Barbara Scott - Fairytale Princess
copyright 2011 Faeriemage
For Donnie, life was about to end. For Dawn life hadn't yet begun.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Her rant, not mine. Complete work of fiction here.

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Someone decided to sent me spite mail last night over what I wrote in the last chapter of the story. I said that the crying spell happened during the second episode, when anyone who watched the show knows it happened in the ninth.

Well, let me address this 'issue.'

I cried on the third morning. Yes, that morning appeared on the second episode, minus me bawling my eyes out, but me bawling my eyes out was moved after events that happened later in the show.

Reality TV is less about reality and more about pseudo reality.

They edit the footage so that instead of a log it is a drama. Edited for dramatic emphasis. They create a story out of the lives of normal people. It is shown months after filming giving them the opportunity to make people seem like villains or heroes. They paint people in a better or worse light.

After having been in one, I can say that there is less reality in a 'reality TV' program than in your normal prime time drama.

At least the prime time drama makes no pretenses at showing real people in real situations.

I am telling my story. It has a beginning and an end, and usually proceeds from the first to the last. Usually. So, this happened on my third day at the mansion, and that's the story I'm sticking to. Don't believe me if you don't want to.

I spent longer than usual repairing damage in the bathroom that morning. By which I mean that I was gluing down the edges and trying not to make a complete mess of it. So far, as we figured would be the case, at least initially, there had been no opportunities for me to either get out to Karl or even contact him.

The small bottle had enough in it for at least a few more of these touchups, but it wouldn't last for a full month, and neither would the rest of the work on the appliance.

Composed, makeup on, dressed, I went down to get my breakfast. We were all more or less enjoying the company of everyone else, when Mark came in. I turned away from him. I simply couldn't bear to look him in the eye right now, and figured I could listen well enough with my back turned.

"Ladies, it's time for your next challenge. In today's age, it seems that most people have gotten away from the simple home tasks that in generations past everyone, especially women, were expected to be able to do on a daily basis.

"This next challenge will put that statement to the test. It doesn't need to be fancy, but we want you all to prepare a dinner. You have a budget of one hundred dollars, and have access to whatever you need for this competition. We'll be taking you to another location where we'll have a cooking station for each of you. You'll have six hours from when we arrive to accomplish this task, and the men will be tasting your offerings."

Aimee and I had shared cooking duty, so I knew how to make at least a few things, and even better, I knew how to follow a recipe. It might not be four star dining at its best, but at least it would be edible. That's all I could hope for here. That and not placing in the bottom.

There is a secret to making really good spaghetti, and it's not the sauce.

The primary thing that alters the experience is the noodles. They have a very subtle flavor, but it's there and it will color the impression that you get of the rest of the dish. Making your spaghetti go from just blah to something edible requires cooking the spaghetti noodles to the right consistency in water that has been seasoned to the right amount.

I like to use ginger, oregano, some chili powder, diced onions, and my secret ingredient: a pinch of nutmeg.

The sauce is garlic, more oregano, parsley diced and dried, basil, and cumin. I like Chicken as the meat. Less greasy. Also, green olives. I prefer the ones with pimento, but any will really work here. Sliced. They are both for contrast, and a bitter tang. It complements the nutmeg mentioned earlier.

Since the entrée was going to cost me very little, I went with breadsticks. I thought that I might be trying for too much by getting premade dough and then cooking that in the oven, but I had to do something a little special. I brushed them with butter. No garlic. Yes there is such a thing as too much garlic.

I spent most of my money on a bottle of red wine that I can't remember the name of. You can watch the episode if it really matters to you. I followed the suggested of the boy in the store.

I've never really had much money for wine or things like that, so I hoped everything he'd told me was correct. The bottles of scotch mentioned in the beginning were an aberration.

It seems that I was among the first qualified contestants to finish.

Angela and two of the others had ordered out. Angela had actually been thinking at least logically and ordered a catered meal. It looked right, but of course the cameras were everywhere.

The other two simply didn't think ahead. They were tied for last. Angela got second to last.

Apparently one of the other girls, Helena, was a professional chef, but you all saw that on the show. Sorry. Sometimes I forget I am just retelling my portion of a story everyone's already seen.

She came in first, but that isn't a shock to anyone. She also took the most time.

