ONE

 

 

“People assume that because I own nightclubs, I must be a depraved, perverted playboy living a debauched life.”

Zairn Lomond: playboy extraordinaire. That was the only thing Roxie Kyst knew about him. She was in the Talk at Sunset audience in support of her roommates. They’d saved every spare dime to travel a couple of thousand miles to be in the same room as Lomond for a few minutes.

“And that’s not the case? No debauchery?” Drew Harvey asked his guest. “Zairn, I’m disappointed.”

Zairn Lomond’s arm rose to drape itself along the back of the couch behind the stunning actress sitting at his side. The woman didn’t mind. And why should she?

“Drew,” Lomond said, an arrogant slant to his lips. “You’ve partied with me… Have you ever seen anything debauched?”

Drew Harvey paused. A tight smile teased his lips, damming a laugh. “I plead the Fifth.”

Everyone laughed, Lomond included. “It’s all relative, right? My life isn’t like most others.”

“Like any other,” Drew said.

Led by a vast number of women, the audience had gone crazy when Lomond first appeared. Her friends’ idol had a magnetic kind of ease, she’d give him that. His appeal came in more than just his appearance, he oozed charisma. From that angle, she got why Toria and Jane went cuckoo for him. Not that she’d follow suit.

“Have I seen some wild things?” Lomond said, without disguising his smug nonchalance. “Sure. Have I been a part of some extreme setups? Yeah. That’s life. It’s the life I live.”

“Knox Collier is one of your best friends,” Drew Harvey stated. “The Collier family own a vast percentage of the world’s media.”

“Yeah, you’d think they’d go easier on me,” Lomond said, earning himself another laugh.

“Some might speculate that your Collier connection is exactly why you’re targeted so frequently in the press.” Lomond responded with a slight twitch of his shoulder. “Do you have an opinion on that? Have you considered severing the connection?”

“You think breaking with the Colliers is likely to improve my image in the press?” Lomond asked, shifting to sit straighter. “Look, I’m in the public eye and have connections to some newsworthy people. I chose this life, and everyone is entitled to their opinions. Free speech is our right and sometimes that speech isn’t in my favor. I don’t lose a lot of sleep over it, Drew.”

“You’ve been responsible for some high-profile matches. Unofficially, you’ve been responsible for some famous marriages, got different actors and actresses matched to movies that made their careers and/or earned them Oscars. Same for producers, directors, the whole range. You can make or break a career. It’s said everyone influential owes you a favor… and that you have dirt on hundreds, thousands of people, including those in the business and political worlds.”

“I know people who have dedicated their lives to information gathering. Personally, I don’t bank data.”

“But would it be fair to say?” Drew asked, receiving the same shoulder response as before. “You have power in prominent circles. Know something about everyone from movie extras to presidents.” Little response, just a slow, controlled blink. “You are facilitator to the world’s rich and powerful, right?”

“Crimson venues pride themselves on showing our guests a good time. If someone needs something specific, we’ll find a way to provide it.”

“And with a network like yours, I imagine there’s little you can’t provide. Maybe it’s jealousy. Could that be why the internet is rife with questions about your business and lifestyle?”

“People like to speculate.”

“Yes… especially when there’s a premature death involved.”

A tense, more somber air crackled through the studio.

Jane leaned in to whisper, “He’s talking about Dayah Lynn.”

“Dayah’s passing was a tragedy,” Lomond said. “We mourned her and cooperated with the investigation.”

“Your reputation took a hit after that incident. Is that why you came up with the idea of opening yourself to extreme scrutiny?”

“As much as I’d love to take credit, the contest wasn’t my idea,” Lomond said. “But we at Crimson have nothing to hide.”

The host adjusted his angle to address the audience. “We teased a challenge earlier in the show. One lucky member of our audience will be invited to tour the Crimson network with Zairn as he opens his doors to winners of the Crimson Experience.” Drew looked at Lomond again. “What exactly is the Crimson Experience?”

Offering a snicker, Lomond eased into his arrogance. “It will vary depending on where we are.”

“Contests are running across the world as we speak, aren’t they?”

Lomond nodded. “Yes. Winners will be contacted after the deadline this weekend.”

