The Holiday Games

Chapter 16

sixteen

. . .

Leo

I ’m in hell.

Hell, I tell you.

Hell is being away from Caroline for even a day’s break in filming.

Hell is also watching her in the white sweater dress I bought her on Tuesday, looking sexy enough to slay dragons with a swish of her hips as she dominates the second filming of the tearoom contest—this time without fisticuffs or scones sailing through the air.

Ainsley modified the game to make it a memory challenge instead of a speed challenge, ensuring the contestants who’ve already played the game back when Meredith and Hannah were in the competition don’t have an unfair advantage.

I’m sure Caroline would have done well when it came to speed, as well—she moves with a controlled elegance that leaves no doubt she’d whip up tea sandwiches and plate them at the speed of light—but with the memorization, she truly shines. Her focus and intelligence are on full display as she commits eight orders to memory, holding each highly specific, allergy-riddled guest’s requests in mind as she’s assaulted by carefully staged “interruptions.”

Bursts of strange music and sound effects blare from the speakers in fits and starts. Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, the chef drops sheet pans on the floor at random intervals, and a steady stream of actors hired to cause trouble filter in and out of the tearoom, demanding coffee to go, permission to use the restroom, or directions to the closest subway station.

Caroline handles the distractions with ease and earns bonus points by helping the actors solve their “problems” while simultaneously plating tea trays and ensuring her guests aren’t neglected for a moment. She ends the challenge with a perfect score, ten points ahead of Millie, her closest competitor.

Jenna and Eduardo tie for third, both with respectable scores, and Ainsley makes a spur of the moment decision that they’ll both remain in competition.

“I hope that was okay,” she hisses as she joins me behind the monitors once the cast has been dismissed to grab scones and tea in the craft services tent outside. “The tie seemed like a good excuse to keep more players in the game. Eduardo and Jenna bring more drama to the table than the other two. Jenna spent her day off looking for dirt on Caroline, and Eduardo had a steamy date with Bingo the clown. Millie and Caroline just stayed in their room, snuggled up in their pajamas watching a Die Hard marathon.”

“Excellent franchise,” I murmur, jealous of Millie.

I want to be in bed in my pajamas with Caroline.

I also want to be in bed without my pajamas with Caroline, which is becoming a serious problem. Even if I can convince her that my past with Vivian shouldn’t ruin our shot at a future together, I can’t make a move until after filming is over. It would be unethical.

“It really is,” Ainsley says, nodding seriously.

“What is?” I murmur, distracted by the sound of Caroline’s laughter, drifting from the tent outside.

“The Die Hard franchise,” Ainsley says. “It’s excellent. Like you said. Especially the third movie. So underrated.”

“I love how they introduce a new narrative structure in that one,” Trevor agrees as he sidles up next to her. “And lean into the flawed hero trope.”

Ainsley flushes pink from her cheeks down to the collar of her ruffled green sweater at the appearance of her crush. “Yes! It’s perfect. One of the best action films ever, in my humble opinion.”

“It’s showing at the Chelsea Indie Cinema on Christmas Eve Day, a triple feature with the first two films starting at two o’clock,” Trevor says. “I was going to buy tickets later today. If you don’t have plans…maybe you’d like to join me?”

The joy on Ainsley’s face mirrors the euphoria that filled me when I kissed Caroline’s forehead, and she leaned into me with a sigh that made my heart grow three sizes.

Ainsley’s in love.

I’m in love.

But luckily for my right-hand woman, there aren’t any barriers standing in the way of her happy ending.

“No, I don’t have plans, and that sounds like fun. But I don’t know if I’ll be free.” She glances my way. “Leo and I are working on the rough cut of the first episode that morning. I’m not sure what time we’ll?—”

“We’ll move it until after the holidays,” I say with a smile. “You should go.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, her eyes wide. “I mean, I know how important it is to get the first cut ready as quickly as possible. We’re going to have so much footage to go through and?—”

“Don’t worry about it.” I set my headset on the closest monitor and reach for my coat. “We’ll be fine. The networks won’t be vetting new submissions until mid-January anyway. We’ll have plenty of time. Go. Enjoy yourself.”

“Okay.” Ainsley turns back to Trevor, beaming. “Then yes, I’d love to go. I’ll sneak Christmas cookies into the show in my purse.”

He beams back at her. “And I’ll buy popcorn and stash some beef jerky in my pockets in case we need protein with our carbs and sugar.”

Ainsley giggles. “I’ve never had beef jerky, but sounds like a plan. I’ll be looking forward to it.”

“See you tomorrow, Trevor. Great work today,” I say as Ainsley and I move toward the exit. Lowering my voice, I tease, “You’ve really never had beef jerky before? Do I need to give you ‘the talk,’ young lady?”

Ainsley blushes even harder. Her cheeks are Mrs. Claus crimson as she glances quickly over her shoulder, ensuring Trevor is out of earshot before she spins back to me to hiss, “No, I haven’t. And no, you don’t. We’re just friends going to the movies. That’s it!”

I grunt. “Right. I’ll slip a box of condoms in your purse just in case. Safety first.”

She rolls her eyes with a long-suffering huff, but surprises me by muttering, “Okay. Fine. That would probably be good. You know I was raised super Catholic. I’m too mortified to buy them myself.” She points a slim finger at my chest. “But nothing weird or ribbed or flavored or whatever. Just the basic, normal kind, wrapped in a brown paper bag.” She glances over her shoulder again before adding, “And not too many of them. If he sees the box, I don’t want him to think I’m a weirdo.”

