Bellamy’s Redemption

by Holly Tierney-Bedord

More books by Holly Tierney-Bedord

Novels:

Coached

Run Away Baby

Surviving Valencia

Novellas:

The Snowflake Valley Advice Fairy

Right Under Your Nose: A Christmas Story

Ring in the New Year

Sunflowers and Second Chances

Young adult novels:

The Pinky Bean Chronicles

Children’s books:

Bagels for Barkly

The World’s Trickiest Mazes for Kids

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by Holly Tierney-Bedord using artwork licensed from Gillham Studios.

Bellamy’s Redemption by Holly Tierney-Bedord

©2013

All rights reserved.

Chapter 1

Everyone watched the night Bellamy Timberfrost got his heart broken on national television. My friends and I did, anyhow. The five of us were at Betsy’s house, drinking wine and munching on extra spicy pretzel mix. It was an evening we had all been anticipating for months, having endured the rollercoaster ride of love that Alanna Rutherford had taken us upon. From her quaint cottage home in Quebec where we started the journey with her, through Mayan ruins and Moroccan markets, we had watched the raven-haired beauty painfully narrow down suitor after suitor. We cried along with her when it was discovered that Charles, the frontrunner, had a girlfriend and child at home. We booed him off the television and uncorked another bottle. That was the night that Bellamy was promoted to our favorite.

Standing there in the moonlight on a beach in Portugal, smoothing back Alanna’s hair and kissing her tear-stained cheeks, Bellamy cemented his place in our hearts, as well as hers. Or so we thought. So the evening of the proposal, a month and countless romantic dates later, as Bellamy stood in his tuxedo on the steps of the Taj Mahal, shaking, a cushion cut yellow diamond engagement ring bulging suggestively in his pocket, we were all so sure of what was about to transpire that some people (Judijean, for example) were not even paying proper attention.

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Betsy, shushing Judijean who was trying to show Lauren a new crochet stitch. “Something is wrong.”

“How do you mean?” asked Rachel.

“Isn’t it obvious? They’re showing Bellamy first. Why are they showing Bellamy first?”

It was true. This was not the way it was supposed to go. The munching and chatter halted as we all leaned in, staring at Betsy’s tiny, ancient television.

“Is that a tear in Alanna’s eye?” Rachel whispered.

“I can’t tell,” said Lauren, shooting Judijean a quick, angry glare. We were supposed to be watching the finale at Judijean’s house, on her seventy-three inch high definition flat screen television, but at the last minute her fiancé Bud (Butt) had decided a poker party and vintage Beevis and Butthead-a-thon trumped our Ladies’ Night plans.

“It’s a tear,” Betsy confirmed.

Bellamy was smiling. He was getting down on one knee.

“Don’t do it, Bellamy,” Lauren whispered.

Judijean pursed her lips and flared her nostrils at the television.

“Easy, Horsey,” said Lauren, patting Judijean’s head.

“Alanna Roxanne Rutherford,” said Bellamy, “from the moment I stepped out of the limo and saw you, I knew my life would never be the same.” He wiped his hands on his pant legs and reached into his pocket.

“How is he not noticing that Alanna looks like she’s about to barf?” asked Rachel.

“He’s too in love,” I said solemnly.

He opened the box and the camera zoomed in, freezing on the sparkling ring, and for a moment everything stopped as the Diamonds by Deluxe jingle played its familiar tune: Show her, show her, you love her, love her, in a special way that shines, shines, shines like the stars above… Diamonds by Deluxe!

“I want a Deluxe Diamond someday,” said Lauren.

We all ignored her. There was no way her boyfriend Nick could ever afford a Deluxe Diamond with his salary as a pizza delivery guy.

The camera panned back to Bellamy. His eyes were full of sweetness and hope. I couldn’t control myself; I started to bawl.

“Emma, it’s okay,” said Rachel. She sat down beside me and squeezed my shoulder. I wiped at my eyes and squinted at the television screen, in time to hear Bellamy ask, “Will… you… marry… me?”

Alanna Rutherford shook her head and wiped two perfect tears from her wide, hazel eyes. “I’m so sorry, Bellamy, but I love… Antonio.”

And suddenly there was Antonio, riding up on a camel. Judijean clapped and squealed in delight.

“I always liked Antonio better than Bellamy,” Lauren admitted.

“You’re crazy,” said Betsy.

“Bellamy is perfect,” I whispered.

Antonio climbed down from the camel and handed the reins to Bellamy. Some belly dancers helped him up onto the camel and he clomped away.

“I don’t think those belly dancers are authentic,” said Betsy.

“Please, it’s just a show,” said Judijean.

“A reality show,” said Betsy.

“Alanna,” Antonio was saying, “from the moment I first stepped out of the limo, I knew my life would never be the same…” The camera focused again on Bellamy, growing smaller and smaller as his camel retreated into the sunset.

“I have to go,” I said, standing up and brushing crumbs off my skirt. I was still in my work clothes, and the long day was catching up with me. I picked up the scarf I’d been knitting and stuffed it in my tote bag.

“Emma, aren’t you going to watch him propose?” asked Lauren.

“No, I really can’t bear to see it,” I said. I carried my wineglass into Betsy’s kitchen and set it beside her sink. She and Rachel followed after me. They are my two oldest friends; the three of us met in Green Frogs Preschool and we have been together ever since. Judijean and Lauren didn’t come along until high school. They were already best friends with each other when we met them. They bicker and fight like an old married couple. As united as we five are to the outside world, there is often a subtle divide in our group, with unshakeable loyalties between us three and those two.

“I cannot believe you’re missing this,” Lauren shouted.

“Go watch it,” I said to Betsy and Rachel. “You don’t have to hang out in here with me.”

“But you’re crying,” said Betsy.

“I’m fine. I’d better go,” I said, giving them both hugs. I smiled bravely to prove I meant it. They looked skeptical.

“Seriously, this is the best show I have ever seen in my whole life,” Lauren yelled. Betsy and Rachel rejoined them. I waved to Lauren and Judijean on my way out; they were too enthralled in Antonio and Alanna’s elaborately choreographed dance routine to be interrupted with hugs.

I walked the seven blocks to my apartment, through freshly fallen snow, wishing I’d brought along some comfortable shoes or boots. By the time I reached my door, I could barely hobble up the stairs. Before I sat down at my computer or sifted through the mail scattered in my foyer in front of the old-fashioned mail slot, I turned on the bathwater and added some lavender oil. My feet were throbbing. Even worse than the pain was the realization that I would need to wear sensible shoes for the next several days while today’s blisters healed.

My apartment was cold and dark. I wished I had a cat or dog, but I knew it wouldn’t be fair; I’m never home. I turned up the heat and ate a piece of leftover pizza while the bath filled and the radiators clunked into action. Snow was gathering on my windowsills and swirling flakes twirled beneath the street lamps. I imagined for a moment that tomorrow might be a snow day. I got into the bath, plotting out the details of tonight’s snow turning to ice and the entire city being shut down.

Tomorrow’s clients were all out in the suburbs. I was scheduled to meet with Mrs. Norman Fillmore (as she primly referred to herself) at ten o’clock, to discuss the remodel of her entire downstairs. Although she was so elderly that I half-questioned the ethics of engaging in a revamp that may not be finished in her lifetime, she seemed mentally intact, so I was going along with it.

Nothing in her home had been touched since the 1980’s when the house was built, and even then she was old, with a fondness for old-lady tchotchkes. Walls and surfaces were drenched in worn, faded, peacock blue decadence. When she first met with me at my office, I thought there was hope. She had just lost her husband after being his caretaker for many years. She seemed like a fragile old rose, ready to dip her toes back into the water. We had looked at fabric swatches and had taken a fieldtrip to a furniture store. All was well until she discovered houndstooth. “Oh, myyyyyy,” she’d crackled, “I remember this pattern. Is this back in fashion?”

“Houndstooth is always in fashion. It’s considered a classic, and when the two colors are similar and muted it can even be considered a neutral. We can incorporate some touches of this pattern into your design.”

“I want to steeeeer cleeeeear of bluuuue this time around,” she said in her strange way of annunciating certain words very slowly.

“We can do that,” I assured her.

“But I still looooove goooooooold. And red. I want it to feel riiiiiich.”

“Mixing colors and patterns works in moderation,” I said, wondering how I was going to reel her in.

Then she went nuts, pointing out every houndstooth patterned item in the store, and branching out to love checks, plaids, and backgammon triangles. Anything devoid of pattern was red or gold. Bright red drapes with heavy gold trim. Brass lamps with red velvet shades. Her home was quickly turning into something from Alice in Wonderland. I was dreading seeing her again, since the time had come to convince her to learn to edit.

In the afternoon it was Felicity Snell, whose industrial kitchen remodel was on target to be slightly less cozy than the set from the movie Saw. Having never cooked, or apparently eaten, she didn’t see the need for cupboards, a pantry, drawers, or any other form of storage. So far the design incorporated high-end stainless steel appliances with wine racks and one exposed shelf of petal thin, asymmetrical, white ceramic dishware. I was not sure where a bag of potato chips or a can of soup could go, and I was dreading the fight that would ensue when I tried again to discuss this with her.

I added some more hot water to the bath, opening the tall, frosted glass window a crack. Cold air and the city noises came rushing in as I peeked out at the snowy winter night, enjoying the juxtaposition of my private nakedness and the cold city.

“I want to be here tomorrow,” I said aloud. I closed the window since my bathwater was rapidly cooling. I added even more hot water, trying to get the image of the tasseled, harlequin patterned overstuffed ottomans that Mrs. Fillmore was in love with out of my mind. “I’m doing it,” I whispered. Calling in sick. I never did anything remotely irresponsible, but what the heck. I would say I had food poisoning. No, I’m such a bad liar. Maybe I could have a personal emergency. But that might make me seem crazy. The weather could be my excuse. Obviously it would have to be the weather. I needed a break, and Mrs. Fillmore and Felicity Snell could wait another day.

As soon as I’d decided this, and firmly convinced myself that I really would go through with it, an unexpected wave of relief washed over me, relaxing me more than the bath had been capable of. I must really hate my job, I realized. But I didn’t. I loved it. I loved design, anyhow. And I loved the pride and satisfaction of a great end result. And I loved making people happy, and impressing them with my skills. It was just all the work it took getting there that I hated.

Feeling rejuvenated and like I no longer needed to get right to bed, I stepped out of the tub, put on my robe and slippers, and went out into the living room. My office is in a tiny alcove filled with windows that used to be a porch. It’s well insulated enough that even on a night like tonight it’s the perfect place to sit and work, watching the traffic below. I checked facebook and then checked my email. Nothing was happening. So I googled Bellamy Timberfrost. I needed to see his face again.

His brown curls and blue eyes appeared on the screen, imploring me to love him. I swear, they seemed to be looking right into my soul. Next I logged into my favorite celebrity gossip website, hoping to see some candid shots of Bellamy at Starbucks or leaving the gym. Those are always my favorite pictures because I can imagine myself there with him. “It’s a little pathetic how attached you’ve gotten to him,” I said to myself. And then I wrote firmly with a black Sharpie on a yellow Post-it note Stop talking to yourself and stuck it on the corner of my computer monitor.

“Tune in tonight to hear Bellamy’s side of the story!” said the caption beneath his photo on celebstalker.com. I panicked, checking the clock. Had I missed it? Not yet. I don’t have a television because I think they make people dumb, so I ran next door to my neighbor Pete’s apartment.

“Pete, it’s me, Emma,” I yelled, pounding on his door. He answered the door in a flowered, vintage bathrobe, nibbling on some string cheese. His blonde hair was smooshed against one side of his stubbly face. He looked cute and dirty, as usual.

“C’mon in.”

His apartment is a sad reminder of what mine would look like if I had not made it over to the pristine temple of gray and white simplicity that it now is. And to think the landlord gave me a giant discount off rent and reimbursed me for supplies, for doing what I would have done anyhow.

“Cheese?” asked Pete.

“No thanks.”

“Well, at least have something to drink,” he said, handing me a Capri Sun.

“Thanks Pete. I appreciate it. I’m here on important business. Can we watch The Late Show with Bobby Maze? Bellamy Timberfrost is going to be on. It’s starting any second.”

“Help yourself,” he said, handing me the remote.

“No Pete. Too many buttons. You’ve got to help me out. Hurry!”

“Geez, Emma,” he said, shaking his head. He found the correct channel and plunked down beside me on his green velour sofa.

“It looks nice in here,” I remarked as we sat through some commercials, since it was, technically, a bit cleaner than usual. “Very thrifty,” I added, giving an approving little nod.

“Can you believe I found this couch on the street?”

“Do you mean literally? I guess so.”

“I changed out the legs for these new ones, and it gave it a whole new look.”

“Clever. Ooh, look! It’s starting!” I popped my Capri Sun straw into the pouch and took a sip.

“Do you ever think it’s weird how much time we spend together in our bathrobes?” asked Pete.

“Shhh. There he is. Bellamy Timberfrost. That’s him.”

“That’s him?”

“Be nice. I love him.”

Pete took a radish off a small chipped plate and crunched into it, turning up the television as a courtesy to me.

“So… Bellamy Timberfrost, ladies and gentlemen!” Bobby Maze was saying, holding out his hands to display my future husband. The audience clapped and cheered as Bellamy gave them a nervous little wave and took a seat.

“I love shy guys,” I said.

“I’m shy,” said Pete.

“You do infomercials for a living.”

“But it’s a struggle for me.”

“Shhh. You’re not taking this seriously.”

He made the gesture of locking his lips with a tiny key and tossing it over his shoulder.

“Well Bellamy, let me just say, it’s a pleasure to have you here. Now, for those of you at home who are not familiar, let me give you a little background: America watched tonight as Bellamy proposed to Alanna Rutherford…” Bellamy noticeably flinched at the mention of her name. Alanna’s glorious likeness appeared on the screen. She was beaming, looking youthful yet wise, draped in a sparkly purple gown and posing in an angular hunch like a supermodel.

Pete bit into another radish, rolling his eyes, but honoring his pledge to not talk.

“So Bellamy,” said Bobby Maze, his brow creasing in practiced conspiratorial empathy, “did you watch tonight’s episode?”

“Um, yeah. Yeah, I watched it.”

“And was it hard to relive that night?”

“Yeah, it was.”

“I take it you had no idea that Alanna was going to choose Antonio?”

“No idea, man. I had no idea.”

“Let’s watch it again, in case anyone at home missed it,” said Bobby. I felt tears welling up in my eyes at the depressing image of Bellamy, dropping to one knee, his eyes full of hope. Then they cut to Antonio and Alanna kissing, and finally to Bellamy clomping off on the camel.

“That was hard to watch,” said Bobby Maze, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” said Bellamy. He looked like he wanted to die.

“But I hear you have some great news for America. Can you tell us a little more about that?” asked Bobby Maze, raising one eyebrow in that humorous, light hearted, subject-changing way of his.

“Oh no. Oh no,” I said. “Don’t tell me he already found someone else!”

“Um, sure, Booby, I mean Bobby,” said Bellamy. His lips began to form another word and then he froze. “Ugh. I’m so dumb,” he muttered.

“No you’re not sweet baby,” I whispered.

Pete threw his string cheese wrapper on the floor and buried his face in a cushion. I pulled him back towards me, partly so he wouldn’t miss anything, and partly to protect him from germs.

“Go on, tell America,” said Bobby Maze, a huge smile plastered on his face.

“Sure. I, um, I am coming back to your homes,” Bellamy said, awkwardly reading the teleprompter, “for my second chance… at true love. Join me this summer… for Bellamy’s Reduction. …Excuse me, I mean Bellamy’s Redemption. And ladies… if you would like a chance to be a contestant on Bellamy’s Redemption, and win… a chance… at being with me, please call the number… at the bottom of your screen.”

“Thank you, Bellamy. Well done. Ladies and gentlemen, once again, Bellamy Timberfrost!”

The audience clapped, somewhat less enthusiastically this time.

“And be sure to join me tomorrow night when Antonio and Alanna join us together to share their side of the story!”

Pete clicked off the television. He seemed to be at a loss for words, which was not normal for him.

“You can talk again,” I said.

“Emma, Emma,” he said, shaking his head.

“Don’t you like him?”

“I have to get to bed. We’re taping at five o’clock in the morning.”

“Okay. Thanks for letting me stop by.” I picked up my empty Capri Sun and Pete’s empty radish plate and took them to the kitchen.

“You’re so clean,” he said, following me.

“Not really. What’s tomorrow’s product?”

“The Spin-Chop-Dryer. It’s a gadget that spins vegetables until the dirt falls off, and then chops them into chips, and then dries them into a healthy, fat free snack, all at the touch of a button.”

“It sounds great.”

“I’ll get you one.”

“Cool. Thanks Pete. Good night.”

“Good night, Emma.”

I let myself out and went back to my apartment. I fixed myself a cup of tea and picked up a decorating magazine, but I could not focus on either. My mind was racing with thoughts of Bellamy’s Redemption. I had to get on that show.

I stood up and examined my face in the mirror in my foyer. Shoulder length blonde hair. Brown eyes that made everyone think my hair color was fake. It occurred to me that I was the exact opposite of Alanna Rutherford. If Bellamy had loved her, could he settle for me?

I got out my yoga mat and sat on it, in case I became inspired to exercise. If past seasons were any indication, hot tub interviews were likely to be an important part of the show. I was going to have to get in great shape if I was going to be on television. I moved my tea out of the way and did a couple of crunches. The snow was still falling, and as I lay there looking up at it swirling prettily outside the tall old windows, I felt the most wonderful mix of hope, excitement, and peace. I just knew that Bellamy and I were going to meet. Getting him to fall in love with me seemed a little more difficult, but I’d figure that out when the time came.

Chapter 2

I spent the morning of my day off playing on the computer, drinking coffee, and watching the city get buried under snow. At 11:30 Betsy called me and invited me to meet her for lunch.

“I’m not working today. I’m snowed in,” I told her.

“Snowed in? We don’t live on the Minnesota prairie. How are you possibly snowed in? Call a taxi.”

“Well, I was going to have to drive around today, and it sounded kind of scary. I decided last night that I’d play hooky today.”

“In that case, you should have stayed longer last night. Judijean was kind of drunk, in case you hadn’t noticed, and she started sharing all these nasty secrets about Bud’s family. Did you know that his mom is in jail right now for shoplifting? By jail I mean prison. Actual prison. At least I think so. Can you imagine that? I have seen her a few times and she is a fancy old bitch. I can’t imagine her in prison. You wouldn’t think anyone fancy could have given birth to Bud, but she’s honestly kind of elegant. Or so I thought. Are you there, Emma?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

“Oh, it’s just, you weren’t reacting. How much would you have to shoplift to go to prison? A ton of stuff, right?”

“I don’t know.”

“How weird is that? So when they keep hemming and hawing about a wedding date, it’s not so Judijean can lose weight as we thought…”

“I never thought that,” I interrupted. “She’s totally skinny.”

