Chapter Fourteen Dolly
[Lina shuffles a stack of tarot cards] Come on, we’ll just do a one-card pull for you. Perhaps to see what your next few months are going to look like? [A hand appears to take a card from a flared pile. Lina turns it over and nods her head slowly] Now, don’t be scared, but you did pull Death.
Oh fuck.
I’m not sure this could have gone worse if I tried to fuck it up more. And I completely fucked up that chat by getting frustrated and mean, but fuck.
Everything was going perfectly to plan until last night, and now I have a freshly hatched baby-gay about to detonate all over everything I’ve worked for.
This is my future. My mum’s future.
What does ‘may the best woman win’ mean? Is she going to out me? Is she going to tell them that Warren and I are fake?
Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have told her anything. I should have just told her I was more into Warren. There were so many more sensible things I could have done than reveal my grand plans like a shite villain in a movie.
There’s still time to stop her, so I grab Carys by the wrist before she can close the door. ‘Carys, please. Don’t be an idiot about this.’
Carys spins, snarling. It turns her pretty face ugly. She yanks her hand out of my grip, and I feel my nails accidentally dig into her skin as she moves. She yelps and holds her wrist to her chest.
‘Fuck, sorry.’ I want to check her skin over, but she won’t give up her hand.
‘Oh, let me get this straight,’ she says with zero irony. ‘When I make a plan, I’m somehow an idiot. You’re just smarter than the rest of us, is that it?’
‘I shouldn’t have called you an idiot,’ I admit. ‘But you can’t just stay here to spite me.’
She laughs. ‘Don’t underestimate me.’
‘I’m not. I’m worried about you!’
I am. And I’m worried about her messing this up for me. But she’s not going to listen to me if I keep being a cunt to her.
‘You can’t worry about someone you don’t give a shit about,’ she snaps.
‘I do give a shit, Carys. That’s why I’m trying to talk you out of making a bad decision.’
‘You’re just scared I’m going to beat you. You’re scared that Patrick and I make a better couple than you and Warren do.’
I hate that my traitorous body finds it hot when she is literally threatening me.
And while I never had notions of winning this thing, she doesn’t need to know any more details.
‘What about Patrick? You were oh so concerned about whether I’m lying to Warren, and yet you’re going to lie to Patrick? The guy is in love with you.’
That is somewhat of an exaggeration and I should feel bad about it, but I don’t.
‘And who is to say I don’t like him back?’
‘You did!’ I feel like I’m going insane. ‘That’s what all last night was about!’
‘I didn’t say that at all. I was just confused, clearly.’
Maybe she didn’t say that. Did I imagine it? All I can remember are the horny sirens blaring in my ears that I should have listened to, then I wouldn’t be in this total shitfit of a situation.
She straightens the collar of the latest in a parade of identical twee tea dresses. ‘I know I’ll feel it when I kiss him.’
‘And what if you don’t?’ God, shut up, Dolly. Why are you even asking this?
‘I will. He matters more to me than anything in the world.’ She looks me up and down like I’m muck. ‘I said this was a mistake. I was just confused. Let’s forget it happened.’
‘So you’re shoving yourself back in the closet?’
‘Dolly, it doesn’t matter if I like women when I could love Patrick. I’m not like you.’
I don’t stop her as she walks out the door, leaving it flung open.
Well. That’s fucking that, isn’t it.
How the hell did I fuck this up so badly that she went from kiss me and show me I’m queer to run away with me to I’m going to ruin your life in less than twelve hours. Not that I know what time it is because there’s no fucking clocks here!
Jesus, this must be a lesbian drama world record.
Whit appears in the doorway. ‘What’s with the gob?’
‘Did you hear any of that?’ I ask nervously.
‘Not the content, just the tone.’
Hopefully no one else heard anything. I want to explain everything to Whit, but I spot the mic immediately. Anything I say, production would hear. God forbid someone heard us arguing and sent her to get the details.
We’re out of sight of the cameras, though.
I shake my head, as I slowly say, ‘A stupid argument about Patrick.’
I have to hope that her surgeon training means she’s used to improvising with communication.
She watches me for a moment like I’ve grown a second head, but then nods. I hope that means she understands I’ll explain it to her another time. ‘Ah, I’m sorry. Let’s get some breakfast in you. Don’t want you hangry.’
Whit takes my arm and leads me to the kitchen. Carys is nowhere to be seen, and we’re apparently the only women dressed and ready.
She said she was going to ask for a room swap, didn’t she? I just have to trust that she’s not telling them anything else.
