Season 20, Episode 1 The Viper Room
“The Viper Room”
The room exploded, everyone reckoning with the firecracker that had just been launched. My whole body was vibrating as I closed my eyes, ostensibly steadying my breath, but mostly I just couldn’t bear to witness Imogen’s reaction.
“ALL OF YOU SHUT UP!” An unfamiliar voice rang like rolling thunder, and huge hands swept across my chest, lifting me from behind. I revolved to face Fortune, the sleeping giant awake at last. “Get your stuff,” he said.
I was still trembling when he ushered me to the door, where Winston stood woozily with her bags. “Winston’s trading with him,” Fortune decreed as we left, defying any protest. He didn’t even turn around to issue his final edict. “Don’t wake me again.”
We entered the bedroom across the hall, Melange waiting in gray sweats. The makeup was scrubbed away, and her innocent face belied the brassy girl from the Arena. She wordlessly indicated which bunk was mine, biting her lip.
Fortune at last extended a massive paw. “Fortune West.”
I numbly shook his hand; then he retreated to his bunk, resuming his slumber instantly.
I sat on the narrow mattress and ripped off my sopping shirt, discarding it on my drenched luggage.
Melange knelt beside me, gently extracting the mangled frame I still cradled in my hands.
“Your kids are gorgeous,” she said quietly. “Let’s put this somewhere safe.”
I nodded, but one look at their picture sent my head between my knees, trying to keep the dam from breaking. I refused to cry on camera, not so soon. Jesus, why had I come back here?
“Luke, you okay?” I felt a shadow pass over me as Troy bent down.
I resented the hell out of him, but I knew I couldn’t say anything.
“The PAs are coming to launder your stuff, so maybe let’s pretend that little trip to Margaritaville didn’t happen?
” he asked nervously. “Besides, the network won’t air the horseshit Bal said. You could sue to high heaven.”
Why was Troy acting so sympathetic? He knew what I symbolized to the average American gay man.
By recruiting me—as a literal Devil—he’d set me up for as public a crucifixion as possible.
I wanted so badly to follow Vanessa’s example and blow it all up.
I could exit now and still get my appearance fee, but then I’d never prove I might be more than everything Bal said I was.
I couldn’t leave, not yet. Still, only one thing would get me through the night.
“Troy, I know it’s late, but can I still call my kids? ”
Troy seemed relieved, promising to meet me with a clean outfit in the confessional room so I could have some privacy.
This was where they’d generate the narrative stitching required for the edit.
I remembered these rooms as compact spaces with green screens, allowing them to add any backdrop during post-production, but this was the monastery’s former confessional.
The whole booth had been relocated into this spare room, its doors removed so cast members would address camera directly from the wooden bench.
I tried not to touch anything, margarita mix still sticky on my naked torso.
A knock soon came, but it wasn’t Troy. The kid from Beverly Blonde stood awkwardly in the door.
He wore only gym shorts, with a light dusting of hair on his chest and a thin metal piercing through his right nipple.
I tried not to stare; the last thing I needed was to be accused of leering at some young guy. “Shawn, right?”
“Guilty.” He handed me a wet towel and a double of my jersey. “Troy sent these for you to freshen up. He’s grabbing his laptop to call your kids.”
“Thanks,” I said, starting to clean myself. “I’m Luke. Officially.”
“Yeah, we weren’t formally introduced upstairs.”
“A lot was happening.” I shrugged. “Probably the homecoming I deserved though.”
“Nobody deserves that,” he said softly. “Bal makes everything political. Even after I blocked him on IG, he still asks me to do these dumb ‘queer activism’ photo shoots with him.”
I inhaled. Gays at every turn apparently. “Right, so… you’re gay too?”
“Last I checked.” Shawn blushed. “Sorry, I assumed you… Never mind. Anyway, if Bal actually cared, he’d be marching. Not painting #saveLGBThomelessyouth on his ass.”
“He fit that whole hashtag on his ass?”
“Well, some things fell through the cracks.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. This was new territory for me.
Unlike Barnes, I’d rarely spent any time with younger gay guys.
“It’s funny, when I was on this show, there were two gay people, max.
I mean, who were out…” I trailed off, saying more than I intended as I strained to reach my back with the towel.
“I guess I wasn’t prepared for so much to be different.