“Her butt could be smaller,” Betsy said, and then continued where she’d left off: “And it’s not because Bud is going to get hair implants. It’s because they’re waiting to see when Bud’s mom will be released. Like, maybe with good behavior she’ll be out by spring.”

“That’s crazy.”

“I think she must have done it more than once or stolen something really expensive to have gone to prison. Stealing a bra is not going to get you locked up. Right?”

“Yep. Sure.”

“Yes it would or yes it wouldn’t?”

“It wouldn’t.”

“Okay. Cool. I mean shoplifting is not even that big of a deal. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes. I mean, no, it’s a big deal.”

“Remember when we stole that gum back in second grade and your mom made us return it, and the old man at the grocery store called us rif-raff?”

“Oh yeah. I guess so.”

“Emma, I don’t feel like you’re paying attention to me at all. What’s wrong?”

I sighed. I hated to admit it, but I was thinking about Bellamy. I’d had a dream about him, and its essence had lingered on throughout my morning until Betsy had called and destroyed it. In the dream he and I had been riding about in bumper boats, splashing one another and giggling. I’d been a size four instead of a size six and my hair had been at least three inches longer. It had been a really good dream. “Nothing’s wrong,” I said.

“You aren’t still thinking about the show last night, are you?”

“Not the show so much as Bellamy. I’m glad he and Alanna aren’t together, because… I know this sounds crazy, but I think I am going to apply to be a contestant on Bellamy’s Redemption.”

“Really?”

“Why are you saying Really like Really?” I asked.

“Well… How do I put this delicately?”

“Betsy, you’re my best friend. Just spit it out.”

“I thought Rachel was your best friend.”

“You both are. Say what you have to say.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure I’m sure.”

“Fine.” She drew in a deep breath and I flinched, afraid of what was coming. “Emma, you are way too much of a prissy little snob to handle going on a show like that. It would be a disastrous embarrassment to you.”

“Ouch Betsy! You think I can’t handle it? That just makes me want to do it even more.”

“You totally missed the point if ‘handle’ is the word you’re going to focus on. I think you’re very strong, and you can handle anything. What I meant is that you’re prissy, and stuck up, and fussy, and demanding, and a perfectionist, and most girls who go on shows like that are sloppy trainwrecks, and not only wouldn’t Bellamy pick you, because you simply aren’t what guys consider to be fun, but being there and having it filmed and broadcasted would make you crazy. And they always have messy kitchens on those reality shows. You hate messy kitchens. See, this isn’t going to work.”

“You think I can’t be a trainwreck? You think Bellamy wouldn’t pick me? Is that how everyone thinks of me? I’ll show you! I’ll show all of you!”

“Calm down.”

“I am calm!”

“Emma, hear me out. Guys want the party girl. That’s not you.”

“Alanna wasn’t a party girl.”

“No, but she was gorgeous.”

“So, I’m not?”

“Of course not, Em. No offense, but none of us are.”

“I thought we were.”

“That’s sweet, but no.”

“You think I’m not fun?”

“Not in a hootin’ hollerin’ cowboy hat and bikini top wearing way. Which is, hello, what guys want.”

“Bellamy is different.”

She started laughing. She laughed and laughed until I set down the phone on my windowsill and watched the continuous swirls of snow cascading down like feathers. Her laughter went on, a gobbly little song echoing against the pane of glass. When finally it trailed off and I heard her chirping, “Emma? Emma?” I picked up my phone again.

“You’re being pretty harsh, you know.”

“I know, but I have to be. It seems like you’re serious and I need to stop you.”

“I am serious. I have this feeling about him, which, you know me, I never get feelings, so I am taking it seriously. I think he is my future husband. I really do.”

“Well, fine. Apply. But what are you going to do if they actually want you to go on the show? You have an amazing job. Are you just going to up and quit it?”

“I have to admit, when I decided last night that I wasn’t going to work today, this wave of relief flooded over me. It was kind of a wake-up call. I think work is becoming too much of my life. Maybe going on the show would be healthy for me.”

“Healthy? You’re turning into such a hippie!”

“Betsy, you’re so extreme.”

“Am not! Fine. Apply.”

“I will. And as for my job, this will be just a small break. No big deal. You know, even if they told me I couldn’t come back and I had to start over from scratch, I have so many client referrals that I think I could get rolling again really easily. You know, branch out on my own. Actually, this could end up being the perfect opportunity to start my own business. See, everything about this plan is solid.”

“Well, Emma, it sounds like you have it all worked out. I have to grab some lunch before I run out of time. Good luck. Let me know if the application process is easy. Maybe I’ll go on the show with you; I’d love to travel all over the world. Wouldn’t that be fun? Me and you on a show together, flying around to exotic places. Maybe Rachel would come with too.”

“Betsy! This is serious. Rachel is married! This is a genuine search for true love.”

“Okay. Got it. So it will be just you and me doing it then.”

“You wouldn’t. What if he picked you instead of me?”

“Then I guess your feeling was wrong.”

“You’re the worst friend ever.”

“You’re lucky to have someone so honest in your life. Anyhow, I was just kidding. So, you totally don’t think someone could go to prison for stealing little things like lipstick, right?”

“Why are we talking about this again?”

“Huh? I’d better run! Bye!”

We hung up and I set down my phone on the countertop and turned on the water to make tea. I glanced around me at my perfectly clean sink and the white porcelain tea cups hanging on their tiny hooks beneath the tall black cabinets. Betsy had a point about messy kitchens. I drew in a deep breath, tore open the wrapper of a mint tea bag, and tossed the wrapper onto the floor. It lay there, making me nervous and sick. Next I took one of my kitchen towels, crumpled it into a little ball, and wedged it between the faucet and the wall. It looked completely stupid. I knew once I removed it, it would have creases in it and microscopic bits of dust and germs. I pretty much had to wash it again now.

The kettle began to whistle, so I made my tea, depositing the used tea bag directly in the middle of my kitchen table once the tea was done steeping. A tiny puddle of water spread out around the bag, threatening to permanently discolor my tabletop. I averted my eyes and went to my living room, settling onto the sofa and making note of the time. If I could handle my kitchen being in disarray for twenty minutes straight, I could handle anything Bellamy’s Redemption had to throw at me.

Chapter 3

I wasn’t sure if I was more disgusted or impressed that I ruined a French antique just to prove a point to myself. I reminded myself that I had considered painting the table black to match the cabinets and to contrast with the white tile floor. Now I had no choice.

But first, I had to make my video! I’d been concerned that there would be tons of paperwork, tests, and forms to fill out. I’d even thought I may have squandered too much of my day off to complete the whole application process. I was psyching myself up to call off for the following day as well, but when I logged in to the network’s website, it appeared that submitting a video of myself was the only step required. Honestly, applying for a job at Target was trickier and more intimidating than signing up to be on national television, travel the world, and marry a stranger. (Well, not really a stranger. Bellamy is not a stranger.)

The website for Bellamy’s Redemption was very encouraging. All they wanted were energetic, happy candidates. That seemed easy enough. They had a list of questions that a friend or relative should read, and that I was supposed to answer as cheerfully as possible. I was feeling so good about everything that I was barely thinking about the table.

I had ten to fifteen minutes to make a great impression on them. Fortunately, I know a thing or two about making little movies since I always shoot a walkthrough video with commentary of finished design projects for my portfolio. I decided I would throw in some of that footage so they could see how professional I am, and so I could show off some of my cute work clothes.

Logically there was only one person in the world who should help me with this: Mr. Television himself, Pete! So I ran next door and woke him up from his nap. He said he’d be right over to help, but to someone as laidback as Pete, that means whatever he wants it to mean. After forty-five long, torturous minutes he showed up at my apartment with his video camera and a brand new Spin-Chop-Dryer. “I told you I’d snag one for you,” he said, setting it down on the table stain, oblivious to the huge amount of drama that stain represented.

“Thanks,” I said. His maniacal, beaming face was in a burst shaped bubble on the corner of the box.

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask me to come over with my video camera?”

“Funny, Pete. Do you think this dress is right?” I was wearing a clingy, champagne colored cocktail dress that has seen me through many a rehearsal dinner and blind date. Now it was hopefully going to help me through the most important interview of my life. My hair was up in a twist. I thought it looked kind of messy-chic. Maybe the show’s producers would mistakenly think it was longer than it really was.

“You look good. But take your hair down.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. And put on more lipstick.”

“Really? I never wear much lipstick.”

“Trust me. I’m in television. You have to grab their attention.”

In this aspect, I did trust Pete. So I shook out my hair and touched up my lipstick.

“You realize that me coming over here and doing this for you does not in any way mean I am supporting your decision to try to get with this Bellamy guy, right?”

“Okay, got it.”

“I just wanted to make that clear.”

“Why is everyone so opposed to this idea?” I asked.

“You’re better than this.”

“Better than what? What’s so bad about wanting to have fun, and travel the world, and end up with someone wonderful?”

Pete looked like he was going to say something relevant or deep, but instead he simply said, “Put on a push up bra.”

“I’m already wearing one!”

He started laughing. He shook his head and his eyes crinkled up, and I got the feeling that he was possibly in love with me. “Alright,” he said. “Did you print out the questions?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Give me the list, and stand over there, yes, right there, and I am going to start filming you right away. We could rehearse, but sometimes the first take, the unrehearsed take, is the best, and I don’t want to miss out on that. We can splice the best parts together later.”

“Okay. You know what you’re doing,” I said, standing in front of my fireplace.

He picked up the sheet of questions, cleared his throat, and read number one: “Emma, tell me a little bit about yourself, including your age, occupation, and living arrangements.”

“Are you taping me?”

“Yes.”

“Oh! Okay.” I took a deep breath and smiled, suddenly nervous. “I’m Emma Van Elson, I’m twenty-seven, and I live in Chicago. We’re in my apartment right now,” I gestured around me, “which I decorated. That’s what I do. Interior design.”

“Why don’t you give us a tour?” Pete suggested.

“Well, certainly,” I said, feeling like a cheerful robot. “Here we are in my living room, and this is my office alcove, and my kitchen…” I stood in front of the table, hoping to block the box containing the Spin-Chop-Dryer. It stood out like a tacky, colorful cube in my monochromatic home. “And here we are in the foyer,” I said, “and through that little arch are my bedroom and the bathroom.” I beamed, glad I’d recently had my teeth professionally bleached.

“Let’s check it out,” said Pete, slipping past me, backing down the hall to my bedroom, and waggling his finger at me.

I followed after him, continuing to smile for the camera, sucking in my stomach and keeping my arms from touching my body so they wouldn’t look fatter than necessary.

Pete wiggled his shoulders a little, signaling that I ought to loosen up.

“Oh, sorry,” I mouthed. I pressed my elbows to my side, telling myself that guys liked girls with a little meat on their bones. When I glanced down to check how fat they’d become, Pete stopped walking and lowered the camera. “This is not the Emma I know. Lighten up a little. What’s with the arms?”

“Do they look chubby?”

“Not at all.”

“Am I being too stiff?”

“Yes, just relax. Have fun with this. Pretend this first one is a throw away and just say what you’re really thinking. We can always reshoot it. Just have some fun. Okay?”

“You’re right. You’re totally right,” I said. I took a deep breath and fluffed up my hair.

“So let’s start over from here. Give me a tour of your whole place, and say whatever is on your mind. You need to stand out. The producers aren’t looking for someone who is going to be a good match with this guy. They want good television. There’s a big difference. Flirt like you’re a little bit crazy.”

“Really?”

“This video is your one chance to meet this guy, so make it memorable. And have fun. Remember, we don’t have to go with this one if you don’t like it, so let loose and have some fun.”

“You’re right, Pete. Thank you.”

He pointed the camera at me again. “Action!” he said.

I smiled and started talking. “Hello! I’m Emma. This is my bedroom. It’s pretty large. I think Bellamy would be really happy here. On my bed.” I sat down and patted the spot beside me, raising my eyebrows a few times. “And check out all the closet space. I don’t like sharing, but I would clear off this shelf right here,” I dramatically swept a pile of sweaters onto the floor, “for Bellamy.”

Pete gave me a thumbs up, so I went out into the hallway. “More storage. This is a pretty nice place, don’t you think? And here is my bathroom. This is a genuine clawfoot tub. Speaking of claws,” I held up my short, red fingernails, not my greatest asset, “I’d love to run mine down Bellamy’s back.”

I sauntered back through the archway, over to the fireplace, where I twirled around twice and did the splits. “Here’s my fireplace,” I said, pointing to my crotch.

“What?” Pete asked.

“Shhh,” I said, pressing one of my scarlet fingertips to my lips and winking coyly. I stood up, gracefully I think, and went into the kitchen. There I fluffed a dishtowel and straightened a trivet before turning to Pete’s camera and continuing: “Oh, hello there. And here is my kitchen where I make homemade potpies all the time. All the time. Wouldn’t that be nice on a snowy day like today? A potpie? Ask Bellamy if he likes potpies. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t.” I rubbed my belly and gave a knowing nod. Pete pointed the camera at the window for a couple of seconds, taking in the bleak city sky, and when he turned back to me, I had on an apron and I was holding a wooden spoon in my hand, an angelic smile on my face.

“Tell me about your past, Emma,” Pete said, referring to the questionnaire. “Have you ever been in love?”

This question wasn’t so fun. I’d been going to ask him to skip it all together. But if I wanted a fair shake at this, I supposed I’d better answer it. “I have. Twice. But neither time worked out. Next question.”

“What went wrong?” Pete asked.

“Oh, you know, the usual.” I smiled, casually returning the wooden spoon and apron to their places, trying to erase the image of spilled sweaters from my mind.

“And by ‘the usual’ you mean…”

“Well, the first time we were pretty young. We met when we were freshmen in college. So it doesn’t count as real life. And the second time, well, he didn’t want babies, like ever, and I would like about ten, so there you have it. We had to break up.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m kidding. I don’t want ten. But I would like some. Someday. And he was sure he didn’t. Seriously.”

“Okay, and how long ago did you break up with that guy?”

“About a year and a half ago.”

“Were you together long?”

“Two years.”

“Did you live with him?”

“No! Of course not,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Interesting,” said Pete, nodding thoughtfully. He turned back to the sheet of paper in his hands. “Do you have any celebrity crushes?”

“I’m not particularly impressed by celebrities,” I lied. “They’re just people like us who have more money for plastic surgery. I don’t even watch television.” Well, at least that was almost true. “I mean, except when Bellamy is on. Bellamy is different. I can tell.”

“What about infomercials?”

“Yes, Pete. I am a big fan of the guy on the Spin-Chop-Dryer commercial. He is my one exception.”

“Cool,” he said, smiling. He continued on, “If you could travel to any destination in the entire world, where would you go?”

“Ooh! That is a good question! Well… I’ve done some traveling, so I think it would be best to go some place new… Madrid! I would like to go to Madrid.”

“Why Madrid?”

“Because of the spice markets.”

“Spice markets?”

“Oops. I meant Morocco.” I started laughing. “I think you should edit that part.”

“So that’s more embarrassing to you than the whole ‘fireplace’ thing?”

I shrugged. “This whole thing is embarrassing. You might as well leave it in.”

“What is your ultimate fantasy date?”

“Another good question…” I adjusted the strap of my cocktail gown, trying to think on my feet. I didn’t know if I could answer this honestly. A perfect date could be anything if you were with the right person, and the most well-planned, beautiful evening in the world could be awkward and dull if you were with the wrong person. “I’d love to jump out of a plane,” I said, nodding firmly. Really, I would hate it.

“Any nicknames?”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you have any nicknames?”

“My parents call me Bug. Because I used to wear buggy glasses when I was a little kid.”

“Now that is adorable,” he said.

“Now I don’t even own glasses. My eyes corrected themselves. That’s a fun fact about me. Make sure you get that on film, Pete.”

“I got it. What are your favorite foods?”

“I like pasta, pizza, Thai food, any kind of salad, mini deep fried black bean tacos, orange sherbet, Cheerios, olives, almond butter, figs, most fruit, any kind of cocktail, Kraft Singles, waffles, smoothies, chocolate covered cherries, Mexican food, walnut pesto, lettuce wraps…”

“That’s enough. Tell me about your family.”

“I’d love to. I have two brothers and three sisters. My brothers and sisters live all across the country. I am the youngest, so they are all at a different places in their lives than I am. They are busy with their spouses and kids. My parents used to live here in Chicago, but now they’ve retired to Florida. So even though there used to be a whole clan of us here, now it’s just me.”

“Hmm,” said Pete. “Good to know.”

I stared intently into the camera and then launched into what might be considered a desperate plea: “Let me add, I would gladly relocate to the Arizona desert to be with Bellamy at his rock climbing studio. Or better yet, we could settle down in Denver with his dad Larry and his mom Kate. I have no pets, but I would happily aid him in his animal rescue work. Except for snakes. I’m sorry, but my love would never run that deep. But puppies, yes. I will certainly help the puppies. I would get along great with his family and friends, even if they’re difficult. I’m just that kind of friendly, accepting person. And hey, if Bellamy likes Chicago, we can settle down here. Either way works super. I’m flexible. Very flexible. For love, I will bend over backwards.” To prove it, I bent over backwards and did a flip.

“Very nice,” said Pete.

“Thanks,” I said, readjusting the hem of my dress.

“That takes care of the next several questions,” said Pete, looking down the list. He turned over the questionnaire. “Anything else you’d like to add?”

“Sure. I’m a great dancer. Watch!” I spun around a few times and did some tap dancing moves from my years spent at Madame Clara’s Studio, breaking out the jazz hands and tipping an imaginary top hat. I tapped my way over to the hall closet, pulled out a hula hoop, and showed off my wonderful hip gyrations “Beat this!” I yelled, keeping the hula hoop going while I counted to one hundred. Finally, I moonwalked and did the worm, ending in a breakdance spin on my head. “Pick me,” I wheezed, trying to look like I wasn’t out of breath.

“Got it,” said Pete, setting down the camera.

“Well,” I said, getting up and dusting myself off, “that was fun. Should we try it for real?”

“We’re done here.”

“What? You said you’d help me!”

“I am. I mean, I just did. If you send that in, you will get on the show. I promise you.”

“I’m not sending that in! I want to do it over for real.”

“How do you think I become Chicago’s newest infomercial king?”

“Is that what you’re calling yourself now?”

“Yes. To make it in the entertainment business, you have to be good looking, hard-working, and above all, you have to be a little crazy.”

“But if I sent this in I’d be giving a false impression of myself. You are crazy. I’m sane and cautious. If I get on the show it will only be because I was so ridiculous, and I want Bellamy to fall in love with the real me.”

“The ridiculous side is real too.”

“It’s usually dormant. You bring it out of me.”

“Look at it this way: A politician who wants to do good things sometimes has to do some corrupt things just to get elected. But if he doesn’t get elected, he knows he can’t make any difference at all. So think of this as a means to an end. You’re doing what you have to do to get on the show, and once you’re on there, you can do whatever you want.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“Positive.”

