The One Read online

  Wearing a hoodie that dwarfed my C-cup breasts and a pair of jeans that I remembered looking better when I purchased them, I was a sad, cold version of myself. Although my face and hair were flawless, my outfit was questionable at best. But I pulled on my heavy down coat that I kept in Virginia for my visits home and trotted out to meet my mother. I may not have looked like the fashionista that I was in L.A., but the unpredictable Virginia weather put fashion on the backburner.

  On the way to the car, I pulled out my phone and searched Julian Winters. My eyebrows flew up immediately when I saw the piercing, grey eyes, short, sexy beard, and endearing smile. There was even a hint of a tattoo peeking out from the sleeve of his t-shirt.

  That can’t be him.

  I was expecting some boring, cookie-cutter, clean-cut guy. But based on the first few pictures, Julian Winters was the exact opposite of boring. Between his looks, his wardrobe, and his career choice, he was interesting. There weren’t many photos of him looking directly at the camera. Most of the photos were of him writing or recording.

  Successful. Bearded. Tattooed. With an amazing smile. I felt like I was checking off the top tier of my wish list. He’s definitely my type.

  “What’s with the goofy grin?”

  I looked up and my mother had rolled the window down. Opening the door to her BMW, I showed her the picture on my phone as soon as I slid into the seat.

  “Nice.” She nodded in appreciation. “New boyfriend?”

  I made a face. “No. Just some guy.”

  “Mm hmm. Not the way you were just grinning.”

  I rolled my eyes and pursed my lips to keep from telling her about Koko’s prank.

  “Fine,” she continued. “I’ll leave it alone for now. There are more pressing issues.” She gestured to my bundled up state before she backed out of the driveway. “It’s a rather warm, early March night and you’re dressed like we’re going to a football game in the dead of winter. It’s not that cold.”

  I looked at her purple pantsuit, multicolored scarf and black leather jacket. She looked warm, but fashionable.

  “I’m a California girl now, Mom. Forty-five degrees might as well be sub-zero.”

  Mom and I laughed, joked and talked as we ran errands on our way to our favorite Italian restaurant to meet Dad. As she told me about the pro-bono case she took on for a small business, I found myself completely riveted.

  “…because giving up is the first step toward failure,” she concluded, using her favorite motivational line.

  My stomach tied itself in a knot as I nodded in agreement.

  She’s talking about her case. She’s not talking about me, I assured myself as she moved on to tell me about the items she ordered from Neiman Marcus.

  Sometimes the line blurred where my mother ended and Elise Jordan the attorney began. My mom was a badass in the courtroom and in life. With her short black hair contrasting with her bronze complexion, she was beautiful. She dressed like she was going to a business meeting with a fashion company at all times. And although I was blessed with her skin tone, hair color, and shapely figure, my mother’s beauty extended beyond her looks.

  My mom was fearless. She was the smartest person I knew and a fantastic storyteller. She was the youngest person to make partner at her firm and the first woman. She did mission trips to change the world. She volunteered her time to feed the homeless. She advocated for women in the workplace. She was well-traveled and entertained me with stories about her adventures before she had my brother and me. I’d spent my entire life wanting to follow in her footsteps.

  I felt incredibly relaxed as we pulled into the parking spot. For the first time since I arrived on Friday, she didn’t ask me why I came home unexpectedly. She didn’t try to pepper me with questions. Everything felt like it was finally back to normal. It was the best conversation we’d had all week.

  “There’s your father,” Mom pointed out as soon as we walked through the front door.

  Zachary Jordan II was sitting at a table near the front politely ignoring the flirtatious waitress. Even from across the room, I could tell by the hair flip and arched back that she was flirting.

  It wasn’t unusual for women to flirt with my father. He was a handsome man with an awesome wardrobe, courtesy of my mother. He regularly got complimented on his light brown eyes and long lashes, in which I was fortunate enough to inherit.

  Besides the fact that he was a great father, what always resonated deeply with me was that the successful pharmacist made it clear that he only had eyes for my mother. And as if on cue, he looked up and spotted her. His grin stretched from ear to ear, but his eyes always seemed to hold so much adoration for her. Even after almost thirty years of marriage, when they were apart for any amount of time, he looked at her like she was the only person who existed. Looking at that type of love and devotion caused my heart to swell.

  One day someone will look at me like that. Hopefully.

  Once the hostess led us to his table, Dad stood to kiss his wife before pulling me in for a bear hug.

  “Hi Dad.” I pulled out of the hug and removed my coat. Once we were all seated, I noticed the table was set for three. “Zach isn’t coming?”

  My older brother never turned down a free meal.

  The look my parents exchanged gave me pause. I shifted my eyes from one to the other. “Is Zach okay?”

  “Yes, of course. He’s working,” my mother answered before the waitress arrived.

  We ordered drinks and our favorite dishes without glancing at the menus.

  “Okay, what’s going on?” I asked cautiously, nervousness coursing through my veins.

  “Zoe…” Dad took a sip of water before he leaned forward. “Is everything okay?”

  They know.

  With a deep breath, I nodded slowly, looking between them. “How long have you known?”

