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I tip my head down and stare at her.
“What?” She shrugs. “It is.”
My face splits into a grin as Venom stands. The blonde scowls up at him. He hurries to meet us halfway. “I’m so happy to see you, brother.”
I’m yanked forward for a hug and back slap. “How’ve you been?” he asks.
“Not bad.” I fall back and slide my arm over Molly’s shoulders. “Molly, this is Venom—the guy who got me through this shit show and taught me some sick new moves.”
A smile curves her lips. “Thank you for helping Griff survive.”
Venom glances over his shoulder at his wife, still sitting where he left her, and frowns. He tilts his head toward me. “Kelly, this is Griff. He kept me sane in this bungalow of bullshit.”
I burst out laughing. “What an accurate description.”
“I know it’s not a ‘bungalow,’ but ‘mansion of bullshit’ just didn’t have the same ring to it.” Venom grins. His whole demeanor is so much lighter than when we were living here.
Molly chuckles and squeezes my hand.
Kelly approaches us and forces a tight smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. Great, she probably thinks I’m an asshole who cheated on my girlfriend, then dragged her here to make myself look good.
“Venom said such glowing things.” I offer my politest smile. “I feel like I already know you, Kelly.”
“That’s nice to hear,” she says in a high, squeaky, childlike voice I’m not expecting from an adult.
I blink and try not to react. “Uh, this is my girlfriend, Molly.”
They exchange hellos but I don’t picture them being besties anytime soon. Then again, this whole situation is so strained. Maybe Kelly’s coolness has nothing to do with me and everything to do with anxiety about what’s going to happen tomorrow.
I can’t blame anyone for being nervous about it when I’m ready to bolt home any second, myself.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Griff
The next morning we’re up early to get ready for the show. The two bags she brought with us should’ve clued me in that Molly has more than one outfit. I enjoy her fixing her hair and putting on makeup in a sexy red bra and panties, not realizing she hasn’t decided what she’s actually wearing to the taping.
“Dress or pants and blouse?” She holds up a short red dress—the bottom has little folds that make it look like a tennis skirt. Next she holds up a pair of what look like purple velvet jeans and a silky black blouse with some sort of faint purple pattern on it. Then she gives me five seconds to consider each option.
“The dress is cute.” My gaze strays to the other outfit. “But you look really pretty in purple.”
She glances at each one. “I love this dress but honestly, I don’t know what the seating arrangement will be. I’d hate to accidentally flash everyone and have the cameras catch it for ‘bonus footage’ or something.” She lets out a disgusted snort.
This show has been crass on every level. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit if they did something like that. “Pants it is, then.”
* * *
At the studio, we’re separated into different rooms. Venom, Kelly, Woolly, Bear Trap, Molly, and I get to hang together in a large room with a long green plaid couch and a few chairs. Woolly’s mom was escorted into the audience. Apparently only significant others get the privilege of being up on stage.
The wait is surprisingly awkward. The guys and I had all gotten along so well at the house. But now, everyone’s silent.
The door opens. Jordan stands there and flashes a cheesy thumbs-up at us. “How’s everyone feeling!” he shouts.
“Great!” Woolly lifts his arms up and down like a bird about to take flight.
Venom groans.
“Let’s line up.” Jordan’s enthusiasm is not infectious. We all march out the door like we’re being led to an execution.
