Andi Brockovich
Accountant—don’t let her talk about her job, it’s an absolute SNOOZE. Will cry a lot and believes almost anything she hears (she is one wrong Facebook post away from joining QAnon at any time). Not smart enough to purposely create drama but definitely dumb enough to accidentally create it. Very sensitive. Might want to get Charlotte on her.
Shae Brady
Big lead potential. Smart, savvy. Relatable to middle America. Major diversity points here.
14
Up & Go
I’m awake too early the next morning, dressed and in makeup, and talking about Marcus again with the girls.
Girl chats have become a part of my daily life like flossing or eating carrot sticks. Things I don’t see the point in but am obligated to do anyway. I try not to say too much unless there’s only two of us. The more girls get eliminated, the harder it gets to disappear into the background.
The hour-long chat seems to be winding down when Elodie drops the bomb: “What would you all think if someone acted outside of the journey to get something they wanted?”
“Like what?” Kendall asks, suddenly intrigued. My blood runs cold; I see the hit job coming from a mile away.
Elodie shrugs innocently. “I don’t know, like if someone got physical with Marcus in a way other girls hadn’t or couldn’t.”
Kendall sips her beloved cucumber water, smacking her lips before she leans back in her chair and crosses her legs. “What do you know, Elodie?”
“You mean, like,” Kady starts, “if someone slept with Marcus?”
I almost resist saying it but instead: “Since no one has revealed a heartwarming story about their virginity, I’m guessing we’re all interested in sleeping with Marcus. I don’t really see how other people’s physical relationships are our business.”
Kendall laughs. “Jac, did you sleep with Marcus?”
I sip the white wine I’d only grabbed to nurse. I smirk because it’s all I’ve got. “Well, I guess we all know you didn’t,” I say.
Shae actually snorts. Kendall takes another sip of her water with an eyebrow raised. She knows. They all know.
“We saw Marcus on Shailene’s season,” Kady interjects. “He’s sexually driven for sure.”
“You think he could be manipulated with sex?” Elodie asks.
“Marcus is an adult,” I say. “I think he can make his own decisions.”
“What did you do, Jac?” Kendall asks curiously.
“Is this for real?” I ask, posing the question to Elodie, who is giving me a picture-of-innocence look.
Elodie answers, “Jac can choose to share whatever she wants about her relationship with Marcus. We all know the relationships with Marcus are going to the next level. Anyone here worried they haven’t made enough progress yet? Grace-Ann?” And the conversation moves on.
When Elodie releases us, I follow some of the other girls out for their smoke breaks, lingering behind to catch a separate elevator. Kendall gives me a look when I come down into the lobby, where she’s just handed off a list of essentials to one of the production assistants.
“What are you doing down here?” she asks. “You don’t smoke.”
“Air,” I answer simply.
She gives me a once-over. “You think Marcus really slept with Shailene?”
The question takes me aback, not just for its abruptness but for the fact it’s pointed at me. I had never really thought about it, except for briefly while watching the season. Shailene was ashamed of what she had done, sure, but I had been positive she was claiming she hadn’t to preserve her relationship with Bentley, who was insanely jealous. “Yes,” I say.
“Hmm” is all she says in response.
“Do you know something?” I ask her.
She sighs heavily. “Go smoke your cigarette.”
More irritated than I was before, I make my way out of the hotel and to the side of the building where everyone is standing in groups, puffing on cigarettes with various smoke smells. I approach the first people I get to, Kady and Aaliyah.
“Bum?” I ask Kady.
She gives me a scathing look, but holds a cigarette out to me anyway. She’s whispering with Aaliyah, which I assume means she’s spilling the whole story to her. To the side of them, Priya and Brendan appear to be in conversation. There’s an interesting duo.
And then I spot Janelle, smoking alone. I go stand with her.
“Jac,” she says as we stand there, staring over a gray Chicago street, dirty water puddled around from a storm in the early morning.
“Janelle,” I answer. I don’t know much about her, aside from some of the other crew members calling her the lead whisperer.
“I didn’t know you smoked,” she says, sucking in on her cigarette.
“I don’t,” I admit, holding my cigarette out. Methodically, Janelle holds up a lighter, and I take a puff, igniting the end. I suck it in and then blow out, never really swallowing the smoke. “Just wish I did sometimes.”
“Terrible habit,” she answers, pocketing the lighter, giving me a sly smile. “Stress getting to you?”