“Did I look good enough? Should we try it again with a different outfit?”

“You look beautiful.”

“Should we add footage of me at work?”

“No, I don’t think you need it.”

I sighed. “I need to pick up my sweaters before I have a heart attack.”

Pete laughed. “Wildly knocking those sweaters over was definitely the most shocking move you made. Even more than the fireplace comment. So… I will put this on a disk for you. Be right back,” he said, exiting my apartment and leaving the door wide open.

Instantly, as I followed him to close it, the thought occurred to me: “He’s a slob. This is why we could never be a couple.” As if I needed a reason.

Chapter 4

Despite my status as “snowed in” I braved the blizzard to meet Betsy and Rachel for drinks when they got done with work. I didn’t have time to change clothes so I threw on winter boots and my ankle length, all-business, no-style winter coat over my cocktail dress. When I approached the bar, I saw that they were already seated at a tall table by the front window. Rachel with her long, red hair and pale blue eyes, made me think of ghosts even when we were children. Betsy, because she looked exactly like the cover of my older sister’s book Heidi, always made me think of Switzerland and cows with bells tied around their necks.

Rachel still looks much the same as she did when she was a little girl: skinny, serious, haunted. She has her work persona and a softer home persona. It has always been that way. In school she was competitive and ruthless. The most likely to cheat off your paper, the least likely to need to. She was the only one of us whose mother had worked in the professional world, and she seemed advanced beyond the rest of us because of it. But if you went over to her house, back then or now, she’d be baking cookies and wearing her dog strapped to her in a cuddle pouch.

Betsy is buttery and blonde. Shiny like the sun. Sassy and fun. Brutally honest yet forgivable since there is never any real malice attached. Easy. I mean that in the good and bad ways. Uncomplicated. A little bit slutty. I love her dearly but wouldn’t want her hanging around any guy I liked if I wasn’t around.

They have both been prettier than me throughout our lives, but I finally feel like I’m in their league. Being skinny and a late bloomer has its advantages.

They waved to me and I went in to join them.

“We bought you a glass of wine since you’re in mourning,” said Rachel, gesturing to the empty chair and glass of Pinot Noir.

“Thank you,” I said, taking my place.

“Most people spend their day off in pajamas, but Emma likes to lounge around in a sequined mini dress,” said Betsy.

“Tell me you have some different shoes in your bag,” said Rachel.

“No, just these wooly things,” I said, holding my feet out in front of me.

“I haven’t told Rachel anything yet about your plan, but can I please tell her now?” Betsy said.

“You two aren’t supposed to have secrets without me,” said Rachel.

“Well, now you have to tell her or it would be rude,” I said. “Just kidding, Rachel; I’d have told you anyway. We don’t have any secrets from you.”

“Emma is thinking about trying to get on the show they’re doing about Bellamy getting a second chance at love,” said Betsy.

“Really?” asked Rachel. She wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“I’m just thinking about it,” I said, sipping my wine. In reality the copy of my audition had already been taken to the post office and was being overnighted to Hollywood.

“Would you actually want to be on television? I thought you, um… frowned upon that sort of thing.” said Rachel.

“Oh, please! Am I that stuck up? Anyhow, it’s not about going on television. I just really, really like Bellamy. We all thought he was amazing. Didn’t we?”

“Sure, Em. He was fine,” said Betsy.

“Just fine? Try adorable. He was adorable.”

“You’re talking about him like he’s a cupcake. I’ve never seen you this excited about anyone,” said Rachel.

“He’s special,” I said. Rachel and Betsy exchanged glances.

“We’re concerned because usually these shows are entertaining, but once they wrap up people forget all about them. And you haven’t,” said Rachel.

“Rachel’s right. Why are you still hung up on him?” asked Betsy.

“Still hung up on him? It all happened yesterday!”

“Technically, no,” said Rachel. “It aired yesterday. It all happened many months ago.”

“To me, it’s still very fresh. Why are you two ganging up on me?”

“We’re not,” said Betsy. “We’re just asking you to check back into reality, please.”

“Totally,” said Rachel. “From one successful, professional, too-good-for-reality-television woman to another, come back down from the world of the weird.”

“Oh,” I said. I don’t like to be called weird. It makes me feel… weird.

“Thank you for seeing our point, Em,” said Betsy, taking my ‘oh’ as an affirmative acknowledgment of my wrongdoing.

“Well, even if I do apply, which I probably won’t, the odds of them choosing me to go on the show are pretty slim,” I said, sipping my wine.

“You’re right about that,” said Rachel. Her eyes brightened. “On to other news, I have a new assistant and she’s wretched!”

“Oh no! Wretched’s the worst thing a person can be. Why did you hire her? Tell us everything about her,” said Betsy, trying to conceal her delight.

I relaxed, happy the subject had changed, and nibbled some roasted almonds from the complimentary bowl on our table. Despite my germaphobia, I can’t resist free nuts.

“She is twenty-two and incredibly naïve. Today, now remember, this is day one, she mispronounced my last name to a customer, mispronounced my boss’s name, and told someone on the phone, no one important, I hope, that our company has been ‘struggling’ but is ‘recovering nicely.’ She was wearing what appeared to be a brand new J. Crew outfit that she probably couldn’t afford, but her car is a rusty piece of shit covered in bumper stickers with sayings on them about how much she loves drugs. One was like, Bob Marley or something and the other was like ‘Be Free and Smoke Weed’ or something like that. Another one said something about trees. That is not the car she drove to the interview!”

“I’m so glad I’m not that immature anymore,” said Betsy.

“Anyhow,” Rachel continued, “she came back from lunch with her sandwich wrapped up in a napkin and for the rest of the afternoon she tried to discretely eat it when she thought no one was looking. I think it was egg salad. That can only mean she is really poor, wouldn’t you agree? And what is up with the secret eating? I mean, why didn’t she eat it during her lunch break like a normal person? Do you think this means she has an eating disorder on top of all her other problems? Or worse, does it mean she has poor time management skills? To eat a sandwich, under her desk, on day one! I don’t know what the story was on that. Then, it gets even worse, she raised her hand to ask me a question, and then got embarrassed and turned red and tried to pretend she’d been stretching… Oh, it was not good. Not good at all! And all this clumsiness was crammed into one day. Who knows what tomorrow is going to look like.”

“She was under the desk?” I asked, trying to focus on the story instead of Bellamy.

“Her hand was under the desk. The sandwich was under the desk,” said Rachel.

“She’ll come around,” said Betsy. “What do you think she meant about your company struggling?”

“I think she is clueless. We can’t possibly be struggling. I mean, they just bought me a new chair for my office. They would be cutting back on stuff like that if we were in trouble.”

“You might want to google it,” said Betsy. I nodded, wondering what kind of sandwich Bellamy liked best.

“Our company can tell if you google them. They’ll be like, ‘Rachel, why are you googling us?’ I’m sure I would have heard if there was a problem.”

“Your company knows if you google them?” I asked.

“I think so. I think companies know everything about their employees,” said Rachel.

“That’s horrible.” I took another drink of my wine, wondering if my company knew everything I googled. That would be creepy. It would make them like Santa Claus or God. Yuck.

“If you like your privacy so much, you shouldn’t be thinking about going on a show that films your every move,” said Betsy.

“It’s probably not going to happen. Pete was telling me that they look for people who are really, really out there, and I don’t know if that’s me. Even if I’m trying my hardest to be a wacko, it probably just looks like some sweet, boring girl, playing a psycho.”

“Pete the infomercial guy?” asked Rachel, raising an eyebrow.

“Yep, that’s him.”

“I saw his commercial the other night when I couldn’t sleep. For the PressNSteam clothes iron and pore cleanser contraption. He is so hyper! What’s wrong with him?”

“Have you tried that thing? It’s great. Smooth clothes and clean skin, in one easy move,” said Betsy.

“I don’t think that’s him,” I said. “He does some kind of fruit and vegetable drying thing. I don’t think he does any pore steamers.”

“No, that’s him,” said Betsy. “Your neighbor Pete has all kinds of products he endorses.”

“Really? I guess he is the infomercial king,” I said, feeling a twinge of pride for him.

“Oh Emma, tell me nothing has happened with you two,” said Rachel. Ever since she got engaged and then married last year, and moved out to a giant house in Suburbia, she has forgotten what it’s like to have to date. She thinks all men are atrocious losers and that Betsy and I are sleeping with anyone who looks our way.

“It hasn’t. He’s just my neighbor.”

“Don’t sleep with him,” said Betsy, seriously, very seriously, shaking her head slowly left and right.

“He does infomercials,” said Rachel. As if I hadn’t already gotten the point.

“I hear you both loud and clear. I haven’t slept with him and I am not going to. And I doubt very much that I will ever be on Bellamy’s reality show. And in the meantime, I will be sure not to sleep with anyone, or even date, in case I should humiliate either of you by choosing someone who is a loser.”

“Oh, come on, Emma,” said Rachel.

“We didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” said Betsy.

“I know,” I said. But I didn’t. I felt annoyed and defensive. In particular towards Betsy, who is single herself, and who I thought could still relate to me.

“The important thing,” Rachel said, wise from three glasses of wine, “is to be true to yourself. Silence the voices of the outside opinion-holders and be true to the voice within your soul. What they think doesn’t matter. Follow your heart and it will work out right.”

“She’s right,” said Betsy. “Don’t worry about what anyone else says or thinks. Even us. Do what you know is right.”

“In that case, I think I am going to go home,” I said, stuffing my arm in my giant coat sleeve.

“Emma, are you upset?” asked Betsy.

“No, but I have a lot of catching up to do tomorrow since I missed today, and I need to get enough sleep tonight.”

“It’s only seven o’clock,” said Rachel. “We haven’t even ordered food yet.”

“Well, I have to go,” I said, giving them each a quick little hug and making a break for the door.

I stepped out into the cold, wrapping my coat tightly around me, stomping my way home through the fresh, crisp snow. I was glad to be alone. “Who do they think they are?” I whispered under my breath. “Just because Rachel is married, it doesn’t mean she is wiser, or better than me.” I found a ski cap in my pocket and pulled it down over my ears, continuing my horrible habit of talking to myself: “Betsy’s in love with her boss, who is married, and who is an asshole. So she should really shut up.” I kicked at a mitten someone had dropped, but I missed it, instead kicking a splattering of snow at myself. “So they criticize every decision I make, and then tell me to just be true to myself. Really?”

“Are you talking to yourself?” said a voice to my left. I spun around.

“Oh, Pete! I’m glad it’s just you,” I said, my heart beating in my throat.

“Yes, it’s just me. I’d hate for you to disgrace yourself in front of someone important.”

“That’s not what I meant. I mean, you know I’m not crazy. A stranger might have been worried about me.”

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, falling into step beside me.

“I met my friends for a drink.”

“And it didn’t go well?”

“They like to give me advice. Sometimes it gets on my nerves. What are you doing out here?” I asked, noticing he was carrying a grocery bag.

“Just had to pick up a couple of things,” he said. I couldn’t be sure, but in the faint glow of the street lights he seemed to be blushing. He tucked the bag under his opposite arm, away from me, and put his chin down into his collar, bracing against the wind. We walked in silence; it was too cold and windy to talk.

When we reached our building, the snow had begun coming down even more heavily than before. “You might be lucky enough to get out of work again tomorrow,” said Pete, holding the door for me.

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“You never know. Tonight we’re supposed to get almost a foot of snow.”

“Wow. How do you always know so much?” I teased.

“Television. You ought to get one. It’s like, information just streams into your home through it. It’s pretty cool.”

“Speaking of television,” I said, as we waited for the elevator, “my friends tell me that you truly are the infomercial king that you say you are.”

“You didn’t believe me?”

I shrugged. “I believed you, but I failed to grasp the enormity of it.”

“I suppose I am starting to be that for real,” he said, laughing. “An infomercial king.” He shook his head as if he was as surprised by it as anyone. I got the impression he was a little embarrassed by his success. He pressed the elevator button again. We waited and waited, but couldn’t even hear it moving.

“Come on!” I said, pushing every button at once.

“So. You were talking about me with your friends,” he said.

I rolled my eyes, ignoring this. “Do you think it’s broken again?” I asked.

“Looks like it. Let’s take the stairs,” said Pete. We started up them together, on our journey to the seventh floor. He was a step in front of me and through his plastic shopping bag I could clearly see a half gallon container of orange sherbet, a jar of almond butter, and a box of chocolate covered cherries. All my favorites. I looked down at the steps in front of me, biting my tongue. We finally reached our floor, both of us a little out of breath. Our building is so old with such high ceilings that seven stories are like ten or twelve in a modern day building.

“We should make a deal that we both just take the stairs from now on,” said Pete. “To get in shape.”

“Good plan,” I agreed, since it was the shortest sentence I could think to say.

“Hey,” Pete said casually, as we arrived at his door, “Alanna and Antonio are going to be telling their side of the story tonight on the late show, if you want to come by.”

“You know their names now,” I said, smiling.

“I pay attention,” he said.

“I see that,” I said, glancing at the bag of groceries and back up at him.

He looked at the bag, and saw I could see right through it. He kind of deflated in self-consciousness and vulnerability, right before my eyes. I felt a little guilty. But I can’t say I didn’t enjoy his rare lack of confidence. Something about the way he reacted made my heart beat faster. His vulnerability made me picture what it would be like to have sex with him. We were so predictable and human that I felt ashamed for the both of us.

And this moment became one of those unexpected, defining moments where a change will happen, or the opportunity will pass.

I thought of my friends, mocking him, and my pre-conceived ideas that he was probably a player, because he was too cute and flirtatious not to be. I told myself that He’s the Infomercial King, and it doesn’t get any worse than that. In that nanosecond I further reminded myself that the only power I had over him was that I was the one girl who wouldn’t give in to him.

Yet here I was, looking from a melting tub of sherbet into his eyes. His blue, beautiful, needy eyes. And all I wanted was to be with him.

“I would like to, but I really can’t stay up late tonight,” I said. “Maybe some other night?”

“Sure,” he said lightly. “Have a good night.” He went into his apartment and closed the door firmly after him. I went to mine and did the same.

Chapter 5

Pete was right about the snow. I awoke at 5:30, intending to get to my office very early, but when I tried to look out my windows to get a feel for what kind of day lay ahead of me, they were completely covered with a frosty coating of snow and ice. I got on my computer and discovered that the entire city was in a snow emergency and people were instructed not the leave their homes except in the most dire of circumstances.

I’ve got to admit, I was ecstatic. A tad worried about the work piling up, yet ecstatic nonetheless. I emailed my boss and a couple of my clients, and then I crawled back into bed. It was so dark and cozy in my apartment that I slept soundly until my cell phone woke me at eleven thirty. I got up, surprised at myself. Even in college after partying all night I never slept past ten o’clock in the morning.

I turned on my coffee maker and checked my phone. I didn’t recognize the number or even the area code. I felt disappointed. I think I’d been expecting it to be Pete, even though he would have just stopped by and knocked on my door if he needed something. “It’s really better if you don’t go down that road. That Pete Road. Just… don’t,” I told myself. I dialed the code to check my messages and waited.

“Hello. This is a message for Emma Van Elson. My name is Christine Leary and I am calling on behalf of the television show Bellamy’s Redemption. We received your application this morning, and we are really delighted by your video. We feel that you’ve got a likeable, memorable presence, and that your general appearance is favorable for television. We feel, based on what we saw, and how you answered the interview questions, that Bellamy might be as excited about you as we are. More importantly, we think you would be a great presence on Bellamy’s Redemption, or one of our other upcoming shows. We would like you to return our phone call as soon as possible, so we can continue to the next steps in the interview process. This process moves very quickly and filming starts soon, so please return our call as quickly as possible so you may continue to be considered as a candidate. Thank you, Emma! I’m looking forward to hearing from you soon! Buh-bye!”

“Oh my God!” I whispered. I listened to it again. And again. I ran over to my computer, googled Bellamy, and took a long, hard look at him. Yes, he was as cute as I remembered.

Was it really possible that I was going to meet him?

Was I really going to be on television?

I did some jumping jacks and ate a stick of celery while my mind raced.

“You’d better tone up,” I told myself.

I began to dial Betsy’s number, but stopped. “You’re still mad at her and Rachel,” I reminded myself.

I considered calling Judijean, but she would blab it to Lauren, who would blab it to Rachel and Betsy, and then I might as well have told them in the first place.

I paced around my living room, wringing my hands. Should I call Christine Leary back immediately? Should I wait for a little while? I decided I was too nervous to call her back; I needed to talk to someone else first.

I was so excited that sexy Pete became just plain Pete again, and I had to tell him.

I put on my robe and slippers and ran down the hall to his apartment with my phone in my hand. I knocked on his door, dancing from foot to foot, unable to stand still. There was no answer. I tried again. It seemed impossible that he could have gone anywhere in such terrible weather. I needed him to be there now before the thrill began to die away. As I was losing hope, I heard the sound of boots clomping up the stairwell. I definitely wanted to wait if it was him, but I definitely didn’t want to wait if it was one of my other neighbors, like Mr. or Mrs. Harding, who always asked for help with pukey chores like cleaning their oven or kitty litter box. Deciding I could not take such a chance, I turned and headed back to my own apartment.

“Emma?” said Pete, just as I had opened my door to slip back inside. I turned, and there he was, bundled in winter cuteness, a cup of coffee in his mittened hand.

“You went out in the blizzard?”

“My coffee maker broke.”

“You don’t have a spare? One that doubles as a weight bench or a scalp massager?”

“Is that an infomercial dig?”

“You’re right. That was mean. You could have used my coffee maker instead of going out into the worst storm ever.”

“Okay. Next time I’ll ask you first.”

I began to doublethink whether I should share the message with him. My excitement over it was fading. I felt like it might actually be a little rude to share it with him.

“Were you stopping by?” he asked.

“No, I was just out in the hall… exercising,” I said.

“Exercising?”

“Yeah. Exercising,” I said lamely. “You know… running.”

“In your robe. And slippers,” said Pete.

“Yeah. It seemed like it was too cold to wear my regular workout clothes. So I wore this.”

“Do you often work out in the hallway?”

“Sure,” I said. “I mean, no, not usually. But it was too snowy to go to the gym.”

Pete took a sip of his coffee and nodded.

“Well, I guess I had better go. Have a nice day,” I said, reaching again for my doorknob.

“Why would you work out in the hall when you have a spacious apartment all to yourself? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Well, like I said, I usually go to the gym.”

“You never mentioned that before.”

“Well, Pete, we don’t share everything.”

“Okay.”

“But on a nice day, that’s where you’ll find me. On the treadmill. Treading along.”

“Really.”

“But today, well, you know, there are weather warnings, so the gym was not an option.”

“Of course not.”

“And I don’t like to sweat in my apartment. I’m kind of a neatfreak.”

