Chapter Fifteen Hell Is a Slumber Party with No Pizza
Chapter Fifteen
Hell Is a Slumber Party with No Pizza
The fragrant tropical breeze and the sweltering hot weather are things of the past. Between the torrential rain and the howling wind, temperatures have plummeted.
The producers have sent the contestants into the living room, where we’re collectively sharing a single battery-powered space heater. The cots are pushed against the walls, and everyone is huddling around the one source of heat. Blankets and pillows, commandeered from the rest of the villa, are scattered on the floor. It’s like a high school slumber party—except none of these people are my friends.
I rub my arms for warmth and feel a weight settle on me as Daniel drapes a steel-blue blazer over my shoulders. I inspect the fabric. It’s surprisingly soft, and there’s a smart little handkerchief tucked into the pocket.
“Is this your suit jacket?” I ask.
Daniel offers a wry smile. “Yeah, it’s all I’ve got. Wish I had a hoodie with me, but I didn’t pack for a major storm and a blackout.”
I tug the blazer tighter. “It’s perfect. Thanks.”
I catch one of the cameras swiveling toward us, and I plaster on a smile that I hope looks adoring and not like I’m experiencing rigor mortis. Daniel settles beside me.
“Aren’t you cold?” I ask. He’s changed into dry clothes—shorts and another button-down.
“I’m good. And you’ll keep me warm, right?” he says, winking. Because we’re not alone, I don’t chuck a pillow at his head. Instead, I lift my arm up for him. For a moment, he hesitates, and then he scoots over to join me. Even now, he’s so warm, and I find myself snuggling closer to him, seeking out the comfort of his body heat.
I rest my head on Daniel’s shoulder. He drops a kiss on my temple, his lips pressing against my skin for the span of a heartbeat. My face heats at the contact, and I will myself to not react any more than that.
If you’d told high school me that I’d be voluntarily cuddling with Daniel Cho in paradise, I’d have told you to get lost. Well, first I’d grill you on the mechanics of time travel, and then I’d tell you to get lost.
“Aw, you guys are so cute,” Zya drawls. She’s curled up next to Dominic by the space heater, clad in an oversized plaid shirt. “You two sure got together quick after you were cheated on and dumped.”
Dominic smirks. “Level with me here. Were you that desperate for a rebound or are you just in it for the competition?”
“We’re in love,” Daniel says coolly.
I can feel the rumble of Daniel’s voice, and it grounds me enough to simply say, “If you have a problem with us, take it up with the producers.”
“What, you gonna snitch on us?” Zya taunts.
“Oh, shut up,” Selena says from where she’s cuddled up with Chase. “Who we date isn’t any of your business.”
“Girlie, the four of you are fucking with my chance to win a million dollars, so I’d say it’s very much my business,” Dominic sneers.
“Hey now, let’s take down the temperature,” Chase says, holding his hands up. He’s got an affable smile on, the kind he’d wear to break up a bar fight. Beneath the friendly expression, though, I can tell even he’s starting to get pissed. “We’re just trying to ride out this storm, okay?”
“Sure. Whatever.” Dominic focuses his attention back on me, and my skin crawls as he says, “I don’t know what your game is, but you’d better sleep with both eyes open.”
I’m spared from having to tell Dominic to go fuck himself when Trevor enters the room carrying an armful of throw pillows and a giant comforter.
“Did Mikayla come through here?” he asks us. We all exchange blank looks.
Daniel answers, “No, haven’t seen her tonight.”
“Weird,” Trevor says. “I told her I’d pack up our stuff to come down here. Figured she’d be here by now.”
“Give your girl some space,” Jaxon says. Ironically, he’s got his head in Brittany’s lap as she crochets an elaborate lace top. “You’ll be just fine if you’re apart for more than five minutes.”
“You don’t get it,” Trevor insists. “This is our brand. It’s what Trekayla is all about. We’re always together.”
