Chapter Nineteen
Suck it, Giselle,” Ciara says an hour later when she finishes my hair and makeup in Madison’s bedroom. Apparently which direction your windows are facing determines the best light for makeup application and Madison’s orientation has been deemed the best.
Madison comes around and gasps, “Wow, you really do look like a Victoria’s Secret angel.”
“Great,” I deadpan. The producers provided us with two risqué devil costumes and two equally risqué angel costumes. You wouldn’t think God’s messengers would look like slutty doilies, but what do I know?
Obviously, Beth Anne and Ciara claimed the devil costumes. And Ciara looks amazing in her little red lingerie and flaming fire engine red lipstick. Madison looks sweet but sexy in her white lace angel teddy. And now’s the moment of truth as I stand up to look in the mirror.
I do a double take. Ciara has pinned back my bangs but added volume and large curls to the rest of my hair.
I’m wearing a lot of makeup, and for some reason I’m sparkling.
I look closer—yep, there is actual glitter on my face and body.
The only thing that may distract someone from the fact I’m a walking disco ball is that I’m wearing something that resembles a one-piece bathing suit .
. . if it were appropriate to swim in white lace.
The only parts that aren’t see-through are around my nipples and crotch.
And for some inexplicable reason, I’m wearing thigh-high white tights and garters.
Ciara walks around me, taking me in. “Damn, I’m good. You look hot.”
“I’m supposed to look angelic.”
Madison laughs. “Oh, don’t worry. Scott will be on his knees when he sees you.”
I shake my head at the ridiculousness of my life right now. “A week ago, I was asked to contribute an article to Scientific American, and now I’m dressed like a promiscuous cherub in hopes someone named ‘Hot Scott’ notices me at a theme party.”
“Yeah you are,” Ciara says, offering me a high-five.
I laugh and take a deep breath, pushing all thoughts of men, especially a confusing attorney, out of my mind.
For some reason, I can’t stop thinking about the fact that I may have misjudged Andrew.
I was so sure I had him pegged as a self-assured asshole who was only looking out for the show, but now I don’t know . . .
“Let’s do this,” Madison says as she loops her arm in mine.
“Wait, I want to be in the middle,” Ciara says, playfully wedging herself between us. And so we walk outside arm in arm as a devil flanked by two angels.
“Ooh-la-la,” Madison comments when we see that the back patio has been transformed into a cocktail party with the help of string lights and high-top tables. It’s strangely classy for a group of people dressed like they’re about to shoot some sort of Old Testament porn.
TC waves to Madison from the other side of the pool. He’s also dressed like an angel . . . if angels wore white hot pants and no shirt. But he is wearing wings, which, I have to admit, do look strangely erotic on him. He and Madison are literally a match made in heaven.
“Go say hi,” I tell her.
“No. It’s girls’ night.”
“We’re on a dating show. There’s no escaping the boys. Seriously, it’s fine.” I give her a little shove.
“Okay, I’ll be right back,” Madison says before rushing over to TC.
I watch as Madison cozies up to him, laughing when their wings bump into each other. I smile at them, then tap Ciara’s shoulder when I see Javier walk in. He’s wearing an open white vest with wings and tight white leather pants.
“I’d wish you luck, but you don’t need it,” I tell her.
Ciara blows me a kiss then struts toward Javier. I’ve never been so happy to watch a sexy devil flirt with a muscular angel before. I laugh at them and get a warm fuzzy feeling in my chest.
But the laugh gets caught in my throat when Hot Scott walks in.
And the warm fuzzy feeling gets doused with lighter fluid when I see he’s shirtless and wearing the red equivalent of Javi’s leather pants.
He has on a crimson eye mask like you’d see at Carnival in Brazil and carries a pitchfork.
This half-assed Halloween costume shouldn’t do it for me, but I think I may have a bad boy fetish now.
He just looks so powerful and confident as he walks straight toward me.
Maybe it’s the air of danger his costume evokes, or the intensity with which he’s staring at me, but I’m finding it hard to breathe.
“Hey there, angel,” he says as he gets closer. He greets me with a tight hug and whispers in my ear, “I’m hoping I can tempt you with my devilish ways tonight.”
