I flip him off with both hands (which eventually airs with my hands blurred during a fight I have with another girl later in the season), and then he looks at the cameraman next to him, making the kill gesture. “I think we’re done here.”
When I go back to the other girls, a dull conversation about manicures is going on. A few girls come and go with Marcus. When Aliana leaves for her time, Kady turns to us excitedly. Kady is a short, perky redhead with a gift for gossip and, in my opinion, short-term staying power on the show. There’s just not much substance there. But she looks like she’s itching for conversation when she launches into her news.
“Ali’s not doing so hot,” Kady says, twirling a piece of long, auburn hair around her finger.
I squint at Ali’s disappearing form. “Why?” I ask.
“Because she misses her daughter,” Kendall says, throwing her hands out at me like it’s obvious.
Rikki jumps in politely and says, “I’m sure Jac didn’t know she had a daughter.” She takes a long gulp from the wine in her hand.
I don’t answer because, honestly, I don’t care, and neither Kady nor Aliana interest me in the slightest.
We wait and wait and wait. Time seems to have stopped moving as we talk to each other, and then the producers, and then each other, and it’s so deadly dull, I’d kill for something interesting to do.
“I quit my job to be here,” Grace-Ann says, pulling me out of my reverie.
I almost spit out my drink. “You quit your job to be here?” I demand. “Why?”
“Because Marcus is my person,” Grace-Ann says, serious as a heart attack. I toss back my head and laugh.
“Are you insane?” I ask her. I’ve been drinking too much, again.
“Actually,” Kendall cuts in. “Plenty of contestants have quit their jobs and ended up with the lead.”
“Oh, come off it,” I answer. “Join a dating app.”
“Jac,” Rikki whispers under her breath but actually loudly enough that we can all hear it because she also doesn’t realize how drunk she is. “You’re being rude again.”
I sigh. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I know not everyone can just leave their job behind for three months.” I glance at Rikki. “I guess you just hope shit works out for the best. Because that’s how life so often works, am I right?”
Kendall glares at me. “You know we’re not all too stupid to understand sarcasm, right? Maybe you should come down off your high horse, Jacqueline.”
“Why don’t you tell the other girls what your job is, Jac?” Priya says, easily hopping into the convo. I glance at her, ready for a fight, but when I look back at the other girls, they’re watching me with interest.
“I’m an author,” I say after a beat too long.
“What, like, for real?” Grace-Ann asks.
Kendall’s eyebrow raises delicately. “And would we have read any of your books?”
I glance up at the producers and camera crew who are watching us. I can role-play as someone successful. “Oh . . .” I draw out the word. “I don’t know. Probably. If you’re a person who reads books.” I meet Kendall’s eyes as I say this. “They’re pretty big in book clubs.” Lie. Lie, that I can only inevitably be caught in, but Henry smiles at me over Kendall’s shoulder.
Suddenly, Aliana is back upon us and she is crying. “Stasia,” she tells us through tears, “took my time with Marcus. We were talking about my daughter and she just . . . she said she needed him.”
“Hey,” Grace-Ann says, quickly jumping up and putting an arm around Aliana, “hey, it’s fine. It’s all going to be all right.”
Aliana sits down next to Grace-Ann, still sobbing. Aliana is drunk; we’re all drunk. I glance over at Rikki, who shrugs in response to the shit show currently happening.
“I just—” Aliana is still saying. “This is so hard, and we were really getting somewhere. She’s been trying to get in between us since the obstacle course today.”
“What do you mean?” I can’t help but ask, a mixture of boredom and alcohol fueling me.
Ali looks up at me with tears in her eyes, and my cold heart melts for a moment. She really does look heartbroken. “She told Grace-Ann during the race that me having a baby as a teenager showed a lack of class and was why Marcus would never pick me.”
Rikki’s mouth drops, and I frown. “She said . . . that to you?”
Ali starts to say something, shakes her head, and falls into Grace-Ann’s side again. Grace-Ann just nods.
“In what context did she manage to throw that in?” I ask, perplexed. And then for good measure, I say, “That’s so fucked up.”
“Surely you can find another way to say that,” Elodie interjects into the conversation.
“If shit’s fucked up,” I tell Elodie, looking over at her, more belligerent than I have any business being, “I’m going to call it fucked up.”
Kendall inclines her head toward me. “When she’s right, she’s right.”
As the volume of the girls increases in line with their consumption and indignation over what to do about Stasia, I get up and sneak over to the bar. Elodie follows me in a deeply obvious way.
“Old-fashioned,” I tell the bartender as Elodie sidles up and leans into the bar next to me. I lock eyes with her so she knows she has my attention.
“Maybe you should talk to Stasia about what she said to Aliana,” Elodie suggests. “Clear the air?” She shrugs.
I haven’t said a word to Stasia since I got here. I only vaguely know what she looks like. “I think not,” I mutter back to Elodie.
Elodie’s eyebrows knit together, confusion. “Aren’t you trying to ingratiate yourself to the other girls? Stand up for women? It’s kind of slut shame-y, what Stasia said, isn’t it?”
I sigh deeply. “Elodie, I’m sorry, but I didn’t discover feminism last year. Save your social media buzzwords and talk to me when you have a better pitch for me to do something incredibly stupid.”