  My mom clasped her hands in her lap. “It’s a two-day exam and you arrived on what would’ve been the second day. We’ve known the whole time.”

  Averting my eyes, I nodded and attempted to get my thoughts together.

  “Did something happen?” My father’s brows furrowed with concern.

  “No. I’m okay. I just…” The words wouldn’t form and my sentence just trailed off into the light buzz of people around us.

  “This isn’t like you. You’re impulsive at times, but you don’t shirk your responsibilities. And you’re not frivolous with money,” he sat back in his chair. “I don’t understand, Zoe.”

  Shit! I didn’t even think about the money. Eight hundred dollar exam and five hundred dollar exam prep course…courtesy of my parents’ generosity.

  My manicured hand covered my mouth as I realized just how royally I fucked up. “I will pay you back every dime.”

  Although they always assured me that I didn’t need to work while I was in school, I showed up to work almost every night to take care of myself. But they paid for my school expenses—which included everything related to the bar exam.

  “It’s not about the money, Zoe. Your father and I just want to know what made you decide to skip the biggest exam of your life and immediately come here. Don’t get us wrong, we loved having you and seeing you so soon after Christmas. But there has to be an explanation.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to explain it. Fortunately, the waitress dropped off our food and the conversation halted for one full minute. Even after the waitress left, the awkwardness of knowing they were waiting for a response and not knowing what to say only suppressed my appetite.

  “I never meant to keep it from you,” I started, looking between them. “I just didn’t know how to tell you. I’m sorry.”

  “What is it that you’re not telling us?” My mother’s exasperated voice filled me with dread because I knew I’d disappointed her. I’d disappointed both of them.

  I blinked at her, contemplating my truth.

  I’m freaking out.

  I’m not ready.

  I’m ove
rwhelmed.

  Because taking that exam changes everything.

  “Zoe.” My father’s baritone pulled me out of my thoughts.

  “I’ve been selected to participate on The One.” The words flew out of my mouth before I had time to think about it.

  “What? What is that?” He looked at Mom who was staring directly at me.

  “A reality dating show,” she answered without taking her eyes off of me. She tilted her head to the side slightly, assessing me, assessing my answer. “You didn’t take the California State Bar Exam because you are going on The One? The same show you said, and I quote, ‘was setting women back’?”

  She doesn’t believe me. She knows me too well.

  I had a choice. I could either admit that I was essentially going through a quarter-life crisis or I could dig in and commit.

  “I’m interested in knowing more about Julian Winters…”

  Which is the truth.

  “Filming starts next week…”

  Also the truth.

  “I decided to just sit for the next exam. In July.”

  All facts.

  My dad seemed content with my reasoning. “Well that makes sense. You should do something different before beginning your career and take at least one risk. So this makes sense.” He nodded. “I get that. We traveled before starting our careers. And you haven’t dated anyone since Tate so this should be good for you. Have you heard from him?”

  I looked over at my mother for help, but she seemed to still be sizing me up, focusing on the holes in my story. I quickly returned my gaze to my father.

  “Dad.” I shook my head. “No.”

  My father loved Tate Lewis. Even though Tate dropped me as soon as he got an NFL offer and broke my heart three years ago, Dad was still in denial that the situation was seriously over.

  “Okay, okay.” He lifted his hands and gave me an easy smile. “So this is one of those shows where the last woman standing gets to be with the man?”

  Just hearing it reduced to that made me ashamed of even pretending to go on the show. I almost balked and told the truth, but I heard my mother’s words in my head.

  Giving up is the first step to failure.

  The words played on a loop.

  I took the first step toward failure. Walking away from the test, running home because I got scared, that’s a failure.

  I cleared my throat. “Yes. This season the man in question is Julian Winters. He’s a songwriter and music producer. On a fundamental level, I don’t believe in reality dating shows. But I figure, if I participate and I am myself and stay above the fray, it could actually help the image of women that is being conveyed. And he is very intriguing.”

  I sold that so smoothly, I almost bought it myself.

  My dad nodded in agreement. My mother was a harder sell.

  Pulling out my phone, I pulled up the picture of Julian.

  “This is him.” I showed my father first and then my mother.

  She looked at the phone and then me and then the phone again. A smirk played on her lips. “Ah, I see. Well the look on your face earlier makes a little more sense now. I look forward to watching you on the show, Zoe.”

  She didn’t look completely convinced, but she was dropping the issue.

  Shit, it worked!

  I was surprised, but grateful. But then it hit me.

  Shit! Now that means I have to actually go on the show.

  *****

  Chapter 2

  Slipping my oversized black sunglasses onto my face, I thanked the taxi driver one more time. The sun settled onto my skin as I pushed the sleeves of my thin black sweater up my arms. Grey clouds littered the sky and it smelled like rain could be on the horizon.

  I hope it rains.

  The sound of horns squawking, music thumping, and people yelling pulled me out of my daze. It was a typical Saturday in Downtown Los Angeles. The smell of something burning mixed with a sweet fragrance floated through the air. I inhaled deeply.

  Home sweet home.

  I grabbed my weekend bag in one hand and pulled my suitcase with the other as I made my way across the sidewalk and into The Attic Loft Apartments. The five story building was the perfect mix of historic architecture and modern interior design.

