Chapter Twenty-Two #2
“Now this is a view!” Olie shouts as soon as we get inside.
She’s standing in front of the three-story wall of windows behind me, looking out over the landscape.
Beyond the windows, the veranda continues, set with white-and-green outdoor furniture that looks like it’s never been used.
Farther out, we can see a long sloping lawn, manicured gardens, and of course, several pools and hot tubs.
“You think those are real?” Olie points up to the half dozen taxidermied animal heads lining the room. “Imagine if they put our heads on the wall when we got eliminated.”
I shudder. “I’m glad you’re not a producer.”
After a sparse dinner, Brooklyn and I head upstairs to our room.
It feels like more than just a few weeks ago that I lived alone with Presley and spent most Friday nights curled up in bed watching Tiny Desk concerts on YouTube.
Going back to that will be comforting, but it’ll also be lonely.
My chest feels tight as I watch Brooklyn yawn like a cat, stretching her arms over her head and sighing.
“Just think,” she says. “You could’ve been with Sandra Haywood right now.”
I groan. “Don’t remind me.”
After Brooklyn’s conversation with Roland, the producers decided it would be a bad look to go ahead with the date. Even though I was a little disappointed, it was for the best.
We’re almost ready for bed when there’s a knock on our door. Brooklyn opens it to find Olie, Philippa, and Chloe standing in the hall.
“What’re you guys doing here?”
“Couldn’t let your last night go uncelebrated!
” Olie grins and plops down onto the end of my bed, unzipping a large black duffel bag.
“Plus, I have a plan to get back at Addison.” In the near darkness, the taxidermied moose head on the wall casts a shadow over her face.
“She’s had it coming for a long time,” she says.
“First, she tries to kill Georgia during tennis, then she canoodles with Rolie, then she tries to kill Georgia on a ladder—”
“Rolie?” Chloe giggles. “That’s what you call him?”
Pink in the face, Olie nods. “Rolie and Olie—it’s only fitting.”
“Naturally.” Chloe laughs, shaking her head.
Olie’s blush fades and she rubs her hands together. “To business.”
“What’s the plan?” Brooklyn asks.
Olie pulls something that looks like a glue gun from her bag and says with a flourish, “We tattoo Addison’s face.”
This pronouncement is greeted with silence.
“That’s a terrible idea,” Philippa says. “And why do you have a tattoo gun?”
“Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies,” Olie says enigmatically. “Anyway, I thought you wimps wouldn’t go for that, so I have a backup.” She rifles through her bag and, once she’s elbow-deep, grunts, “Here it is,” before pulling out, of all things, a book.
Shacking Up: The Definitive, Unauthorized Guide to Winning Love Shack.
I frown. I read that same book cover to cover while prepping to come here. It’s filled with advice like “show off your good boob” and “be sure to bring up personal trauma on night one.”
“Is that mine?” Chloe shrieks.
“Did you actually bring it with you?” Olie asks.
“No,” Chloe says. “Of course not. I just thought for a second…”
I look between them, confused. “Then whose is it?”
“Addison’s,” Olie says mischievously.
“Really?” I’m shocked that Addison would be careless enough to bring it here. She may not be my favorite, but she is smart.
That book, according to my research, has been the end of many budding Love Shack relationships. While it’s silently accepted that most contestants at least flip through it, bringing it with you to set is a huge faux pas. It means you’re here for the followers, not the fiancé.
“Well, not really,” Olie says. “But we’ll make it seem like it is. During paintball later this week, I’ll sneak into her room and plant this in her stuff, then tip Rolie off about it.”
“I don’t know,” I say slowly. “What if you get caught?”
Olie shrugs. “Then I get caught. But it’ll be worth it. She’s got to go, and I think Rolie…” She goes pink in the face. “I don’t think he’s using his best judgment about her.”
“Easy there, tiger.” Philippa snorts, patting Olie on the shoulder. “He’s thinking with his dick, and we all know it.”
I flop down on the bed beside Chloe, who rests her head on my shoulder. The weight of it there feels soft, safe—like what it might be like to have a sister.
“In the meantime…” Olie holds the tattoo gun back up.
“Friendship tattoos?” Despite the usual slightly unhinged gleam in her eyes, it’s the gentlest thing I’ve ever heard her say.
She shrugs, blushing to the roots of her hair.
“I don’t—I don’t have a lot of lady friends, ya know?
And I know we might not stay in touch after all this, but …
I just thought it might be fun. Once we’re back to real life, I’ll get ahold of Nina so she can have one too. ”
As she trails off, Brooklyn wraps her arms around her. “Friendship tattoos! I love it, Olie.”
Philippa joins the hug and looks back at me. “You in?”
I sit up, but hesitate, my deception weighing heavily on me.
“Don’t worry,” Olie says. “I was a tattoo artist for a few years after high school.”
Philippa rolls her eyes. “Of course you were.”
Olie’s tattoo skills aren’t what’s worrying me, though. I know how I’d feel if I got a friendship tattoo with someone, only to realize they’d been lying to me for our entire relationship.
But I can’t refuse. “Definitely.”
I can only hope they’ll forgive me.