“But our winner from the audience, he or she will accompany you on the whole tour. It’s what? Three months?”

“Almost three months on the ground. Longer if you factor the travel time. We’ll spend around a week in each city and end right here in LA,” Lomond said, smoothing a hand down his thigh. “A documentary crew will follow the winners as they receive their experience in each city.”

“The documentary will air next year?”

“Yes. The person who wins tonight will be able to direct a supplement to the documentary. Streaming a video diary as often as they want. The world will be able to follow progress and keep up with the news as we travel.”

“Proving you have nothing to hide?”

“And having some good times along the way,” Lomond said, focusing on the host even while the actress wriggled closer.

“It’s an excellent prize,” Drew Harvey said. “Comes with five-star hotels, all expenses paid and an allowance for clothes, hair, make-up, whatever they need.”

“That’s right.”

“And unrestricted access to you and your team.”

On another easy smile, Lomond’s eyes glittered with innuendo. “Unfortunately, there will be some restrictions.”

The host laughed. “Right.”

“But the winner will be involved in our daily briefs and given the VIP treatment at every venue. They’ll also have unrestricted backstage access. They’ll meet the guests—”

“Famous guests?”

“Yeah, whoever we have appearing or who’s in for a good time.”

“No doors closed in their face.”

“No,” Lomond said. “They’ll have complete access and will be invited to contribute to the documentary. They’ll be interviewed for it throughout and after their experience comes to an end. The winner will have full editing rights over their own comments too.”

“Approval before air?”

“Exactly.”

“So nothing can be doctored or manipulated?”

“We have nothing to hide,” Lomond said again.

“Nothing to Hide” would be a good title. Except Roxie’s suspicion ticked up the more often it was said. Anyone that adamant and arrogant would believe himself above typical rules. Lomond probably thought the winner would be too star-struck to dig in and ask the hard questions.

Drew Harvey switched to talk to his audience again. “How does that sound?”

The room went wild, further stoking the ego of the man on the couch. He chose that moment to notice the actress. Her breasts were almost squashed against him, it was a miracle he hadn’t noticed her before. Of course Lomond wasn’t repelled by her proximity, he smiled and winked before leaning in to whisper something. The beauty laughed and stroked his arm.

Roxie didn’t get it. Well, she did get it. Both of them were Hollywood hot and knew it too. In their positions of society, there would be few scenarios, if any, where they didn’t get exactly what they wanted.

“As if that wasn’t enough…” Drew Harvey shouted over the audience, calming their cheers. “At the end of the experience, before they return home, the tour prizewinner will receive all secondary prizes given tonight and, as a reward for their hard work, fifty thousand dollars!”

More cheering and clapping. With good reason, the audience dialed it up to eleven. Fifty thousand dollars was a lot of money. Was it bribery? Who wouldn’t give someone a positive review in exchange for that amount of cash?

The host tapped Lomond’s leg to get his attention away from the woman on the couch. The two men exchanged some unheard words and then got up to approach the audience.

“Okay, take a seat! Take a seat!” Drew Harvey called. Roxie hadn’t realized so many people were standing. “It’s unusual for us to do this, bear with us… Every member of our audience will win something tonight. And, believe it or not, the final decision was to do this by the Oprah method. You’ll find an envelope under your seats. Don’t open it!” The audience did as he said. “If you have a red envelope, stand up!”

Jane stood up, excitement shimmering around her. Blazing anticipation was buzzing around the room, upping the temperature of the air.

“Open those red envelopes!” Drew paused for a few seconds. “All of you are the proud owners of a pair of tickets to the Crimson Resort in the Bahamas! Flights and hotel stay included!”

Lots more cheering. Jane dropped into her seat, showing them the glitzy invite.

“Next, gold envelopes, stand up!”

Toria held hers up as she leaped to her feet. The gold prize was a pair of tickets for the grand New Year re-opening of the New York club. According to the host, it had been closed for months undergoing a multimillion-dollar refurb.

Her gregarious roommate was made for that prize. Jane wouldn’t be comfortable getting VIP treatment, not if she was singled-out. In contrast, Toria would lap up any and all attention, in the most fabulous way.

