He opened the front door, and Olivia got the distinct sense that she needed to take a final deep breath before plunging into the sea. Parker stepped back, behind the camera, and TJ stepped forward, in front of it with Olivia and Chuck.
The house welcomed them with a tiled entryway flooded with natural light coming in from a skylight. The décor included a stash of natural artifacts—driftwood tables, succulents, tasteful art—and modern amenities. Given that the house was shaped like a U, the pool glittered straight through the back wall, with each wing stretching into the shady backyard on either side of it.
“Welcome to your home for the next month, Olivia and Chuck. Kitchen and living area to the left; bedroom, gym, and office to the right; bathrooms on both sides,” TJ said.
Olivia gazed around at the truly lovely setting in a daze, doing her best to ignore the cameras pointed at her face. Her apartment could have fit in it four times over, and even if it was modest by L.A. standards, it probably still cost five million dollars given the location.
“This is beautiful,” she said at the same time Chuck said, “Sorry, did you say bedroom? As in singular?”
TJ grinned and beckoned them to the left wing. “Sure did, Chuck.”
“Does that mean there’s—”
“Only one bed? Indeed. We thought it would keep things interesting.”
Olivia threw Chuck an annoyed look that saidI told you soas they rounded into the living room, which was, to her surprise, completely empty aside from a flat-screen TV sitting on a low stand. The camera crew followed on their heels.
“Where’s all the furniture?” she asked.
TJ gave them another sly grin. “Being delivered tomorrow. Teamwork and assembly required.”
Olivia’s heart sank. Not only at the prospect that they had nothing to sit on, but also that they’d been sentenced to flat-box furniture they’d have to assemble to remedy the situation.
“Wait, we have to put it together?” Chuck said, eyes wide.
“Yes,” TJ confirmed with a nod that managed to look smug.
Olivia gave Chuck a desperate look that she felt one of the cameras zoom in on. She could imagine the show overlaying a comedic sad trombone over it when the scene aired. They’d never assembled furniture together before, but seeing that they managed to get in a fight over the littlest things, the activity that notoriously sent couples spiraling into outrage did not hold promise for them.
“Something else we thought would keep things interesting,” TJ said. “This way.” He breezily waved them toward the kitchen on the other side of the dining room, where they at least had a table and chairs. The left wing of the house was essentially one continuous, open room. The kitchen held a large granite island with barstools, a stainless steel pillar of a fridge, and an impressive range. “Fridge will be stocked daily with ingredients for a meal that you both have to agree on eating together for dinner.”
“Or what, we starve?” Chuck said with a dark laugh.
TJ gave him a look over his shoulder that said he was serious. “Precisely.”
Olivia tried to stifle her groan. Agreeing on what to have for dinner was one of their biggest challenges. They’d wastehoursarguing over where to go, what to order to dine in, what to cook at home. The mental labor was exhausting, thanks in no small part to Chuck’s particular diet habits. She’d name every restaurant in WeHo, and he’d shoot them down one by one for some reason or another:too far, too greasy, too loud, too small, too slow, exclusive use of paper straws.Most nights when they ate together, she’d end up eating a bowl of cereal and he’d have a protein shake and they’d sit in silence staring at the TV, annoyed with each other. Coming up with a communal meal choice every day for the next month might be enough to send her packing on its own.
“Why is there a lock on the dishwasher?” Chuck said. He pointed to the strange contraption that looked part child-safety device, part industrial clamp holding the shiny silver door shut.
“Because, dear Chuck, a clean kitchen is key to a happy couple.”
“Oh my god,” Olivia muttered, seeing their intention.
Dishes.
They would inevitably pile up because Chuck never did them, even though sticking them in a dishwasher took all of a few minutes and made life much easier. If they had to wash them all by hand, Olivia would be hurling dinnerware again in no time.
They passed into a hallway with a set of glass doors that led out onto the pool deck, all the while Olivia acutely aware of the lenses pointed at her increasingly distressed face. Second thoughts roiled inside her like a spirited pep rally. Chuck tried to open the door on the opposite interior wall, but like the dishwasher, it was locked.
“What’s in here?” he asked.
The grin on TJ’s face was sinister and satisfied. “The second bathroom. Access to it waits behind one of your challenges. You’ll learn more about it later.”
Olivia closed her eyes and scrubbed her face with a hand. Sharing a bathroom with Chuck was a recipe for disaster. He’d take up ninety percent of the real estate with his trunk of products and leave the other ten percent a mess with towels and dirty clothes. Just the thought of it already made her want to scream.
And she realized that was the whole point.
After they’d left that negotiations meeting feeling high and mighty over their victories in the contract, theName Your Pricecrew truly had sat around thinking up inventive ways to torture them.