And I dramatically underestimated how people might feel about me being here. ”
“I get it. It’s hard when people think they know you. Oh, um, you missed some spots.” Before I could object, he was dabbing the towel down my spine.
An awkward silence followed, the room made tighter by two shirtless men, and I could only blurt out, “Well, this looks like a porn.”
“At least two of the ones I did,” he said, and I laughed. “I actually wasn’t joking. Altar Boys 1 and Altar Boys 2: The Second Cumming. My personal fave.”
“I’m so sorry, I had no idea—”
“No, it’s refreshing honestly. Most gay men recognize Grover Ruffman, and more straight ones than you’d think.”
“Grover was your…?”
“Nom de porn.” He winked before his expression darkened. “I just assumed you’d heard all about me from Greta.”
I scoffed. “I haven’t spoken to Greta since 2007.”
“She said you talked all the time. We, uh, used to be close.”
“My husband calls her every couple of months, but I barely talk to anyone. Least of all Greta.” I realized what I’d done yet again. “Sorry, my ex-husband.”
Troy entered then, mid-yawn and laptop in hand. “Ready to phone home, ET?”
“I’ll leave you to it,” Shawn said, then stopped, pulling from his pocket a tarnished key, hot-glued to a snapped popsicle stick. “Sorry, forgot I found this on the floor.”
I gazed at the old spare house key Andie had affixed to her frame, suddenly so foreign in my palm, an artifact from a lost civilization. “Thanks,” I called, but he’d already gone.
Troy eyed my bare torso curiously. “Don’t you want that shirt, bud?”
I sighed, making excuses about how flustered I was after the travel, the snakes, the margarita mix.
And I was. By this new environment, by the cast, by unpredictable generosities that came from nowhere.
If I’d had a clearer mind, I might have articulated it better.
I also might have seen the red recording light of the confessional camera had been on the whole time I’d been with Shawn.
But right now, I could only smile as Wallace’s beaming face stared back from Troy’s laptop.
Over his shoulder, Andie waved grudgingly, but her eyes undeniably brightened at the sight of me, and instantly I knew who I was again, my awful day worth every miserable second.
“Well, look at that. It’s the most perfect children in the world. ”
I left the confessional bleary-eyed but somewhat restored, even just fifteen minutes with the kids enough to raise me from the pit I’d already stumbled into.
I padded through the empty living room, the crew still cleaning up the debris from Vanessa’s tantrum.
As I approached the stairs, PB darted through the front door looking even more drained than I did.
Outside I saw Vanessa smoking, bathed in a van’s red taillights.
“Did they decide if you can stay?” I asked, joining her.
She laughed ruefully. “Flying to JFK tomorrow. Zara’s just finding me a hotel.”
“I’m sorry. I mean, you didn’t actually touch anybody.”
“This time. Legal says I’m a ‘proven insurance liability.’ I leave of my own free will tonight, or they ban me forever. Plus, Chrissy and Greta threatened to quit.”
“Like they would. That’s so unfair.”
“I don’t need your fucking pity,” she replied. “Kidding. Didn’t you hear? I’m crazy.”
I was actually going to miss her. Vanessa was a train wreck, but what you saw was what you got. “You’re not as crazy as you want them to think. At least not when you’re sobered up.”
“Oh, he knows me now,” she muttered with a faint smile. “I heard Bal went nuclear. You okay? Believe it or not, I’m sincerely asking.”
“Honestly, I don’t know,” I sighed. “I’m trying to be?”
Troy passed by, barely even registering Vanessa. “Luke, time for bed.”
“Bye, Troy, love you, I hope you never reproduce,” she sang out before her attention returned to me. “PS, don’t think he cares about you. You’re just another ingredient.”
“Yeah, I got that once I saw my Devil uniform.”
She snorted. “You didn’t ‘get that’ the second you saw Erika?”
“Well, it’s not surprising they’d put a trans contestant opposite me. For drama or whatever.”
“Holy shit.” Vanessa cocked her head, eyes suddenly intense. “You don’t know.”
“Know what?”
“The name Erika doesn’t ring a bell?”
“Should it?”
“I’d think Erika Bhaduri would.”
“Wait, I… She’s related to Arjun?”
“She’s his sister.” Vanessa gaped at me. “You stupid fucking idiot.”