  My black and white flats carried me up the short staircase and through the heavy glass doors. The greyish cement floor with its glossy finish complimented the stark white walls of the first floor common area. Readjusting my bags, I took the elevator to the second floor apartment I shared with Koko.

  “Hello!” I announced my arrival as the heavy oak door banged against the exposed brick wall.

  Koko screamed from somewhere in the back and burst into the living room, thin arms flailing. With long, jet black hair framing the porcelain complexion of her heart-shaped face, she looked like an excited child bounding toward me. Before I had a chance to put my stuff down, she had grabbed me into a hug, knocking the wind out of me. I coughed and then laughed.

  Within fifteen minutes, we were sitting on the couch with wine and a laptop as she told me about her week. But a swift internet search changed the course of the conversation abruptly.

  “I still can’t believe you’re actually going to do it,” Koko marveled as we stared at the internet images of Julian Winters. She brought her face closer to the computer screen. “He’s definitely your type though.”

  I stared at the picture of him in the studio. The way his arms flexed as he leaned over the soundboard and the look of determination in his eyes as he stared straight ahead was sexy. He was sexy. Physically, he was my type—tall, dark, and strong with a little bit of geekiness on top. But I wouldn’t go as far as to say that he was my type since he voluntarily agreed to do a reality TV show.

  “Yeah, he is hot. But the fact that he’s on this show makes me question his intelligence.”

  Koko giggled. “I’m sure comments like that will get you kicked off of the show.”

  “Exactly. Problem solved. Then I’m in and out without incident.” I took a huge gulp of the cheap wine someone gave us as a gift. “My letter said that the interviews are happening on Thursday and those who are selected are expected to be at the house on Friday.”

  “Interviews are important because that’s how you get on the show. So we need to figure out what you’re going to wear. But Friday is when filming officially starts and everybody is getting full hair and makeup for that so my work begins.” She tapped her cheek contemplatively. “I wonder if Julian will be there for the interviews.”

  A flutter rippled through my belly and my eyebrows flew up. I didn’t want to be on the show, but I did want to meet him. I pushed the thought aside before it had time to settle.

  “My goal is to just do enough to get on TV so my parents can see me, but not actually have to spend too much time on the show so no one else will notice me. So, it doesn’t even really make sense for me to pack too much.”

  “Zoe, look at you. If you don’t curse anyone out or tell the creators that they are sexist pieces of shit, you’re moving on to the next round. I’ll more than likely see you on Friday. Wow, I’m still trying to wrap my mind around you being a contestant on The One. You, of all people!”

  “I know. I’m sure there was a glitch in the system. If they did a background check and did a search of any of my social media posts, I’m sure they saw that I am not a fan.”

  “Ha! I’m sure!” She hovered over another picture of him before clicking on an article about Julian that I’d read on the flight. “What did your parents say when you told them that you were going?”

  I took another sip of wine. “My dad was cool with it. My mom, on the other hand, was suspicious…is suspicious. She didn’t press though. But she gave me this look…” I twisted my body so that I was fully facing her. “And said, ‘I look forward to seeing you on the show, Zoe’ in that tone she uses when she’s baiting someone. She didn’t press anymore about it, but I could tell that she was calling my bluff.”

  K
oko’s eyebrows flew up. “Oh shit.”

  I nodded. “So I have to at least make it on TV. It’s not about trying to compete or getting very far. I just have to have a minute of screen time and then I won’t feel like such a liar. Do they film the interviews?”

  “Yes, they do. But I’m pretty sure they only show the interviews of the actual contestants. And if your mom has a hunch, she pretty much knows you’re full of it. If you don’t want to be a liar, you’re going to need to get on air.”

  “You’re just saying that because you want me on the show!” I teased. “But you’re right. I just need to make it through the interviews and get on the first episode. Episodes air on Tuesdays and Thursdays right? So if I can get on the show and pass the interview part, I’ll move in the mansion on Friday. My parents will see me on the show on Tuesday and they’ll see me get voted off, then I’ll fade away and no one will be the wiser. After that…” I shrugged.

  “All to avoid telling your parents you need a break and you need a minute to just enjoy life.”

  I nodded. There was more to it, but essentially, yes.

  “Everyone is going to flip that you’re on there.”

  I laughed, refilling my glass. “I know.”

  “Me too, please.” Koko held up her glass so I could refill it. “Thank you. Have you looked at this stuff?” She clicked on a new webpage. “Twenty-eight year old Julian Winters is the man behind some of your favorite songs. Now he’s stepping from behind the scenes and taking his talents in front of the mic,” she read before looking at me. “You might need to take this seriously and actually compete. Look at him…he’s kind of a nerdy badass.”

  A flicker of something swirled in my belly. I shrugged in a noncommittal way. “He’s also the kind of guy who wants women to compete for him on television in the name of love.”

  She ignored me. “Did you see this thing about how he likes poetry?”

  “Yeah, I saw something about that.” I conveniently left out the part about how I’d thoroughly researched Julian Winters before bed and on the flight. “I’m not going to lie. I’m intrigued.”