I was just about to give him shit, when I realized I lived at home too, and my mum cleaned the house and did my washing. I was totally turning into a basement dweller.
“I noticed no positive pics or vids of Tabs on the production company’s socials,” I said, a tightness pulling at my chest at more mean comments that had been posted.
“Yeah, I’m sorry. Mum obviously nixed all of them. I know not to ask or question her, because that could make her suspicious. I’ll keep trying, but I wouldn’t hold your breath. My mother will do anything for her talented son, but when it comes to the biz, she’s brutal. She only cares about ratings and will feed anyone to the wolves.”
Shit. My head buzzed. That was kind of scary and, at the same time, pissed me off and made me feel powerless and out of control. I fucking hated that feeling. I was used to being in charge and taking action.
But I sensed there was no point haranguing Solomon about it. He was doing what he could. I would start calling andemailing the execs on the show, try to get the comments taken down, and block mean comments going forward.
“So is Yuxi impressed with you hauling stuff?”
“Yeah, she was actually flirting with me just before.” His whole demeanor changed, his face flushed, and he stood taller, obviously fucking delighted with himself.
I gave him a long look. “Told you so.”
He returned my look. “OK boomer.”
18
Tabitha
Tim had workedon the house all week, and we’d texted almost nonstop as he finished the roof and bedrooms and readied the bathrooms for laying the tiles. So when he arrived at the house the second Saturday, the crew poised at the door, we exchanged a quick greeting and hit the ground running, working continuously all morning.
He dismantled the kitchen island and counters. In between checking with interior design warehouses for fabrics and furniture and the controversial AGA stove, I hauled out the debris into the dumpster at the top of the driveway. Trystan kept bringing me tidbits to eat, keeping me fueled. I felt quite special until I realized he was doing the same thing for Tim. They continued to film us.
Simon made another announcement for us to post on our socials and get the buzz going.
“Have you checked out the TV show’s socials yet?” Tim asked with a friendly smile as we went back to work on the tiles.
“No, and I don’t think I will.” Out of fear and dread, I hadn’t posted anything on my own account, and I studiously avoided checking the TV show’s socials. I wasn’t naïve about what I might see there—I had no doubt the site hosted a nest of viperish trolls. I needed all my positive energy for getting this house done and making sure we won the prize money.
At 2:00 p.m., still dirty and dusty, Tim and I and the crew and interns piled into the work van and drove for half an hour to the tile warehouse. I was relieved to be sitting down and used the time to answer the emails on my phone. Tim sat all the way in the back and joked with the crew the whole time.
I felt a little twinge of jealousy that he so easily made friends with strangers. He’d always been far more outgoing than I was, but it hadn’t really mattered once our lives didn’t revolve around each other. At Home and Garden, my quieter nature helped me get work done. I felt respected…heard. Mostly.But with this group?I felt like I was the dull, too-responsible one. Words that Perry had thrown at me.
Great. Now I was thinking about my ex.At least it should be fun at the tile store.
Once we’d parked, we walked down a long driveway to the open warehouse at the back. As we approached, Tim groaned at the vast space, but once inside, I started methodically examining all the stacks. I quickly found the large fake marble tiles near the front—the shop had obviously put them there for our convenience—and started laying them all flat on the floor. Tim joined in.
A surge of excitement pulsed through me as we started fitting the tiles together. Tim at my side, we did a sort of dancearound each other, trying to get the marble imprint to match up—pulling tiles, switching them around, putting them back, and starting again.
After a half hour, Tim held his head. “I must have done something horrible in a past life to deserve this. Next life, just crush me like the bug I’ll be and put me out of my misery.”
“Oh, stop being such a baby,” I said. “Honestly, it’s just a puzzle.”
“More like a mindfuck.”
There was more swearing from each of us while Simon rolled his neck and Freya massaged her temples, but after a while, we sorted out a system and got into a rhythm, and we were making good progress.
Two hours later, we were close. We’d nearly matched up enough tiles for a whole bathroom, which we could repeat in each of the ten bathrooms. We’d made it look like one big slab of marble, sort of. I’d had an idea, and I’d carried it through, saving thousands of pounds. I sighed happily.
“We’re nearly there,” I said to the camera. I stuck out my bottom lip and made a baby face to Tim. “That wasn’t so bad, was it, Timmy?”
Tim looked at me slack-jawed, but the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkled like, finally, he found it amusing.
“Scene.” Simon clapped his hands and wound his enormous scarf around his ears. “Your conversations devolved into so much bleeping, it’s just going to be one long ‘eeeee.’ A bit like having Aberdeeen in the room. Wait.” He held up a finger and pressed his ear. “Okay, we’ll be right out,” he said, obviously talking to whoever was in his ear. “Trystan has arrived in his van with coffee and tea and strawberry sponge cake. Take a break.”
“Guys, shouldn’t we just finish this off first?” I asked. We only had another half hour or so to complete it entirely.
