Chapter 23
“We just feel it’s best to delay your embarkation date until this all calms down.”
Mum and Nan both squeeze my hand from where they’re sitting behind my laptop. Tom’s on my phone next to me, and Oscar also has his own virtual seat at the kitchen table on Mum’s iPad. I knew what was coming, and I couldn’t face it alone. Even if everyone else disposes of me once they’ve had enough, at least I still have my family.
“So what’s my new embarkation date? What ship?” I already extended my contract break by two weeks to allow for the show – I can’t stay here any longer than that.
“You have the reunion coming up, don’t you? That will likely keep you in the headlines for a while, but let’s book in a call for a month’s time and we can reassess then. How about that?”
“You know I wasn’t arrested, though, right?” I keep my tone as polite as possible, but all I want to do is scream at the woman simply doing her job. “I didn’t commit a crime. You can do another background check on me and it’ll tell you exactly that.” I don’t even have a name for the protective new alter ego currently defending me. I don’t know who she is, but she can take over. I’m done running my life into the ground.
“Of course. We understand your situation is…a complex one, but for that reason, we’ve agreed that now’s not the best time to bring you back on board. There’s a risk – not only to your safety, but also to those around you – if this gets out of hand. We also can’t have anything happen that would impact the guest experience or risk a bad reflection on the company. I’m sure you can understand from our side of things why this decision has been made.”
“I understand.” I comply through gritted teeth.
The woman wraps up the call and I close my laptop. Defeat sinks in around the table. I’ve heard of quiet-quitting, but I’m pretty sure they’re quiet-firing me. I’ll be in this same spot in a month’s time, and they’ll say one more month, and it will carry on until I give in and stop asking when.
Tom and I have to break up. We’re coping with the long distance now, but soon he’ll be busy on the ship with no Wi-Fi, and I’ll still be here, slowly crumbling under the consequences of one bad decision I made more than nine months ago and living vicariously through my Sims. Again, why couldn’t it have been an unexpected pregnancy?
Because you were a virgin, idiot.
Okay, that’s enough of the voices in my head. Jesus Christ. Once Tom gets some distance, he’ll realise the new heights he can reach without his association with me dragging him down. He’ll be better off without me. Everyone would. They should all run while they still can, because the rest of my life is cursed. I will never not be the psycho-slut from “Love Lodge”. That’s my legacy.
“So if we can get you out of doing the show, you might be able to come back sooner.”
Despite everything, Tom’s refusing to give up on me. I cast a solemn look his way.
“I can’t get out of it.”
“This isn’t ‘The Hunger Games’, Gem. They can’t force you to go back on that show.”
“They can. It’s in her contract.” Oscar speaks for me.
“What if you don’t turn up? They can’t do anything about that,” Tom suggests. I know he’s been wanting to say this for a long time, but I haven’t entertained the conversation because I already know the answer.
“They can fine me a lot of money.”
“What about talking to a lawyer?”
Mum looks Tom’s way with a kind expression. “We don’t have the kind of funds we’d need to go up against a production company and a mainstream channel. Also, they wouldn’t have sent out those contracts without having a whole team of lawyers approve them first.”
“And even if we did have the money and the lawyer thought she had a case, if she lost…they could probably then sue her for defamation, or for breaking her NDA, or for some other clause in the fine print,” Oscar adds.
“Not to mention what they’d say about her in the press.” Nan shakes her head at her newfound disdain for the media.
Mum’s phone chimes and she glances over at the notification. Oscar and I told her to turn off the news alert she set up for the show and my name, and she said she did, but when her attention doesn’t immediately come back to the room, that sinking feeling settles in again.
“What is it?” I ask.
She looks at me as if she’s fine, but I know her too well. She’s seething. “They’re casting for series two.”
No one says a word. The anger that’s been simmering inside me all this time finally boils over. I was misled. I was too na?ve. I made mistakes and I have to live with them, because the damage is done, and nothing can change the past. But to let them set a trap to catch a whole new set of victims is a brand-new level of bullshit. They’ll entice them with the supposed glamorous lives the finalists are now living, only to make them pawns in a game they don’t know they’ll be playing. And I’m not allowed to speak up and warn anyone not to fall for it. It’s not fair. There’s no way I’m going to let anyone else suffer the same fate – not if there’s something I can do.