“ Always? ” Jaxon repeats skeptically. “Even when you’re takin’ a dump?”
Brittany prods him with her crochet hook. “Don’t be gross, honey.”
“I get you, Trevor,” Selena says. “Everyone is different. Some people want space, and some people don’t. Plus, for content creators, your identity is your brand, and that’s how you make your living. You have to take that seriously.”
Trevor shoots her a grateful look. “Yeah, exactly. We’ve got the followers, but that doesn’t always translate into dollars. Which is why we’re here, to take our relationship and our platform to the next level.”
“Oh, I know,” Selena says. “I love your reels. I watched your announcement video on the ride over before Seth took my phone away.”
“God, what I would give for my phone back,” Jaxon groans.
Ava and Noah arrive just then, dragging their hardshell suitcases behind them.
“Jesus!” Noah glances at the rain sleeting past the window. “I’m sick of this weather. You guys know where the food is? I need to fuel up.”
“You don’t want to see what he’s like when he gets hangry,” says Ava. “He’s like the Hulk, if the Hulk managed to keep his shirt on. One time he broke the Peloton.”
“Sounds like an anger management problem, not a nutrition issue,” I mutter to Daniel.
Selena says, “We’ve got sandwiches on the table over there if you want. They’re looking a bit sad from sitting out, though.”
“I’ll take it.” Noah immediately walks over and inhales a sandwich, then makes a face. “Guys, no offense, but how can you screw up sandwiches this badly?” he asks.
“Yeah, it’s sticking to the roof of my mouth,” Ava says. She’s chewing like a dog trying to eat peanut butter.
“Oh, is Miss Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss too good for sandwiches?” Zya asks in a mocking tone.
Ava rolls her eyes and turns her back to Zya. It’s clear that we’re all sick of whatever Zya and Dominic’s deal is.
“At least Tarun and Kendall aren’t here to see this,” Daniel says.
“Pour one out for the homies,” Chase says solemnly. He waves Ava and Noah over, and soon we’re all gathered around the heater in a circle. I get the distinct feeling that someone is about to ask if we should all play truth or dare.
Brittany speaks up. “I’ve got a question,” she says in a hushed tone. “What do you think happens to the losers?”
“Murdered,” Daniel deadpans.
A hush falls over the group for a second before everyone bursts into laughter.
“Nah,” Chase says, “Bryan told me they get put up at a fancy hotel on the other side of the island.”
“Wish we were there,” Jaxon grumbles. “I bet they have power. And room service.”
“What I wouldn’t give for my mom’s chopped salad right now.” Selena sighs dreamily. “She makes the best salad dressing.”
“Forget salad. How about real food? After these past few days, I’m starving for a sausage pizza and an IPA,” Zya says. She smirks. “I just can’t stand girls who don’t eat real food.”
“God, you’re so hot,” Dominic says, caressing her thigh.
“We get it, you’re ‘not like other girls,’?” Selena says acidly. “But you know, hon, you don’t actually have to put other women down all the time. There’s no cameras here. What are you trying to prove?”
“Sorry, I don’t do girl drama,” Zya says, waving a dismissive hand at Selena, who looks like she wants to strangle Zya. I shoot Selena a sympathetic look, and she widens her eyes at me.
“I’m not sure how anyone can eat anything after the Gluttony Challenge,” Brittany says, redirecting the conversation. “Are y’all feeling better after yesterday? That food poisoning was so intense.”
“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever had it that bad. I’ve eaten sidewalk fries before, and nothing happened to me,” Chase says.
“Sidewalk fries?” Brittany tilts her head. “Like, street food?”
“Like he picked fries up off the sidewalk and ate them,” I clarify.
“I bet it was because they didn’t store the cow eyes properly. I mean, how do you even store cow eyes? Isn’t there a food safety person on staff?” Brittany wonders.