Pete had been at his door and I had been at mine, but right then and there he came up to me, all tall and snowy, scruffy and coffee-ish, closer and closer until he was just inches from me. He looked down at me, making me feel very small. A clump of snow fell off his sleeve, onto my ankle.

“Brr,” I said.

“Would you like to go out sometime?” he asked me. Quietly, seriously. His eyes locked into mine. His mouth was relaxed, so soft I wanted to kiss it, but his eyes held an urgency I hadn’t seen before.

I realized I was nodding. “Yes,” I whispered.  “Yes, I would like that.”

“How about tomorrow night?”

“Okay.”

“Eight o’clock?”

I nodded.

“I will come by here and pick you up?”

I nodded again.

“Good,” he said. “See you then.”

“Yep.” I smiled and nodded. I went inside my apartment and closed the door.

My heart was fluttering. Racing. I hadn’t felt so dizzy over a guy since my crush on cutest-guy-in-the-class Charlie Denson back in seventh grade. I skooched right down the wall onto my butt, my feet sliding out in front of me. “I’m in trouble,” I said. I sighed and rested my forehead against my cool palms. The floor was freezing cold beneath my butt. I shivered. My heart wouldn’t stop racing. “Pull yourself together,” I whispered.

I stood up and checked my reflection in the mirror in my foyer, to see how bad I looked. Ugh. I looked even worse than I’d feared. My hair was a mess, piled in a sloppy sideways bun on top of my head. My face was flushed. My robe was hanging open with some cheap, stained pajamas peeking out beneath it. I took a deep breath. “What are you doing?” I asked myself. “You are about to get your big chance with Bellamy. Bellamy Timberfrost! The Bellamy Timberfrost. The hot, famous guy, who until very recently was just some famous person you would never know. Now you are very possibly going to meet him, maybe fall in love with him, and maybe even marry him. You can travel the world, be on TV, and maybe even get a Diamonds by Deluxe engagement ring. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Don’t ruin this opportunity by getting sidetracked.”

But my speech had not convinced me. I sat down on my sofa and gave myself part two of the speech: “Pete Vincent, on the other hand, is sleazy. Everyone says so. Do you really want to be Mrs. Infomercial? He is charming you with his charm. Charm is his thing, his special talent, and that is what’s going on here. He sells crap for a living, and now he is selling himself. He can sell anything to anyone, and Emma, You Are Falling For It. Wise up, sister.”

I waited for the truth of these words to sink in, but they hovered instead. The problem was, I didn’t want to believe them. Instead another thought came in, pushing them away. “Don’t talk that way about Pete,” it said.

I laid down and buried my head in the pillows, irritated with myself. Was I simply a boy-crazy idiot? Maybe. Although I typically didn’t get crushes on anyone, now here I was, liking two guys at once. What was the matter with me? Perhaps my hormones were having a flare up. Maybe I was going through menopause.

While I lay there, contemplating my next move, my phone rang again. It was in the pocket of my robe, so I took it out and answered it.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Emma Van Elson?”

“It is.”

“Emma! This is Christine Leary. Calling from Slice of Reality Studios. How are you?” She spoke like we were old friends.

“I’m good.”

“Fabulous, fabulous. I’m so glad I caught you. So, we saw your audition and it was wonderful. We all thought you were great. Do you have a couple of minutes to talk about your application?”

“Um, sure,” I said. I stood up and began to nervously pace. I tried to keep my footsteps as quiet as possible.

“So you must have watched Bellamy’s journey as he tried to win the heart of Alanna?”

“Yes, I saw it.”

“A real heartbreaker, wasn’t it? Now, first of all, I want you to know that what you saw on television happened several months ago, even though it just aired, and Bellamy has healed. What he went through showed him that he is ready for true love, and that he has it within him to fall in love. He realized after what he went through with Alanna that the special process we incorporate on our show helps people truly find love, and he is ready to try again. And he believes it will happen for him again this time. He is taking this process seriously, and truly seeking a lasting, loving relationship.”

“Okay.”

“Does that sound good to you?”

“Sure!”

“When you watched the show, did you feel like you had a special connection with Bellamy?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Great. Are you currently married, married but separated, cohabitating in a sexual relationship, or dating anyone who you are seriously intimate with?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Great. How many children did you say you have?”

“None. None!”

“Would you be willing to step away from your career for up to ten weeks or longer, if it meant the possibility of finding true love?”

“Yes,” I said, trying to sound confident. Was I really willing to do that? I couldn’t think; the questions kept rolling:

“Are you at a place in your life, where, if you met the right person, you feel you are ready for marriage?”

“Yes.”

“Great, Emma. You’re doing great. Do you feel that you would be comfortable having television cameras on you twenty-four hours a day for up to ten weeks?”

“Will they follow us into the bathroom?”

“Well, the cameras are everywhere, but footage collected in the bathrooms would not be used unless atypical happenings occurred in the bathrooms.”

“Eww.”

“They would only use that footage if, say, there was a fight that happened in the bathroom.”

“Oh. Ugh. Okay. Then sure,” I said. I couldn’t picture myself punching anyone, so I figured I was safe.

“Emma, I’d like to email you another questionnaire and have you return it to me as quickly as possible. Is this a good time? Do you have a few minutes?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, I will send this file to the email address you provided. It should be there any moment. I’d like you to complete it and return it to me as quickly as you can. I will let you know when I receive it, and then I will give you a call right back as soon as it’s been reviewed. Okay? Got it?”

“Sure.”

“Alrighty Emma, it’s been sent. Have you received it?”

“Umm, yes! It’s here already.”

“Fabulous! Fill it out, send it right back, and we’ll talk again soon. Good luck,” said Christine, hanging up.

I opened the email and discovered an eighteen page document attached to it. There were questions about everything I had ever done in my life, beginning with grade school. What sports had I played? What instruments? What were my teachers’ names and contact information? Had I been arrested? Had I ever done porn? I began typing, finishing the questionnaire two hours later. I emailed it back to Christine and just fifteen minutes later my phone rang.

“Hi Emma. We’re reviewing your answers, but so far, it all looks great. We’re going to be delving in a bit deeper using the information you provided, and don’t be surprised if we contact some of your old jobs and acquaintances. I’m sure it will all check out fine for you. No worries! Now we’d like you to come out to our headquarters here in California for the next step in this process.”

“Great, fabulous,” I said, realizing I was already starting to adopt her vocabulary and enthusiasm. It is strange how catchy attitudes can be.

“We are actually fairly far along in the selection process, but we have a few more spaces available on Bellamy’s Redemption. And, again, if that opportunity completes itself, we have so many other great shows that I think you’d be excellent on. But let’s shoot for getting you on Bellamy’s show. Alrighty?”

“Sure!” I said. There she went again, acting like any show would do.

“Okay, fabulous!” Now she recited instructions, a merry lilt in her voice: “I will be emailing your flight information, hotel reservation, itinerary, and several important waivers shortly. We encourage you to have your lawyer review the waivers with you if you have any questions, but of course that is up to you, and we really cannot offer you legal advice, so that is a suggestion, not actually a recommendation. You can expect to see these emails arriving within the next ten to fifteen minutes. If you don’t see them, check your spam folder. If they are not in your spam folder, call me right back, but only after at least fifteen minutes have passed and you have checked with you internet provider to make sure the problem does not lie on your end. Once you receive the documents, please read them over carefully and return them, completed, to me by five o’clock Pacific time today, and bring printed, signed copies with you as well. Got all that?”

“Um, sure!”

“Super! Get cracking little lady! You’ve got homework to do! It’s been great speaking with you Emma. I can’t wait to meet you. See you tomorrow morning. Buh-bye.”

And she was gone. I set down my phone, feeling shaky. Had she said she’d see me tomorrow? I went over to my computer and sat down. I felt shocked. Dazed. I checked my email. Nothing yet. And then, a split second later, a message arrived. ‘Welcome, Emma!’ it said. I clicked on it.

Emma,

We at Slice of Reality Studios would like to wish you a warm welcome as you join our family of reality television stars! We recognize what a special, warm, kind person Bellamy Timberfrost is, and we whole-heartedly understand why you are excited to have the opportunity to meet and fall in love with him! By receiving this invitation, you should be aware that you are part of a select group of women who will ultimately be narrowed down to the twenty who will join Bellamy on his search for his one true love! The in-person interviews that you will be a part of will help us determine who is best suited for Bellamy and for the rigorous and demanding opportunity of reality television! This in-person interview process will determine whether or not you will earn a place on Bellamy’s Redemption, and more importantly, in Bellamy’s heart! This is your final step in the interview process! Congratulations on getting this far and good luck with the rest of this process! It may not always be easy, but it is worth it!

Thank you and we look forward to meeting you in person!

Sincerely,

The Slice of Reality Studios Team

Attached to the email were fifteen pages of legal forms. As I perused them, my travel plans and reservation numbers arrived in my inbox.

I got myself a cup of coffee and sat back down at my desk. I reread the email. Every single sentence ended with an exclamation point. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. It seemed a little intense. I sipped my coffee, doubt seeping in. This was all moving a little fast for me. As I sat there, pondering my next move, my phone rang. I picked it up and looked at it. Peter Vincent.

“Hi Pete,” I said.

“Mind if I take you up on that cup of coffee? I can’t go back out there. I’m still not thawed out.”

“Come on over,” I said. I dashed into my bedroom and switched into jeans and a t-shirt. I was brushing my teeth when I heard him knock. I spat out my toothpaste and rushed to the door, trying to look normal, calm, and less like a slob than I had in the hallway.

“Hi,” I said. “Come on in.”

“Thanks.” He had brought his own coffee mug. A travel mug with a metallic, aerodynamic look to it.

“Nice mug,” I said.

“It was a free add-on with the Cappuccino Genie. I have one in every color, if you’d like one.”

“Do you have baby blue?”

“You got me. I don’t have baby blue. I have dark blue or a bluish-green. Teal, I guess it’s called.”

“That would be nice,” I said. “You know, my friends mentioned that you’re really hyper on television, but I don’t see it much in real life.”

“You and your friends talk about me a lot.”

“No we don’t.”

“Haven’t you ever seen my infomercials?”

“Just the part of that one I saw over at your place. But you changed the channel right away.”

“You mean you aren’t watching me on You Tube?”

“No.”

“Wow, I assumed you were stalking me. A little, anyway. At least as much as I stalk you.”

“Sorry, Pete. Now I will, since you planted the seed in my mind. I want to see this other side of you that you hide from me.”

“I’m not hiding it, but I guess I get it out of my system at work. It’s like I’m acting. That version of me is just a character I play.”

“Interesting,” I said, filling his cup. “Cream and sugar?”

“No thanks,” he said, taking it back from me. Our fingers touched. I pulled my hand away.

“I need to talk to you,” I said, guilt festering in my stomach. I walked over to the sofa and patted a spot on it.

“I can’t believe how nice you’ve made your place compared to mine,” he said, gazing around him as he sat down.

“Thanks,” I said, grabbing a pillow off the sofa and using it as a cushion to dull the hot, metal top of the radiator. I perched on it with my toes balancing on the arm of the sofa. “I can help you with your place if you’d like. Although I think your style suits you pretty well. You wouldn’t fit in an apartment like mine.”

“You don’t think so?”

“It’s not a little prissy for you?” I asked.

“Nah. Not at all. This is the look I was trying for when I dragged that old couch in from the street.”

“I’d love to help you. Just tell me when you want to pick out your paint colors.”

“I’ll take you up on that,” he said, taking a drink of coffee. His sleeves were rolled back showing the golden hair on his forearms. I hadn’t realized arms could be so hot… “Why are you way over there?” he asked me.

“I’m not ‘Way over there.’ I’m right here. I’m just trying to keep warm.”

“Okay,” he said, scooting over towards my feet.

So much for trying to get away from him. Now, once again, he was close enough to kiss.

“Nothing to film today? No new gadgets to push?” I asked him.

“Nope. So that’s cool that you got another day off,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee.

“It is, but I am going to have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Just a couple of days’ worth.”

“Well, maybe more…”

“I think the snow is supposed to taper off tonight. You should be back at work tomorrow.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Would you believe,” I swallowed, “that I heard back from the producers of Bellamy’s Redemption already?”

Pete set his mug on the coffee table with a jolt, a dribble of coffee splashing out the sip hole and landing on my book of photographs of Paris. I refrained from wincing.

“They got the video we just shot? Yesterday? Already?”

“I overnighted it.”

“But still. They got it and you already heard back from them? That was fast.”

“I know. They called me and talked to me about it, and they want me to fly to California. It looks like everything is going to move really quickly.”

“How quickly?” His face was pale. He looked a bit shocked.

“They have already booked me on a flight tomorrow. They have my hotel set up and everything. I mean, this is really good news, right?”

He looked at me blankly.

“I guess I’d better call my boss. And my clients. It’s just one more day that I’ll be away from work. That’s not the end of the world, right? I will miss work tomorrow, but I will be back in town on Sunday. And Monday I will get back on track. So, yeah… it’s not a big deal.”

“Wow. They’re going to fly you out there? They’re paying for all of this for you?”

“I guess that is just how they do it.”

“I don’t think so. They must really like you.”

“Oh, Pete. I’m not even on the show yet. They’re just bringing me out there to meet me. To see if I’m a good fit for Bellamy. I suppose I probably won’t be.”

“You never know.”

“Then, if I actually somehow get chosen, I’ll be gone for ten weeks. Well, up to ten weeks. Ten weeks would mean I won, and let’s face it, that’s not going to happen. But I will worry about that if it happens. Not that it’s going to. When do you think I should say something to my boss, Pete? I mean, that’s a dumb question. I will wait and see how this weekend goes. There’s no sense in even mentioning it if things don’t go well.”

“No. I wouldn’t say anything yet,” said Pete. Was it just me or did he look irritated?

“I’m glad you’re here,” I told him. “This whole thing is happening so fast! I am freaking out a little. It’s obvious, right? I needed someone to talk to about this and having you here has really helped me.”

“So you’re not really on the show? You’re just going out there until Sunday, and then you’re coming home?” he asked.

“No, I’m not on the show. Not yet, anyhow. That’s why I’m going out there. So they can pick the right girls. For Bellamy,” I added, quietly. I was beginning to forget the point of all this.

“So, you’ll be back on Sunday night?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Okay. Well, I can work with that. I will take you out when you get back if you’re up for it.”

“Sure,” I said, surprised he was still negotiating dates with me. “I’ll bet I will have a lot to talk about.”

We both looked at each other awkwardly. Pete picked up his coffee mug and wiped up his spilled coffee with the corner of his t-shirt. “Sorry about that,” he said.

“It’s no big deal.”

“I’m going to head back to my place now,” said Pete, standing up, “so you can call your boss, and your clients, and pack.”

“That’s probably a good idea. I suppose I have a lot to do between now and tomorrow morning. I think they’ve got me on an early flight.”

“I’ll be around, watching TV later, if you get done and want to stop by,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said.

“And if I don’t see you, have a safe flight.”

“Thank you,” I said. I couldn’t help myself; I stepped forward and gave him a hug. He was rigid, practically non-responsive. The warmth I’d seen in his eyes before was now shut off.

He made his way to my door and he stopped as he reached it, turning to me. He began to open his mouth, but then he closed it and raised his coffee mug to me in a little salute, and was gone.

Chapter 6

It was not even seven o’clock in the morning, and I was already in flight. I’d barely slept all night, afraid I was going to somehow sleep through both alarms I’d set for 4:30 a.m. The paperwork had kept me up until midnight, and I never had gone over to Pete’s. I checked my puffy, exhausted expression in the mirror of my compact and immediately snapped the compact closed. The producers were going to be very disappointed with me if I showed up looking and feeling like this.

I smooshed myself against the window and pulled the thin airline blanket around me, trying to fall asleep.

“Business or pleasure?” asked the man next to me, leaning into my comfort zone.

“Ugh,” I moaned, ignoring him.

He pulled away and removed the Skymall catalog out of the pocket in front of him, pretending to be engrossed in it. It made me think of Pete, of course. All those gadgets and goodies…

“Look on the bright side,” I told myself, “You haven’t been to California since you were a kid. Now you’re getting a free trip. Look at this as an adventure. Expect nothing. Worst case scenario, it won’t work out, and you’ll have had a free, exciting weekend.”

My pep-talk actually made me feel a little better. I closed my eyes and dozed, waking up much more refreshed as the plane began its descent.

I hadn’t checked any luggage, so it was just me and my carry-on. I was wearing a pearl gray pantsuit from Ann Taylor with a royal blue sequined top beneath it. I thought it made sense, since I wanted to be sparkly and effervescent, yet was, effectively, on a job interview. I’d suffered coatlessly in Chicago so I could show up in California looking as streamlined as possible. I’d brought my smallest handbag and now it was stuffed tidily into the side pocket of my carry-on. I hoped I came across as classy and sophisticated.

I looked around me, unsure of what was going to happen next. I’d been told that someone would meet me there, but I saw no one who seemed to be for me. I strolled about a little, enjoying the important clicking of my heels on the floor. I touched up my makeup and brushed my teeth in the restroom three times. I went over to a Starbucks kiosk and bought myself a cup of coffee and a little bag of trail mix. I sipped and nibbled as delicately as possible, waiting.

“Maybe you should try to call someone,” I said to myself. Out loud, apparently. The woman sitting a few seats from me looked up from her book like I was crazy. At that same moment I saw a short, thin girl who looked like she was about twelve or thirteen years old running around, holding up a sign that said Emma Van Elson.

“Excuse me, I must be going now,” I said haughtily to the offended woman, wheeling my carry-on over to the kid.

“Hello! Emma! You look just like your video! I’m Kenna. Pleased to meet you,” she said, holding out a tiny hand. She wasn’t a preteen after all. She was probably my age or older, and very, very small. “Sorry I’m late. L.A. traffic is so crazy. Let’s get your bags and we’ll be on our way.”

“Nice to meet you. I have just this one,” I said.

“Oh. Oh! Wow. Okay, well that makes things easier. Cool, very cool. Come on with me. Let me take that for you,” she said, grabbing the bag and pulling it behind her. It came up past her waist.

“I can take it if you’d like,” I said, feeling like she was overexerting herself.

“No, no. You just relax. I’ve got it,” she said.

“Thank you,” I said, tapping along after her. She was fast!

“You’ve got a busy day ahead of you. We’re going straight to the studio where you will be meeting a panel of our producers and writers, and then there will be some one-on-one interviews, and then a quick photo shoot. That way, if you do get chosen, we’ve got some shots to use for promotional purposes. If all goes well, your process will continue tomorrow and Sunday with some more interviews and activities. If not, you will be heading back this evening. Are you excited?”

“You mean I might be going back tonight? I didn’t realize that,” I said.

“I’m sure you’ll do great and be one of the girls who sticks around,” she said.

“Are there going to be sixty of us here today?” I asked.

“Sixty? God no! Where did you come up with that? There are maybe eight of you, or ten, but not sixty.”