Sophie finished her meal before I did. Sarah finished just after I did.

Now, if you'll recall, they had a tally sheet that they graded us on. I was completely smashed in the presentation category. Apparently it isn't kosher to put everything on the same plate, which is the most simple and easy way to access your food.

I got high marks for the wine, for which I was silently thanking the shopkeeper, and apparently they thought my sauce was top notch. I smiled to myself. No one blames the spaghetti when the sauce tastes bland, but they give the sauce all the credit when the spaghetti makes it taste that much better.

More than one of the guys stopped back at my table after all of the judging was done for a full portion of my spaghetti.

Seems my meal was a true success in the only way that really matters: people wanted to eat it.

I didn't get to even taste the wine I'd purchased, so I can't tell you a thing about it.

When the tally was complete, and everyone was ranked, I came in third. Not too bad for a meal that took me little time and less money.

We were driven back to the mansion and we filed into the theater for the second competition of the day. The guys would be showing off their parenting skills. Well, parenting light I guess would be the best way to term it.

Wow, it was a disaster. Unmitigated.

Well, only for me.

I'd made a promise to Carlos that I would pick him if he was available, and he would be for my lofty pick position. He borrowed one of the kids portable game systems, and spent the entire time playing and almost completely ignoring the kids. They wrecked the room he was in, and he barely batted an eye when the woman who ran the center the kids were in asked who would be cleaning it up.

"I assumed that you would be cleaning it up."

And here is where they pulled a trick on us, and something that I would come to suspect they did throughout the entire competition. They ended his footage there. Basically, there were sixteen screens, each with a name underneath. And when their portion was done, or they were out of the competition, their screen was turned off.

Yes, they moved the names around to keep the screens together that were active as the competition progressed.

They didn't show what happened next with Carlos because, as you know, WE were the ones really being tested. You in the audience saw what happened, of course, because you were told all of this ahead of time.

The woman glared at Carlos.

"Look, I'm sorry. This was my fault, and I should have watched the kids better. Hey, kids! Why don't we help clean this up. I let you run loose earlier, so now we all get to pay for it."

"No!"

One of the little boys was glaring at him.

"No? Really? Weren't you the one who tore the poster off the wall and shredded it? I really think that means you are responsible for picking up the pieces," Carlos turned toward the woman and pulled out his wallet, "how much do I owe you for the poster and the other items they wrecked?"

The woman looked a bit flustered. "The studio already said they would pay for it."

"Ok, then. Kids? Let's get to work!" He had a huge smile on his face as he pitched in. After a couple of seconds the rest of the kids joined him.

Yeah, I consider Carlos to be a big kid. He's really a good guy.

So, I was agonizing over whether or not to pick Carlos. In the end, it was Mark's kiss that decided me. I wanted out of the competition so that I could get away from Mark.

I know, they built it up as this noble thing, but it wasn't. I just wanted to go home.

The other girls were teasing me over my promise, and so I had to say something.

"Look, I made a promise. If I don't keep it, then I'm not worth anyone's time, let alone my own. If that means I'm going home, then I'm going home with my head held high.

No one saw Aaron almost let the kid die. I know I didn't. One minute we're talking, and the next there is Aaron, white as a sheet walking away from the kids and waving to the woman in the middle of them.

I have no clear recollection of his video. He was sort of a non-entity as far as the rest of us were concerned, too.

"What just happened?"

"I don't know," Willow replied to the unknown voice, "Can we get them to play it back?"

A voice came over the speakers, "Sorry, Ladies, these are live, we can't bring them back for you."

That struck me as really false at the time, but I didn't speak up. Of course they were recording them. How else would they show what the guys did on the TV program.

So, we were left not knowing what happened to Aaron, but everything really seemed ok. I was one of the few who saw him white as a sheet, and most attributed it to low blood sugar.

Sean played touch football with his kids and ended up in a dog pile with them. It was a nice moment. Not perfect, but definitely nice.

He had an infectious grin and I couldn't help but smile at him, even though he couldn't see me.

Then it was time to go get ready for the elimination ceremony. Tonight I would be wearing a pale blue dress. I was thoroughly entertained by the other girls trying to get creases out of their clothing choices. I was the only one who'd chosen to bring a flat, hard sided, garment bag to this place. The others had either folded their clothing or used the folding garment suitcases.

