Sugar McKenzie and August Wakefield couldn't be more different - Sugar, a meticulous, caring, but lonely paramedic and August, a charming former reality star still chasing his dream. But they've both closed themselves off emotionally from others...t...
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My mother named me after Augustus. The Roman Emperor Augustus that reclaimed territories. All the characteristics paired with the Emperor, I encapsulated. Leader, warrior, lover, and loyal person. You know the prestige title. The reality television series Champion director instructed me to tell this scripted story instead of the truth, which was that my father and mother had no name. Well, they couldn't decide on a boy's name. Ten names were on a list and none of them were the one they picked. I was born a month early. So my parents had the most genius idea. How original.
I lived that fabricated Champion tale, along with all the other ones.
Why yes, my leadership was shown throughout my middle and high school years as the football quarterback.
No. I never played football in my entire life.
Yes, I acquired a black belt before the age of twelve.
Hell no, I couldn't kick my leg above my head. I had none of those flexible moves, other than the fact I could lift a woman with my legs around her torso. Priorities and all that.
Yes, I had the best experience with women before I auditioned for Champion. I knew how to kiss a woman, how and where women desired to be touched, and the differences between flirtation and seriousness.
I knew nothing. I couldn't even talk to girls throughout my adolescent life. My stutters made me sound like a wannabe rapper. I made no eye contact with girls. In all honesty, girls didn't flock over to me. With my acne that had more bumps than an iguana and twisted front teeth, my physical features deterred the girls.
Yes, my loyalty stayed with my family and friends.
This was the "truest" lie.
If there was such a thing, Min-ho would've given me a look. It became a lie during my high school years and when I transitioned into the real world. The shift took a major toll. Mundane retail and fast food occupations weren't satisfying. As fast as I acquired a job, the pace was similar to how quickly I stopped showing up. His mother yelled at me, "Attend college! Get a job! Do something. Anything besides laying around in bed!"
I had no good grades to display my dedication and passion, especially in the motivation department. I was nineteen when I auditioned for Champion: Season Four. I combed my messy curls back. I prayed that powder foundation covered the acne on my nose, my hairline, and forehead. The production of the show stopped in Cincinnati, Ohio. Advertisements promised large sums of money, camera time, and the best game experience within an enormous mansion.
I had nothing to lose. After waiting in long lines and interviews, I was not chosen because I answered the personality test correctly, my dashing smile, or my experience. It was my name and one physical feature. The casting director said, "Your eyes. Those are the eyes of a star."