“Oh.”

We were approaching a beat up Honda Accord. I had expected a limousine. Kenna put my bag in the trunk and opened my door for me, but then instead of walking around to her own side she slid in from the passenger side. “Sorry, that door is broken,” she said.

“It’s not a problem,” I told her. The car was scented like air fresheners and minty chewing gum. Inspirational Buddhist stickers were plastered to the dash. A crystal on a string, a dream catcher, and some Mardi Gras beads hung from her rearview mirror.

“Seatbelt please,” she instructed, which irked me a little because I was going to put it on anyway. We got going, and I saw that she hadn’t been kidding about the traffic. It was terrible. I had figured we would be chatting politely, like normal people in a professional setting who had just met, but to my surprise and relief, she turned on the radio instead, so loudly that we couldn’t even talk. At first I tried to talk over it, feeling like not talking was absurd, but she turned it up louder and then she began singing along. At that point, I shut up. She sang like I wasn’t even in the car. Loud. Out of tune. Getting words wrong. First to Tori Amos, singing about getting raped, and then to some rap music I didn’t know. Next was Pearl Necklace by ZZ Top. That song is pretty gross. And then she moved on to the song Elvira by The Oakridge Boys. That one she repeated over and over. I guess it was her favorite. It was all so bizarre. I kept thinking that I wished Pete could see it. I couldn’t get him out of my mind.

Finally we pulled into a parking lot next to a long, nondescript cinderblock building. “Oom boppa, oom boppa, mow mow,” said Kenna, sitting in her seat, staring straight ahead. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be doing. She turned to me. “Do you mind hopping out? I’m kind of stuck here until you do.”

“Oh, sorry, I forgot,” I said. I got out. She scooted after me, retrieving my bag from the trunk.

“Here we are,” she said. I followed her to the door and inside. She wheeled my bag to a large conference room and set it by the door. “The restrooms are down the hall if you need to freshen up. Then take a seat in here and Shane, Christine, and everyone else will be with you in a few minutes. It was nice meeting you, Emma. Good luck,” she said, waving and running off. I smoothed my suit, seeing through the conference room window that she was already back outside, crawling through her passenger door, probably off to pick up another contender.

I went to the restroom and touched up my lipstick. The linoleum floor tiles were cracked and peeling. There were wadded up paper towels all over the floor and the soap dispenser was empty. This was not at all how I had pictured things going.

I went back to the conference room and sat down, relieved that my carry-on was still where Kenna had left it. Suddenly a gaggle of people descended upon me. Everyone was wearing shorts, t-shirts, and baseball caps.

“Emma! Emma Van Elson,” said a tall guy with a beard, consulting the clipboard in his hand.

“That’s me,” I said, rising.

“I’m Shane,” he said, holding out his hand to shake.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, shaking his hand and the hands of everyone around him.

“I’m Christine,” said a tall, smiley woman.“We spoke on the phone yesterday.”

“Nice to meet you, Christine,” I said, flashing what I hoped was a confident smile.

“You got to see L.A. traffic firsthand!” someone shouted.

“That Kenna is a crazy driver,” someone else added.

“Baptism by fire!”

They all sat down and for a moment there was uncomfortable silence.

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” asked Christine.

“No thank you,” I said.

“John, get her a bottle of water,” Christine said to a young guy who was closest to the door. He hopped to it, coming back a moment later and depositing a sweating bottle in front of me.

“Thank you,” I said.

“How was your flight?” asked Christine.

“Good.”

“Let’s get right down to business,” she said. “Shane and I reviewed your video yesterday, and we are really excited about you. We feel that you are going to make an excellent addition to one of our upcoming programs.”

“I’m here to meet Bellamy, right?” I asked. I opened my water. My throat felt like it was closing up.

“Ideally, yes,” said Christine, “if that is what interests you most. But we have several other choices. We’ll begin filming soon for our programs Naughty Obstacle Course, Sisterhood of Skank, The Ultimate Bread Baking Challenge, America’s Newest Street Performer, Lusty Hotel, Gross Out, and International Truth or Dare. So if we don’t find a place for you on Bellamy’s Redemption, there are many other possibilities. No need for you to worry about which fits you best right now, though; I work on all of these, and I will be with you every step of the way. I’m going to be your contact here. Your rock.”

“Don’t forget I Can’t Believe I Ate That,” said a woman with tiny wire rimmed glasses.

“I’m really only interested in Bellamy,” I said. I wondered if they were testing me to see how serious I was about him.

Christine and Shane looked at one another, exchanging some kind of unspoken message. Palpable tension hovered in the air. It occurred to me that everyone was taking this so seriously. I smiled to lighten the mood.

“In that case,” said Shane, “I’m going to take over.” He smiled now too, looking pleased with himself. “Emma, I am going to present a series of situations, and I would like you to tell me how you think you would respond. There is no right or wrong answer. Ready?”

“Sure,” I said, taking another sip of water.

“Alright,” said Shane, “you’re riding a bus, and a man in a business suit gets on the bus. He’s intoxicated, and threatens an elderly woman sitting beside you. What do you do?”

“Is it just the three of us on the bus, or are there lots of other people as well?”

“Um, there are others on the bus too,” said Shane.

“How exactly does he threaten her?”

“He gives her a little shove. Knocks her hat off.”

“He knocks her hat off?” I repeated, picturing it in my mind. I did my best to block out the roomful of eyes upon me and to really come up with a good, honest answer. The scene starts unfolding for me. It’s a cold winter night. The bus is rambling and skidding along on icy roads. The man looks like a young James Spader. The woman is little and cute, but her face is a blur. And the hat! It’s not just any hat. It’s a pink pillbox hat with a small veil. Just like that, pow, the James Spader lookalike smacks it right off her head. The hat lands in a puddle of dirty slush on the bus floor. It’s ruined. She had that hat since she was a young bride. She wore it on her honeymoon.

“Emma, do you have an answer?” asked Shane.

“Yes,” I said, tucking my nervous, shaky hands beneath the table. “That is pretty rude of him, knocking her hat off for no good reason. I would tell him to back off. Hopefully someone else would get with me, but if not, I guess I’d have to go it alone.”

“So you would tell him to back off?”

“Yes. Yes I would. Because, you know, you have to stand up for justice.” I nodded, satisfied with my answer, and took another sip of water.

“Great. Great answer,” said Shane. “Okay, next. Picture this: You’re invited to have dinner with the members of your favorite band, but the only way to get to them is to hike up a mountain. What would you do?”

“Hike up the mountain?”

“Great answer!” Shane boomed, scribbling on a yellow legal pad.

“Do you believe in Big Foot?” someone asked me.

“Oh, yes!”

“Wonderful,” said Shane, scribbling some more.

“What about Nessie?” asked someone else.

“Of course not.”

“How about ghosts?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Are you a good dancer?”

“Well, yes. I think so, anyhow. You saw my video, right?”

“Yes, yes. How could I forget? That was excellent. Do you get jealous much?” Shane asked.

“It’s my worst fault. I go a little crazy sometimes.”

“Okay, okay. Great! Now we’re getting somewhere! What might you do if you were jealous?”

“Hmm, I might…” I tugged on my lip, trying to come up with an honest answer.

“Yes? Yes? Think hard, Emma. Jealousy is real and normal. Nothing to be ashamed of there,” said Shane. He seemed delighted with my jealousy issues.

“Honestly, I usually get quiet and read a book or take a nap until the feeling passes,” I said.

His face fell. “Huh.” He scribbled some more. Eyes began to shift and papers were shuffled. I sensed they were all losing interest in me.

“But once,” I said, raising my voice, “I chased down a guy, on my bike, who had cheated on me. That jerk! I grabbed a loaf of French bread from out of the basket on my bike, a nice crusty baguette, and I threw it at him as I pedaled by,” I said, desperately making up on-the-spot lies. “Then I went back and finished him off with a bunch of grapes and some Brie.” I just love anything having to do with France.

“Oh, how about that,” said Shane, nodding approvingly. The whole room came back to life.

“By ‘finished him off’ I just mean, you know, hurt him a little,” I added, concerned they might think I’d murdered someone with cheese.

“Are you always violent?” asked a woman standing near the door.

I hesitated, unsure what the right answer was. “I wouldn’t say always.”

“Can you cook?” asked a deep male voice.

“Pretty well.”

“Are you neat or messy?” a woman seated in the corner asked.

“Neat.”

“Tell me something really embarrassing that has happened to you, and how you recovered from it,” Christine said.

“There’s so much to choose from,” I said, thinking aloud. “Well, in tenth grade I was in a school play about teen problems. You know: drugs, homework, abortion. Well, I was kind of a goody-two-shoes back then, trust me, I’m not anymore, and I had to play the part of a pothead. I didn’t realize marijuana got smoked, I thought it got snorted like cocaine, and I acted out my part all wrong. It wasn’t easy living that down.”

Everyone looked uncomfortable and the mood immediately soured.

“Was it something I said?” I asked.

“You’ll want to keep from mentioning drug use of any kind on television,” said Christine, solemnly.

“Sure. Of course.”

“Now Emma,” said Shane, tapping the tips of his fingers together. The entire room hushed. His delight over me seemed to have unexpectedly run completely dry. Deep furrows formed in his shiny red forehead. “We sensed a real spirit in you on that video. You really grabbed our attention…” He looked around him, for backup.

“A zestiness,” said Christine.

“A zippiness,” said the woman with the little glasses.

“You had that it factor that makes people take notice,” said Christine.

“Charisma!” said a guy in the back of the room.

“But,” said Shane, “I’m sensing that it’s not necessarily here with you today. That zing, that… snappiness. I mean,” he looked around the room for support, “correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m not feeling it. Are all of you?”

“Not so much…” “Maybe a little…” murmured a chorus of voices around the room in a soft babble.

“Emma, what’s going on? How are you feeling?” Shane asked me.

How was I feeling? I tried to swallow, but I couldn’t. “I’m feeling fine,” I croaked.

“Sweetie,” he continued, “we don’t want to upset you, but we made a special exception for you.”

“We rushed through the first steps and pulled a lot of strings to get you here,” said Christine, with an expression like I had deeply betrayed her.

“If you’d like to be on Bellamy’s Redemption, I’d like to have you. But we need to see that fun girl who was on the video. Does she still exist?” Shane asked.

“Of course. Of course she does,” I said.

“Can you bring her back?”

“Yes!”

“Can you sprinkle her with excitement?”

“Yes!”

“And none of these dowdy little pantsuits,” he said, frowning and wiggling his finger up and down at me.

“I will never wear this again.”

“Well, then we’d like to give you a chance.”

“For real?”

“Yes,” said Shane.

“Oh my! Thank you! I’m so excited! I won’t let you down,” I said. A rush of relief flooded over me. Had they said I was going to be on the show? For real?

“This is fabulous,” said Christine, raising her eyebrows in exaggerated delight and reaching across the table to give my hand an affectionate squeeze. The mood of the room switched from doom and gloom to sisterly giddiness.

“I’m Renata,” said a cute woman in her late twenties or early thirties, reaching across the table and patting my arm. “I’ll get you over to the hotel for the next part of your interview.”

I stood up and thanked the people around the table. I was in a daze. Next I followed Renata outside to her Audi. Before I knew it, we were at a hotel and I was in a suite with six other women.

“Congratulations, ladies. Help yourselves to something to drink. Mark will be here in just a little bit,” said Renata, leaving us alone.

I surveyed the suite. It was stocked with fresh flowers in vases and champagne on ice. The six other women were all very, very pretty. I had the sinking sensation that they were my competition.

“Hi,” said one, coming forward and holding out her hand. Her nails were perfectly manicured, something I only did if I was going to be in a wedding. “I’m Shyla.” She was blonde, tall, and thin. Wispy, almost. I could feel my brain preparing to start dumping names, the way I saw my clients sometimes do when I’d mentioned too many paint colors in one day.

“Emma,” I said, shaking her hand.

“I’m twenty-one,” she said, smiling from beneath her lashes in a cute, practiced maneuver. “I work at a doggie salon. What do you do?”

“I’m an interior designer,” I said.

“Oh. So you, like, decorate for a living?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, ignoring her tone.

“That sounds fun. How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Oh! Oh my gosh. Wow. You aren’t already married?”

“No.”

“Hi, I’m Freddie,” said a cute little blonde, raising her eyebrows like she knew she was rescuing me. She held out her hand. Another manicure. Also, everyone else was dressed in fun, slutty dresses. I felt like such a frump in my stodgy business suit. “Frederica, actually, but I go by Freddie. Don’t feel bad that you’re twenty-seven,” she said, smiling brightly.

“I don’t,” I said back, trying to be as bright and cheerful as she was. I assumed we were already being observed by some camera hiding in a plant, and I wanted to seem resilient, despite my elderliness.

“Good. Because I am twenty-five, so I am practically in the same boat you are. So you said you like to decorate? That’s neato. I like to bake cookies and cakes.”

“That’s nice,” I said.

“Are you coming here for the right reasons? Because I really want to find love. I mean, no offense,” she lowered her tone to a whisper, “I’m sure you really want to find love too, but I am afraid that some of these girls might not be here for the right reason. You know what I mean?”

“I guess. But I assure you,” I said, a little louder than I needed to, “I am totally here for Bellamy!”

“Hello,” said a redhead, giving me a bear hug. “I’m Shar. I will warn you right away, I like extreme sports. If we have to jump out of a plane, I am going to be first in line. Bellamy is going to pick me over all y’all because I’m fun.”

“Nice to meet you, Shar,” I said.

“What’s your name?”

“Emma.”

“How old are you?” she asked, followed by an unselfconscious belch.

“Twenty-seven.”

“I’m twenty-three. I’ll be twenty-four in a few weeks. I figure if filming starts soon I can celebrate my birthday on-air. That would be cool.”

I nodded, unsure what to say to that.

“Whatever,” she said, taking a swig of champagne right out of the bottle. Unfortunately, she was the prettiest woman in the room.

“Hello, ladies,” said a deep male voice. I spun around to see a buff, tan man in a pink polo shirt. “Grab a drink, ladies. Then come join me in the conference room.”

I took a flute of champagne and followed him into yet another wing of the spacious suite. Freddie sat beside me and a brunette I had not met yet sat on my other side.

“Mylar,” she said quietly, holding out her hand.

“Emma,” I said as I shook her hand.

“Like the balloon,” she added.

“Okay,” I said.

Shar, Shyla, and the others joined us as Mr. Ken doll waited patiently with his palms resting on the table and his mouth constantly smiling a large, white smile. When we were all seated he cleared his throat and began to speak: “Ladies, I’m Mark Jones. I am very pleased to see you all. I want you to know that you’re all doing a great job and have gotten quite far in this rigorous process. But we’re just beginning! We feel great about the seven of you seated here today. I’m going to be upfront with you: Fifteen girls have already been selected, and we hope the seven of you seated here will be our final five and two alternates. So knock me out today! Okie dokie? Now, let’s get to know one another.” He smiled at the woman seated to his left and she took the cue to begin.

“I’m Angie,” she said, twisting a finger in her long, black curls. Her voice was whiny and she sounded like she might begin to cry at any moment. “I’m an administrative assistant for a law firm in Wichita. I just turned twenty-four. I come from a big family. There are nine of us kids. This is my first time being outside of Kansas. Except for Missouri. I have been there a few times.”

I could recall announcing my age back when I was a kid, but it had been years since it was part of normal introductions. To me, it seemed strange. Didn’t we all have some better way to explain who we were than to tell how many years we’d been on the planet? I decided I was going to civilly disobey the trend when it was my turn.

“I have a funny story to share with you…” Angie continued.

Mark shook his head. “Thanks, Angie. Moving along,” he said. But he said it so brightly and charmingly that it wasn’t offensive.

“Hi y’all! I’m Vanessa,” said the next contestant. I instantly sensed that she was the one to beat. She was super pretty with light brown hair and wide blue eyes. She seemed graceful in a way none of the others had so far. “I’m twenty-nine and I’m a pediatrician. I’m from Atlanta. I like running marathons, going to karaoke bars, and dancing. I’m a Meals on Wheels volunteer. Also, I have several utility patents pending. Oh, and I read to homeless people on Sundays after church. I can’t wait to meet Bellamy!”

Shar was next. She stood up, despite that neither Angie nor Vanessa had done so. “I’m Shar Shallahan. I’m twenty-three. I’m gonna have an on-air birthday party that is going to make you all sick. Just wait and see. I’m from Louisville, Kentucky. I say ‘Go big or go home.’ I am not afraid of anything. I have gone skiing down mountains that are so tall. Utah mountains. Like Vanessa said, I like to karaoke. Pat Benatar, Stevie Nicks. I tried to get on American Idol a couple of years ago but that show is rigged and they didn’t pick me. I think they just go with people they know. Mark, I hope we get the opportunity to karaoke. Like I said, I am not afraid. I hope you’re going to pick me because I think I am what this show needs. These other girls aren’t going to be memorable television. Especially her,” she said, pointing at me. “But I will jump in a pool with my clothes off, or go white water rafting. Like I said, I’m from Kentucky, so I can ride a horse really fast, if you need someone to do that. It doesn’t get any better than me.” Satisfied with herself, she sat back down and popped a petit four into her mouth.

“Let’s all get along now,” said Mark, smiling jovially. “You’re up,” he said, winking at the woman next to me.

“I’m Mylar,” she said before clearing her throat in a treacherous gasp and then recovering in nervous enthusiasm. “I know what you’re thinking, like the balloon, right? Yes, I get that all the time. I’m Mylar like the balloon. I’m twenty-six and I’m from Rochester, New York. I have a two year old little boy named Cason. Right now I’m just staying home with him, taking care of him. I hope Bellamy’s ready to be a daddy!”

“Are you divorced or what?” asked Shar.

“Uh, no. I was never married.”

Shar looked at Mark and shook her head in disgust.

“I guess I’m next,” I said. “I’m Emma Van Elson. I live in Chicago and I work as an interior designer. I really fell in love with Bellamy when I watched him and Alanna, and I think he’s a very special guy. I am thrilled to be here.”

Shar yawned loudly.

“How old are you?” asked Angie.

“Twenty-seven,” I said.

“Thank you, Emma,” said Mark. He turned to Freddie. I had noticed her swaying in the chair beside me, but I’d been too focused on my own nerves to pay much attention. Relaxing a little now, I turned to my side just as she slid out of her chair and crumpled onto the floor.

“Somebody grab a glass of water for her,” Mark yelled.

I jumped up, but Shar beat me to it, snatching a water bottle off the table, uncapping it, and pouring it over the top of Freddie’s head. Freddie’s eyes opened and she began to whimper, “Why did you do that?”

“That’s enough,” said Mark, putting himself between Shar and Freddie. He pulled a walkie-talkie from his belt. “We need a medic here. ASAP! Girl down. Stable but shaky.”

“I want to go home,” Freddie said quietly. Every girl in the room smiled or drew in a breath of relief, myself included.