“Probably not,” I say. Given what Lex has told me about how short-staffed the crew is, I seriously doubt it. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t think it was the cow eyes. I ate the eye for my team, and I was fine.”
“I reckon it’s gotta be the peppers, then,” Jaxon puts in.
“Can’t believe I was betrayed by one of my favorite foods!” Selena says mournfully.
“I get the feeling there’s more going on here than we’re seeing,” I say quietly.
“Elaborate, please,” Ava says. All eyes are on me suddenly. My hand goes to my hip, just to triple-check I’m not still wearing my mic pack.
“Well, things keep going wrong,” I say. “The fireworks. The food poisoning. The backup generator blowing out. It just doesn’t seem…” With Lex’s warning echoing in my head, I choose my words carefully. “Well managed.”
“My money’s on the tight production schedule,” Noah says. “You can’t create a good end product without sufficient resources.”
“Do you think the set is cursed?” Brittany asks, darting a look around the room. “Because this has curse written all over it.”
“What are you, five? Don’t be stupid,” Zya says, and Brittany glares at her.
“Well, I just hope our luck turns around,” Trevor says firmly. “Mikayla and I need this show to be a hit.”
“You’re not the only one,” Ava says. “But I wouldn’t worry. Doesn’t matter how badly this show is run, it’s going to do numbers with Dawn Taylor on board. That’s why Noah and I applied.”
“Eh,” Jaxon says with a shrug. “I didn’t even know who Dawn Taylor was before we came here.”
“Nuh-uh, you know who she is,” Brittany interrupts. “She’s Krista from Cocktails & Confessions !”
“Hate to break it to you, honey, but I didn’t watch that show for the plot. I was just hoping a certain sorority girl would give me the time of day—and it worked, didn’t it?” Jaxon says, and Brittany cuffs him lightly on the shoulder with a laugh.
“I can’t believe you’re here for Dawn. She’s so old,” Zya cuts in.
“She’s only in her forties,” Ava says, and it’s clear by the sneer on Zya’s face that she does not find that a compelling counterpoint.
“Exactly, she’s basically decrepit,” Zya says. “There’s a reason she’s clinging so hard to this show. When was the last time you saw her in anything?”
“But that was because of the whole thing with her stalker,” Selena points out. “She stepped back from public life for her safety.”
“I heard that was made up for the drama,” Brittany says. “I love Dawn Taylor, but I wouldn’t put it past her. She knows exactly what she’s doing.”
My mind summons the memory of Dawn Taylor when I ran into her the other day outside the villa’s makeshift hospital room. Her leg had been wrapped in bandages, and she’d looked incandescent with rage at someone causing problems on her set. This show must mean everything to her, especially after so many years out of the spotlight.
I shake my head, trying to ignore the chill that goes down my spine.
“Women that age aren’t decrepit ,” Brittany is saying. “It’s just that Hollywood hates casting older women. Once you turn forty, suddenly the only roles you can play are grandmothers and evil stepmothers. If you’re lucky, you get to play a rich but perimenopausal woman about to get cheated on by your husband in some thriller.”
“It’s not a crime to only want to see hot people on TV,” Zya says.
This time, it’s Selena shooting me a look that clearly says, can you believe this girl?
“You know, you’re going to be that age one day,” Ava retorts.
“Yeah, but I’ll still be hot,” Zya says.
Ava shakes her head. “Okay. Stay delusional. Brittany, to answer your question, if there’s a curse on set, its name is Anton.”
“Ugh, not him,” Brittany says. “You’re right. He’s such a creep!”
“Wait, did he try anything?” Jaxon asks, his eyes flashing with anger. “Do I need to have words with him?” He cracks his knuckles.
“It’s just that I’ve caught him staring at me, and I swear he was following me on one of my walks the other day,” Brittany says. “I don’t like it, but I don’t think he’s worth getting in trouble over. If it comes down to it, I’ll punch him myself.”