I find myself exhaling, “Okay,” because my libido has officially taken over for my brain and I can’t think of anything else to say.
He kisses my cheek innocently. Then his lips trail lower. He softly kisses his way down my neck and my whole body feels like it’s on fire. I let out a surprised gasp. Scott leans back, eyes gleaming, loving the reaction he’s causing in me.
“You know where to find me,” he says, as he heads into the party.
I stand there, afraid to walk just yet because my body still feels tingly, until I notice Andrew is not only on set but looking straight at me. And he looks angry. Suddenly a metaphorical cold shower hits me but I can’t tell why. Am I feeling embarrassed? Guilty?
Andrew walks over and I brace myself for whatever rule I’ve broken this time. But instead he says quietly, “Can I talk to you for a second?”
I nod and he takes my hand to lead me away from the cameras.
When we get to the edge of the patio, he lets go of my hand but stays close to me. Distractingly close. He checks to make sure Kristina is talking to a PA before he says, “Look, I’m not supposed to talk about the contestants but . . . be careful around Scott.”
“What? Why?”
“He’s not a good guy.”
“Says who?”
He sighs like he really shouldn’t be telling me this.
“They make me look at everyone’s background checks and social media before the show starts to see if there’ll be any potential issues.
There are pictures of him with different girls every week and comments from some very angry women, who appear to have had legitimately bad experiences with him.
I tried to warn the producers he’s sleazy, but he had enough followers that they didn’t seem to care. ”
“So this is based on social media? You don’t actually know him—”
“And you do?” he throws back at me. Then he runs his fingers through his hair like he does when he gets frustrated. But then it dawns on me.
“Wait. Are you mad that I let him kiss me just now?”
“He had his hands all over you,” he snaps. Then he looks away like he’s embarrassed by this admission.
“So?” I ask. Does he not want Scott touching me because of the show or because he’s . . . jealous?
“Look, do whatever you want. I just wanted to give you a heads-up in case . . . well, just in case.”
“Okaaaay,” I say because that’s not really an answer.
His gaze dips briefly to take in my angel costume, and he looks like he’s on the verge of saying something else. I hold my breath, desperate to know what he’s thinking. That same muscle in his jaw ticks, but then he just turns and walks away.
God, this man is infuriating! I start after him to ask what the hell is going on, but Ciara intercepts me and drags me to the bar. I wonder if she can tell that I need to clear my head of Andrew.
I’m just desperate enough that I agree to do another shot with her. “But not Fireball!” I quickly add.
“You’re telling the devil not to drink Fireball?” she laughs. Then she orders us two Cazadores shots.
“Salud!” Ciara calls. We say “Cheers,” then tip ’em back.
I start coughing. “What was that?”
“Tequila.”
“It burns almost as bad as Fireball,” I say, making a face.
“Sounds like you need another one then.” She motions to the bartender for another round.
Madison walks over as the bartender hands us another shot. She must see my grimace because she says, “You may want to take it easy, sweetie. You only had salad for dinner.”
“She only ever eats salad for dinner. She’s vegan,” Ciara retorts. “She’ll be fine. It’s only a couple of tequila shots. Or as we say in Vegas . . . breakfast.”
Madison laughs but shakes her head. “Just remember she doesn’t have the tolerance you do. No one does.”
I look up at them and burst out laughing. Madison is staring at me with a concerned face and a halo headband, while Ciara is handing me the shot wearing her devil horns. “You’re really not seeing the irony in this situation?”
Ciara realizes what I’m talking about and starts cracking up. “I’ve always wanted to be the devil on someone’s shoulder! Let me corrupt you, Grace! Please!” We clink glasses and down the second shot.
Madison laughs with us, then sighs. “I guess that means I’ll be the one holding her hair back later.”
Ciara convinces Madison to do a shot to catch up—she really is very good at peer pressure. Then she orders us all a glass of white wine.
“If you get nervous talking to Hot Scott and think you might say something stupid, take a sip of wine and compose yourself first,” Ciara explains.
Not bad advice.
That is, until I’m sitting on a chaise lounge next to Hot Scott polishing off my second glass of white wine in less than twenty minutes. Every time he looks at me, I get nervous and take a sip.
