“Go,” he says, pointing at the door. “And God help Marcus Bellamy if he chooses you. Henry, you stay.”
“Wait for me,” Henry says, grabbing my forearm before I can stomp off. “I’ll just be a minute.” His voice is soft, but it’s not like John can’t hear us, can’t see him touching me.
I leave the room and slump back against the wall next to the door. John’s voice is rising through the wall, but I can’t make out anything he’s saying.
After about ten minutes, Henry exits, adjusting the jacket he’s wearing over his T-shirt. He’s staring down at his expensive sneakers, almost collecting himself for a moment, before he looks back up at me. “Well,” he says, “you really fucked that.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “What now?”
He drops his voice. “Why didn’t you tell me in Cancun as soon as Marcus told you he knew?”
“Because I don’t trust you,” I say without a moment’s hesitation. Only partially true but I’m not willing to admit that.
His expression doesn’t change. “I could’ve gotten you out then, if I’d known. If you’d talked to me first. Production doesn’t like to be blindsided.”
“And if I’d left? Would that have been easier for you?”
“Of course it would’ve, Jac. Don’t ask stupid questions. The way you went about things opened us up to a hundred more problems. Marcus knows and is out for blood, and John is threatening lawsuits over the NDA. You didn’t trust me and now you’re here.”
“I asked you to leave!” I yell. We both go silent, stewing in our own anger.
Finally, in an even voice, he says, “You asking me to leave wasn’t real. It was just a test that you knew I would fail.”
Then I say what has been eating me up for days: “Why do you care?”
Henry swallows, and it sits there between us like the seismic shift it is. “I swore I wouldn’t get this involved with a contestant again, not after I fucked up so badly with Marcus, and look at the damage I’m doing.”
It feels like his apology, and maybe it is. We’re quiet for a moment before I say, “I know why you didn’t recognize me at the bar in Santa Monica.”
Unperturbed, as if this is the conversation we were having all along, he answers, “Face blindness?”
“It’s because you’ve never seen any of us as real people. You can’t here. That’s the only thing that makes this job doable for you.”
He doesn’t argue with me; rather, he looks slightly dazed.
“So, what are we going to do now?” I ask when it’s clear he has no response.
He takes a deep breath. “I’m going to do everything I can to get you out of this without you getting hurt any worse.”
I lean back against the wall, close my eyes, and absorb it. Nothing more is said.
It was the moment, and now it’s over.
It was the moment, and we both let it pass us by.
1 in the Sun Trailer
Rikki, sitting in a bikini and drinking from a coconut: Things are about to get hot!
[In its trademark kitsch style, a cheesy ’70s love song starts playing while castoffs from the 1 meet and drink together. Andi meets with John Michael Reston, the bro-y eighth place finisher from Shailene’s season.]
Andi: Something about John Michael just does it for me.
[Cat Butler from Amar’s season walks onto the beach.]
Cat, smiling: The bitch is back!
Voiceover: Things are going to get wilder than ever before!
[Footage of Rikki making out with three different men: one under a waterfall, one at a beachside picnic, one on a bed on the beach. Finally, she is crying at the famous 1 in the sun bar.]
Rikki, sobbing: I really think I love him.
Aaliyah: Bless that girl’s heart, but she falls in love with every man she meets.
John Michael: I’d do anything for her.
[Andi sobbing.]
[Henrik from Shailene’s season stomps across the beach and gets into an unseen contestant’s face.]
Henrik: You wanna go, bro?
Voiceover: Don’t miss any of the drama on season 8 of 1 in the sun, premiering Tuesday night after the 1 finale.
The Carolinas
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