“I’m not going to get any readier!” Linda said.
“Slow and steady,” Tristan said, and he took his first shaky step down the stone that formed his wall, the outside of the stairwell they’d climbed to get to the roof. Linda found her footing against the wood paneling that formed the bulk of the manor’s exterior. Her foot pressed into the wall, and it seemed to flex inward like memory foam. She shrieked as she took a hurried next step, hoping to bypass the rotten spot, but her foot landed once more in a soft spot. She hurried down three more steps, giving herself too much slack on the strap that held her steady, and she lost herself in the momentum, falling, her legs struggling to catch up, until they slipped and missed the wall, and she hung suspended in the rope, spinning around to face the forest.
“Are you okay?” She heard Tristan’s harried voice to her left. “Linda! Are you all right?”
Linda closed her eyes and breathed, letting herself be cradled by the straps. “I’m okay,” she whispered. When she opened her eyes, she glanced below. Deja hadn’t stepped out of the shadow, but even through the gloom, Linda thought she could see the white of smiling teeth in her face.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Tristan asked. “What happened?”
Linda shivered while recalling the sensation of her foot sinking into soft wood. As her body spun to face the wall, she inspected the wood paneling. It looked no different than it should, and as she pressed her hand into it, it didn’t seem to flex.
“Nothing,” Linda said. “Lost my footing. That’s all.”
She rappelled to the closest window and grabbed hold of the ledge to slow her spinning. She put her feet once more onto the wall. This time, they didn’t sink. Tristan followed, keeping a careful eye on her. His concern was obnoxious. She sighed as she felt her world return to normalcy—or as normal as it had been of late, anyway. She closed her eyes and inhaled, and when she opened them again, she saw something move behind the window glass.
She looked more intensely, but the glass was dirtied on both sides. She swiped with her hand at the exterior, and the scene inside became marginally more evident: the room was full of houseplants, their leaves overgrown to form a baby canopy. The nursery looked peaceful, like a place she’d enjoy exploring when she got a moment alone.
“Is something the matter?” Tristan asked. “You look haunted.”
I’ve always been haunted, she should have said. It would have made for good TV, and it was true. But in that moment, she didn’t want to play along with the broken idea Deja had of her, the idea that Tristan had clung to: a woman in need of fixing.
“I’m fine,” she said—and she made her eager way down to the bottom.
• • •
She peered up as Tristan re-emerged onto the rooftop. As the Groom, he had to climb the stairs a total of four times. Linda didn’t envy him. Instead, she smirked to watch him tiring from the repeated exertion. He was usually so fit, so up for anything, but when he landed at the bottom of the manor with Sabrina, then Marion in tow, his hair was stuck with sweat to his forehead, and little bags had formed under his eyes.
He tried to smile at Linda as he passed her once more to disappear inside to the stairs, but his mouth faltered. It was almost endearing.
Sabrina planted herself beside Linda as they peered up for Tristan’s final descent.
“How’s Charity?” Linda asked. “Anymore ready than before?”
“Not so much,” Sabrina said. “But she said she’s determined to do it.”
Sabrina crossed her arms over her chest, then glanced at Linda before returning her gaze to the roof. “What happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“I was watching, and you tripped or something? You sounded freaked.”
Linda scowled. “I lost my footing, slipped on some moss or something. The wall was super soft.” She forced herself to smile. “No biggie.”
Sabrina’s mouth fell open. “Those bastards didn’t.”
“Who? What?”
Sabrina clicked the OFF button on her mic, then leaned in and gestured at Linda to do the same while Deja’s back was turned. Linda clicked hers off.
“I found this room,” Sabrina whispered. “And I saw a woman step out of the wall! I thought it was real…”
“Were you on drugs?”
“Linda. You know I don’t. Don’t interrupt me.”
“Sorry,” Linda said. “Go on.”
“Anyway, I freaked the fuck out, but then I explored the hall and found this secret hallway. They hid it behind some crap fake door. When I walked back there, I found a spot where producers could stand and make impressions in this soft material they replaced the wall with.”
Linda’s stomach twisted. The implication went beyond the manipulation Linda had come to expect from the show.
“So, they really are planning on messing with us?”
“Not planning to. They’re already doing it.”
“And you’re sure you weren’t on drugs?”
“Linda, I swear to G—”
Deja stuck her face between them.
“You can gossip with your mics on,” she said. “Turning them off is against the rules. You both know that.”
Linda pressed hers back on as fast as she could. “Accident,” she rushed to say.
“Don’t let it happen again.”
Deja stared at Sabrina until she, too, flipped hers on, then beckoned Linda to follow her. When Linda stepped away, Deja handed her a wireless earpiece.