Would she do that? The Carys I thought I knew wouldn’t.
Whit lets go of me to pour us both cups of coffee from the dispenser, and I scramble for a reason for our argument. Do I go scorched earth like she has, or take the higher ground? The public love the former, but you can easily be spun as a villain. Grown-ups tend to do better long term.
‘Basically, I’m worried Patrick isn’t that into her,’ I say finally.
Whit looks over her shoulder and gives me a searching look. ‘Because… he’s into you?’
‘No, no,’ I insist. ‘Did he ever mention his ex to you? They were together for years and only just broke up before he came on here.’
‘What?! No, he never mentioned her but we only had one date.’
Whit hands me a steaming cup. It’s not good coffee, but it’s drinkable. I live for the day I can brew my own again, rather than this burned filter stuff.
‘Well, he told me a lot. Things with his ex-girlfriend seem kind of messy, recent and serious, which is not good for Carys. I was trying to warn her about it, but I think she thought I was making a play for him.’
‘To be fair, weren’t you dating him up until yesterday?’
‘Yeah, but I was trying to suss him out. We’ve got no more dates.
Urgh, she’s a sweet kid. I don’t want her to get her heart broken.
’ I do realise the irony of this statement.
‘I think he does like her, but if he’s hung up on someone else, what if he regrets the process?
I wonder if I should speak to her again, but I don’t want to upset her. ’
I worry I’m hamming this up so much I’m going to smell like bacon.
‘At least he’s no Jackson,’ Whit scoffs.
‘Which is that one?’ I say, trying not to look at the door that leads out to backstage.
‘The alpha male. The one Bridget is gone on.’
I can’t help but pull a face. ‘Well, don’t look at me; I already fucked up my first attempt at talking someone round from a red flag. I’m not volunteering.’
Whit pats my hand. ‘You’re such a good friend.’
‘Wow, thanks,’ I laugh nervously.
‘I meant that as a compliment. Sometimes I just sound sarcastic,’ Whit insists. ‘It’ll be alright. She’ll come around and realise you were just trying to help.’
I worry at my lip, still tender from where Carys playfully bit it last night.
Will she tell them about me and Warren? It’s not like she can prove anything, and if she wants to beat us, she needs me to stay in the experiment.
But then if she did tell production I was a girl-kisser, that would unleash too many questions that might taint her own image.
God, I wish I knew what the fuck was going on.
‘Hey, tell me what’s going on with you?’ I ask Whit, eager for distraction from my potential impending outing. ‘You get to see Malachi last night?’
Her face lights up. ‘Oh did I!’
‘Okay, hello! Tell me more.’
Her shoulders soften as though she’s just stepped into a warm bath. ‘He’s so beautiful, Dolly. And he is such a kind soul that I really did not care what he looked like because I was already gone. But it doesn’t hurt that he looks like a bit of me, you know what I’m saying.’
I pull her into a hug, more for me than her. ‘I’m really glad for you.’
‘Thanks, beauts.’
As we break apart, I notice the ache in my arms from less wholesome activities last night. Perhaps I should be doing more weights. Maybe these gym girls I’m surrounded by are onto something, not that I suspect any of them are doing exactly what I did last night.
Not that I plan on having sex again any time soon, especially not with Carys fucking Cadwallader.
‘Who are you thinking about?’ Whit’s eyes sparkle with mischief, and I’m just about to splutter an excuse when she asks, ‘Was Warren all you ever hoped for?’
How to answer that? Yes, he’s the perfect fake-husband-to-be (provided he proposes). He’s objectively handsome. Do I feel anything remotely sexual towards him? No. Looking at him is like looking at a really good statue in the Walker.
‘Babe, he’s a basketball player,’ I say, hoping this will carry me far enough. I think back to the many photos of the WNBA players I’ve seen over the years for what attracted me most. ‘Those arms.’
She sucks her teeth. ‘I knew it. I knew that voice was the voice of a hot man.’
‘I can confirm.’
‘Do you know if he saw anyone else?’
I hesitate because I’m not supposed to know that he’s also seeing Priya and Niamh, but I wheedled that out of him. And as good as it might be for the show to stir up some jealousy and drama, the last thing I need is any more of that.
And as if on cue, in walks Carys with Reb in tow.
For some reason, Bridget is also with them, her head high like she’s a teacher about to bust me for bunking off for a fag behind the sports centre.
Carys’s head is low, her face smudged in pink and red like she’s been crying.
She and Bridget hang back, while Reb walks over to me with a harried look.
‘Hey, Dolly, can you come with me for a second? Louise wants to talk to you.’