“He wouldn’t think you’re a weirdo,” I assure her, oddly proud of my shy protegee. “He’d be thrilled, but I understand. I’ll keep the entire thing very discreet.”

“Good,” she says, exhaling a soft laugh. “Thanks, boss.”

“You’re welcome,” I say. “And don’t overthink things between now and then. You like him, he likes you, and you’re both lovely people. It’s going to be easy, the way these things should be when you’ve found the right person.”

A hopeful smile curves her lips. “I hope so. That would be nice. Eduardo and Bingo actually seem like they’re a good fit, too. They stayed up until midnight jumping on the trampoline in Bingo’s apartment and playing old records. Then they fell asleep on a giant beanbag with all the dogs snuggled around them. It was so sweet and romantic.”

“You have footage of all that?” I ask. “That sounds like reality television gold.”

“I do, and it was. They’re going out again on Thursday, after the third challenge. Eduardo made plans to stay in New York even if he got cut from the competition. I think there’s a real spark there, and he’s over his clown phobia once and for all.”

“Get two cameras on them for the date. Make sure we have multiple angles,” I say, a hint of guilt creeping in to tighten my chest.

I should have a camera on Caroline, too, filming what she’s up to when she’s not watching movies with Millie. It would be good for the show and for helping the audience get to know her better as a player.

But revealing our connection would be problematic. And selfishly, I want her all to myself today for the super special private tour of New York we didn’t have time for on Sunday.

Still, I need to get something on camera featuring the good girl from Vermont…

Inspiration striking, I ask, “You said Jenna spent yesterday looking for dirt on Caroline?”

Ainsley nods as we shrug into our coats by the door. “Yeah. She used a search engine I’d never heard of before. It was kind of creepy actually. She found Caroline’s social security number and some of her medical records.” My brows shoot up, but Ainsley hurries to assure me, “But she didn’t seem to have plans to steal Caroline’s identity or anything. When she was done, she seemed frustrated. Apparently, Caroline is ‘the world’s most boring human.’ Her words, not mine.”

“She’s not boring,” I mutter. “She’s the furthest thing from boring.”

“I know! She’s charming and funny,” Ainsley agrees. “And so compelling on camera. I couldn’t look away from her today. Honestly, she could be a movie star or host a morning show or something.”

Relieved to hear I’m not the only one falling under Caroline’s spell, I say, “Agreed. But this could be good. Confrontation makes for compelling television. Can you find an organic way to let Caroline know what Jenna was up to before the cast is dismissed for the day?”

Ainsley nods, her eyes narrowing as her wheels begin to spin. “Yeah, I can do that. Eduardo was in the café with Jenna when she was doing her stalking yesterday. He didn’t seem thrilled to be her confidante when she started venting about how little dirt she was able to find. I’ll go put a bug in his ear.”

“But subtly,” I warn her as she starts to go. “We’re not scripting or forcing things, just giving the drama a gentle nudge.”

She lifts a reassuring hand in the air. “Trust me, boss. I’ll keep it classy.”

That’s what we’re aiming for—a classy, family-friendly competition—but it’ll be good to have a little drama in our back pocket in case our acquiring network wants to lean into the conventional reality tropes. That’s the great thing about reality programming. You can edit the footage to tell a wide variety of stories, manipulating the raw material to fit your desired end result.

It’s a little slimy, sure, but that’s the sea I swim in at the moment.

It makes me ache for my sketch comedy days with a longing that’s visceral. By the time I fetch a black coffee from the craft services tent, my gut is in knots.

Or it could be the stunned look on Caroline’s face as Eduardo whispers to her in the corner that’s turning my stomach. I feel like an asshole for causing her a single moment of pain or discomfort, but…this is my job.

It’s another reason we can’t consider becoming more than friends until all this is over.

Hell, we probably shouldn’t even be friends .

Friends don’t set up friends to fight with scary goth women on national television. As soon as we wrap for the day, I should tell Caroline that Leo’s Magical Mystery Tour of New York’s Secret Local’s-Only Hot Spots is cancelled until December Twenty-Third, when filming is finished.

But she’ll be on a train the next morning, and I’ll be on the road with Greg, driving him up to his new home in Vermont. Maybe Caroline will accept an invitation to make the drive with me, instead of hopping the train, but we’ll only have three hours in the car together before our time is through.

That won’t be nearly as much fun as a day romping around the city.

Even if Greg manages to avoid getting carsick, the way he does every time we make the journey to my vacation home in Maine, he’ll monopolize her time and attention. He likes to ride in the passenger’s seat, so he can prop his paws up on the window and hiss at the cars driving by. He takes far too much joy in terrorizing people at seventy miles per hour to stay in his bed in the backseat.

He’ll be crouched on Caroline’s lap, purring while she pets him, and I’ll be the third wheel chauffer who’s botched his chance to win the girl.

No, the tour will not be cancelled. The tour will continue as planned…right after I apologize to Caroline and beg her forgiveness for throwing her to the wolves.

She’ll forgive me?

Right?

It’s my last thought before Caroline grabs a pitcher of water from the craft table and storms across the tent toward Jenna.