The others begin to scheme among themselves – something about hiring Oscar’s actor friends to be paramedics and Nan taking one for the team in the shopping centre the day of the reunion – but the ringing in my ears is too loud to make sense of it. Ignoring them, I excuse myself from the table and head to the front door. The wind blows it out of my hands, revealing a furious grey sky, which makes my exit way more dramatic than it needs to be. It’s pouring with rain, but that doesn’t deter me from shoving my feet into Mum’s Crocs, stepping outside, and marching to the seafront.
The only people I pass are rushing to get home or under cover – not that it matters anymore. I decide I wouldn’t care if it was a perfect day and there were hundreds of people out and about. I’ve been held hostage in a ski lodge, then captive on a cruise ship, and now I’m trapped in my own home. I’m done. Done with being the victim in this story.
The sea’s rougher than usual, but I’m a strong swimmer, and I’m not stupid enough to go in if there’s actually a chance of getting swept up in the tide. I continue walking as I shed my layers, pulling my jumper and T-shirt over my head in one movement. I stop briefly to fling the Crocs off and step out of my leggings. The pebbles are rough under my feet, but I welcome the discomfort. It’s better than the numbness I felt before. It almost feels good.
Oscar’s calling out to me, which means Mum’s followed me and brought him and probably Tom, too, to witness my mental breakdown, but I don’t stop. I’ve kept myself quiet and hidden away all this time, and for what? I’ve still been harassed. Still had lies spread about me. Still brought stress and grief to everyone I love. And now I’m living out some Groundhog Day nightmare I don’t ever think I’ll wake up from.
The freezing water hits my feet, but I don’t even wince. I keep walking until I’m deep enough to bathe in the furious waves. Suddenly, all the noise in my head stops and peace settles in. I tip my head to the sky and smile, letting rain pummel my face as I laugh like an absolute lunatic, because there’s an opportunity for something huge here, and I’ve been too scared to take it. Screw being scared anymore.
Screw. It. All.
There are clauses to prevent me taking the production company and the channel to court, but they said nothing about the court of public opinion. I kept my eyes wide open in that place and I’m not na?ve anymore. I’ve learnt their tricks. It’s time someone played them at their own game.
Since the group chat was set up and my dinner with the other girls, I’ve discovered I’m not the only one whose life took a downward spiral after the show. I’m also not the only one whose name still comes up in the press. Some get raked over the coals more than others. Some have pictures and headlines less flattering than others. It’s either that revelation or simply that enough time has passed, but the animosity I feel towards my castmates has begun to wane. We were all in survival mode, all moving in accordance to the strings being pulled above us, and if I don’t want to be judged for who I was made out to be in there, I have to offer them the same grace, otherwise I’m no better than the mob.
Up until now, I haven’t sent a single message in the main group, because I didn’t trust someone wouldn’t leak the chat for the right price. But this could be an opportunity to redeem myself, and them too. And I can’t do it alone.
Adrenaline courses through me and keeps me strangely warm as I emerge from the sea. Mum and Nan stand there in their raincoats, Mum sharing an umbrella with Nan in one hand and holding Tom in the other, while Nan clutches the iPad with Oscaron it to her chest. As I get closer, I see Tom’s grin on my phone screen as he whoops and hollers at me. Not because I’m in my underwear, but because he knows his cold shock technique has worked on me. I gather my clothes as I head back up to them, and Mum whips off her coat to wrap it around me. Everyone wears their anticipation on their sleeves as I cover myself up.
“You okay?” Mum asks.
“Yep.” I pull my wet hair out from under the coat. “I’m going on that show.”
“But we’ve got a plan. We can help you?—”
I cut Oscar off. “No need. I’ve got a better one.”
“Gemma…” he says in the same worried tone he had when I first told him I was taking part. I know he thinks I’m about to make a big mistake, but it’s time to stop letting him tidy up the mess I made.
Everyone before me except Tom is wearing a look of sympathy and concern. Yep, they definitely think I’ve gone insane, and I can’t exactly blame them after I just went full “Moana” on them.
“Why? You don’t have to. Let us—” Nan tries to explain.
“Because it’s live. And I have something to say.”