Chapter Twenty-Five Hell Is the Morning After
Chapter Twenty-Five
Hell Is the Morning After
I drift awake, still tangled in Daniel’s arms. I slide out to get a drink of water, yawning, but once I’m up and moving, I’m wide awake—and all the fears and worries I had before come flooding back. Without Daniel to distract me, I’m suddenly keenly aware of how little time we have left. We’re racing toward the finale of the show, and we’re still no closer to finding out who killed Anton.
I’m determined to stay on the show and see this through. A million dollars is on the line, after all, and I came here for a reason. But that doesn’t mean I fully buy whatever Leah was trying to sell us back on the bridge. Her assurances are little comfort considering how many accidents—not to mention an entire murder—have happened.
I pace the room, listening to the patter of rain outside accompanied by the rise and fall of Daniel’s breathing. It would be so easy to just crawl back into bed with him and forget about all this. But I’ve never been able to let a problem go unsolved—in the classroom and out of it. And with Anton’s killer still loose, we’re all sitting ducks.
I just wish I had more information. Leah filled in some of the blanks for us, but that brings us no closer to the truth. She said the generator broke down because of her, and the food poisoning was all Seth.
But wait. I remember what Seth said, that time I was hiding out in the war room. He’d made it seem like he’d been given orders to poison the cast, not that it was his own idea.
Leah had said that everyone who was screwing things up on set was either done or locked in the pantry. I’d thought Leah was just saying things off the cuff, but what if she was serious? What if Seth’s really been locked up somewhere in the villa?
I can’t shake the thought that Seth might know more about Anton’s death than he was letting on. And now that I’m thinking about all this, there’s no way I can go back to sleep. I grab my sweatshirt and pull on a pair of jeans before I quietly slip out the door.
It’s early enough that I don’t encounter anyone in the hallways or dining room as I pass through. It’s also dark, but thankfully the storm has cleared a bit, and I can see the full moon in the windows. It’s enough light to see my way by.
In the empty war room, I turn on the lights and go straight for the pantry.
When I get closer, I see it’s been locked from the outside with some knotted bungee cords, and my hopes soar. I go up to it and knock lightly.
“Seth? Seth!” I whisper into a small gap where the doors meet.
“Who’s there?”
“It’s Alice Chen.”
“Oh, great , Scooby-Doo’s here,” Seth mutters. “Fuck off.”
“Wait,” I call quietly. What can I say to get him to talk to me? I try, “I’m sorry they locked you in here. It’s so messed up. They could have at least given you a room in the villa.”
Silence.
I try a different tactic. “I talked to Leah today. About how you poisoned the peppers. She said it was all your idea.”
More silence.
I add, “Oh, and she called you a dumbass.”
“Well, she’s a chronically online megalomaniac who eats toast plain,” Seth snaps. Bingo.
“Is she lying?” Though it’s not strictly true, I say, “She also said that you were behind all the accidents on set. I mean, all the nonfatal ones.”
“God, she’s such a bitch,” Seth says. “I didn’t do any of that.”
“Are you sure?” I remember how sick Daniel and the rest of the cast were after the Gluttony Challenge, so I feel only a tiny bit guilty when I say, “Given your history, it’s pretty easy to believe that you were behind everything that went wrong on set. Sounds like you’ll be on the hook for any lawsuits that happen after this show wraps.”
“But—” I hear the scrape of a chair. “I can’t believe this shit. I was just following orders.”
“Whose orders?”
“Who else? Dawn.” Seth laughs. “Man, I thought you were smart .”
“At least I’m smart enough not to sleep with someone who’s taken,” I say. My mind is racing with this revelation, but Seth’s not done.
“Of course they’re trying to pin everything on me. They’ve already thrown me under the bus, so why not make everything my fault? Leah and Dawn are trying to come out of this clean, but their hands are just as dirty as mine. Make no mistake, Dawn is the one calling all the shots. All the producers answer to her.”
“But it’s her show. Why would she want things to go wrong?” Before I even finish asking, I know the answer. For the drama, just like Leah said.
“Believe it,” Seth says. “She told me to poison the peppers because they’re one of Selena’s favorite dishes.”
“Wait, Selena?” I ask. Then everything starts falling into place. “So when the generator broke…”
“Leah took out the generator because Selena’s afraid of the dark, and Dawn wanted to scare her. Oh, and you’ll love this, Dawn’s the one who came up with the idea of pushing Chase and Selena together. She roped Bryan into helping her.”
Judging by Seth’s sneering tone, he probably thinks he’s managed to land a blow on me. But after my night with Daniel, it’s hard to be all that upset. I say calmly, “Why was Dawn targeting Selena?”
“You’re really not in the industry, are you? Selena’s hot.”
“Uh, okay?”
“I mean, everyone wants a piece of her right now. People loved her on Hottie Havana and Operation: Bikini. Rumor has it that Selena’s in line to replace Dawn as the show’s host, and Dawn is pissed about it.”