“Are you sure?” asked Mark.

“Yes.”

“I heard we’ve got a case of the nerves,” said a big bear of a guy, appearing on the scene in periwinkle scrubs. He was pushing an empty wheelchair. I wondered what he would have done all day if Mark hadn’t needed him. He’d apparently been close by, just waiting for this exact scenario.

“That’s right,” said Mark. “Just a case of the nerves. Jett, this is Freddie. She could use some fresh air.”

“Hop aboard,” said Jett. He let Freddie settle in and whisked her away.

“We’re going to break for ten minutes so you ladies can use the restroom or get a drink,” said Mark as Jett and Freddie were leaving. “I know what happened just upset you all tremendously, but don’t worry about your friend Freddie. I have a hunch that she will be back. After your break is over, I’d like you all to meet me back here in this conference room, and you can look forward to your background screening and interviews with Detective Smith and Coco or Fran, who are two of our producers. There will also be another gentleman observing. Nothing to worry about, ladies, just be yourselves and answer honestly.”

Shyla wandered over to me, looking pouty. “I guess he didn’t even notice that I never got to introduce myself,” she said.

“I guess he got distracted when Freddie fainted,” I said.

“Do you think she’ll be back?” she asked.

“I’m not sure.”

“She looked really bad once her hair got wet. Didn’t you think so? Like a drowned rat! We need to do a ton of hot tub scenes, so they might want to think twice about keeping her around. She seemed boring to me, and boring is the kiss of death when you’re on TV. Have you gone to any acting classes?”

“No. It never even occurred to me. Have you?”

“Yeah. Sure,” said Shyla. “I took some here in L.A. with some lady named Brenda, and one back in Shreveport, but I don’t know if you can count that because I was just a kid. I think the classes with Brenda are going to help me out here. She helped me get rid of my accent, annunciate my words better, cry on command, and she even had a segment on dancing. She didn’t teach that part, though. That one was taught by a guy named Pablo. Do you know him?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Oh. He’s great. He taught me how to do the Roger Rabbit and a little bit of tap.” She demonstrated both for me.

“Those moves will probably make Bellamy like you better,” I said.

“Are you just saying that?”

“No way. I mean it. My interview video was full of stuff like that and they really ate it up,” I assured her.

Shyla smiled. “Let’s be friends. We’re going to need some friends if we get on here. I think it’s going to be a lot of mean girls.”

“Sure, that sounds like a good plan,” I said, feeling genuinely touched. It would be great to have a friend here.

She hugged me. “Sorry if I smell bad. I haven’t washed my hair since I last worked, so it probably smells like dogs.”

“I didn’t notice anything,” I said. Actually, she smelled a little like a wet rug.

“Whew! Good. Are you worried about being so old? We could lie and say you’re younger. I would do that for you. That’s the kind of thing friends do for each other.”

“I think the producers would have a problem with that. Plus, Bellamy is thirty-one or thirty-two, so I’m not really that old compared to him.”

“Right. Right,” said Shyla, smiling and nodding. She did not look convinced.

“No, really,” I said.

“So,” said Shyla, “if I don’t get on this, I would be really happy to be on that Sisterhood of Skank show. I heard that pays pretty well. This doesn’t pay anything, but it’s still a great career move. Did they tell you about that show? That Sisterhood of Skank show? I totally bet you could get on there too if you changed into something a little more normal. It might be fun if we were on it together, if this doesn’t work out. I mean, at this point though, it looks like this is really going to happen. Are you excited? I’m going crazy inside!”

“Emma Van Elson?” said a tall, thin man who looked exactly like the farmer from American Gothic.

“That’s me,” I said.

“Come along with me. I’m Phil Smith, and I am going to go over some things with you.”

I followed him down the hotel hallway, into a room that was set up like an office. A large camera was pointed at the table and I noticed another camera affixed to the ceiling. A scary looking man in a suit was already seated at the table. He nodded at me but did not even get up or introduce himself. I felt like I was in an interrogation room from a cop show on television. Sure, it was a little nicer, but still intimidating. I looked around me and saw that one wall was a large mirror, and wondered if it was a two-way mirror. I found myself suddenly sweating and short of breath. I was beginning to wonder what I was getting myself into, and how much I would unquestioningly submit to before deciding this process was unacceptably invasive. I wasn’t entirely sure why I was going along with it, honestly. I guess I felt special for being chosen, and I wanted to see how far I could get. Oh, and because of Bellamy. It was weird how I kept forgetting about Bellamy.

Phil Smith cleared his throat and looked down at me. “Make yourself comfortable, Emma,” he said.

As if that was possible.

For five hours I was grilled first by him about details of my life, and then by a woman named Fran. It wasn’t until eleven o’clock that night that we were all done being interviewed. Freddie was gone for good. That meant there were six of us remaining, and they needed just five more girls. We ordered room service with an uncomfortable air of suspicion surrounding us: One of us would likely be an alternate. The rest of us had likely made it. The atmosphere was tense as my competition speculated on who was going home.

“It’s gonna be me, Shyla, Angie, and Vanessa for sure,” said Shar. “Either Mylar’s going home ‘cause she’s got a kid, or Emma’s going home ‘cause she’s too businessy.”

“Hello! We’re sitting right here,” said Mylar.

“I see you. What’s your point?” asked Shar.

I was too busy focusing on my meal to add to the conversation. I just kept telling myself that it was all about Bellamy, and that people can endure huge amounts of pain and torture if it’s for true love.

“You’re too quiet,” Shar said to me.

“I’m eating,” I said.

“Why’d you wear that suit?”

“Quit bullying me. It’s a nice suit. It’s from Ann Taylor.”

“Ann Taylor’s for old ladies.”

“Ann Taylor is for ladies. Young and old. I guess that’s why you don’t like it,” I said.

“If you make it on the show, which you won’t, you’ll be the first one he sends home,” she said to me.

“Do you really think this is all I wear? Do you think I’m going to wear this for elimination ceremonies and dates and hot tub scenes?” I asked.

She shrugged, turning from me and addressing us all: “Y’all might as well give up now.” She looked around the room, aggressively trying to lock eyes with each of us. “He’s going to pick me. I’m just saying. I’m not even trying to be egotistical, but look at me. I’m gorgeous, I have a hot body, and I’m fun. I’m not afraid of nothin’. I like horses, NASCAR, mudding, beer. I’m what every man wants but they didn’t even know someone like me existed. As far as I can tell, none of y’all are any fun.”

Angie pushed away her food and began polishing her toenails with her feet hooked on the edge of the table. A small flap of dead blister hovered over her half-eaten cheeseburger. The pungent aroma of feet and nail polish filled our surroundings.

“Ooh, I like that color,” said Vanessa. “Mind if I do mine as well?”

“Go ahead,” said Angie. “I have these blingies to stick on them when you’re done, if you want some.” She held up a plastic sandwich bag of pink crystal decals.

“Thanks,” said Vanessa, unfastening her super expensive looking shoes and parking her feet alongside Angie’s.

“I can’t believe we have to go back home soon. I want to meet Bellamy now and stay out here in California. This hotel is heaven,” said Mylar.

“Aren’t you in a hurry to get back to your kid?” asked Angie.

“Not at all. Cason’s doing fine without me. He’s with my parents. They’re crazy about him. It’s ironic, you know? They never liked me or my brother much, but now that they’re grandparents they suddenly love kids. Whatever. I’m just glad they like him so much because I really need a break sometimes. He’s a great kid, but ever since I had him, life has been pretty dull. I wouldn’t trade him in for anything, but I get depressed about him. He’s boring. He likes to read picture books and play with cars on the floor. It gets really tiring. Does that sound horrible? Do I sound like a horrible mother? Like, when I look back on my life, sometimes it seems like it has all been a bad dream. The last few years anyway. I miss being young. You know what I mean?”

“No,” said Shar. She flexed her bicep and kissed it like she was a professional body-builder. I prayed she would be the first of us Bellamy would eliminate.

“Your son has a cute name,” I said to Mylar, turning so I didn’t have to look at Shar. “I’ve never heard the name Cason before, but I like it.”

“Me too,” said Vanessa. “It’s such a cute name. Really sweet. Like Mason, but even better.” She flipped her hair back and smiled warmly, reinforcing my fear that she was going to be very tough competition.

“There’s kind of a funny story about his name,” said Mylar, brightening. “When I was pregnant with him, I wasn’t sure if his dad was my boyfriend Jason, or my other boyfriend Casey. They were both like ‘Are you going to name the baby after me?’ and I was like ‘Sure, Honey, of course I will’ so I named him after both of them, in a way. If he had been a girl, I had that covered too. I was going to call her Jasey. It’s so cool when you find a simple solution to a tricky problem. You know what I mean?”

I waited for Shar to say something mean, but all of us were silent. The pedicure atmosphere had ruined everyone’s appetite, even my own. I found my mind wandering to Pete. I wished I was back home in my own apartment or his, relaxed and comfortable. This room with these girls felt like the furthest thing in the world from who I was or what I wanted to be.

“You know, I think I’d like to borrow some of that polish as well,” Shyla said, scooting her chair over to Angie and Vanessa’s side of the table.

I got up and went out to the balcony to call Pete. Before he even had the chance to answer, the patio door slid open and Fran, the woman who had interrogated me, was standing in the doorway glaring at me. I don’t know how she appeared so quickly, but it confirmed the suspicion Vanessa had voiced earlier that we were already being thoroughly spied on.

“Who are you talking to?” she asked.

I shoved my phone in my pocket and turned to her. “Um, I was just going to call my neighbor. He’s no one important. Just a neighbor. I was expecting a package today and wanted to make sure it got brought inside,” I lied.

“No cellphones. Sorry.” She held out her hand to confiscate it. “You’ll get this back when it’s time to go home.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. Didn’t anyone tell you this already?”

“No.”

“Hand it over,” she said, continuing to hold out her hand.

So I did. And I went back inside, pulled up a chair alongside the others, and painted my toenails.

Chapter 7

“You sure you don’t want to go anywhere?” Pete asked me.

“I’m positive,” I said, pulling the old blanket on his couch around my shoulders.

“So? Tell me about your weekend.”

I closed my eyes. It was Sunday night and I was exhausted. It felt like I’d been gone for a couple of weeks instead of just a couple of days. “Do I have to?” I asked, inhaling his blanket. “This smells like fabric softener. It smells like a summer cloud.”

“I washed it today.”

“It smells a little bit like violets. And a little bit like oranges.”

“Emma, what happened? Did you get on the show?”

I sighed. “I think so. I have a bad, bad feeling that I did.”

“When will you know for sure?”

“Probably tomorrow or Tuesday. They want to move really fast.”

“You don’t sound excited.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Tell them you changed your mind.”

“But this is my big opportunity.”

“If it was a big opportunity wouldn’t you be more excited?”

“I don’t know. I’m just tired.”

“What about your job?”

“I think they’ll let me take a leave of absence. If not, I was thinking I would quit and start my own design company after the show is over. It’s always been a dream of mine.”

“But you’re doing so well where you’re at. Isn’t that a little risky?”

“You don’t think I could start my own company?”

“Of course I do, Emma, but why do it already when you’re off to such a great start where you’re at?”

“It’s not a great start. I’ve been there for three and a half years. Thirty percent of the business is brought in by me, yet my name isn’t on the door. It probably never will be.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Haven’t you ever wanted an adventure? This is going to be mine.”

“This isn’t your only option for an adventure.”

“You’re being so serious. I count on you to help me chill out. I thought you’d think this was fun.”

“Really?” he said. Then he opened his mouth like he had more to say, but instead he shook his head and said nothing.

“What?” I asked him.

He turned on the TV and we sat there in silence watching an old episode of Cheers. After about five minutes he turned off the television and stood up. “You do know that I thought we were going out tonight. On a date. To dinner. Someplace nice. You know that, right?”

“I’m tired,” I said. “I had an exhausting weekend and I have to work first thing in the morning. And I have a ton of catching up to do. Think about how much work I’ve missed lately.”

“I want you to go back to your apartment and put on a dress. I’ll be over in five minutes. I’m taking you out.”

“But Pete…”

“Don’t argue with me. You’re going to quit your job anyway, so who cares? If you want to be adventurous, start right now. Tonight. With me.”

“Don’t you want to watch the end of the show?” I asked, burrowing further beneath the blanket. He pulled it off me and chucked it across the room. It landed in a dusty corner.

“Now it’s contaminated,” I whined.

“I did that on purpose.” He pointed at the door. “Five minutes. I will be over there to pick you up, and if you aren’t dressed up, we’re going to go out with you looking like that.” I had on a Batman t-shirt and holey yoga pants.

“Fine,” I said. I rose from the couch and sighed. “See you in a few.” I shuffled next door to my own apartment.

After spending a couple of days in California, the Chicago night seemed colder and bleaker than ever. I pulled on a tight, clingy black sweater dress, tights, and some brown leather boots. I brushed my teeth and twisted my hair into a French knot. I still had two minutes to spare so I spritzed on some perfume and put on some makeup. There was a knock on my door.

“Hi Pete,” I said. He was wearing a suit.

“You look beautiful,” he said. “It took my last girlfriend an hour to look that good. No, actually, it took her an hour to try to look that good.”

“You’re wearing a suit,” I said.

“Do you like it?”

“Well, sure. You look great. I just wasn’t expecting you to get so dressed up.”

“I thought ‘maybe a suit will win her over.’ Women like a guy in a suit, right?”

“Right.”

“We’re going somewhere I think you’ll really like,” he said, helping me into my coat.

“Are we walking?” I asked.

“No, I got us a cab. I know it’s not the limousine service you probably received all weekend, but it’s the best I can do on short notice,” he teased. “I think he’s here already.”

We made our way down to the snowy street and got in the cab. It was warm inside and a relief from the journey I’d expected we’d be making on foot. Pete took my hand in his. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. His thumb circled the back of my hand as we chatted about his upcoming week and the new product he was about to endorse: a spray cleaner that could remove set-in blueberry and permanent ink stains with just one squirt.

“It sounds impossible,” I whispered.

“Until very recently, it was,” he replied.

The cab stopped in front of a warmly lit shop I didn’t know.

“What is this place?” I asked while Pete paid our cab driver.

“It’s one of my favorite places. I’ve been wanting to show it to you,” he said, taking my hand again as we got out. We crossed the street and went down five steps, into a space filled with delicious smells, Gypsy music, and cheery talk and laughter. In one corner of the room there were tables where people were eating and drinking. Along the other side was a long, beautiful bar. And in the back was a band, with people twirling each other around on the dance floor in front of us.

“You’ve been wanting to bring me here?” I asked.

“I have.”

“Where are we?”

“Would you believe,” asked Pete, “that this place doesn’t have a name?” He smirked, leading me to a cozy wooden booth that seemed to be carved into a nook in the wall.

Before I could answer, a beautiful, stick-skinny woman appeared, looking rather goth and serious. She deposited two menus on the table and drew in a deep breath, and then let out a long, bored-sounding sigh. “What do you want to drink?” she asked me.

“Umm. A glass of cabernet?” I said, inadvertently raising the last syllable into a nervous question.

“Sure,” she said. “And you?” she asked, turning to Pete.

“I’ll have a Pilsner Urquell,” he said.

She started laughing and then regained her composure, turning very serious. “Sure, of course,” she said.

“That was weird,” I whispered to Pete after she had walked away.

“This place is great, except that they have notoriously bad waitstaff. But it’s worth it.”

“So what’s the story?”

“The owners are a married couple. He’s from West Africa and she’s from Hungary or Prague or some place like that. Their food is a mix of Eastern European and West African,” he said, pointing to the menu. There was chicken with steamed cabbage, goulash, peanut stew… “And so is the music,” he said, just as the Gypsy music was seguing into drumbeats.

“Fascinating,” I said.

“I know! There’s no other place like this in the whole world!”

“And it has no name?”

“Nope.”

“What name shows up on your online checking account when you use your debit card here?”

“Good question. I like your inquisitive nature. However, they only take cash.”

The waitress reappeared, setting down my wine in front of Pete and his beer in front of me. “What are you going to order?” she asked me.

“Hmm,” I said, taking another quick look at the menu to remind myself what I had chosen.

She turned to Pete. “Are you ready yet?”

“As soon as my date makes her choice,” he said politely.

“I’m ready now,” I said. “I’d like the peanut stew with…”

“With firm, cubed tofu over a bed of couscous,” she interrupted, finishing the description for me. “Got it.” She snatched my menu from me and turned back to Pete.

“I’d like the goulash,” he said.

“How original,” she said, walking away without collecting his menu.

Pete looked at me and started to laugh. “I’m sorry, Emma. I had no idea this was going to be so insane.”

“Is she one of your ex-girlfriends?” I asked, half serious, considering how crazy she was acting.

“I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

“Maybe she hates infomercials?”

“That’s possible,” he said. “I once endorsed a juicer that left bits of metal in the juice. She must have gotten one of them.”

“Or perhaps this is one of those places where rude service is part of the experience?” I suggested.

“Judging from tonight, I’d agree with you, but since it’s sometimes more mediocre than bad, I think this is genuinely rotten.”

“Genuine, authentic rottenness. I like anything better when it’s real, don’t you?”

“Of course,” he said, passing me my glass of wine. He picked up his beer and raised it to me, in a toast. “To authentic rottenness,” he said.

“And to Eastern European, West African cuisine,” I said. We clinked glasses and each took a sip. He looked into my eyes when he did so; I hate when people don’t.

“It’s better than it sounds,” he promised. “Well, you’ll see, in just a little bit.”

“How did you find this place?” I asked him.

“I passed by it for a year or so, and I thought it was somebody’s apartment who was always having a party and cooking good food. I always thought ‘I’ve got to meet those people.’ One night I was coming home and I’d had a little bit to drink, and I thought ‘I’m going for it.’ I walked right in and realized it was an actual bar. Or restaurant. Whatever this place is. I couldn’t believe I wasted all that time wondering about this place, when I could have been here, being part of it.”

“Here’s some bread,” said our waitress, reappearing with a basket. She stood before us, glaring, waiting for something. Pete and I looked at each other, unsure what was going on.

“You still have your menu?” she asked Pete, accusingly.

“Here you go,” he said, picking it up and handing it to her.

She grunted, exchanging the bread for it, and walked away. Pete and I burst into giggles.

“She isn’t real. You hired her. She’s an actress,” I said, when I stopped laughing.

“I told you, she’s real. Authentically rotten.”

“I’m glad you dragged me out here,” I said. “This is definitely better than sitting at home.”

“Your compliments are so generous,” he said.

“Let me rephrase that: This is definitely better than pretty much anything I’ve done lately. Do you like that better?”

“In that case, why don’t you forget the whole Bellamy thing?”

“Oh come on, Pete,” I said, taking a sip of my wine. “Are you really that threatened by it?”

“I didn’t say I was threatened. I’m just wondering what we’re doing here.”

