3. Pissy Party
Pissy Party
brIELLE
T he mansion lights are too bright, my Vulcan ears are making me itchy, and Gabby—Miss Corn Queen—just rolled her eyes at me for the fifteenth time tonight.
Welcome to the catfight where thirty women compete for one man’s heart while pretending they’re not secretly planning each other’s demise.
And here I am, Brielle Wilson, a member of Mensa, dressed as a Vulcan, wondering exactly how my life choices led me here.
I tug at the pointy ear tips, trying to make them less noticeable while attempting to blend into the gaudy wallpaper.
The champagne in my glass has gone flat, much like my enthusiasm.
Across the room, a woman in what appears to be a wedding dress laughs at something Hayes says.
He smiles politely but looks majorly uncomfortable.
Skye would tell me to stop hiding and go talk to him. But Skye isn’t here right now—she’s busy hosting the madness, flitting around with her boom mic operators and camera crew, shooting me meaningful glances wherever our paths cross.
At first, I wasn’t going to apply to be on the show—afraid of the backlash.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about Hayes, and I know what we shared was Instalust, but at the same time, it felt like there was more to it than that—something I felt was worth exploring.
So I filled out my application for Groomsman to Groom , not sure if I should send it.
After I’d called Skye for advice, she came barging into my apartment with a green smoothie that smelled like lawn clippings and regret. She took the application from me, saying I had to try, going in with the nuclear option. Your mom would have wanted you to take a chance.
Unfortunately, she was right—Mom would’ve.
I snap back to the present as Gabby sashays past me, champagne flute in hand. “Cute costume,” she says with a sugary smile. “Very... high school drama club.”
“Thanks. I was going for authentic Vulcan.”
“Mm-hmm.” Her eyes scan me from head to toe. “Bold choice for a first impression. Most men don’t want to date a woman who reminds them of Comic-Con.”
“Hayes isn’t most men.” I fight the urge to dump my champagne on her head.
“Right.” Gabby’s smile widens. “Good luck with that approach.”
As she walks away, I catch her whispering to Kavita, a raven-haired fellow pageant veteran who’s also gorgeous. They both glance back at me and giggle.
Great. High school all over again.
I down the rest of my drink and head for the corner where a small group of women have gathered. I step up to Annabelle, who greets me with a warm hug. We already bonded over her soaked dress drama. She brings me to another woman and says, “Come meet Serena.”
“Hi, I’m Brielle.” I shake her hand, noticing that she’s beautiful—tall with her hair in twists and umber skin.
She smiles. “I’m a huge Trekkie myself—with a soft spot for Captain Kirk.”
“I like you already.” For a moment, it feels like I might have found allies in this bizarre social experiment.
Our conversation halts when Skye enters the room, thirty pairs of eyes swiveling toward her.
She’s standing next to Hayes, who tonight, is even more handsome than I remember from the beach—sandy blond hair styled just so, a fitted suit that shows off his lean physique.
When his gaze sweeps the room, I instinctively step forward, heart pounding.
“Women Warriors!” Her voice rings, resplendent in a flowing hot pink gown. “It’s time for our bachelor to spend some quality one-on-one time with each of you.”
The women immediately begin preening, checking lipstick in compact mirrors, adjusting low-cut tops, smoothing already-smooth hair.
As the night progresses, I watch Hayes move from woman to woman, making polite conversation.
He seems genuine but guarded, his photographer’s eye observant as he studies each contestant.
I try not to stare, but it’s hard not to.
Especially when I remember how his lips felt against mine, how his hands—
“Earth to Brielle.” Annabelle nudges me. “You’re up next.”
“What? Already?” My heart does a somersault. “But I haven’t—I don’t—”
“Just be yourself.” Serena straightens the delta insignia on my uniform. “Remember: he’d be lucky to have a woman like you.”
I nod, grateful for their support, then make my way over to the small sitting area where Hayes waits. As I approach, his eyes widen, and for a heartbeat, I don’t know how to play this.
“Hello,” he says, standing as I approach. “You’re Brielle.”
“You got it,” I reply, trying to sound casual.
We sit, and I’m acutely aware of the cameras following our every move, the microphones capturing each word. It feels surreal—the last time we were hanging out, we were mostly naked on a beach, and now we’re performing this charade of strangers meeting for the first time.
“So, tell me about yourself, Brielle.”
I give him the sanitized version—screenwriter, recent success with a screenplay, a fan of sci-fi, even the D-lister movies—carefully avoiding any mention of beach encounters or anything I already know about him.
He listens intently, asking thoughtful questions, and for a few minutes, I almost forget about the cameras, the competition, the absurdity of it all.
Almost.
Skye appears like an apparition, mouthing, “Time’s up.”
I stand, ready to leave so I don’t say something wrong. “It was nice meeting you, Hayes.”
“Likewise,” he says, and there it is again—that flicker of something more behind his eyes.
As I walk away, I notice a woman with the body of a runner and the smile of a shark—watching me with calculating eyes. She turns to Kavita, whispering something that makes both of them look at me with contempt.
I retreat to a quiet corner of the mansion, needing a moment away from the cameras and competition.
Leaning against a wall near the kitchen, I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
What am I doing here? I’m on a deadline for the second season of my show, and I’m still grieving over my mother.
