Chapter Thirty-Four
Roland is scheduled to do a press appearance tomorrow after returning from filming in Italy … any ideas what it’s about?
—u/RollMyMarchetti in the r/LoveShackConspiracies subreddit, yesterday
On the drive back to the Malibu mansion from LAX, several feet of silence stretch between me and Monica in the back of the car. We go upstairs to the bunk room and wordlessly take beds on opposite sides. She curls up and closes her eyes as I head to the bathroom.
“Night.”
I turn around, unsure if I’ve imagined it, but her eyes are open and she’s looking at me expectantly.
“Good night.” I smile at her.
“The pictures are a little overkill now, don’t you think?” She points to the posters of shirtless Roland on the walls.
I laugh. “Yeah, I think they were overkill to begin with.”
“I mean”—she hedges—“now that we’ve seen it all…” She sits up and glances at me out of the corner of her eye. She’s asking if I slept with Roland. I could tell her what I know, that I’m confident he’ll propose to her in a matter of days, but one glance at the ceiling cameras and I clam up.
“Yeah,” I say. “Though in real life this definitely isn’t here.” I point at the hand-drawn tattoo of a tennis ball on Roland’s lower back, penned by Philippa all those weeks ago.
Monica snorts and rolls over. “See you tomorrow.”
Instead of Roland, Rhett greets me and Monica in the sitting room the next morning. The sun peeks over the distant hills, spilling through the windows and across the carpeted floor.
Monica frowns as Rhett plants himself before us.
I stare at him, trying to make my eyes burn through his skull to tell just how much he hates me.
His body is stiff, his hand pulling through his hair every few seconds.
His eyes dart everywhere but my face, maintaining a resolute perimeter like we’re opposing magnets.
“Where’s Roland?” Monica asks.
Rhett glances at the producers, then sits down next to me on the couch. It’s so choreographed that it catches me off guard. It’s something Lainey would insist on, except …
I frown. “Where’s Lainey?”
“Roland sent me to talk to you,” Rhett says. “You were each supposed to have one final date with him.”
Monica brings her hands to her mouth as if she’s waiting to hear life-or-death news.
“But he’s choosing to cancel those dates,” Rhett finishes, sighing heavily. “He really enjoyed being with both of you in Italy, and he doesn’t feel that he needs any more time with you to make his final decision.”
Monica shakes her head. “No, this can’t be right. I need to see him. I need that date. What if—”
“His decision is final.” Rhett winces at the harshness in his own voice, glances at the cameras. “Let me try that again. I’m sorry, but Roland’s decision is final,” he says more gently. But his tone doesn’t placate Monica, who stands with her hands balled into fists.
I’m not too surprised, though—and I’m positive that this decision wasn’t all on Roland. Just like Lainey decided not to have my parents on the show, she must’ve decided that it will spike the drama if Monica doesn’t see Roland until the finale.
“Where is he?” she asks. “I have to talk to him.”
Rhett cuts his eyes to the producers, then back to Monica. “He’s not on the property at the moment.”
I frown—even if this was Lainey’s doing, it seems extreme that she would forcibly sequester him. Unless Roland has taken my advice and gone public with his secret, in which case things will certainly get more dramatic.
Monica huffs and stalks from the room, leaving Rhett and me on the couch. There’s at least a foot between us but I can feel the heat radiating from his body like we’re naked, curled up together in Palermo.
He leans forward, arms resting on his thighs. “Georgia, how do you feel about losing this time with Roland? Are you confident in your relationship with him?”
I blink at him. I’d almost forgotten that the cameras are feet away, that this isn’t a conversation between us, but for them.
“I—yeah, I am. We…” I press my hands to my eyes.
“Can I start over?” I sit up straighter, taking a breath as I glance at the producers.
“It’s disappointing not to have more time with him.
But I was confident in what we had.” I look into Rhett’s eyes, trying to catch any trace of an apology.
“Ultimately, though, it’s his decision. He knows how I feel and it’s up to him to choose what he feels is right.
” I let out the last words in a gush, lost in Rhett’s shadowed green eyes.
I doubt he knows what Roland told me—that I’m only here as a formality—and his expression gives nothing away.
He runs a hand through his hair, breaking our eye contact, and stands. “That should do it,” he says curtly. Without a backward glance, he sulks from the room.
“Georgia!” The whisper comes from above, and I look up to see Monica’s face peeking over the landing. “Come up here!”