“You’re overreacting. Don’t you want to watch me on TV? Why do you get to be on TV but I don’t?”

“So now it’s just a game?”

“Well, in a way. I mean, it’s a show. A game show. Reality TV. Not necessarily reality.”

“If that’s how you feel, why are you doing it? Are they going to pay you?”

“Do I seem like I need or care about money?”

“No.”

“They’re not paying me. Although I think I might get some jewelry and a couple of free evening gowns out of it. That would be exciting.”

“So why are you doing it?”

“I don’t know. For Bellamy, I guess.”

He looked down. “Okay.”

“Come on, Pete. Let’s just have fun. Let’s talk about something else. Anything else.”

“What if he falls in love with you?”

“He’s not going to, but if he did, that would be cool.”

“I think he will,” said Pete.

“I don’t even know for sure if I’m on the show. It’s possible I’m the alternate. How about if we worry about it when it happens.”

“But you’re going to quit your job tomorrow?”

“I’m not going to quit it unless I know for absolute positive that I’ve made it on there. Do you think I’m that irresponsible?”

“You know what?” he said with a shrug. “You’re right. I’m just going to be ‘in the moment.’ That’s how I do things normally, so I’m not sure why I’m getting off track now. Have some bread,” he said, offering the basket to me.

“Don’t mind if I do,” I said, taking a piece.

“I’m surprised you don’t have any pets,” he said, between bites of his bread. “You seem like you would have a cat. Or maybe a dog.”

I considered reminding him about Bellamy’s animal rescue work, but instead said, “I’d love to have a pet, but I’m not home enough.”

“I’m home quite a bit. I could help out with it.”

“So we’re moving to the co-parenting step already? I can handle that. Since you’re stepping up, let’s get a higher maintenance pet, like a raccoon, or a monkey.”

“Here you go,” said our waitress, abruptly appearing in front of us. She set our food on the table, and then, sighing deeply, sat down beside me in our booth. “I’m so tired,” she said. “I’m just going to sit here for a sec. My boss can’t see me from here. I’ve been working for four hours.”

Pete and I exchanged baffled glances.

“You can eat,” she said, annoyed. “Pretend I’m not here. I just need to sit down for a minute, you know?”

“My food’s still pretty hot,” said Pete. “I think I’ll wait for it to cool off.”

“Me too,” I said.

We both took some more bread, nibbling on it and staring at the wall.

“I’m Cassie, by the way,” said our waitress. “I might have already told you that.”

“Nope, I don’t think so,” said Pete.

“I’m Emma,” I said, “and this is Pete.”

Pete chewed his bread in silence.

“So are you two married?”

“No,” I said.

“Are you the guy from that vacuum cleaner commercial?” asked Cassie, a sudden spark of recognition in her eyes.

“No,” Pete said immediately, stuffing more bread in his mouth.

“You aren’t? Yes you are! You totally are. If you aren’t, then what do you do? Answer me quick.”

“I’m an IT guy.”

“Oh,” she said. “Listen you two, I have to go before I get caught sitting here or before one of those fucking fiddle players tattles on me. Just flag me down if you need anything. Can you pay soon? I’m going to try to leave early.”

“Yep,” said Pete.

She removed herself from our booth, ignoring our empty drinks, and disappeared into the ladies’ room.

Pete flagged down a different waitress and ordered another round for us, and then, finally, we each took a bite of our meals.

“Worth the wait,” I said, savoring a chunk of carrot covered in rich, peanuty deliciousness.

“Do you want to try mine?” Pete asked.

“I don’t eat meat,” I told him.

“How did I never know that?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. Do you want to try mine?” I asked him.

“I’ve had it before, but thanks.”

I cringed a little, waiting for the inevitable barrage of questions about what had made me do it:  Were my family members all vegetarians? Was I raised in a cult? Was I grossed out to see people eating meat? Could he finish his meal or should he order something else? Did I consider fish to be meat? What about chicken? Were those real leather shoes I was wearing? Yes? Then why didn’t I just eat meat if I was going to wear leather? Did I think I was superior to meat eaters? Maybe just a little? Did I sneak some when no one was looking? Were my reasons for health, or the environment, or religious, or spiritual, or ethical, or something carnivores hadn’t even thought of yet?

To my relief, Pete just took a bite of his goulash and said, “That’s cool.”

“Uh oh, here she comes again,” I whispered, as our waitress came slinking our way.

“Listen you two,” she said, “I’ve got to go now.” She lowered her voice and added, “It’s time.” She reached one of her arms over her shoulder, twisting and cracking her back. She repeated the motion with the other arm.

“No problem. Could we have our bill?” asked Pete.

“Didn’t I give it to you already?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, surveying our table, and then ducking beneath it to look around by our feet.

“We’re sure,” I said.

“Shit. I’ll go get it.”

“It’s never boring with you,” said Pete, after she had left us again.

“I really can’t take responsibility for tonight’s entertainment.”

“You have a natural magnet that draws these situations to you,” he said.

“I’m flattered you think that. I mean… that is a compliment, right?”

“Huge compliment. So, how do you like your food?”

“Great. Seriously great. And how’s yours?”

“Delicious.”

“Okay, you two,” said our waitress. “Here you go.” She slapped the bill down on the table and put her hands on her hips, waiting. “You two are killing me!” she added, squinting her eyes and blowing some greasy strands of hair out of her eyes. Pete took out his wallet, examined the bill, and took out some bills while she watched him.

“Tell me you don’t need change,” she said.

“Just keep it all,” he said.

“Thanks. Take it easy.” She did the ‘peace-out’ gesture and was gone.

“Next time can we go to the Olive Garden?” I asked him.

“Sure,” he said, laughing.

We finished our meals and ordered another round of drinks. The music had tapered to a single, haunting fiddle player. Sweet, old Eastern European love songs quietly filled the room. The room had nearly emptied out and the flickering candle made our booth seem like its own private room. Pete reached across the table and took my hand. He opened his mouth and hesitated, but before any words could come out, a different waitress was standing in front of us, hands on hips, looking at us expectantly. “It’s Sunday night,” she said.

Pete and I looked at each other and then looked at her. We both nodded.

“It’s Sunday night,” she repeated. “We don’t stay open super late on Sunday nights.”

“Okay,” said Pete. “We can go.”

“Wait just a minute,” she said, holding up her hand. “You two had another round of drinks after Cassie left.”

“Well, we’d like to pay for those,” said Pete.

“Good. Because you’re going to! I’ll be right back with your bill.” She then made a beeline for a table across the room and began chatting with some people she knew.

“I’d better call us a cab,” said Pete, “before we get kicked out.”

I excused myself to go to the ladies’ room. It was wallpapered in a shiny, Art Nouveau, tarantula themed wallpaper. I wondered who made it. I could envision it fitting in nicely in some of my edgier clientele’s homes. I checked my teeth and touched up my lipstick, putting on a deeper shade than normal, since Pete had seemed to like it so much when he was filming me. I wondered if he was going to kiss me…

“What are you doing?” I whispered to my reflection. “You are totally leading him on!”

I found some perfume in my purse and spritzed it on the back of my neck and then the front of neck, and then under my shirt, just for good measure.

“It’s not leading him on if you like him,” I reassured my reflection.

“So you like him now?” she said back.

“Well, isn’t it obvious?”

“What about Bellamy?”

“Bellamy is, like… not real.”

“He might be soon. Emma, think about it! He might be soon!”

“Yes, that is pretty crazy. Do you think you’re really going to meet him?”

“Yes!”

The door swung open. It was a new waitress. Someone we hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting yet. “Who are you talking to?” she asked. She looked horrified.

I looked around pretending I thought she was talking about someone other than me. The restroom was empty, of course, aside from the two of us. I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry, despite the many drinks I’d had. “No one,” I said, stuffing my perfume and lipstick back into my purse.

“I heard you talking,” she said firmly.

“I was talking into my… blue tooth device,” I said. I wasn’t entirely sure what a blue tooth device was or whether people even still used them anymore. Then I said, “Why is everyone who works here so incredibly rude?”

She went into one of the stalls and loudly slammed the swinging door shut. It bounced back open and she grabbed it again, locking it in place. “Crazy bitch,” I heard her mutter.

I returned to our table, trying to look composed. As soon as I sat down, our new waitress came back and set the bill on the table. Like our previous waitress, she didn’t budge. As Pete got out his wallet she yawned and then pulled herself together a little, brightly asking, “So how were your meals?”

“Very good,” said Pete, handing her some money.

“Thanks,” she said, turning sweet and addressing just Pete. “Have a super night.”

“Shall we?” he asked me.

“Yes, please.”

We went back up the little steps to street level and stood shivering in the cold, waiting for our cab. Before very long our driver arrived, and after a short ride, we were back at home. Our elevator was working again, so we took it up to our floor, both of us awkwardly silent. As we approached Pete’s apartment, he slowed his pace. “Would you like to come in?” he asked.

“I think I’d better get to bed,” I said.

“So we’re going to your place?”

“Funny, Pete. Very cute.”

We stopped in front of my apartment. I took out my keys, trying to hide how nervous I felt.

“I had a great time,” he said.

“Me too.”

“Sorry it was so weird.”

“With you, weird is good.”

And then it was happening. He leaned in, his eyes closing, his right hand gently touching the back of my neck. His lips touched mine, softly at first, and then urgently. I kissed him back, not caring about my friends’ opinions of him, or the potential of Bellamy, or the tiny particles of meat that were probably in his mouth. His left hand was on my back a moment later, pulling me close to him. I wished we didn’t have bulky winter coats on. I wanted to peel mine off, but I just kept kissing him. His lips and tongue, as crazy as it sounds, were like extensions of his soul. This wasn’t just a kiss; I had the dreadful, doomed feeling of a person falling in love. I pulled away from him.

“Oh my God, Pete,” I whispered.

“What? What is it?”

“I think I need to go.”

“Uh… Okay. Why?”

“It’s late.”

“Okay. Are you alright?”

“Yes. I’m great. But I need to get to bed.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Thanks for tonight.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Very welcome.” He leaned in and gave me one more little peck on my lips. It was soft, sweet. He lingered for a moment and broke away, leaving me tingling all over. A kiss like that from any other person in the world would have had zero effect on me. I fumblingly opened my door, gave him a little wave, and closed the door behind me. I leaned against it and then locked it, in part to prevent myself from running back out there. I listened to his footsteps retreating down the hall.

“Oh, no,” I whispered.

“Please stop talking to yourself,” I whispered back.

I put away my coat, kicked off my shoes, and changed into pajamas. My dress was still clean so I hung it up in my closet so it wouldn’t become wrinkled. I washed my face and brushed and flossed my teeth. Throughout it all, my heart raced. I could try to talk myself out of liking him, but my body clearly had other plans.

“You just like him because he’s stereotypically hot,” I said to my reflection as I dabbed on some eye cream.

“I don’t know about that. But even if it’s true, is that so bad?”

“It’s shallow. It’s just your hormones or pheromones or whatever talking.”

“So what are you suggesting?”

I didn’t answer myself. Instead, I crawled into bed. I would be lucky to get five hours of sleep at this point. I had a fleeting, nervous feeling just as I drifted off, that if I didn’t get my talking to myself problem under control, it could end up embarrassing me when I was on television. “If I’m on television,” I murmured aloud, finally falling asleep.

Chapter 8

The call came in as I was leaving my meeting with Mrs. Fillmore, queen of houndstooth. I was walking to my car, enjoying the fresh, brisk air after having spent the past several hours in her overheated, powder scented home. I fumbled with my phone, nearly dropping it as I pulled it from my purse. “Hello,” I said, trying to sound confident, indifferent, busy.

“Hello, is this Emma?”

“This is she,” I said professionally, instantly wishing I’d been flirtier and more upbeat.

“Emma, this is Christine. From Bellamy’s Redemption. Are you sitting down?”

“Uh, yeah,” I lied.

“You made it! You’re on the show!”

“Are you serious?” I stopped in my tracks and set my design portfolio on top of the snowbank next to me.

“I’m completely serious! Congratulations. We get started filming on Thursday, but we’d like you out here Wednesday. I will be emailing your tickets and all the details to you. See you in a couple of days, Shar!”

“Shar? This is Emma.”

“Oopsie. Sorry about that. I got ahead of myself on the list. See you in a couple of days, Emma.”

“Okay. Thanks,” I said weakly. I picked up my portfolio and numbly continued to my car. I got in and sat there, taking it all in.

“You should call someone,” I decided aloud. But who first? This was huge news.

I called me mom. She answered right away. “Emma! I was just thinking of you! How’s it going, Bug?”

“It’s good, Mom. How are you?”

“Oh, you know. Not much new around here. Your dad is in the den trying to put a bookshelf together. He’s going to have a heart attack if he doesn’t take it easy.”

“Tell him to be careful.”

“I will. He’s not going to listen though.”

“Guess what?” I said.

“What?”

“There’s a new show that’s going to be filmed soon called Bellamy’s Redemption, and I’m going to be on it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to be a contestant on it.”

“Oh. A game show? Like Jeopardy? That’s great, Honey. What kind of questions are they going to ask you?”

“Not that kind of show. It’s a reality show about finding love.”

“You’re going on a reality show? Why would you want to do that?” she asked. I could tell I was in trouble.

“It’s a show about finding love,” I repeated weakly.

“Love?”

“Yes. Love.”

“I didn’t think you were interested in love.”

“Everyone is interested in love!”

“Those shows don’t work.”

“They sometimes do.”

“It’s not one of those shows where young people are getting busy with strangers, is it?”

“No! No way, Mom. Nothing like that. It’s not about, you know, sex. It’s all about love. I’m probably going to end up married once it’s over.”

“Oh. Well that would be nice.” She’s been worried about my marriageability ever since I hit twenty-four. “When is this going to happen?”

“Um,” I pressed my phone against my neck and quietly said, “in a couple of days.”

“I didn’t hear that,” she said.

“I leave on Wednesday,” I admitted.

“This Wednesday?”

“Yep.”

“Why didn’t you mention this sooner?”

“I just found out.”

“What about your job?”

“I am going to take a leave of absence,” I said.

“If this doesn’t work out, I hope you know that you’re too old to move back in with your dad and me.”

“The thought never even crossed my mind, Mom.”

“I mean, I guess we could make an exception…”

“You won’t need to, Mom.”

“Alright.”

“Aren’t you excited for me?”

“Well, golly Bug. I don’t know what to say. Sure, I’m excited for you.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Good luck. Uh oh, your dad’s yelling for me. I’d better go see what he wants. Call me if you need anything, Honey.”

“Thanks. Bye.”

“Bye, Bug. Love you!”

“Love you too, Mom.”

I wiped a tear from my eye, feeling strangely guilty as I sat in my cold, silent car. I felt a knot in my stomach, as though I’d just lied to my mom. But I hadn’t. I didn’t know where this overwhelming, negative feeling was coming from. To brush it away, I called Betsy.

“Hi Em, hang on a second,” she said. “Okay, I’m back. How’s it going?”

“Betsy! I’m so glad you answered. I have big, big news.”

“Wait, don’t tell me… You got a subscription to some decorating magazine at an unheard of rate, reserved just for you because you’re special.”

“No. It’s bigger than that.”

“I give up.”

“I’m going on Bellamy’s Redemption!”

“What do you mean you’re going on Bellamy’s Redemption?”

“I’m going to be on the show.”

“Like, you’re going to a filming of it?”

“Huh?”

“I’m not understanding what you mean.”

“I’m on the show, Betsy. I’m going to be on the show.”

“You,” she said slowly, “are going to be,” she paused, “on the show Bellamy’s Redemption. For real?”

“Yes!” I screamed.

I waited for her to scream too. Instead there was silence.

“Are you there, Betsy?”

“I’m here.”

“Say something.”

“Are you sure? I mean, no offense, Emma, but are you sure?”

“Yes!”

“Getting onto a show like that probably takes a huge amount of interviewing, paperwork, you know. All kinds of stuff. Do you mean you applied to be on it? Because if that’s what you mean, I already guessed you were going to.”

“Betsy, you’re not listening to me. I am on it. I leave Wednesday. We start filming Thursday. I’m serious. I thought you’d be excited for me.”

“Emma, do you remember when you joined that CD club and you thought that Jason Mraz was going to come to your house because he was in an ad that said ‘How would you like Jason Mraz in your living room for just one cent.’ Do you remember that?”

“Betsy! I was a kid! Please!”

“You were not a kid. You were, like, eighteen. You should have known better.”

“I wasn’t eighteen. Anyhow, that is irrelevant. You are ruining this for me. I really thought you’d be excited for me.”

“If it’s really happening, I’m happy for you.”

“I want to kill you right now.”

“Emma, you really shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Goodbye. I’m calling Rachel. Or Lauren. Or one of my other true friends.”

“Oh, Emma. Don’t be so pouty. Geez!”

“Bye, Betsy.”

I hung up. Instead of calling any other friends, I called my boss. To my slight disappointment and major relief, it went straight to voicemail. I took a deep breath and dove right in: “Hello. This is Emma Van Elson. I regret to inform you that I will need to take a leave of absence for personal reasons. I will be dropping off my portfolio regarding the Fillmore, Snell, Abernathy, and McCoy projects I’m currently working on, so that these projects may be completed in my absence. Oh, and there are notes on the Coolidge and Wu designs. I am pretty sure both of them will go with you if the bid is right. I regret that I was unable to give you notice of this departure, and I am sincerely sorry for the inconvenience it will cause you. I will submit a letter of temporary resignation when I drop off my portfolio. Later today. After hours. This evening, actually. Once you’re gone for the day. I hope I may return to my post when things get back to normal for me, but I understand if that is not possible. I could be back in as little as a week, or as long as ten weeks. I’m sorry I can’t give you any additional details. Um, thanks. Thanks for everything. Bye.”

I set my phone in the passenger seat. My hands were shaking. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned Coolidge and Wu. They could have been my first clients for my start-up company once I got kicked off the show and returned to find I had no job. Oh well, it was too late now. Hopefully, hopefully, hopefully things wouldn’t go so badly.

I really wanted to call Pete, but I didn’t. It suddenly occurred to me that I needed to get ready. I need to pack! I only had one full day to create a television-worthy version of myself!

Before leaving for work, I had printed a copy of Recommended Must-Brings for Potential Contestants on Bellamy’s Redemption, thinking I’d be able to sneak a peek at it while I was at Mrs. Fillmore’s house. I hadn’t had the chance though. So now I took it from my purse, reviewing it:

Welcome and best wishes, Finalist!

Are you ready for some fun? Are you ready for LOVE?

You may soon be embarking on the adventure of your lifetime, an adventure that may lead to love.

We wish you all the best.

A great, beautiful first impression is vitally important in winning a man’s heart. Bellamy, despite his kind heart and non-materialistic ways, is no exception to this rule!

Don’t let the beautiful backdrops of blue oceans, scenic mountains, and gorgeous landmarks upstage you!

