Why did I think keeping quiet about this giant fuck-up snowballing towards us was a good idea? He deserved to know.
“Here.” Raiden reaches for my hand and pulls me up. “To think she hasn’t spoken to you for almost two months, but she’s come all the way to see you here. That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”
I’m bleeding…to death. Inside, where nobody can see.
“Raiden,” Jack says, “I’m sure you are aware—”
“Georgiana! Rover missed you so much.” Veronique Wess brings the show to a stop right there because the show is always about her.
Rover is being a good boy, and sits down in the close circle of people, cameramen to the side, photographers already snapping photos as if we’re on the catwalk. Mom is at my side, and she draws me into an awkward attempt at a hug, but my body is stiff and unyielding to her pretense as I cling to Raiden’s hand. I push her away, subtly, but there’s no denying the connection now.
“And this is Raiden, your teammate?” Veronique asks sweetly.
“Can we cut to the chase?” I ask, loud and clear for everybody to hear.
I still can’t look my mom in the eye, and I let go of Raiden’s warm, callused hand. His gaze chases around the circle of people gathered, as if he is starting to sense something isn’t right.
“Okay,” John Wallis says. “Here’s the situation. We signed Veronique on as judge for this competition, unaware of the family connection between George and Veronique.” He clears his throat. “This was pointed out to us by other contestants, so, unfortunately, this unprecedented situation has forced us to make some tough decisions today.”
I’ve stopped breathing and next to me, Raiden has gone deadly pale, his jaw working as he starts to piece together what John Wallis’s words mean. Somehow the noise in the warehouse has died down. The truck’s reverse signal no longer beeps, and there’s a bad acoustic echo to every other sound that’s slowly coming to a halt.
“W-what? H-h-how?” Raiden speaks so softly, but I know that the camera filming us is going to pick up his every word.
“This is the first year we’re running this show, and I promise, next year we’ll do better. We didn’t pick up on the connection through any documentation—not your résumé that was sent to the secretary, or anything else,” John Wallis says.
God. My résumé, in which I’d listed several projects I’ve worked on, but never mentioned my connection with Veronique Wess. I didn’t want them to call on her for references when I applied for the tiny house internship, wanting to get the gig on my own steam.
“We’re going to keep this quiet this weekend and it will only come out during the TV show, so I am counting on your discretion.” John Wallis takes a deep breath and heaves it out as if he’s heavy-hearted. “We’re disqualifying your entry for the competition, but don’t worry, we’re keeping the tiny house here so people can see it and it’s still going up for auction. I bet by the look of it, yours will go for the highest bid in the whole competition. People coming to the auction will vote for the best tiny house with money, and money talks louder than any other prize, doesn’t it?”
I close my eyes at the finality in his voice, knowing if I don’t say something now, there’ll be nothing I can do beyond this moment. “Can’t you step down as a judge, Mom?”
“George. You know how these things work.”
“No, I have no clue. All I know is you’re here, without saying a word about it to me. When I saw your photo on the website this morning and connected the dots, I rushed here to see how I could fix this.”
Mom puts her hand on my arm and leans in, right to my ear. “Don’t fix this, George,” she whispers to me. “It is a fabulous twist. Better than any soap opera. You’ll see, it will pay off. The show’s ratings will go through the roof.”
Gawd. Is that all she can think about? “Step down, Mom. Please,” I beg, my mind only on Raiden and how this will gut him. “They can find another judge.”
Raiden’s gaze is on me, burning. “Knew, you did?”
I open my mouth, but I don’t have words. They all dry up as his gaze intensifies.
Then he turns away, dragging a hand through his hair. When he comes full circle, he is holding his hands to his mouth, palms pressed together as if in prayer. “Do-do-don’t t-tell me y-y-you knew.”
I can only nod, ever so slightly, because the enormity of my stupidity slaps me through the face, and I’m rattled to the core.
“Y-you k-knew a-and d-d-didn’t t-tell me?”
I look up at him, seeing in my peripheral vision how the cameraman zooms in on Raiden’s stricken face. Raiden’s unaware, his eyes searching my face as if he’s looking for any sign that none of this is true.
I glance towards the camera, willing the cameraman to stop filming. Raiden’s gaze follows mine and jerks back to me. Where I was heated up in a deep blush before, a stinging chill spreads over my skin as I take in the horrified shock on his face as he realizes that he’s stuttered in front of the camera. Jack’s eyebrows are checking in with his hairline as the reason for Raiden’s stoic camera presence drops, at last, like a penny. All I want is for this to stop, but I’m in a slow-motion, time-warped moment where the pain is intensified by my own shame at having miscalculated the consequences of keeping my revelation to myself.
Raiden steps away from me and casts a final glance around the circle of people, all of them uneasy with no idea where to look. He turns around and stomps away, without a word.
34
RAIDEN