A light steaming and my dress was perfect. I wore a robin's egg blue satin corset and matching panty, bikini cut. I styled my hair loosely, only putting a simple brown clip in it to keep it out of my eyes. The color of the clip matched my hair.

I added a pair of diamond studs and matching necklace and called myself done. I went downstairs to wait.

It gave me a wonderful opportunity to mingle with the guys.

"Wow, you are gorgeous," Carlos said. I think he was trying to remind me that he was there.

"Evening, Carlos." I smiled at him.

"Barb, if you hadn't picked me last time, I'd almost have to demand that you pick me tonight."

"Sean, I need to spread myself around a little bit. Wouldn't want all the others getting jealous of our passion." I said it with a wink. There was general chuckling from the other guys. I was the center of attention. A light blue rose amidst the thorny ground.

"So, Barb, you gonna stick to your promise?"

"You'll have to wait and see, Carlos."

I preened and flirted and simply smiled. I smiled. This was where I belonged. My pick of the best guys in the world. I wanted to be wanted by them. By one of them. They made me feel so secure, even as I was feeling more in control of my surroundings than I ever had before in my life.

Woman, thy name is contradiction.

One by one the other girls came down, more or less put together, and I walked over to take my place third in line.

Helena picked Henry, and then Sophie, after a longing look at Linda picked another of the guys. I think his name was Walter or William or something else W.

"It's your turn to pick, Dawn."

"I made a promise I would pick Carlos, and even with his poor showing today, I must keep my promise. I pick Carlos."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Carlos said in my ear after I walked over to him.

"You spent the day playing video games."

"Yeah, with the kids."

"Well…" That was something the video didn't show. It had seemed he was off in his own little world.

"Sure, some of them didn't have systems, but I traded off a couple of times with them. The poster things was a…I mean I didn't…"

Carlos paled visibly. He swallowed a couple of times and tried to put on a smile, but it was forced.

"What are you talking about, Carlos?"

"Nothing. Don't worry about it, Chika. Nothing to worry about."

More and more about this contest was seeming strange. Sure, it was just little things, but there was definitely something that they weren't telling us.

I thought over the wording of my contract. It had talked about our agreement to go through a wedding should we pick the winning individual and last through the elimination process. I had no fear of that, since legally I couldn't marry any of these guys. That would come out at the end, though, and who knew what would happen between now and then.

Additionally, after all of the indemnity this and clause that there had been something that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

Something about this whole thing just wasn't quite adding up.

We got to the end of our picks and then Mark turned to us.

"Ok, are all of your happy with your picks for the evening?"

We looked at each other a bit confused.

"Tonight, we are diverging from the normal procedure a bit. We will be eliminating a woman from the competition. Someone here has violated the terms of the competition."

What could he be talking about? Could it be that he was planning on removing me from the competition because I'd rejected him? It couldn't be something as simple as that, could it? Or could it?

"We explain the terms of each contest before that contest begins. This morning, three of the women violated the terms of the contest by ordering out instead of preparing a meal. Angela, consider this a warning. There are no shortcuts in this contest. You came in close to the bottom because of your choices, even below people who burned their meal. At least you chose a meal and had it catered. Creativity can't be punished. You are safe, but do not specifically violate a term of a competition again.

"Two other ladies ordered take out. Katie and Ophelia, you are eliminated. Collect your belongings and vacate the mansion."

"The gentleman you chose are safe, however, as they are among the better scoring competitors for this competition. Aaron you will be leaving the competition. Collect your belongings and leave the mansion please. Linda, you may pick one of the remaining two gentlemen."

"I pick, Lewis."

"Henry, you will have been eliminated. Collect your belong…"

"This is bullshit, man. I was promised…"

Henry was shouting and looked like he was going to punch Mark. Before anyone else reacted, I put myself between the two men.

"Henry, what do you think you are doing?" I glared at him, and heard a couple of gasps.

"I was…"

"Just proving why you were eliminated? You are acting less mature than the kids you were playing with earlier. And finger painting? Those were twelve year olds. I don't know about you, but when I was twelve I was more interested in the opposite sex than arts and crafts. Movies, high school. Any of this ring a bell? Sure, video games were popular, but not my thing. But finger painting? Didn't you see how those kids were laughing at you?"