The green envelope holders won a thousand dollars; blue envelopes got masses of merchandise. Next, Drew Harvey told the purple envelope holders to stand. Roxie didn’t hear him say that, it was Toria and Jane nudging and pushing at her that got her up.

The lights on the host and Lomond became more vivid when the audience were plunged into darkness. A spotlight formed over her. Blinded by the brilliant white light, Roxie held up a hand to block its glare.

“The five of you come on down!” Drew Harvey yelled.

Five? Roxie wouldn’t have seen the others on their feet even if she had looked around. Jane jumped up to get out of the way and pulled Roxie onto the stairs, giving her a push to get her moving.

Drew Harvey spoke again, “Stay with us, folks! You’ll find out which of these lucky people are about to have the time of their lives!”

 

 

 

TWO

 

 

Roxie stood on the stairs while Drew Harvey waited on pause, presumably for the commercial break to start.

The lights came up and a woman wearing a headset rushed over to gather the five purple envelope holders.

“Come with me,” Headset Gal said, gesturing at them.

The five followed her onto the set. They wound around cameras, hopped over wires, and dodged people until they came to a side curtain leading into a wide corridor. They hurried along in double-quick time and were funneled into a bright room with white walls and a bunch of computers set up in the middle.

“Sit down and fill out what you can,” Headset Gal said. “You have twelve minutes.”

The woman shuffled out and the door was closed.

Sealed in silence, their quintet looked at each other for a few seconds.

“Jill Alcott,” the brunette opposite Roxie said.

“I don’t think they want us to make friends,” one of the guys said, rushing to seat himself at a computer.

“He’s right,” the other woman said, running to another terminal. “We only have twelve minutes!”

The reminder got everyone moving; her with less impetus. Curiosity won out, so Roxie took her place at a computer to see what awaited on screen. Fifty grand was nothing to sniff at. She wouldn’t mind travelling for a few months either.

The club appealed to a certain extent. At home, she and her girls went to nightclubs all the time. Every week, often more than once. Exclusive extras weren’t required to have a good time. As long as there was music and a good atmosphere, she’d have fun.

No one could see each other’s screens; the monitors had been positioned to ensure that. She guessed they shared the same questionnaire.

Name, age, marital status, occupation, number of children. Easy. Straightforward. Beyond the basic biography stuff, all of the questions were multiple choice. A quick scan revealed that in addition to three or four specific choices, every question had “all of the above” and “none of the above” as optional answers too.

Favorite color? The options were the colors of the envelopes. Roxie went with “all of the above.” Favorite ice-cream flavor and genre of music got the same response.

“Oh my God, it asks for favorite sexual position!” Jill exclaimed.

The men straightened up, encouraged by the inclusion apparently. They exchanged a look before returning to their screens, no doubt to search for the question. Roxie kept going down the list, answering questions as they were numbered.

“What do you think they’re looking for?” Jill asked. “What do the questions mean?”

“It’ll be some scientific thing, like the answers reveal a lot about us,” one of the guys said. “I’m Dale, by the way.”

Roxie didn’t think to respond to him until she noticed he was looking right at her. “I didn’t ask the question,” she said. “Jill did.”

Smiling, he didn’t look away. “Just wanted to introduce myself.”

Creepy, but okay. Weirded out, she drew her attention back to the screen.

“I think we’re supposed to be honest,” the other, more fresh-faced, woman said. “Not try to figure it out.”

“How old are you?” Dale asked. “Are you even legal?”

She did look young.

“Bet Lomond picks her just so he can get in her pants,” Mr. In-A-Hurry said then stood up to offer his hand to Dale. “Ron.”

“Dale,” he said again and shook his hand. “And, yeah, you’re probably right.”

“I’m nineteen,” the gorgeous blonde said. “I’m an adult.”

Just barely. She snorted. Oops, had that come out? Yeah, everyone was looking at her.

Clearing her throat, Roxie returned her focus to the screen.

“If he’s picking based on who he’s sexually attracted to…” Jill said. “Why are we filling out questionnaires?”

“He can’t do that,” Roxie said. “If she was already the winner, they could’ve just spotlighted her and been done with it.”

The others pondered for a minute, so Roxie went back to the questions.

“What’s your name?” Ron asked the young woman.

