Chapter Twenty-Two
I sneak back into the shack where Bill and Beth Anne are still sleeping. As I discreetly change into a tank top and denim cutoffs, I hear hushed voices outside.
“You go in first.”
“No, you.”
“I hate horror movies, and blood makes me pass out.”
“If Grace has been murdered, I’ll never forgive myself.”
“And I’ll never get the image of her dead body out of my head, so you go first.”
“Rock, paper, scissors?”
I open the door to find Madison and Ciara. Madison jumps backward while Ciara screams, “Don’t kill us!”
When they realize I’m not attacking them with a chainsaw and I also haven’t been attacked by a chainsaw, they launch themselves at me for a hug. “Oh, thank God!” Madison says from somewhere wedged between Ciara and me.
“This shack is creepy as fuck,” Ciara adds. “Glad you weren’t dismembered.”
I laugh. “Me too.”
“Your bangs and mascara are tragic, though,” she continues as she tries to flatten down my hair, which must look like the result of an electrostatic experiment.
“She looks fine. Let’s go to breakfast,” Madison chirps, hooking her arm in mine before I can protest.
We sit by the pool, and I guzzle coffee. For once, I don’t even care if it’s fair trade or organic. I just need the caffeine to constrict the blood vessels in my brain and make this headache go away.
I catch Madison and Ciara sharing furtive glances until Madison finally says, “We need to tell you something.”
“Can you tell it a little more quietly please? My head is throbbing.”
Ciara laughs knowingly. “My bad.”
“How are you alive right now? You drank like five times what I did.” And she somehow looks the opposite of how I currently feel.
She just shrugs. “Years of practice? Superhuman liver?”
Madison is about to talk when I suddenly remember the golden key card. “Oh wait, how was last night in the Privacy Villa?” I ask her.
Madison smiles shyly and says, “It was really great. Thank you again. So so much. But that’s not what we need to talk to you about.” She takes a deep breath. “Last night after you and Scott were in the hot tub and Andrew broke Scott’s nose—”
“Oh shit, it’s broken?” I interrupt again.
“Yeah, but don’t feel too bad for him,” Ciara continues. “It didn’t seem to hold him back.”
“After you went to bed and his nose stopped bleeding, Scott came back to the party,” Madison says slowly. “And he was flirting with Beth Anne . . . and they went down to the beach for a while.”
“Okay . . . ?” I say, not understanding where she’s going with this.
“Well, they kinda, sorta . . .” Madison trails off.
“They banged on the beach, Grace,” Ciara says bluntly.
“What?” I’m partly shocked and partly offended that I could be replaced so easily. “Well, he certainly moved on quickly . . .”
“Don’t take it personally. He’s clearly just here to get laid,” Ciara says, and Madison elbows her.
“You think he was trying to use me for sex?” I ask.
“He’s a dick. Don’t let him mess with your head,” Madison says as she rubs my arm.
But it doesn’t help. I feel stupid. “I should’ve known,” I say, blowing out a breath. “I’m such an idiot. Of course Scott wasn’t really interested in me. He just picked me because he knew I’d be flattered that he was even talking to me. I was an easy target.”
“First of all, you’re not an idiot. Everyone thought he was into you. He acted like he really liked you. And maybe he did,” Madison says gingerly.
“Yeah, it’s not your fault Scott’s a fuck boy,” Ciara adds.
“What’s a fuck boy?” I ask, looking back and forth at them, hoping the Advil and coffee kick in soon.
“A player. Someone who doesn’t want to settle down. He just wants to sleep around,” Ciara explains as Madison nods.
“And people wonder why I don’t date,” I say with a bitter laugh.
But then an errant thought crosses my mind, and because I’m still hungover as shit I voice it.
“I’ve always said it’s because there are slim prospects in LA, but maybe I didn’t date because I was trying to avoid feeling exactly what I’m feeling right now. ”
“Oh honey.” Madison takes my hand. “Then you should be proud. You overcame your fear, put yourself out there, and took a risk. Maybe it didn’t pan out this time, but it could next time. And this is the perfect place to practice!”
“Yeah, because what’s getting rejected and looking stupid in front of millions of people?” I say, only half-joking.
“Trust me,” Ciara says. “You’ll end up looking better than he will.”
“Yeah, America will side with you. They already love you!” Madison chimes in.
I shake my head. “I should’ve listened to Andrew when he warned me that Scott’s not a good guy. He’s obviously not here for the right reasons.” I immediately wince. “Did I really just say that?”
Madison and Ciara laugh, but my stomach sinks when I consider my own motives.
If, as Blue said, the right reason for being on the show is to find love, then I’m obviously not here for the right reasons either.