I’m in no position to be looking for love, especially not in this toxic environment.
“...the nerdy ones first.” Gabby’s voice drifts from around the corner. My eyes snap open.
“Definitely,” comes Kavita’s reply. “The Trek girl and that chemist are easy targets. And the crybaby from Alabama.”
“Hayes might like intellectuals, but they are beyond,” Gabby continues. “We just need to make sure they look desperate or clingy on camera.”
I press myself against the wall, heart hammering. They’re talking about me, Serena, and Annabelle. Already plotting to sabotage us.
And they don’t even know that Hayes and I have a history, however brief. If they find out, I’ll be labeled the villain of the season. I’ve seen enough reality TV to know how the story gets twisted—I’ll be the manipulative one who had an unfair advantage, the liar who hid her past connection.
I slip away, heading upstairs to the bedroom I share with five other contestants. Grabbing the handle of my packed suitcase, I release it and pull it up. This was a mistake. I need to leave before things get worse, before someone exposes our past, before—
“Planning a hasty exit?” Skye’s voice startles me.
I whirl around to find her standing in the doorway, arms crossed. “I can’t do this, Skye.”
“Yes, you can. Come with me.” She pushes the handle of my suitcase down.
She takes off my mic and leads me through a maze of hallways to a small room that appears to be some sort of production office. Checking to make sure we’re alone, she closes the door.
“No cameras here.” She gestures to a chair. “Sit. Talk to me.”
I collapse into it, suddenly exhausted. “Gabby and Kavita are already plotting against me. And they don’t even know Hayes and my history.”
“Let them come after you,” Skye says calmly. “If you don’t react, they’ll get bored and move on.”
“I can do that, but this whole thing is a lie. We’re pretending we’ve never met when we’ve...” I trail off, feeling my cheeks flush.
“When you’ve what? Had one passionate almost-encounter on a beach? Honey, that hardly counts as a relationship.”
“But it’s dishonest.”
“Look,” Skye leans forward, her expression serious. “What happened between you and Hayes that night is no one’s business but yours. You noted it on your application, so you’re good.”
“Right, I did do that.”
“Exactly,” Skye says. “So the producers know, and they decided since it was so brief, it didn’t matter. You’re good.”
“Okay, but—”
“No buts. You don’t owe these women your personal history. And Hayes certainly isn’t going to say anything—he has everything to lose if he does.”
I frown. “That sounds manipulative.”
“That’s reality TV, darling,” Skye says with a shrug. Then she shifts in her seat uncomfortably. “And on that note, I should remind you that you signed an NDA that won’t let you breathe a word of your prior tryst.”
I gasp. “I did?” I’m usually really careful with contracts, but since Skye grabbed it out of my hands before I could go through it all, I didn’t this time.
“Yes. So you’re contractually obligated to keep your trap shut, which actually makes that part very simple for you.”
I tilt my head. “I guess it does, doesn’t it?”
“And here’s the thing to remember—beneath all this manufactured drama, there’s a real opportunity here. I know how you two connected on that beach. That wasn’t scripted.”
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Even if that’s true, how am I supposed to navigate this snake pit?”
“By being smarter than them, which you are,” Skye says simply. “These shows thrive on catfights and drama. Don’t give them what they want. Make genuine connections—not just with Hayes, but with the other women too. The ones who aren’t trying to stab you in the back, anyway.”
“Like Annabelle and Serena?” And maybe Daenerys, whose real name is Luna... I think. She seemed direct, nice, and low-key.
“Exactly. Alliances, honey. It’s how you survive.” She stands, adjusting her boosted chest. “Now, are you going to pack up and run, or are you going to give this a real shot?”
I hesitate, thinking about Hayes, and that amazing night on the beach. Thinking about my career, which has been my only focus for so long. Thinking about my mother, who always encouraged me to take chances, especially in matters of the heart.
“I’ll stay,” I decide finally. “But on my terms.”
“That’s my girl.” Skye grins. “Now let’s get back out there before people start gossiping even more.”
I return to the main part of the mansion with new resolve.
Instead of hiding in corners, I make an effort to engage with the women who seem genuine.
Annabelle tells me about her dyslexia and how she overcame it to become a children’s book author.
Serena shares her passion for chemistry and her dream of developing eco-friendly cosmetics.
I find myself genuinely enjoying their company, this unexpected sisterhood forming amidst the competition.
Luna approaches me, and we talk about how she’s a professional influencer, which is really interesting. Then she says, “Well, we made sure Hayes’ll remember us.”
“We did.” I laugh. “You looked much prettier than I did, though. Good choice with Daenerys.”
“Thanks. I better do okay, or all my followers will think I don’t know how to flirt—the reason they come to my podcast.”
As the night winds down, Skye announces that we should all prepare for the first “Lock & Key Ceremony” where Hayes will give special keys to the women he wants to keep around, unlocking the next layer of his heart. The metaphor is about as subtle as a sledgehammer, but it’s cute.
Exhausted from the emotional roller coaster of the evening, I slip away to one of the mansion’s many balconies, seeking fresh air and a moment of peace.
The night sky is clear, stars visible despite the lights from the mansion.
I lean against the railing, looking up, and spot a shooting star streaking across the darkness.
Always make a wish , Mom’s voice echoes in my memory. Just in case.