina’s father is a producer for a line of reality television shows
•Ronald Helga, their father, conducts social studies before filming
•I asked for his daughter’s hand in marriage, and he offered an agreement
•Krow’s marriage and divorce is a result of a failed reality show
•Kricket’s BDSM practices are in the early stages of research for another show
•Every man in this development has the potential for a spinoff. Those who don’t work out will be sent away
•These men are being taken for a similar ride as you
•I’m sorry
•I didn’t read the fine print
I drop the notebook, needing a minute to settle my thoughts. There is one person behind all of this, and he sounds like the type of person I would imagine standing behind all the reality TV shows I watch. Bradley has his hand over his heart, and a look of empathy swims through his eyes.
“I have to go to work,” I tell him. It’s great that he’s sorry, but never in my life would I bring him down with me if I made a massive mistake like the one he’s made.
“Ashley,” he says, pleading with his eyes.
“No, Bradley. You’re my brother … my blood. How could you do this to me?”
“I didn’t think it would turn out like this. I’m truly sorry.”
I push Bradley out of my bedroom so I can get dressed for work, because I need to get out of this house before I say anything else to him, especially since everything I say could be held against me on freaking TV for all I know.
Bradley knocks on the door a few times, calling my name, asking me to open the door. I open the door when I’m in my black shorts and polo, and then brush past him. Bradley has never followed me when we argue. He likes to have the last word, and I usually let him because there is no sense in arguing with him.
Whatever the case used to be, isn’t the same now because he has had the last word and he’s following me. He can follow me all the way to work if he’d like, which he does.
I let the front door of the restaurant close on him just as I spot Noah at the front podium alone. I have noticed that hostess that I saw him hovering over the first few times I was here, is no longer here. I can only wonder why.
“Ashley, did you happen to notice the gentleman trying to walk in behind you?”
“Oh, he’s not a gentleman, so don’t worry,” I tell him.
“Ashley,” Noah says, laughing nervously. “That’s no way to treat our guests.”
“He’s not a guest,” I continue, heading back toward the kitchen.
Now, I have two men on my heels. Fun.
The moment I make contact with the kitchen, there’s a hand on my arm. “Leave me alone, Bradley,” I snap, turning to find Noah.
“What’s going on?” Noah asks. “Is that guy bothering you?”