But I have managed to learn that he lives on the Upper East Side, he’s from Queens originally, and . . . there was something else, but I forgot. I was too busy staring at his face.
So far Scott has been the perfect gentleman. He even offered to get me another glass of wine. I don’t know what Andrew was getting so worked up about.
Luckily, before I can get any tipsier, Shantae surprises us by walking out looking fierce in a full-length, skin-tight red gown. She’s wearing a red cape and devil horns; I’m sure the wardrobe department was more than happy to cast her high-maintenance ass as a devil.
“Who’s ready for a points update?” Shantae calls and waves us over to her.
Scott takes my hand and leads me to the white outdoor couches where Shantae is waiting.
When we sit down, I realize we’re all coupled up.
Even Beth Anne and Bill look cozy, dressed in matching devil costumes.
But I can’t help but notice that Beth Anne keeps sneaking glances at Scott.
“Before I reveal the current points leader and who won the first ‘America’s Favorite Contestant’ vote, I want to announce a new twist.” Shantae pauses for her signature dramatic effect as the camera operators get close-ups of our shocked reactions.
Shantae holds up a golden key card. “This is a special award for the points leader. It’s the key to the Privacy Villa! ”
Beth Anne claps excitedly as I whisper to Javier and Ciara, “What’s that?”
“The Privacy Villa,” Shantae continues, “is the most secluded, most romantic part of the property.”
“It’s the guesthouse above the garage,” Javier whispers to me, and I laugh.
Shantae shoots us a look that reminds me of an annoyed librarian, then says in her most important host voice, “It has a king-sized bed and a soaking tub, and most importantly, there are no cameras.” As I’m thinking of how nice a relaxing bath sounds and maybe being able to sneak in a book, Shantae keeps talking.
“The points winner chooses someone to spend the night with or they can opt to gift the villa to another couple. But that means they’ll spend the night in the shack instead. ”
“Well, that’s a no-brainer,” Javier says, shaking his head.
“All these twists seem unnecessarily complicated,” I say to Scott, but his stunning teal eyes are glowing when he looks back at me.
Madison whispers to me, “Oh my gosh! I hope TC wins America’s Favorite Contestant. We could really use some alone time.”
I raise my eyes suggestively at her until I see Blue rolling out what must be the leaderboard, covered in a sheet. “Yay, Blue! Roll it!” I catcall at him. I may be drunk.
Madison must also clock this because she hands me the rest of her water. “Thanks, Angel,” I say as I guzzle it down.
Shantae stands in front of the board and gives us a recap. “Yesterday, Madison, TC, Grace, and Javier were all awarded five points for the first one-on-one date.”
Beth Anne rolls her eyes. “We remember. When do the challenges start?”
“Tomorrow,” Shantae says, trying to hide her annoyance at the interruption. “Okay, where was I?”
“Madison and TC are winning!” I remind her enthusiastically. I hold Madison’s hand up in the air like a victor.
Shantae nods and seamlessly shifts back into her normal composed self. “Yes, Madison and TC are tied for first along with Javier and Grace, but don’t forget, every time America votes for their favorite contestant, they’re awarded ten points.”
I put Madison’s hand down. “Oh yeah. Bummer.”
TC looks at me and then says to Madison, “What’s gotten into Grace?”
“Tequila,” she answers, and they share a look. It might be a look of concern, but there’s currently four of them so it’s hard to tell.
Shantae holds up an envelope. “God, they love envelopes on this show.” Everyone laughs, and I realize I said that louder than I thought.
Shantae takes out a piece of paper and says, “America’s Favorite Contestant is . . . Grace!”
“Wait, what? Like me?” I ask Shantae as Madison gives me a big hug and everyone but Beth Anne cheers.
Shantae ignores my question. “Which means, our current points leader is . . .” She whips the sheet off the scoreboard. “Grace!”
Before I realize what’s happening, Madison and Ciara are jumping up and down with excitement, Beth Anne is muttering, “For fuck’s sake,” and Shantae has handed me the golden key card. This is all happening so fast that all I can say is, “Huh?”
Shantae looks annoyed with me when she asks, “So, Grace, who are you going to choose to stay overnight with you in the Privacy Villa?”
Oh shit. I forgot about that part.