Reality Girl: Episode One Read Free Page A

especially after three margaritas.
    “You wouldn’t serve me?” I realized my index finger was still high in the air. I lowered my hand to my lap. “Who are you? The margarita Police?”
    “I’ve got responsibilities,” he said. “Salt or sugar? You’ve had both.”
    “Salt.”
    He turned away. After a moment, he placed my drink in front of me. “So, you’re doing a reality show?”
    I pushed my drink to the side and shot him a look. “How’d you know?”
    “The only thing that house has been used for in the last ten years is filming. At least that’s what everyone says.”
    I was shocked and slightly confused. “How do you know where I’m staying?”
    “I saw you get out of the taxi last night.”
    “Oh.” He didn’t seem the type to live in the neighborhood, so I had to ask. “You live close by?”
    “The front door of the place you’re filming in faces my next door neighbor. I’m across the street.” He chuckled. “Couldn’t afford backing up to the beach.”
    “Oh wow.”
    I reached for my drink. “So do you…” I started to ask him what he did for a living, but realized I already knew. He was a bartender. I had no idea what a home in the area cost, but I was pretty sure there was no way he could afford to buy a home on a bartender’s wage.
    Before I could recover from my half-finished sentence, he read my mind. “No, I don’t live with my parents. I bought the place three years ago – at the same time I bought this bar. I fired the bartender last summer. Decided afterward I liked working the bar. Been back here ever since.”
    I took a drink of my margarita and wondered where he got the money to buy the house and bar.
    “How old are you?”
    “Take a guess,” he said.
    I studied him for a long moment. With the bar only a few blocks from the house, I decided we needed to become friends for the next six months. After a month with Rhett, I was sure to need a few drinks to get me through the remaining five men. The margarita man could be my sounding board for all of the complications that were sure to develop.
    “Twenty-six,” I blurted.
    He shook his head. “Thirty-three.”
    “You sure don’t look it,” I said. “I’m Lou, by the way.”
    “Just Lou?”
    I nodded. “Yep.”
    He nodded. “Franky.”
    “Franklin? Frank?”
    He glanced down, pressed his palms to his scalp, and brushed back his hair. As he looked up he grinned. “Franky.”
    “Nice to meet you Franky. I’m going to be here for six months. This won’t be the last you see of me.”
    His eyes went wide. “Six months?”
    “Mmhhmm.”
    “Six fucking months? What’s the show about?”
    “It’s new. Reality Blows . Or sucks. I don’t remember. I live with six different guys. They film it. When it’s over, I get paid.”
    “You and six random dudes?”
    I nodded.
    His eyes narrowed to slits. “Why?”
    I shook my head. “Everyone wants to watch people fall in love. This is a new spin on it, I guess. I pick a guy, we live together for a month, and then another guy, and live with him for a month. After six of them, I get paid a lot of money.”
    “So it’s about money? You’re doing it for the money?”
    “No.” I sighed. “Not exactly.”
    He stared at me for a moment, shook his head, and turned away.
    “What?”
    “Nothing. Go do your little show.”
    I raised my drink to my lips. “Don’t get all butt hurt about it.”
    He turned around and shot me a look. “You’re gorgeous. Like, fucking gorgeous . You could have pretty much any man’s attention if you wanted to. Do you really think the chick that does those shows is going to hand select your soul mate?”
    I thought of Rhett and shrugged. “It’s hard saying, she might.”
    He performed a dramatic eye roll.
    “And thank you for saying I was pretty.”
    He leaned against the inside edge of the bar, locked eyes with me, and stared. He was all of a foot from me, directly in front of my face.
    “I didn’t say you were pretty.” His