I MEET THE other girls. Aaliyah, the beauty queen from New York, and Grace-Ann, the beauty queen from Louisiana. Andi, an extremely hot accountant (yes, really) from Seattle. Social influencer—though her eventual TV chyron will say “Professional Dog Walker”—Kady from Canada, and nurse Candy (yes, really) from Florida. They all seem nice enough until Rikki, so drunk I don’t think she could possibly know what’s going on, locks herself into the bathroom insisting that the other girls were being mean to her and that she is never going to be able to fall in love with Marcus.
“All the drama already with that one,” Kady says. “I just told her I liked her dress.”
“Rikki,” I say, knocking on the door. “Rikki, why don’t you come out?”
She sobs in response. I sigh.
“Jac!” someone calls from across the room. “There you are!” Then Charlotte is marching over to me, latching on to my arm. “Come with me,” she says.
Charlotte had been the first producer I’d talked to from the 1. She’d reviewed my application and said she was very interested in me, in my background. She’d asked me all sorts of questions in that quiet, confident voice of hers, never having much response to the answers. Sharp as a tack and quick as a fox, she’d turn things around on me.
“I love a good story,” I remember telling her on our first call. “That’s what I love about the 1, how consistently, despite sometimes having so little to work with, you make the story happen.”
“Because it’s not real?” she prodded. During half our interview, she’d been taking notes, to the point I wasn’t sure they were even about me or what I was saying, but at that moment, she was looking at me intently.
“No,” I told her, shaking my head. I knew that was the wrong answer. “Because it’s not always as interesting as it could be. Some people fall in love that first night, right? And nothing ever changes their mind, but there still has to be a story. I love the 1 because it’s not just about love. It’s about everything else, too. Like when I was watching Shailene’s season, I knew she would never pick Marcus, but that didn’t make their dynamic any less interesting to watch, it didn’t make it any less compelling to see his arc play out on television.
“I’d be happy to find love, Charlotte, and I’d be happy to be a part of your story.”
She had smiled.
Back at the mansion, I allow Charlotte to lead me away from the bathroom door, out the glass double doors in the back and onto the patio, where the crew is abuzz.
“What have you been doing all this time?” Charlotte asks me, the chiding whisper of a girlfriend who you’d made plans with and subsequently ditched.
“Rescuing sad girls from the bathroom.”
Charlotte shakes her head. “Wrong choice,” she says. “You’re one of my contenders, girl. You need to go talk to Marcus.”
“Oh,” I say. “I get it. This is when you need me to interrupt whoever he’s currently talking with and cause some drama.”
Charlotte rolls her eyes. “Jac, listen, I know your type. You’ve seen this show, you’re not easily manipulated, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have to make any effort. The interruptions are expected. Just, very sweetly, grab his hand and ask to steal him for a minute.”
“I assume you want me to do that while the current girl is dead in the middle of her sob-worthy backstory?”
Charlotte smiles sardonically. “That charm. That wit. That humor.” Charlotte winks at me. “That’s what we brought you on for. Now, go,” she says, giving me a little push toward the tidy pagoda where Aliana is curled up with Marcus on a couch. I step forward, tilting my head to one side. Aliana is, predictably, tearing up.
“Oh,” I say. “Hey, y’all.”
Marcus looks up at me, relieved. I can tell I’m his life raft in this moment.
“You wanna get out of here?” I ask him, thinking I’m being funny. Aliana stares at me like she wishes I were dead.
But Marcus says, “Definitely,” shoots up from where he’s sitting with Aliana, and grabs my hand. I pull him in the direction of the pool in the mansion’s backyard, fairy lights glowing all around us. If I was writing a romantic scene into a book, I might set it here.
“You look like you’ve been waiting for a knight in shining armor,” I say to him.
“Mm-hmm,” Marcus says easily. “And is that you?”
I remembered Sarah telling me he was the perfect guy for me less than three weeks ago. I remember the way she’d sighed sweetly over the webcam.
Just make sure you’re ready.
I’m not. Because I know this is fake.
I’d known it from the first application and every interview since. I’d done what I needed to. I’d said things about falling in love and failed relationships and tragic backstory and whatever they wanted. I’d simpered and joked around and given my everything into getting on this show.
I am thirty-two and I’ve spent enough of my life running up this fucking hill.
Marcus stops at the edge of the mansion’s pool. I look down at the water, then back up at him.
“Well?” I say. “Are we doing this?”
I slough off my heels and crouch down, sitting at the edge of the pool, hiking up my evening gown, and dipping my feet into the water. With a laugh, Marcus gets down beside me, untying his shoes and then removing his socks.
“Don’t get your pants wet,” I warn him.
“Eh.” He shrugs with an easy grin. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“I don’t know, I guess you could just disappoint your future wife,” I return.
“Maybe I’d disappoint my future wife if I didn’t get into the pool with her,” Marcus says, and despite myself, I feel my cheeks warm. I sit there with no answer until he finally saves me. “How’s your night going so far?”
“I wasn’t sure we’d get to talk again,” I admit to Marcus.
“But you wanted to?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say, leaning my body toward his as much as I can while still sitting beside him. I think of kissing him, the bourbon I’d had taking a powerful hold of my bloodstream. “I might even move in, if you really want.”
