Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 41935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 210(@200wpm)___ 168(@250wpm)___ 140(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 210(@200wpm)___ 168(@250wpm)___ 140(@300wpm)
I suppress a groan. “The TikTok influencer?”
Ugh. I looked her up when I got the cast list. She talks nonstop and looks like a high school kid.
“Right. June is twenty, so she can’t legally drink. It would be great if you’d bring her a virgin cocktail tonight at the party.”
I just stare at Alex for a few seconds. “Dude, I’m twenty-nine. I don’t date women who aren’t old enough to drink.”
He smiles. “No, it won’t go that far. No sex or anything. We just want to see a spark, you know? It works a lot better when viewers see connections happen, but then, in subsequent shows, there’s chemistry with others. We want them talking on socials about who should be together and why. It’s best if they’re guessing until the end.”
I shift in my chair, one of about a dozen arranged around a stone firepit outside the beach house. “So this isn’t about who I actually have chemistry with?”
He shrugs. “It could be. We have contestants who met on this show and ended up dating afterward. We even had a couple get married. But no, we can’t just leave things to unfold on their own, or it wouldn’t be good television.”
I nod, cringing inside at the thought of flirting with a twenty-year-old who’s obsessed with herself. June’s videos are all about her skin, her face, her body, her nails...even her fucking pores. Apparently she’s not a fan of them. But Rita made it clear that I have to do my assigned job on this show, so I will.
“Questions?” Alex asks.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Okay, so go shower and get changed. Mallory is your wardrobe person. You can get your clothes for tonight from her. Then, report to makeup. We’ll start shooting the cocktail party at six fifteen sharp.”
“Makeup? And I can’t wear my own clothes?”
A flicker of annoyance passes over Alex’s face. “The makeup won’t show. It’s just so you aren’t shiny or blotchy on camera--every contestant has to do it. And not all clothes look good on camera. Just trust the professionals to handle this stuff, okay? The actors are all used to it. I forget that the athletes aren’t.”
I scrub a hand down my face. “Yeah, okay.”
“Great. Remember, lots of smiling tonight. Lots of energy. Give me wistful and hoping to fall in love vibes.”
I force a smile. I was really just hoping to have a good time here, have some beach house sex and maybe come out of it with a famous girlfriend I like a lot. But they won’t be filming us the entire time, so hopefully, I can still get what I really want when the cameras are off.
three
Alice
Dalton Lorenzo looks ridiculous.
It’s a shame, really. He’s got a body that doesn’t stop. He’s tall, broad-shouldered and lean, even the visible parts of his legs defined with muscle. But put a wild-patterned Hawaiian shirt with too many buttons undone on the man, and he looks like a porn star. All he needs is a bushy stache.
His shorts are fine--just plain khaki. And his simple Birkenstock sandals are also fine. That shirt, though. There are so many buttons undone that I can see the first few inches of his dark chest hair. He really should be standing beneath a disco ball.
JP doesn’t look much better. He’s wearing a pastel pink and blue striped polo that belongs at a gender reveal party. But like Dalton, his body helps make up for his unfortunate apparel. One of the other contestants is a rock star, and he’s so thin he looks like a teenage boy next to Dalton and JP.
Of course, Farrah looks fabulous. She’s wearing a sleeveless pale-yellow dress that shows off her golden skin. The producers insisted she wear something from the show’s wardrobe, but she fought to wear something she actually likes instead of what the wardrobe person picked out for her.
Hmm. Maybe Dalton and JP were dressed by the wardrobe people. I have nothing against JP, but Dalton deserves to look embarrassing on national television. My knee still hurts because of that asshole. Ice didn’t help at all. Farrah was practically feral with hunger by the time I got back from my second shopping trip, so I had to talk her down before I could take care of my knee.
“Action!”
I freeze in my chair near the show’s production people, reflexively knowing that when the cameras are rolling, I can’t sniffle, sneeze or even breathe hard. I have to be completely silent, or I won’t be allowed to stay during filming. And I know from past experience that my life will be much easier if I can watch the filming. Farrah will want to break down every interaction and conversation she has tonight, and it’s so much better if I actually see them instead of her relaying her versions to me.