Chapter 10 Season 20, Episode 1 “The Viper Room” #2
The other model was Solana Destini, a former exotic dancer from New Orleans.
Solana barely had anything covered and appeared molded from plastic.
She cracked a smile, incisors looking sharp enough to cut glass, and insisted on selfies together.
“I know we’re under a media ban, but we’ll post when the show airs! ”
“I actually don’t have social media.”
“Oh, wow, you’re like a real celebrity,” she replied, awestruck.
“She’s honest-to-God Cajun and fucks like a wildcat,” Hartt confided with a wicked smile. “Even a gay dude’s gotta admit she’s on the Mount Rushmore of tits, right?”
I could barely nod before the meet-and-greet marched on.
“There’s the corn child!” he declared, presenting me to Winston, a wispy farmgirl who’d done two seasons of Endeavor after Rum Sprung, a docuseries following Amish teens on their Rumspringa escapades.
Eyes wide at the sight of me, she stammered a greeting, then retreated to solitaire.
Apparently my battered reputation preceded me even amongst the Amish.
“Don’t bother with her, dude,” Hartt said. “Every season needs cannon fodder—”
“What the ever-loving fuck?!”
I whipped around to find a stocky Latino guy with a hot-pink faux-hawk and dark beard jeering at me like I was a war criminal before he stormed over to Troy.
“Ugh, him again,” Hartt muttered. “Balthazar Orgullo from Castro Kings. The world’s least favorite ‘LGBTQ SJW.’ That virtue-signaling prick never met a letter he didn’t claim.”
I overheard fragments of Balthazar’s furious tirade with Troy—“You’re putting me on TV with a hate-monger? I’m a role model for the queer community!”—and I was honestly stunned I’d made it ten minutes before my presence provoked this reaction from someone.
“Let Troy work his magic,” Hartt advised when I made to intervene. “Bal’s not going anywhere. Doing Endeavor is the only way the network will promote Castro Kings. As if anybody wants to watch a show about whiny gay tech bitches in San Francisco.”
I nodded, increasingly queasy about the soldiers in my trench. “So he’ll suffer through?”
“Exactly. Everybody’s got something baked into their contract. I mean, they’re giving you more than an appearance fee to get your hot commodity ass back here, yeah?”
“I get to FaceTime my kids every day.”
“The rest of us get one call home per week.”
“What’s your perk?”
“They had to cast Chrissy to get your boy back. I mean, why hunt pussy when you can import,” he said slyly. “But don’t worry, stud. There’s plenty of gay boy ass to pound too.”
While sex with someone other than Barnes was tempting, it felt as unlikely as it was ill-advised. Still, I didn’t want to look like a prude. “There are other gay guys? Besides Bal?”
“For sure, yo. Sex positivity all the way.”
I figured I might as well go fishing. “Who else are you expecting on the cast?”
“Definitely some Beverly Blondies.”
“Meaning Greta?”
“Grandma’s still kicking. She and Chrissy became besties last season though, so I gotta watch my mouth. Plus, you’ll get the usual soldiers and Olympians.”
My ears perked up. “So there are still folks from Medals of Honor?”
“Yeah, and they basically have crucifixes shoved up their asses.”
Time to ask the big question. “Any clue if Imogen’s coming?”
“The Ice Queen?” he scoffed. “I heard she demanded some insane appearance fee for Season 20, but the network told her to fuck off.”
I sighed, unsure if I felt relieved or disappointed by the prospect of Endeavor without Imogen. I couldn’t even imagine it.
“Jiamin!” Solana squeaked. A slim, towering Asian woman with an inscrutable expression glided toward us, onyx hair cropped at her shoulders and a Louis Vuitton garment bag across her arm.
Solana smothered her in a hug she barely indulged.
“Luke, meet Jiamin Yingzhi. We were final two on Model Citizens!”
“This is where Solana says she won,” Jiamin said, voice surprisingly deep.
“Isn’t she so funny?!” Solana emitted a jarring cackle that went unacknowledged.
Jiamin grimly offered me her hand. “I can’t believe they convinced you to do this.”
“I guess I’m a glutton for punishment?”
She conceded a mirthless smile as Solana interrogated her. By the sound of their conversation, I wasn’t the only one who’d taken an extended hiatus from Endeavor.
Over the next fifteen minutes, fans intermittently approached, but I kept hidden next to Hartt, trying to commit people’s names to memory.
And this was only half the cast. By the time I met the rest in Italy, I’d be totally overwhelmed—which I couldn’t afford to be.
I needed allies, but I doubted any were currently in this airport.
Hartt alone was objectively a nightmare.
Suddenly a commotion erupted at our gate. A raucous brunette in sunglasses and a black trench coat tottered up on stilettos, clearly drunk. Even Hartt was dumbfounded by the new arrival. “Christ, it’s Vanessa. Craziest bitch alive. She’s from Off the Wall.”
This program I did know. The Wall Street stockbroker show was famously the spin-off of Barnes’ old series, Lobby Boys. “She got kicked off Endeavor last season for hitting three people,” Hartt continued. “She’s supposed to be in rehab.”
“For what?”
“Troy, get your hands off me, you walking melanoma!”
“For everything,” Hartt answered.
As Troy bribed the flight attendants, Vanessa stumbled toward us, peering cartoonishly through her shades. “So, who’s in the rogues’ gallery this time?”
She pointed wildly, christening each cast member. “Whore (Chrissy), whore (Solana), man-whore (Chase), moron (Winston), hypocrite (Balthazar), roid rage misogynist (Hartt)…”
She then bitterly froze upon reaching Jiamin. “Well, hello, stranger. PB’s gonna cream his jeans when he sees you.” Jiamin coolly stared back, no reaction to whoever PB was.
“And who… Oh, fuck me running!” she crowed, clocking me. “Is the prodigal poster child for internalized homophobia back for another round?” She staggered toward me, tripping on her scuffed stilettos. Parental instinct took over, and I caught her before she hit the floor.
“Just when you think chivalry’s been nuked in the balls,” she slurred, breath boozy on my neck, sunglasses slipping as her glassy doll eyes met mine. “I wonder if you’ll feel their teeth when they rip your throat out…”