Page 37 of The Charm Offensive
“Yeah. Why?” He chews on his thumbnail. “Do you think Angie is a better fit for him?”
Jules sighs and reaches over to scratch his arm. “Sure, Dev. That’s what I think.”
Every season, at the end of week three, before they winnow the contestants down to ten and winnow the crew down to essential personnel for the travel portion of the show, they always host a gigantic “ball” before the Crowning Ceremony. Twelve women competing to dance withoneman. It’salwaysa shitshow.
When the town car pulls up to the Peninsula Beverly Hills, Charlie is a bundle of nerves, which means Dev is a bundle of nerves, though his anxiety is at least in part caused by the SourPatch Kids and nitro coffee he had for dinner. While Charlie is whisked away into hair and makeup, Dev distracts himself from his restless worrying about Charlie by checking on the women. They’re gathered together in a conference room that’s been converted into a dressing space. They’re all strapped into Disney-inspired ball gowns with cinched waists and tulle skirts.
He finds Angie, Daphne, and Sabrina huddled in the corner surrounded by a surplus of fabric and In-N-Out drive-thru bags smuggled in by Kennedy, the handler who replaced him. They’ve all got napkins shoved down the front of their dresses like bibs. It’s charmingly adorable.
Charlie’s already decided which two women he’s sending home tonight, so in addition to these three women, it’s Delilah, Lauren L., Becca, Whitney, Rachel, Jasmine, and Megan—whom Maureen insists on keeping for a few more weeks—who will be flying on to New Orleans with them tomorrow.
“Well, if it isn’t our future husband’s keeper.” Angie raises an animal-style burger at him in greeting. “How’s our boyfriend doing?”
“He’s…” Dev pulls a Charlie and doesn’t bother finishing that sentence.
Daphne also pulls a Charlie and furrows her brow intensely. “He’s seemed upset about something all week. Is there anything we can do to help?”
He shakes his head. If Dev knew how to help get Charlie back to where they were before, he would’ve done it already.
“Hey, Daphne, I was wondering,” Megan says as she stomps over in a dress clearly inspired by Maleficent. The wardrobe department is not subtle. “Are you going to ask Charlie to dance at the ball, or are you hoping Angie asks you instead?”
Daphne turns the same color pink as herSleeping Beautygown, and Angie throws a French fry at Megan. “Fuck off, you homophobic twat.”
Megan wheels around to Dev. “Did you hear what she just said to me?”
Dev points to his ear, like someone is shouting in his headset, so he doesn’t have to openly acknowledge her casual homophobia. Then someone actuallyisshouting in his headset. It’s Ryan. “Dev, get over here. We have a problem.”
As out of shape as he is, it only takes thirty seconds for him to sprint across the hotel to Charlie’s wardrobe room. Still, in those thirty seconds, Dev imagines dozens of horrible scenarios involving Charlie. What he finds is worse than anything he could’ve envisioned.
Charlie is standing in the middle of the room wearing nothing but his plastic crown and the smallest pair of black boxer briefs. He is basicallynaked, the muscles of his abdomen all funneling down to a V pointing toward his crotch like a neon flashing arrow. The sight is, in a word, pornographic.
Dev shouldn’t look but he does. At all of Charlie. So much tan skin, strong thighs, faint freckles along his collarbone, muscles reduplicating down his abdomen, and still, those big gray eyes, so innocent and sweet and contradictory to everything else.
Ryan conveniently steps in between Dev and his view of Charlie’s obliques. “He’s refusing to wear the Prince Charming suit!” Ryan screams, as if Charlie isn’t there to explain himself.
Charlie chokes. “I’m sorry. I’m so… so sorry.”
“If you’re sorry,put on the suit!”
“It’s wool. I’m sorry, but I just can’t… I don’t wear wool.”
Charlie’s deep into a spiral about this, and Dev pushes aside his thoughts about the nakedness so he can tap out Morse code against Charlie’s bare shoulder. Then he turns his attention back to Ryan. “It sounds like you need to get Charlie a new suit.”
“We’re filming in thirty minutes. How thefuckdo you propose I get a new suit that quickly?”
Dev shrugs. “You’re the supervising producer on set. You’ll figure it out. It’s in Charlie’s file that he doesn’t wear wool. It’s alsoJune.”
Ryan grinds his teeth and violently grabs his walkie-talkie. “We need a new suit, pronto,” he snaps as he storms out of the wardrobe room with a PA on his heels.
Then they’re alone in the dressing room, and Dev realizes he hasn’t really been alone with Charlie since the 3 a.m. conversation.
“Thank you,” Charlie manages, his eyes on the ground. “For sticking up for me.”
“You never have to thank me, Charlie. This is my job.”
“Your job,” Charlie echoes slowly. Dev wants to push. He wants to poke and prod. He wants to grab Charlie by both shoulders.Come back to me,he would scream.Don’t lock yourself up again.
Skylar bursts into the room, and Dev takes a step back. “What is this about a new—Son of a bitch.” Skylar stops short when she sees Charlie. “Jesus Christ. Can someone please get this man a robe?”
