“Both, I guess.”
“Who are you sleeping with?” Linda asked, trying to keep the conversation going in the hopes that it might keep her mind off the cornucopia of errant noises.
“Jazz, Leo. It’s not just sex, though, despite what Deja says.”
“Deja knows?”
“She found out. She finds everything out.”
“Does she care?”
“Shit yeah, she cared. Threatened to sack us.” Becca huffed. “I’m so done with her bullshit.”
“If it’s not just sex, what is it?” Linda glanced down at her hand and traced a blue vein.
“We’re in love. Like you.”
Linda barked a laugh as she pushed herself to her feet. “Sleeping with Tristan is the last thing on my mind.”
Becca rolled her eyes. “I’m not talking about him.”
Chapter Nineteen
Sabrina
After reshoots, Sabrina dressed. There was a ceremony to attend and a man to impress.
Sabrina wasn’t about to out anyone, but the next time she got private time with Tristan, she had to tell him: two of the women weren’t invested in him. She had seen it in that bathroom with Linda and Charity.
Her sister had warned her that other women cared for their friends only when it benefited them. Sabrina had doubted this the way she had doubted the reality of the destiny bestowed upon her at birth—doubting was a way to stave away the fear that she was, in fact, alone in the world of women. When she reached the mansion on her first day of the show, and Linda had swept her underneath her wing and promised her not even The Groom could come between them, Sabrina ached for the missed memories of slumber parties and shopping dates.
When Sabrina met Linda, she felt like she saw clearly, for the first time since her sister’s advice had confused her. Friends, other women, could exist even within that inevitable competition for a man. But as Sabrina sat ignored while Linda cooed over Charity in the bathroom, understanding crept in. Linda wasn’t a loyal friend. She just didn’t care for Tristan. She would probably drop everything for love, even her friends, just like Sabrina’s sister had taught her.
It was small, the realization. Sabrina had her suspicions after the dailies that Linda’s secrets might come spilling out, that they may be the kinds of secrets Sabrina couldn’t look past, that Linda might indeed be the villain of the competition, and that had made her wary, if unsure. She felt no conviction yet.
But this small thing, this tiny slight, hit Sabrina clear as day. Linda had forgotten her wounded friend the moment Charity stepped into the light of that bathroom mirror. And if her sister had been right about women, what else might she have been right about?
Sabrina zippered the back of her dress, feeling once more part of a true-love fairy tale. Tristan was the man for her. Right? And hadn’t this all been decided years ago, anyway—back at her birth, when her mother blessed her with beauty, so that years down the line, Tristan could look at her with his wanting gaze?
• • •
That night during the ceremony, as Tristan slipped the corsage onto Sabrina’s wrist, she would lean over and whisper into his ear, “Charity and Linda aren’t here for the right reasons.” Then, she would let her smile spread once more across her face and fade again into his background.
Chapter Twenty
Linda
One by one, the women swept down the stairs and lined up in the lobby of the manor. Rain pelted the windows from the outside, leaving smears of water, and only Deja and Tatum stood behind cameras on the floor below.
Charity wore her suit, the same shade of blue as an abandoned pool left to fester, but the shade brought out the cool tones of her blood. She radiated untouchable calm. Sabrina had cleaned herself up, but the skin around her eyes was puffy from crying. In the dim light from above, her yellow dress sparkled. Marion wore red with a split down the belly that showed her button. Though her skin was paler than usual, she seemed in good spirits, ready as ever for the cameras.
Linda dressed in her best outfit of the season, twisting her hair into an effortless braid that now hung over one shoulder. As she descended the stairs, tiny step by tiny step in a clinging mermaid skirt, her sky-blue tail moved around her white heels like sea waves. The glitter she smeared onto her chest gave the illusion of a reflection in crystal clear water. She claimed her place in line beside Sabrina. She reached for her friend. When Sabrina squeezed her hand, she squeezed it back with a sweaty palm. Sabrina let go.
Tristan stood in his blue suit in front of a table set with crisp white corsages. Linda wondered if production chose the color to calm everyone after the day’s quarrels. Outside, a motorcycle growled into the drive. The cameras glared at Tristan and the women from every angle as Brandon threw open the door and made his rainy entrance.
“Can I get a towel?” he boomed. No one moved. “Damn it, where is everyone? Why are we running a skeleton crew?” He turned on his heel toward Deja. “What the hell?”
Coolly, her gaze slid toward him. “We’re filming, dipshit.”
“And I’m part of that, aren’t I?” Below him, a puddle had formed and was spreading out into the foyer.
“It’s me and Tatum tonight,” Deja said. “Get your own towel.”
Linda shifted her weight from foot to foot. She’d never seen them struggle so openly for power. According to her research, they were both top-tier producers for the show until Brandon was given The Bride franchise to lead, leaving Deja with the graying original.
“Why are there only two of you?” he said as he stomped through the room on his way to the hall bath. When he emerged holding a towel, he thrust out his hands as though he’d been waiting an eternity for an answer, then toweled his hair.
Deja sighed as she finally stepped away from the camera. “Three of them ran off together earlier this evening. So, if you wouldn’t mind, please do tell the big guns to send me more fucking crew when you get back. My cell phone hasn’t worked since we got here.”
“So that’s why you haven’t been responding to me,” Brandon said. “I thought you were just being pissy again.”
“Where are Becca and the rest?” Linda asked, her stomach turning. She’d taken to Becca and Leo. Not so much to Jazz, who was a pain in the ass perfectionist despite the music note tattoos covering her whole body—but Linda didn’t wish terrible things on the woman. And it was terrible things that popped into her head at the news that they were missing.
“Ran off together.” Deja sounded exasperated.
“Ran off where? We’re in the middle of nowhere?” Sabrina pursed her lips, her eyebrows rising.
“Don’t worry your pretty heads about it.” Brandon chuckled. “Deja runs them off every year. Don’t you, dear?”
