Chapter Eight
When Cassie is out of sight, Blue fidgets with his headset as he asks, “Have you ever seen the show?”
“Oh, God, no. I hate reality TV.”
“Why are you here then?” he asks.
“It’s a long story, but I’m starting to think I’ve been misled.”
“Yeaaaah, that’s probably why she’s sorry,” he says with a wince. “Let me give you a tour and you’ll see why.”
I follow Blue back inside, and he leads me up a staircase that can only be described as grand and down a long hallway with a posh runner.
“This is where you’ll be sleeping for the first night.
” He opens the door to a gorgeous bedroom with a four-poster king bed and French doors that open to a charming balcony with bougainvillea winding around the railing.
“Whoa. This is nicer than the hotel I stayed in for the International Conservation Convention. I don’t mind staying here the whole time.”
“Yeah, about that . . .” Blue plays with his headset again before shoving his hands into the pockets of his jean shorts.
He gives me a real smile. “I really wish I didn’t have to be the one who breaks it to you, but only the top points leaders get to sleep in the mansion. Everyone else sleeps in the shack.”
“Wait, what? There’s an actual shack?”
“Well, technically, I think it was a tool shed or where they kept their lawn mowers or something. Have you ever seen Big Brother? It’s like the ‘have-not’ room.”
“I have not seen Big Brother and I have not a clue what you’re talking about.”
He rubs the back of his neck, another nervous tic, and says, “Wow, you really weren’t kidding. Come on, I’ll show you.”
We walk past the infinity pool, a putting green I hadn’t noticed earlier, and the beautifully landscaped gardens with a view of the ocean .
. . until we get to a dilapidated shack at the bottom of the hill.
It’s about the size of a small garage, and the door creaks when Blue opens it.
There aren’t any windows, but the sun streams in through the cracks in the boards, allowing in just enough light to take in the empty room.
There are no furnishings, just six bedrolls stacked in a corner, and it somehow manages to be both musty and dusty.
This is where every horror movie takes place.
“Were a bunch of Girl Scouts murdered here?” I ask, pointing at the bedrolls.
He laughs. “Good one. But no, that’s where you sleep,” he says apologetically. Then he quickly adds, “There’s an outhouse, cold showers, and no electricity. Phew, it feels good to get that off my chest. I hate being the bearer of bad news.”
“What?! I didn’t sign up for this!”
“Didn’t you read about all of this when you applied to be on the show?”
I shake my head in response as my fists clench involuntarily. “I’m going to kill my mom. And Cassie. And Eliza and Alec. And I think I’d enjoy killing Kristina too.”
Blue smiles. “I like you. And don’t worry, you only have to sleep here if you’re at the bottom of the leaderboard.” We start walking back up the hill.
“How do I get points? Please say trivia. Or logic puzzles. Or even regular puzzles. Anything but physical challenges.”
He looks like he’s choosing his words carefully but also biting back a laugh. “Well, they’re physical challenges in a way. You know what, I’m going to let someone else explain the rest of the rules to you. I don’t want to be added to your hit list.”
Blue leads me around the pool toward the back patio, which reminds me of the restaurant in Miami where my cousin had her rehearsal dinner. All the lounge furniture, chaises, and umbrellas seem overly curated for “coolness.”
When we pass the bar, we almost bump into someone coming from the opposite direction.
I look up and see a guy I definitely haven’t met yet.
Unlike the crew members I’ve seen hustling around in cargo shorts and carrying heavy-looking cameras, this guy is wearing what is undoubtedly a custom-made navy suit.
He’s several inches taller than my five-foot-eight frame, with short dark hair and a five o’clock shadow that is too perfect to be accidental.
He says hi to Blue and apologizes for almost running us over, but his confidence and presence make me want to apologize to him.
He turns to me, and his smile catches me completely off guard.
He might be the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.
Which makes me realize he’s probably one of the contestants I’m not supposed to be meeting yet.
I look to Blue to make sure it’s okay that I’m interacting with another contestant before the camera captures my “genuine reaction.” He doesn’t seem concerned.
The handsome suit guy puts out his hand to introduce himself but before I can shake it, he pulls back when recognition hits. “Grace Lambert?”
I nod and start to ask him his name, but Blue cuts in, saying, “She also goes by ‘Sexy Scientist.’” Blue gives me a devilish smile.
I groan. “That can’t seriously be a thing.”
The guy in the suit nods. “I’ve already heard it on set. It’s definitely a thing.”
I gesture at him, waving a hand at his overall handsomeness. “And I guess this is your thing?”
He looks down at himself, then back up at me. “You don’t like my suit?”
I really do. But since I still don’t understand how the show works and he may end up being my competition or something, I decide to stay neutral. So I shrug and say, “It looks expensive.”
He raises an eyebrow. “It is.” Then he turns to Blue, as if he’s done with our conversation. “You went more turquoise this season. I like it.”
“Thanks.” Blue runs his fingers through his hair as a flattered blush creeps up his face. “It was more of a robin’s egg last season,” he explains to me.
The handsome suit guy was a contestant on last season too? I didn’t realize they could do that. What if that gives him an unfair advantage? “They brought you back for this season?” I ask him, trying to contain the injustice in my voice.
He nods. “Is that a problem?”
Well, his rudeness is probably why he didn’t win, but I decide to take the high road. “Well, good for you, trying again, I guess.” He gives me a confused look, so I tack on, “Good luck this season.”
He just stares at me. “I think I’m going to need it.”
Ahh. So he is my competition. That explains his attitude. I level him with my fakest smile. “Oh, you definitely are.”