“How would that even work? The show is named after Dawn Taylor.” I shake my head. “Never mind. Did she do anything else to Selena? Or anyone else on the cast?”
“I don’t think so.” Seth pauses. “It was all just diva shit. Like fighting with Peter over how to run the show, pushing us all to work around the clock when we’re already spread thin. Did you know she threw a tin of cookies at Freya?”
This rings a bell. “Cookies?”
“Or madeleines, whatever,” Seth says. “Fancy ones, dipped in chocolate. Don’t know what her problem was. I wish someone would send me madeleines.”
Something about this feels familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it. I change tacks. “Do you think Anton’s death was really an accident?”
“Who knows? I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re asking,” Seth says. “But if someone did, he had it coming. He was fucking insufferable and an absolute nightmare to work with. And I’m sure I wasn’t the only one he was blackmailing.”
I think back to the notebook and the half-written sentence about Dawn Taylor. “Do you think he was blackmailing Dawn Taylor?”
“No idea. I mean, she was acting a little unhinged right before Anton died, but what else is new? She’s always been like that. That’s her whole thing.”
I remember how angry Dawn looked after the fireworks accident. If Anton was blackmailing Dawn Taylor, that changes everything. But of course, I can’t just march up to Dawn Taylor and go, “Hey, girlfriend. Anyone been blackmailing you lately?”
It’s sounding more and more like the key to all of this is, well, Anton’s locker key. I need to know more about what Anton was up to and who else he blackmailed. Lex said that the production assistants hadn’t found his laptop yet. I’m willing to bet that the laptop is stashed away safely in his locker. And if Anton thought the laptop was important enough to hide from his co-workers, then I want a good look at it.
But if his key wasn’t in his room, where else could it be?
“Do you know where Anton spent most of his time?” I ask.
Seth laughs. “You’re really playing detective, aren’t you?”
“Someone has to,” I say in my best no-bullshit teacher voice. “Answer the question, Seth.”
“How would I know? The guy was everywhere. Not doing his actual job, mind you. Just fucking around and creeping on people. Even when it was all hands on deck in the Video Village, he was trolling on Reddit or posting thirst traps to Instagram.”
Ohmygod, the Video Village. When Leah dragged me over there, I’d seen Anton on the balcony in his own little world while everyone else toiled away inside.
“Thanks, Seth,” I say, and then I’m hurrying away, back into the dimly lit maze of the villa. I head straight to the Video Village, navigating by memory. When I step inside, it’s just like I remembered it—screens everywhere, editors and production assistants hunched over keyboards even at this late hour. Shawna’s there, combing through footage with Freya.
Shawna looks up, squinting at me. “Alice? What are you doing here?”
“I, uh, wanted to light some incense for Anton,” I say. “It’s a Chinese thing. I heard he used to hang out here a lot?”
Freya tilts her head. “Were you two, like, close?”
“Oh, yeah. Definitely. Super close. He was always making me smoothies and I just wanted to, you know, manifest some gratitude?”
Luckily, she doesn’t think to check if I’m actually carrying incense or matches. I squeeze by her and go out onto the balcony. It’s a small space, but it’s got a stunning view of the ocean. From over the railing, I can also see the courtyard several stories below.
It seems like no one has touched the space since Anton died. The pool chair is still there, covered in a blanket that smells strongly of weed. On the ground is a laptop charger, but the laptop itself is nowhere to be seen. There’s a metal table with two chairs pushed into the corner, and a terra-cotta pot with a hibiscus plant in it.
I don’t really want to touch this gross, crumpled blanket, but I hold it up with two fingers and shake it out. Nothing. I glance back to check no one’s watching me on the balcony. Fortunately, everyone inside the Video Village is laser-focused on their screens, their backs to me.
I continue my search, scouring the floor of the balcony by the light of the moon. I check the ashtray on the table, look over the chairs, and even run my hand through the gap between the railing and the balcony. It’s slow going in the darkness, and I wish I had my phone with me to shine a flashlight on everything.
I don’t know how many minutes have passed, but my knees are aching by the time I decide to call it. The key isn’t here. I straighten up—and I see something glimmer out of the corner of my eye. I move my head, and there it is. A glint of moonlight being reflected back at me. It’s in the planter, just the tiniest speck.
I go over to the pot, and sure enough, there’s a corner of something metallic poking out of the dirt. I dig in the soil, and a small key with a key chain comes away in my hand. I dust off the dirt and pocket it quickly, my heart racing. I’ve found it. I can’t believe my good luck.
I’m so distracted by finally being able to get more information on Anton that I almost miss the sound of someone sliding the door open.
“Hey, sorry, I was just—” I start, but whoever it is doesn’t wait for me to make up an excuse for still being out on the balcony.
Before I can turn, I feel hands on my back, and one hard shove sends me tumbling over the balcony rail into the darkness below.