“Bree.”

“She could be a plant,” Dale said. “Sent in to throw us off.”

“You would do him though, right?” Ron asked Bree. “For fifty grand, I don’t think anyone would say no.”

Roxie was incredulous. “Do you think any studio or show could get away with prostituting the audience?”

Mystifying. Some people were… Surely everyone got to that conclusion on their own.

“We have to get through these questions,” Jill said. “I don’t think we’re supposed to talk to each other.”

“Everything is a test,” Ron said, nodding. “That’s the truth. We live in a reality TV show. Life is reality TV.”

Life was reality, not TV. Dwelling on reality was no fun for anyone. The pursuit of liberty and happiness went hand in hand, but she never worried about being watched or coerced into contrived setups. Pushing out her lips, her eyes slunk left to right. She’d never worried about it until right then anyway.

“It could be the one who answers the most questions wins,” Dale said.

“Or the fewest,” Roxie said to be contrary.

Dale was smiling at her again. Still creepy. The guy could be perfectly nice, completely harmless. But with the creepy smiling, he didn’t stand a chance.

“I bet the resort is amazing. The Bahamas, I’ve always wanted to stay at a luxury resort,” Bree said, pausing to swoon. “Zairn must live an incredible life. Imagine.”

“Endless money,” Ron said. “Endless pussy.”

What else could a man want? Women on the other hand… In her experience, men only wanted their women to have a good time if it suited them. Suited the guy that is, not the woman. Double standard. Her ex, Porter, came to mind.

Continuing with the questions, she ignored the speculation bouncing between the guys and Bree. Risqué conversation didn’t bother her, few things did, but guessing was pointless. Jill was keeping her head down too.

The conversation came to an end when the door opened and Headset Gal leaned in. “You’re done. Hit submit at the bottom and come with me.”

Roxie scrolled down and clicked submit as instructed, then fell in line with the others as they filtered out. Instead of returning the way they’d come, Headset Gal directed them the other way to continue along the corridor.

Nearby voices were muffled. Everyone they passed was silent. Her group went around a curve just as the unmistakable sound of applause rose. Each of the quintet was pushed through curtains into the glare of more bright lights.

The applause died down as her eyes adjusted to the illumination. The purple envelope posse stood at the back of the talk show set flanked by the host to one side and the couch guests to the other.

“Welcome, all!” Drew Harvey said. “We’re going to reveal our winner in one short minute. Our computer geniuses are cracking the numbers as we speak. Zairn, what do you think of the line-up?”

Inscrutable Lomond perused the line. “Some I could work with.”

With no interest in his inspection, Roxie drew her eyes away.

Drew Harvey went to gorgeous Bree first. Shocker. “What’s your name?” he asked, shoving a microphone in the young woman’s face.

“Bree.”

“What would it mean to you if you won, Bree?”

“It would be incredible! Amazing,” Bree said, vibrating with excitement.

Winning would be exciting, so long as it didn’t mean surrendering freewill. Jill seemed like a nice person and Bree would get a lot from the experience. So Roxie decided she was in it for the women to win.

Ron made some joke about being Lomond’s wingman. The audience laughed. Dale nudged her, so she looked up to see him rolling his eyes. And he thought she’d appreciate that? He’d been happy to talk about ogling women with Ron earlier.

“And here it is…” the host said, returning to the side to put the microphone down. He pressed his finger to his ear, probably for effect. “We have a winner. Z, man, you ready for this?”

Drew Harvey tossed a smile his apparent friend’s way, though the playboy didn’t react. Playing it cool seemed to be Lomond’s specialty… when he wasn’t busy flaunting his ego.

“Roxie Kyst!”

Her name. Did he say her name? It flashed on a screen above the band. That was her name. Roxie had won.

Someone hugged her, then someone else.

“Congratulations, Roxie. You’re in for a wild adventure! Our other four finalists do not go home empty-handed. You get all of the other prizes, resort holiday, tickets to the opening night in New York, all the merchandise and one thousand dollars!”

Still in a daze when the embracing ended, Roxie was dumbfounded. Cheering and applause rose. Her ears rang with it as the host thanked his guests and said goodnight.

(C) Scarlett Finn

 

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