He opens his mouth, but before he can respond Blue interrupts, pressing a finger to his earpiece. “Crap. That’s Kristina. She wants you in hair and makeup. Now.” Blue hooks his arm in mine and leads me away. It seems like he’s stifling a laugh.
I give a parting salute to Overpriced Suit. There’s no way I’m letting that guy win the $250,000 over me.
Blue hustles me toward the hair and makeup trailer and yells back, “Bye, Andrew,” without turning around.
I feel a drop in my stomach. “Andrew?”
“Yeah, Andrew Benson. He’s the on-set lawyer.”
“That’s Mr. Benson?! I thought he was a contestant!”
Blue starts laughing. “I know.”
“Why didn’t you correct me?”
“Because it was hilarious. The look on his face . . . I’ve never seen him look so ready to fight with someone before the show’s even started filming.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “That’s the stodgy old lawyer I hung up on and have been emailing?”
“I don’t know if you hung up on him or not. But I wouldn’t say he’s stodgy. Or old.”
“Well, that makes sense why he was so obnoxious. That seems to be his baseline.” I turn to go after him. “I have some issues I’ve been waiting to bring up with him—”
But Blue cuts me off, puts his arm around me, and keeps leading me in the direction we were headed. “You can yell at him later. I’m sure he’ll love that. But I need to get you to the glam squad before Kristina has my head.”
I walk with him for a moment before blurting out, “I can’t believe that’s Old Man Benson.” Then I shake my head. “I didn’t know lawyers could be that attractive in real life.”
Blue laughs, then puts on a fake posh accent. “This is TV, darling. Everyone is attractive.” He keeps hurrying me along. “Which is why we need to get you to hair and makeup.”
Forty minutes later, I have so much shellac on my face I can barely scowl.
I’m sitting in a tall hairdresser’s chair in a trailer that’s been converted into a beauty salon, and two very nice women have done “a quick touch-up” to my hair and makeup.
Except it wasn’t quick and the fake lashes they glued on feel like tarantulas crawling on my eyes.
Not the cute Poecilotheria genus native to Sri Lanka either.
I sit there pondering whether women on reality TV shows are obligated to put on this much makeup every day when a beautiful Indian American woman struts into the trailer, immediately commanding everyone’s attention.
“I’m getting shiny,” she whines, and immediately the sweet makeup artists who were buzzing around me rush over to her with all sorts of powders and lotions.
“Hi, I’m Grace. You must be Shantae.” I extend my hand. She doesn’t take it. Okaaay.
“Aw, yes. The Sexy Scientist.”
“I really wish everyone would stop saying that.” One, because it’s degrading, and two, because it reminds me of my interaction with Andrew Benson, Attorney at Law.
Cassie may be right. I may have a tiny little issue with authority figures.
Especially men who try to tell me what I can and can’t do without hearing what I have to say.
It’s an unfortunate by-product of being a woman in STEM.
Shantae doesn’t seem to care what I think about the nickname because she shrugs and says, “After a few seasons, all the contestants start to blur together. I need a way to keep everyone straight so I’ll call you by the right names on camera,” she says in a way that makes it seem like the mental equivalent of passing the LSAT.
“Last year, I had Sob Story, Unapologetic Asshole, and Racist—so be glad you’re just the Sexy Scientist.”
“Thanks, I guess?” I watch as Shantae pouts her lips, and a makeup artist immediately reapplies a glossy red lipstick. “Hey, maybe you can answer something for me,” I say to her. “How does one win points so she doesn’t have to stay in the creepy murder shack?”
Shantae laughs. “I didn’t believe Kristina when she told me.”
“Told you what? That I don’t want to sleep on the floor of a condemned garage?”
“That you really haven’t seen the show before. The writers are going to have a field day with you,” Shantae says smugly.
“I thought this was a reality show.”
“There are still writers. They hire a comedian to write the snarky commentary I say,” she says as she kisses a tissue to remove excess gloss. “And the producers storyboard the rest of the show. They love a ‘fish out of water’ plotline.”
I shake my head. “I really should’ve insisted on doing research before I came. I’m starting to suspect my friends blindsided me on purpose.”
Shantae must take pity on me because she turns and says, “You get points by doing sexy challenges, being in a couple, and of course, the more you hook up, the longer you stay.”
I cough on the stale coffee Blue brought me. “Hook up?”
Shantae raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow.
“Wait till you hear what this season’s challenges are.
They’re even sexier than last year’s. All right, I’m done here.
” She begins to saunter out of the hair and makeup trailer, then turns back to me.
“Good luck,” she says sarcastically, as if even luck won’t help me now.
I sit there in shock until Blue comes to collect me.
He raises his electric blue eyebrows at me.
“By the look on your face, I’m guessing you’ve met Shantae.
Did she make it onto your hit list?” I try to respond, but my head is still stuck on the hookup bombshell.
“Don’t worry about her. She’s just bitter that her modeling career never panned out the way she wanted it to.
” Blue puts an arm around me and ushers me out of the trailer.
“She told me how you win points,” I mumble as we walk back up toward the pool area.
“Ahh, I see,” Blue starts. “Well, the good news is—” but before Blue can tell me anything remotely redeeming about this situation, he listens to his earpiece. “Kristina is yelling for the Sexy Scientist.”
Blue must notice my grimace at the unwelcome moniker, or maybe he just senses my imminent panic attack about being woefully unprepared for whatever the hell I’ve gotten myself into.
He stops walking, puts his hands on my shoulders, and turns me to face him.
Then, in a gentle voice, he says, “Don’t worry, Grace. You can do this.”
I take a deep breath, already feeling better with his support. Until he says the thing no woman wants to hear.
“Now let’s get you in a bathing suit and introduce you to the world!”