He went bright red.

"Now, see if you can act a little more like the man you claim to be."

I went back to stand next to Carlos who whispered, "Good job, Chika," in my ear.

I caught Mark glaring at me for a moment before he put his smile back on.

"Tomorrow, you'll all be going to the grand opening of Firebird, a much anticipated new restaurant. This will be your date for next episode."

I was shocked, and not in a good way. I'd hoped to get some real quality time with Carlos, hoping to see who he really was, and instead we would be going to a fine dining restaurant to be shown off to the glitterati and paparazzi.

I went upstairs, heading toward my room, when one of the assistants got my attention.

"Dawn, you're wanted in the interview room."

I entered to find it empty except for the camera.

"Hello Camera, my old friend," I said after noticing the red light. "Looks like mark is avoiding us. I can understand why he would avoid me, since I was a bitch to him earlier, but no clue why he is avoiding you.

"No, I wasn't a bitch. It isn't bitchy to stand up for yourself. I don't need to make out with every Tom, Dick, and Sally who thinks themselves a producer. I'm not that kind of girl, and I never will be.

"My wife, Aimee, told me about a couple of parts she lost out on because she wouldn't service the producer. I actually considered decking a few, especially the guy who came to the reading nude. He asked for Aimee and the actress she was reading across from to disrobe. He wanted to make sure that they were suitable for the role.

"Not being shy, Aimee disrobed without a seconds thought and read her lines. The scumbag took her aside afterward and told her she was captivating. She just needed to do one more thing and she was into the movie.

"Him I didn't need to worry about. She kneed him."

I smiled to myself over the thought, but then the smile faded.

"She found out later that her agent had sent her to a porno shoot without telling her. He had to pay a fine to the Actor which she'd kneed. Still, it is an interesting story.

"And it's keeping me from thinking about that kiss this morning. Mark, you confuse the hell out of me. First you tell me that you'd like me to be an actress in your movies, and then you are kissing me like I'm air and you are suffocating. I am not that kind of girl, Mark. I do not sell myself for a role.

"But damn it, I'm attracted to you. I want to be with you. I tried to get myself eliminated this evening by sticking with Carlos. I really thought he had performed poorly."

I began to cry.

"I want Sean. This is supposed to be a contest for the best man here, but I already find myself lost in his eyes, and wanting his arms around me. At least I did want Sean, before that kiss. Now? I think I just need to be needed for once in my life. My wife needed me to need her. She wanted me to be the man of the relationship. Funny, right? Me, a man. Well, she didn't see it that way.

"Oh, god. I'm rambling. I don't know what I want, or need, any more."

"I think I heard a couple of things in there that worked for me."

"Mark?" My face burned.

"Hey, Dawn."

"You heard that?"

"Everything that mattered."

"I have to go."

"Dawn, let me explain. I'm sorry. I didn't want to take advantage of you."

"Then why did you?"

"Look, I'm sorry. If you want to press charges, I have a policewoman down stairs ready to take your statement."

"What?"

"I wanted you to sit her for a minute while I called the police."

"But, it wasn't…you just kissed me."

"And essentially you're my employee. Some people would consider that sexual harassment."

My jaw dropped open and I just looked at him. He was serious.

"Mark, I enjoyed kissing you. A lot."

He got a goofy grin at this.

"But you're right. It's not appropriate."

I got up and walked through the door and downstairs. The officer had a severe face, but a nice body. I smiled at her as I approached.

"Hi, I'm Dawn Leary."

"Hello, Ms. Leary. It seems that a Mark Shurtleff called us to report himself for harassment? He does know that this is a civil issue and not a legal one?"

"I have no idea what Mr. Shurleff knows or does not know. Regardless I have no charges to press. He kissed me. That is it."

"Really?"

"I was upset by it yesterday for a number of reasons. Not least of which is that my wife died recently."

"Your…wife?"

"Yes."

"Then I understand why you would be upset. I have a couple of lesbian friends. Not that I am myself. I mean."

"I'm not a demon, officer. You don't have to worry about me taking offense. Anything else I can help you with?"

"Let Mr. Shurtleff know he'll be fined for a false 911call."

"I will."

I went upstairs to the gossiping and backbiting and got ready for one more night in the mansion.