Michael

Michael continued his shower alone, understanding why Ronnie couldn’t join him even as he mourned that necessity. The joy of reconnecting with her, both mentally and physically, was intoxicating. But like all intoxication it was starting to fade and doubt creeped in around the edges. Without her presence, he was left free to wonder how badly he’d stepped in it this time.

His relationship with Danica was very much on the rocks but she’d never actually ended it for good so - was there a chance? When he saw Danica’s face on that stage last night, he hoped there might have been. Had he just set it on fire? They’d spent almost a decade together, raised Mallory together even if she wasn’t his by blood. Those knots don’t easily come undone.

But then, of course, Ronnie had come back. Seeing her again, and the weight of sixteen years of longing crashing onto his head… It knocked him senseless.

And then she came on to me this morning. It was brief but it was magical. Not unlike their marriage itself, now that he thought about it. Once again he was left trying to balance scales that simply refused to be balanced. Weighing a life built with one woman against a life stolen from another.

No matter which I choose, it’s going to devastate the other. Or worse. Michael took the opportunity to shave even though he didn’t really need to, but it gave him an excuse to drag this out. But eventually even that ran out. He shut off the water and stepped out to towel himself off and throw on a robe. Michael started cleaning up the rooms a bit. He could have just called for a maid, but it would surely be another woman like Ronnie was and he wasn’t prepared to see that again so early. He hadn’t ordered any, but there was a knock at the door and breakfast was waiting in the hall when he opened it. Fortunately, whomever had left it was gone, which gave him enough moral cover to take the food and pretend not to think about who had made it.

He pecked at it while he sat on the balcony in a Harem Hotel branded robe, pointedly not looking at the chair where he’d violated his marriage vows. Or renewed them? Who can tell?! Nothing about this situation is in the manual.

During his sad binge-watch the night before, he’d gotten terrifying glimpses of what happened to some of his predecessors. More beast than man by the end of it. But did the Hotel make them so, or just unlock it? Reading between the lines, Ronnie seemed to believe the latter. Ruby too. She had acted like this should be his dream, almost insulted that he didn’t immediately agree. But he didn’t need to read between the lines with Al, that guy baldly accused him with every smile and crass comment. Michael worried that they saw something that he refused to see in himself.

I love both women, but I’m not a goddamned monk. I thought things and said things I wouldn’t repeat to them at gunpoint.

Michael was **** to take stock of a lot of instances where he’d not quite lived up to his own self-image. The bullshit sessions with his airman buddies where he’d compared Rhonda to their girlfriends and discussed favorite pairings. Meeting colleagues and clients to drunkenly complain about Sarah.

Even that one-time kiss with Janet. He hadn’t asked for it, as far as he could tell he hadn’t invited it, but he couldn’t shake it either. And over the year as his marriage with Danica unraveled, other, darker, thoughts had found purchase. That’s just imagination. I don’t believe in thoughtcrime. Still, they returned anew… Visions of Janet kissing him again, only this time without the threat of Danica’s wrath to stop them… Of having Vivian alone, with his chance to tell her how she’d damaged him and punish her accordingly… Of finally teaching Mallory some respect and gratitude for-

BOOM

Michael ducked as fireworks that launched from the hotel roof detonated just over his head. He loosed his grip on the table and saw Janet’s name, spelled out in the sky as the challenge winner.

Good for her. That girl needs a few more wins in her life.

The explosion did forcefully eject him from his moping session and remind him they were all still stuck here, dancing to someone else’s tune. Not so different from Ronnie’s captivity after all. He felt pangs of fresh guilt about resting up here in a fuzzy robe while the women were off doing God knows what. It was time to go see them and see what he could offer for help. Michael headed inside to dress, pulling on khakis and a polo shirt. They felt better on him than they had in a while, the mirror showed he was looking trimmer than before. I’ve been up over 24 hours and I barely feel tired. No bags under my eyes at all. The Hotel wouldn’t want him crashing and sleeping all day. I’m still the star of this damn thing. He lamented.

He wasn’t really sure where he needed to go. But when he made it down the elevator to the gaming floor, he saw that most of the games had been left and a crowd gathered to watch a new central stage that hadn’t been there the night before. Al and Ruby were announcing, but Michael couldn’t make out their words over the cacophony of the abandoned slot machines begging for attention.

He tapped one of the guests on the shoulder to pass, and as they noticed he was there they quickly and simultaneously parted to form a lane to the stage. I’m never going to get used to that.

Michael climbed up to see the seven women arrayed in chairs, several of them clutching hands like it was a prayer circle. Perhaps it is.

Janet and Vivian were soaked to the skin, their clothes and hair plastered to their bodies as if they had showered in their clothes. Janet was curled up on her chair, biting the nails on her free hand while clutching Mallory’s with the other. Vivian sat cross-legged with her fingers intertwined around her knee, but her white-knuckles belied her true tension.

Sarah looked furious and was grinding her fist into her opposite palm, so no real change there.

The other four looked scared, but somewhat stoic. Danica and Mallory held each other closely, although the latter was stuffed into a far-too-small employee uniform. I don't even want to ask. Ronnie, still dressed in the clothes and boxers she had borrowed from Michael’s closet, wore the thousand-yard stare of a veteran as they watched the screen. Michael followed their gaze to a projector screen dropped from the ceiling, showing a pie graph under each of their names, each of which appeared to be updating in real time.

“What did I miss?” They hadn’t seemed to notice him until he spoke, with their attention fixated on the screen and whatever that showed. But he was suddenly being pierced by seven sets of eyes, all with varying levels of resentment.

“Mikey! You’re just in time for the results! Have a seat and join us.” One of the staff produced a chair and plopped it at the end of the semi-circle of women. Al and Ruby looked happier than he had seen them the whole time.

“We’ve just announced the possible transformations and they are in the hands of the voters.” Ruby smiled, gesturing to the chair. Michael knew she could **** him into it if she wanted to, so he took her direction.

Right. The transformation rounds. He hadn’t paid much attention to those in his binge-watch, he was more interested in looking for Ronnie and the staff didn’t play much of a role there.

“I’m the Master of this show, right?” Michael asked the hosts. Mallory scoffed at that, but didn’t say anything.

“Sure are, Mikey. I’m glad you’re onboard.”

“This whole competition is about being pleasing to me, then?” Ruby and Al agreed. Ok, this is a good start. “I say I like these women the way they are, so call off the transformation rounds and let's leave them as is.” The ladies perked up at that suggestion, sensing a possible hope. The hosts seemed skeptical, but neither responded. Michael pushed his luck. He stood from his chair, digging deep into his memory to adopt his old Staff Sergeant tone and tenor. “The Master commands it.”

Ruby and Al took one look at each other and doubled over laughing. Not at all the desired effect.

Al barely collected himself. “Aw, Mikey, don’t get it twisted. We love you around here but-”
“We’re still in charge.” Ruby finished. Instead of a counter-snipe, Al just nodded in agreement.

“Us and the viewers, baby. They want it, they get it. And don't worry so much. As lovely as each of these broads are, they could be better. Why settle? We don't and neither should you.”

Michael sat down and deflated into the chair. Danica patted his knee. “Thanks for trying, at least.” She whispered. They shared a weak smile, but it only reinforced their common helplessness.

“Ok folks, the polls are still open! Keep those votes rolling in!” Ruby called to the camera.
[AN: Ruby lies a lot and she's lying again. The Polls are now closed.]