Where's the Straight Guy?

My name was Alexis Callahan, and my brother was Alexander Callahan. He went by Alex, and I went by Lexi.

He'd signed up for this reality show, but the day before filming started, he broke his leg wrestling with someone at a bar and ended up in the hospital. So he shoved his ID, suitcase, and application materials into my arms.

"Lexi, you've gotta save my life here," he said.

I shot back, "Are you out of your mind?"

"You get ten million."

"Have I ever told you you're the best brother a girl could ask for?"

And that was literally all it took.

I'd thought I was just showing up to fill in for him. I would lay low the first week, get eliminated, and go home with 50 grand in appearance fees.

But ten minutes after walking through the door, I realized something was very wrong.

The first male contestant was Wyatt Jamison. He was six-foot-three with a buzz cut, and he looked totally ripped. He looked into the camera and said, "I'm gay."

Then he turned around, saw the female producer in the kitchen, and his ears turned red.

The second male contestant, Ethan Vaughn, wore gold-rimmed glasses and had that "clean-cut on the outside, trouble on the inside" kind of look. He said, "I've played for the other team for years."

The next second, his phone screen lit up. The caller ID said, "Ex-Girlfriend, Stop Calling Me."

The third male contestant was even more ridiculous. He introduced himself with, "I'm a bottom."

I glanced at the tattoo on his wrist. It said, "All My Exes Are Evil Witches."

I was speechless.

Seriously? Did the casting team just close their eyes and sweep people in with a broom?

All 12 of us sat down in the living room. The director, Phil Smith, told us to introduce, in order, our sexual orientation, job, and ideal type.

When it was my turn, I looked at the 11 pairs of eyes focused on me, all bright and innocent like a bunch of kids on the first day of school, and slowly said, "I'm Alex Callahan. I'm a freelancer. My ideal type is…"

I paused. Everyone stared at me.

I finished, "Whoever can give me ten million."

Behind the camera, Phil let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like a pig squealing.

The live comments flew by.

[LOL this dude is so real!]

[He looks real cocky.]

[Send help. Alex totally gives 'silent but could punch someone through a wall' vibes!]

[My money's on him being gay. No straight guy dresses that well.]

I looked down at the black hoodie I'd bought online for 20 bucks with free shipping.

Hey, being broke was also a fashion statement, wasn't it?

…

That first night, production set up an icebreaker game. The rules were simple—everyone drew a question card and had to answer.

The first question went to Wyatt. It read, "When was the last time your heart skipped a beat?"

He was quiet at first. His gaze drifted toward the kitchen, where the female producer was slicing fruit. His Adam's apple bobbed, and he said, "Just now."

Everyone went, "Whoa!"

Whoa, my ass. This guy was straighter than the telephone pole outside my apartment.

The second question went to Ethan. The card read, "If your crush confessed to you, what would you do?"

He pushed up his glasses. "It depends."

Phil pressed, "Depends on what?"

Ethan said, "On whether she's serious."

The room went quiet for a beat.

He scrambled to fix his blunder. "He. I mean, he."

I looked at him, and he looked at me. The air was thick with the kind of awkwardness that made us both want to call 911.

When it was my turn, my card read, "Who do you think is the most likely secret straight guy in the house?"

I looked up and did a slow sweep around the room. The other 11 contestants all sat up straight at the same time. I wasn't even joking—for a second, it was like watching 11 dogs that had stolen food off the table pretend to be innocent the moment their owner walked through the door.

I said, "Honestly, everyone looks pretty straight."

Phil's eyes lit up. "Why do you think that?"

"Because they're all trying way too hard."

Everyone laughed, except Wyatt. He just stared at me, a knowing look in his eyes.

Crap. Had he figured out I was a woman?

But all he did was lean in, drop his voice, and ask, "You, too?"

"Me what?"

"Straight."

I looked into his earnest eyes. Suddenly, I realized something even worse. Out of the 12 of us, aside from me, every single one of them probably thought they were the only hidden straight guy. And I was the only one who knew they were all straight.

But… I was a woman!