If anyone found out, I’d lose whatever goodwill with viewers that Madison thinks I currently have.
But as I worry about my future, another more pressing concern hits me, and I’m almost afraid to ask. “Did he get fired?”
“Who? Andrew? No,” Madison says. “Scott didn’t press charges, so Kristina just gave him a warning.”
“She also asked him if he knew anything about some missing confessional footage,” Ciara says as she conspiratorially raises her eyebrows at me. “But he said he didn’t have a clue.”
I give a big sigh of relief, and they both look at me suspiciously. “Is something going on with you and the lawyer?” Madison asks.
“No!” I answer truthfully. Because there is nothing going on between us.
Okay, maybe he flew off the handle defending my honor .
. . And last night in the production trailer he kind of looked like if he couldn’t touch me he might die .
. . But before all that, I would’ve sworn he hated me. And didn’t I hate him right back?
But judging from the way Madison and Ciara are looking at me, it doesn’t seem like they believe me. And I’m not sure I believe myself. I take a large gulp of coffee before I do something stupid like admit I find Andrew attractive.
My attention is pulled away when Beth Anne finally emerges from her beauty sleep and struts along the other side of the pool toward the buffet. “Oh shit,” I exclaim, and Madison and Ciara turn to me. “We have to warn Beth Anne! What if Scott is just using her for sex?”
“Oh, she’s aware,” Ciara says with pursed lips.
“What do you mean?”
“After Beth Anne heard that Andrew dragged you out of the hot tub because you were drunk, she explicitly told Kristina she was sober and able to make her own decisions,” Madison explains.
“So . . . you think she was planning on having sex with him all along?” I whisper, scandalized.
“Say what you will about the girl, but she knows what she’s doing. She’ll go far on the show,” Ciara says, picking at her fruit plate.
I sigh audibly because Ciara is right: Beth Anne is a fierce competitor, and she’s much more cut out for a reality show than I am.
Madison notices the change in my demeanor and quickly says, “Hey, don’t worry about Beth Anne or Scott.
Just keep doing what you’re doing and crush it in the team challenge today. ”
Ciara nods in agreement. “Oh yeah, I think this is the perfect challenge to make Scott regret ever messing with you. Blue told me what it is.” Ciara pauses for dramatic effect, and the gleam in her eye tells me I’m not going to like what she’s about to say. “It’s a sexy obstacle course!”
I groan loudly. I have a feeling there will be plenty of regret in this team challenge and none of it will be coming from Scott.
“No way in hell.”
It’s not even 10:00 a.m. and I’m already in the middle of a tense standoff with Blue in the mansion living room.
He summoned me because Kristina sent another one of the PAs to buy me a new bathing suit and what she brought back is the tiny, crocheted bikini that Blue is currently holding. It leaves nothing to the imagination.
Blue turns to Madison and Ciara, who are waiting for me so we can walk down to the beach for the team challenge. “Girls! Please tell Grace she can pull off this bathing suit.”
Madison’s face lights up. “Of course you can, Grace!”
“It’s not a question of if I can or can’t, it’s a matter of I won’t,” I answer definitively.
Ciara looks me up and down and then at the crocheted bikini. “Yeah, that’s too grandma for you. I’ve got something better.” She pulls a hot pink string bikini out of her beach bag. “Here. It’s brand-new.”
Blue smiles like he’s won the argument. “That works.”
“I want to see what your grandma looks like at the beach,” Madison says to Ciara as I take the bikini between my thumb and pointer finger like it’s covered in nuclear waste.
“But, but . . . it’s pink,” I protest.
“She has a thing against pink,” Madison explains.
“What do you have against pink?” Ciara gasps as if I’ve insulted her.
“It’s just so . . . girly.”
Ciara laughs. “Being feminine isn’t a weakness.”
“Tell that to a room full of male scientists,” I scoff under my breath.
But Ciara isn’t hearing any of this. “Fuck that! And fuck them! You can be girly and still be smart, powerful, and a badass!” She pauses for emphasis. “Being comfortable in who you are and what you like is power. Now, for the love of God, go put on that bathing suit and look in a mirror.”
“Okay, geez. I’ve never been peer-pressured to put clothes on before.” I take the hot pink bikini and pop into the hallway bathroom. I quickly change into it, throw my cover-up on, and meet the girls outside.
Ciara and Madison insist on walking me down to the beach because there’s “power in numbers.” And when we walk past the shack and down the hill to the dunes, I’m glad they’re by my side. Because next to the tiki beach bar, sitting all cozied up on a daybed, are Beth Anne and Scott.
Ciara tsks. “Should we ignore them completely?”