“Well, I’m not surprised,” Noah says. “Word is that guy massively fucked up the fireworks. I don’t know if Anton’s incompetent or just lazy, but everything he touches turns to shit. And in a place like this, that can be dangerous.”
As if to punctuate his words, a crack of thunder reverberates through the room. The door swings open with a crash.
It’s Mikayla. She’s soaked to the bone, her usually picture-perfect red hair in wet clumps.
“Oh! Uh, hey everyone,” she says weakly.
“Sweetie!” Trevor rushes over to wrap her in a blanket.
“Thank you, Trevie,” she says, melting into his arms. She takes a few steps inside, tracking mud in behind her before she realizes what she’s doing. “Oh, crap. I’m so sorry.” She tugs off her shoes and dumps them by a planter.
“Where were you?” asks Trevor. “You said you’d be down here.”
“I just stepped outside for a bit. I thought I left one of my gratitude journals out on the patio. But I couldn’t find it anywhere.”
“You go get warm. I can go look,” Trevor says, but Mikayla tugs him back toward the blankets.
“No, it’s okay. I looked everywhere. It must’ve blown away.”
We make room for Mikayla and Trevor so they can warm up by the heater. With a confidence I can only admire, she doesn’t hesitate to strip down. When they announced filming was done for the day, the rest of us immediately changed into comfy casualwear like leggings or sweatpants, but when Mikayla strips out of her muddy shirt and pants, she’s wearing a matching pink satin lingerie set with black lace trim underneath. In the dim glow of the candlelight, she looks ready for the Victoria’s Secret runway.
“So, what’d I miss?” Mikayla asks, glancing around at all of us. “Any hot goss?”
“The set is cursed, Dawn Taylor’s hell-bent on making sure the show goes on no matter what, and Selena’s seen your reels,” I say, listing things out on my fingers.
“Aw, I knew I liked you,” Mikayla tells Selena, who blows a kiss back at Mikayla.
Mikayla only has a few minutes to try—and regret trying—a sandwich before Leah appears in the doorway. Like the rest of us, Leah’s in her pajamas. Bryan and Seth flank her, both in loose T-shirts and pajama shorts. Several camerapeople follow them in.
“Loving the sleepover vibe,” Leah says, surveying us. “But let’s make this a party so we have something to send to the editors tonight. How’s that sound?”
“Should I change or…” Mikayla begins, reaching for her clothes uncertainly.
“No way,” Seth says immediately. “You look amazing. I mean, it’ll be perfect for the cameras. We can blur anything, uh, untoward.”
“Drinks!” Leah decrees. Anton and Freya arrive, carrying two platters of drinks.
Zya makes a face as Anton hands her a fruity mixed drink. “Are you kidding me? I’m not one of those girls who always has to have something pink and sugary. I want whiskey. Neat.”
“You heard the lady,” Dominic says, shoving the glass back at Anton so hard that it sloshes all over him.
Anton looks down at his shirt. “What the hell? We’re not your waiters, you ’roided-up clown.”
“Oh, it’s on,” Dominic says, his face contorting into a gleeful expression. His hand snaps out to grab Anton’s shirt. He pulls Anton up off his feet, winding up to punch him out.
“Don’t do it, Dom! We’ll get sent home,” Zya says, grabbing his arm.
Dominic hesitates. He looks from Anton to the cameras that have swarmed around him to capture this moment. Even though Anton is a member of the crew, drama is drama.
“Don’t let him ruin our plans!” Zya insists.
Dominic lets out a forced laugh and drops Anton. He shakes his hand out, as if he actually did throw that punch. “This isn’t over.”
“Anton, get out of here,” Bryan says, stepping between them. “You’ve caused enough trouble.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Anton sneers, but it’s clear he’s shaken. He hurries out of the room without so much as a backward glance.
“You know what,” Leah says, looking around at all of us. “I can’t deal with this. I need an aspirin. Let’s call it a night.”