I sprint up the stairs and meet her in the bunk room. Wordlessly, she pulls me into the bathroom and pulls something out from behind the toilet. A laptop.
“What the…”
“I snatched it from the producers’ room,” she says. “It’s not like they can kick us out now. Check this out.”
She opens the laptop and pulls up a Google search of Roland’s name. Dozens of news articles flood the screen. He’s world-famous, so this isn’t shocking, but the content is.
“Roland Marchetti’s Love Shack season dragged across the court.”
“Will Roland find love despite the drama?”
“Marchetti speaks out about Love Shack controversy.”
It goes on. Monica scrolls down and clicks on one of the articles. Silently, we sink to the floor, and I read the headline.
Sex, Drugs, & Rock ’n’ Roll-and Marchetti: The Love Shack Scandal You Won’t Believe
I shudder at the abominable pun, though Norbert would get a kick out of it. Monica scrolls down so we can read more.
We were all so excited for Roland Marchetti to find love, weren’t we? Dazzlingly handsome tennis star, family man, American sweetheart. But all that is about to change as the hit reality show Love Shack is thrown into scandal.
My stomach churns as I read on, through a long interview monologue Roland gave confessing everything about his illicit drug use.
“Holy shit, this is wild,” Monica breathes as she scrolls further. “I never thought—I mean I knew he was having trouble with his recovery, but I never thought he’d do this. It’s what Sharapova was on,” she mutters, almost to herself. “This is going to destroy him.”
She scrolls through a few more articles.
“Oh my god, there’s something about Rhett too,” she breathes.
I snap back to attention and lean closer to the laptop.
Is There a Heaven for Rhett Auburn? The Country Star Falls into Bed with Fans
By Serena Romero
Reality TV and country music fans alike remember Rhett Auburn’s whirlwind romance with fashion influencer Cassidy Foley.
His appearance on Love Shack and their public relationship catapulted his country music career to new heights, but when he and Foley split up amid rumors of cheating, his popularity started to wane as Love Shack fans sided with Foley.
Shocking new evidence reveals that there was more to the story.
Weeks after Auburn and Foley split up, Auburn sought comfort in the arms of strangers (photo below).
We can confirm at least one fan hookup—if not more—in the weeks following the breakup, as well as subsequent payoffs to keep the press quiet.
But it seems that those hookups weren’t just a thing of the past. Sources claim to have seen Auburn in Nashville just weeks ago with a woman who looked suspiciously similar to the woman from last year (photo below).
And if this wasn’t enough, around the same time last year, Auburn was charged with drunk and disorderly conduct after throwing a beer bottle through Foley’s window. This, too, was covered up by network executives who value Auburn’s career and net worth more than the integrity of their programming.
In an exclusive interview, Foley said of Auburn’s behavior: “I had no idea about the payoffs. That’s all I can say.” Presumably because she too was paid.
And this is just the beginning.
I scroll down to the bottom of the article, heart hammering.
There, in blurry glory, is an image of Rhett and me at the Pink Iguana club last year.
I’m unrecognizable, just arms snaking around his back, Converse sneakers on tiptoe.
But he’s unmistakable, his hair a mess, black jacket pushed back on his shoulders.
And further down: a photo from last week that must have been taken by the paparazzi in Nashville.
Again, my face is obscured, but my long hair falls the same way.
Even my goddam jeans are the same, the tiny, embroidered flowers on the back pockets winking at me like a tease.
Tune in next week for the identity reveal of Rhett’s mystery woman. Die-hard Auburn fan? Long-lost love? Love Shack leftovers? We have all the details.
My eyes bulge at the final paragraph.
She knows. Despite all my lies and evasion, Serena has put it together and placed a target on my back. She’s done this to me—to Rhett—because Roland went public before she could break the story herself.
The only consolation is that she doesn’t have the whole story. The reason she sent me here—to research producer behavior and cover-ups—isn’t part of her story, and without me, it can’t be. She has no idea I’m planning to write it all on my own.
My breath shudders as Monica shuts the laptop.
“Holy shit,” she whispers. “Can you believe it?”
“Some of it.”
“I bet Roland and Lainey are doing damage control,” Monica says, drumming her fingers on the laptop.
“I don’t think the Rhett thing is such a huge deal.
I mean, he and Cassidy were split up, right?
Who cares if he was fooling around? Imagine being that woman,” she says, laughing.
“She must be shitting herself. If I were her, I’d probably leave the country before my name goes viral. ”