Remember: If you are chosen as a contestant, you will be competing against many other beautiful women, and you will need to showcase your own natural beauty. Don’t let old, out of style clothing take away from your chances! Also, don’t be afraid to show your natural beauty with clothes that show off your figure!

We suggest if you are chosen as a contestant that you bring the following clothing and accessories along with you, as noted below. Please note, we are not responsible for purchases made in preparation for your appearance on Bellamy’s Redemption. You accept full responsibility for the wardrobe you bring, as well as the costs accrued in assembling said wardrobe. We suggest you borrow clothing from friends, family, or associates, whenever possible, in order to offset your expenses.

This holds true for shoes, jewelry and accessories.

Good luck!

You will be hearing more from us soon!

Beneath this was a bulleted list. It recommended I bring along:

ten evening gowns

seven sexy-sassy swimsuits

swimsuit cover-ups if desired

seven cocktail dresses

ten cute, casual date outfits

shoes suitable for rock climbing

appropriate sleep attire

workout clothing if desired

clothing suitable for downtime

sandals and other casual footwear

a beach tote

a beach towel

a beach hat

a variety of handbags and clutches

one or two disposable outfits for a potential ‘helping on the farm’ scene

ten or more pairs of strappy, sexy heels

jewelry and other accessories, as needed

often overlooked items such as gel inserts for shoes or double sided tape

It recommended I not bring along the following:

t-shirts, caps, etc. bearing logos or sayings, in particular but not limited to sayings of political, religious, illegal, or sexually explicit content

clothing of a particularly risqué quality - use you best judgment

clothing bearing stains, marks, or tears that are not a part of the original design

clothing that is off-trend

clothing that could be considered conservative, comfortable, or dowdy

I reread the last line a few times, trying to decipher what was wrong with being comfortable. The components of my real-life wardrobe, sadly, did not resemble the suggestions on their list. My clothes were mainly a mix of very professional and very casual. That was my life: work or lounge at home. I was unsure what I was going to do. I looked at my instructions again, thinking perhaps if I kept reading I might figure out a plan.

I saw that it was also encouraged that we do any necessary “tweaking” to prepare ourselves, such as teeth whitening, breast augmentations, rhinoplasties, haircuts and colors, etc. Then beneath that it said that we were NOT being advised or encouraged to do these things; that it was entirely up to us.

Realizing I was freezing, I started my car. What was my plan? I had a couple of little black dresses and a few bad bridesmaid’s dresses hanging in my closet. Maybe two pairs of strappy heels. I sighed, calling Betsy back.

“Hi Emma,” she said flatly.

“I need your help,” I said.

“How so?”

“I need ten evening gowns, seven bikinis, seven cocktail dresses, and as many pairs of stripper shoes as I can find. Not the ugly kind of stripper shoes. The pretty, expensive kind.”

“Oh my God!”

“What?”

“You’re serious. You’re really going on that stupid show.”

“I told you!”

“How much time do you have before you have to actually go on it? Are you going to get some implants? ‘Cause you should. And hair extensions. Definitely get some hair extensions. Have you ever considered getting a perm?”

“I leave Wednesday.”

“This Wednesday?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re pretty sure about this? Like, it’s really happening?”

“For the last time, Betsy, I’m sure!”

“It’s just, most of the girls on there, you know... They’re going to be really hot. Are you sure you’re up for this?”

“You’re not helping things.”

“Sorry.”

“Can you help me with this Betsy? Please?”

“Yes, Emma. Of course. So, Geez. Oh my God! Crazy. Okay, I will see what I can do. What size shoes do you wear? A seven?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. A seven. That’s doable. What else do you need?”

“There’s a whole list.”

“I’m working right now, so why don’t you email it to me. I’ll get the girls together. Be at my place at 6:30 tonight. Bring some champagne, because I can’t do everything.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“You’re welcome. And by the way, congratulations.”

“Thanks,” I said. We hung up. Next I drove by my office building, hoping I could ditch my portfolio while I was still in the neighborhood. Seeing that my boss’s car was not in the parking lot, I quickly ran in, deposited my portfolio of half-finished design projects on one of the chairs in her office, scrawled a note on the back of a company envelope, taped it on top of the portfolio, and darted back out without anyone seeing me. I was beginning to realize I had no backup plan and I was not leaving things in a good way for myself. “Oh well,” I whispered, sliding back into my idling car and heading to my apartment. “I guess as long as Bellamy chooses me, I won’t need a backup plan.”

Chapter 9

My friends were all there, along with someone Betsy knew who had worked for either a designer or a fashion magazine, or both, in New York. Her story was shifty, but I had too much on my mind to get analytical about it. Lucky me, she had stolen a bunch of clothes before she was fired.

I felt like a queen, propped up on pillows on Betsy’s sofa, sipping champagne. Rachel started things off with an apologetic toast: “To Emma,” she said, raising her champagne flute. “We congratulate you on getting this far, accept your new status as reality TV star, and look forward to some camera time ourselves when we serve as bridesmaids in your two hour on-air wedding special.” Everyone clinked glasses. “And,” she added, looking pointedly at Betsy, “we are sorry we weren’t more supportive at first. Please forgive us.”

“I forgive you,” I said.

“Then let’s get down to business,” said Betsy.

“What do you think of this one?” asked Judijean, fluffing the sleeves of a flowered, velvet and chiffon calf-length dress. “I wore it in my choir director’s wedding.”

“Velvet and chiffon. What season was that for?” asked Rachel.

“March, of course,” said Judijean.

“Have you ever seen the show?” asked Lauren.

“Of course, I’ve watched it with you,” said Judijean.

“Well, Judes, that dress is not remotely sexy,” said Lauren.

“Betsy said to bring nice, formal dresses,” said Judijean. “Which this is. Both. Nice and formal.”

“It’s cute,” I said. It was not cute. At all. “But,” I continued, “I don’t think it’s going to make Bellamy take notice.”

“Why don’t you take a look at the gowns I brought,” said Betsy’s friend Maggie, the dress thief. My ears perked up at the word ‘gowns.’

“Yes, let’s,” I said.

“This gown,” said Maggie, “would be perfect. Check out the sequins here, and the slit, and,” she spun it around, “look how low the back is.”

“I love it!” I said.

“Hang it over there with the other stuff that needs to be tried on,” Rachel said to Judijean, who unquestioningly did as she was told. We have a bad tendency of ganging up on Judijean sometimes when the five of us are together.

“This one would be pretty on you,” said Maggie, holding up a sparkly gold mini dress. It was covered in sequins and had an asymmetrical band of fringe on its hem.

“I think it’s a little… loud for me.”

“Definitely try it on,” said Betsy.

“It will fit right in on the show,” Rachel agreed, handing it to Judijean, who gophered it over to the other dresses and returned like a loyal dog. I’d never given this dynamic of our group much thought; it only happened when all five of us were together. In groups of two, three, or even four we typically treated her more like one of the gang. It got me thinking about the dynamics of living with all those girls. I had to come in strong and be an Alpha girl, or I was going to end up as the group’s Judijean. I knew from Christine’s slip-up on the phone that Shar had made it onto the show, and she clearly had a target on my back. As someone who is usually rather reserved, I could see myself being bullied and pushed around by a group of tacky, abrasive girls.

“Can I talk to you all about something?” I asked. I wished Maggie wasn’t there, since I barely knew her, but I didn’t have the luxury of rescheduling this talk.

“Sure,” said Lauren. “What’s up?”

“I’m a little nervous to be around all those girls. What if I can’t remember who’s who?”

“Who cares?” said Rachel. “You’re just there for Bellamy.”

“Okay,” I said. “Good point. But what if they push me around?”

“They won’t push you around! They’ll love you,” said Betsy.

“One of them already has it in for me. She seems to think I’m really plain and boring.”

“You wouldn’t have gotten on the show if the producers didn’t see something special in you,” said Rachel.

“The video diary I submitted of myself was a little wackadoo. I’m afraid I only got on because they think I’m more of a freak than I really am.”

“You’re overthinking this,” said Lauren. “Be yourself and it will work out fine.”

“I know that we just met,” said Maggie, “but I’d like to add something if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all,” I said, bracing myself. What had she already seen in me that needed to be corrected?

“Be yourself,” said Maggie, “but if that stops working for you, try being someone else. Find the person in the room who is least likely to get picked on, and act like they act.”

“Oh. I never thought of that,” I said.

“That’s good advice,” said Judijean. She took a sip of champagne, nodding thoughtfully.

“What if I’m not sure what I’m doing wrong?” I asked. “It’s hard to stop doing something if you aren’t aware what it is that you’re doing.”

“Well,” said Maggie, “maybe you can find a friend on the show and ask her. I mean, if it comes to that.”

“Which it won’t,” said Betsy.

“Don’t worry, Emma,” said Rachel. “You’ll be great.”

“I don’t think you should ask anyone what you’re doing wrong,” said Lauren. “It will be like relinquishing control. The producers will surely get it on film and you’ll look dumb.”

“The dumber she looks the longer they’ll keep her on the show,” said Maggie.

“I thought you were trying to help me,” I said.

“I am!”

“But it’s up to Bellamy how long she makes it,” said Judijean, “so she needs to not screw it up with him.”

“Judijean is right,” I said. “Let’s stop talking about it. I will just be myself and hope for the best.”

“Good plan,” everyone agreed, nodding.

“Where were we,” said Maggie, unzipping a garment bag and pulling out a navy strapless gown. “This one retailed for almost ten thousand dollars. You’ll definitely want to take it with you.”

“She sure will,” said Lauren, passing it on to Judijean to hang up.

“We’d better start the fashion show,” said Rachel, glancing at her watch.

“I can’t believe I’m going to get to wear all these fancy clothes,” I said, grabbing a heap of clothes and taking off down the hall to Betsy’s bathroom to try them on.

“You’re going to have to get over your fear of public nakedness,” Betsy shouted after me.

I ignored her, returning in the navy dress. It was amazing. Insane. Perfect. I stuffed my feet into some businessy pumps for height and spun around in front of them.

“You aren’t serious about those brown shoes, are you?” Maggie asked, mortified.

“No, I’m just wearing them so the dress doesn’t drag on the ground.”

“Whew! You were making me really nervous.”

“Don’t worry, Maggie,” said Betsy. “Emma has good fashion sense.”

“That looks gorgeous,” Lauren said to me.

“I love it,” said Rachel.

“I think you should wear it when you first meet him,” said Judijean.

My confidence rising, I went back to the bathroom and returned in the gold dress. This time I made a point to pair it with strappy sandals.

“Lovely,” said fashion-expert Maggie.

“Divine,” said Rachel.

“Immaculate,” said Betsy.

“You’re all too nice,” I said, blushing.

“No, we really mean it. You look positively gorg, Emma,” said Betsy. “Now try on this,” she said, holding up one of Lauren’s shiny string bikinis.

“Um, wait a minute,” I said, hobbling over to the suitcase I’d brought along, and rummaging through it.

“Are you honestly that bad at walking in heels?” asked Lauren.

“Not normally, but these are so high. And they’re spiky. What brand are these? They’re really uncomfortable.” I pulled my foot back and looked over my shoulder, examining the bottom of the shoe. “Shoop-de-doops? What kind of a brand is that? Seriously? Whose shoes are these?”

“Mine,” Judijean said, guiltily raising her hand. “Bud likes me to be a chef in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom.” She shrugged her bony shoulders pathetically.

“Enough with the evening gowns,” Betsy said. “Take them all with you. Now we need to work on your walk. And you have to figure out which swimsuits to wear. The hot tub scenes are critical.”

“I was just getting to that,” I said, pulling some swimsuits from my suitcase. “What about this one?” I held up a two piece suit with sea horses on it.

“Is that some kind of washrag?” asked Lauren.

“No, it’s a terry cloth bikini. I love it. Feel it,” I said, handing it to anybody who wanted a touch.

“You’re scaring me,” said Rachel.

“How about this one?” I asked, holding up another favorite: a purple racerback tank with yellow trim. “There’s a story about this suit,” I began. “Remember how I used to teach water aerobics to old people when I was in college? Well, those old men couldn’t keep their eyes off me when I wore this suit. I had a maroon suit too, but this one drove them crazy. See how the legs are cut kind of high? They loved it. They could barely hang on to their noodles whenever they saw me in it. My biggest fan, Albert, used to call me Grapey, and it was all because of this suit.”

“They were holding their noodles?” asked Judijean.

“Are you mad? They’ll kick you off the show for wearing a one piece,” said Rachel.

“Well, that kind of one piece, anyway,” said Lauren.

“Kicking me off for something like that would probably be against the law,” I said.

“Uh uh,” Rachel replied, shaking her head. “That’s why they film it in all those different countries. So they can rule and oppress you without American laws to keep you safe.”

“You said she has fashion sense,” Maggie said to Betsy.

“I was wrong.”

“Okay, I get it,” I said, dropping my purple suit and picking up the shiny blue one instead. “I will wear these slutty suits you brought. I can do it. But I’m not trying them on right now.” I gathered them up into a heap and stuffed them into my suitcase.

“If you can’t try them on for us, how are you going to wear them on television?” asked Rachel.

“I don’t know.”

“Emma, I’m with Rachel on this,” said Judijean. “I think you should try them on here and get our opinion, so you’re prepared once you’re on the show.”

“Ugh. Fine,” I said. I took the suits down the hall and closed the door. For a moment I stood there just looking at them, wondering if anyone would notice if I never came back. I could hear Lauren grumbling about having to leave soon, so I finally put one on. My already wavering confidence took a nosedive as I stood in front of Betsy’s full length mirror in her bathroom. My body looked pretty good, except for the place where my boobs were supposed to be. I slid the triangles of fabric closer together, then farther apart, trying to figure out which was more flattering. Eventually I gave up and came out of the bathroom.

“Hmm,” said Lauren, watching me approach.

“Before any of you say anything, I want you to picture Kate Hudson in How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days. Wasn’t she lovely?” I said.

“Huhh…” said Rachel as I got a little closer.

“What does Kate Hudson have to do with this?” asked Maggie.

“I think she is trying to point out to us that Kate Hudson can be attractive without breasts,” said Lauren.

“Exactly!” I said. I did a couple of pirouettes. Maybe positive energy could distract from what I was missing. “Is this better than good old Grapey? How does my butt look?”

“Umm. Hmmm,” said Judijean.

Maggie crossed her arms and looked down at the floor.

“When you’re on the show, I wouldn’t use expressions like ‘good old Grapey’ if I were you,” said Rachel quietly.

“Good point, tone down the nerdiness. No offense, Em,” said Lauren.

“Okay you two, I get it! So what do you think of the suit?” I asked. It was starting to occur to me that perhaps I already was the group’s Judijean. This meant I was going to be even more doomed amongst reality TV women. My confidence was plummeting. The idea of being on television was getting scarier and scarier.

“I don’t think any of us realized how flat you are,” said Betsy.

“You’re my best friends. You never noticed? Really?” I reached for a nearby blanket and wrapped it around me, wishing the fashion show was over.

“I think I have a solution to your problem,” said Lauren, going over to the bags she’d brought along and pulling out a plain black bra. She held it up and began her presentation: “Attention! Everybody stop talking. Betsy, please remain seated. Okay, Emma, this bra is going to be your best friend. It’s inflatable, and I think it looks like a swimsuit top. Don’t you all think so? Close enough, right? I have two more of these. One is red and the other is pink and really lacy, but you could just pretend it’s a lacy swimsuit top. If you mix and match these with different bottoms, it will end up looking like a bunch of different swimsuits. Try it on,” she said, handing it to me.

I wasn’t about to argue after the non-response I’d just gotten, so I took it back into the bathroom and examined it. Each side had a tiny button inside that said Pump me. I pressed each button five times, watching the cups inflate. Then, just for good measure, I pressed each button five more times. Wow! I was impressed! I switched out my bikini top for the bra and checked myself out in the mirror. To me, it looked like two small flotation devices were strapped to my chest, but I went out to get my (so-called) friends’ opinions.

“Much better,” said Rachel

“So much better,” said Lauren.

Judijean just nodded. She looked a little skeptical.

“Are you sure?” I asked, turning to Betsy and Maggie.

“It’s your only solution,” said Maggie.

“She’s right. Not a perfect fix, but better than having nothing at all,” said Betsy.

“If I was French, I’d embrace my flatness. Wouldn’t it be better to just, you know… be myself maybe?”

“Non,” said Maggie.

“Will Bellamy be disappointed if he realizes these aren’t real?”

“You little slut,” squealed Lauren. “How’s he going to figure that out?”

“Knowing how slowly you take things, you’ll be engaged by the time he realizes there is nothing there,” said Betsy.

“What we’re trying to say is, by the time he realizes anything, he will like you too much to care,” said Judijean.

“And he will thank you for not embarrassing him on television by showing people how flat you truly are,” said Lauren. “Like, if you two get married, and who you are starts to be a reflection on him.”

I sighed. “Okay. I will wear inflatable bras on national television in front of millions of people and pretend they’re swimwear. I’d better go now. I have tons more stuff to do before I leave.” Honestly, all I could think about was hanging out with Pete.

My friends helped me load up more gowns, shoes, swimwear, jeans, and sundresses than any normal woman would need in a lifetime, and Judijean even helped me take it all back to my apartment. As I hugged her goodbye I suddenly became sad. Homesick, almost.

“I can’t believe I might be gone for months,” I said.

“Let’s hope you are,” she said.

“And maybe even longer. I mean, probably not, but who knows?”

“Bellamy’s going to be crazy about you,” she said. “And you’ll be great. You two will definitely end up together. I can feel it in my gut.”

“That’s sweet of you to say, but…”

“I mean it! You’re going to be Mrs. Emma Timberfrost the next time I see you. Or engaged at least. I’m sure of it!”

“Thanks for everything,” I said as we gave each other one more hug and said goodbye.

I fixed myself a cup of tea, watching her return to her car on the street down below me. It seemed unfair that she was going back to Bud, while I had such an amazing opportunity ahead of me.

When my tea was ready, I took a sip, and then looked around me at the piles and piles of garment bags, shopping bags, and shoe boxes. They spilled over from room to room of my apartment. I knew I needed to get everything organized and hung up right away or it would all become a wrinkly mess. I considered giving Pete a quick phone call, but I forced myself to stay focused. Normally organizing clothes would be on my top five list of favorite activities, up there with receiving freebies from interior design trade shows and watching old episodes of Three’s Company. It was throwing me for a slight loop that I didn’t care to take second looks at these clothes, many of them designer originals. However, despite my uncharacteristic apathy, I changed into an old concert t-shirt and some yoga pants and got to work.

Halfway through hanging up garment bags in my closet, I heard a knock at my door. My heart skipped a beat when I opened the door. It was Pete, looking cold and cute, holding a bouquet of pink roses.

“I know it’s late, but do you mind if I come in?” he asked.

I kicked the piles out of the way and smiled. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Chapter 10

“You really didn’t have to get me flowers,” I said. I couldn’t stop smiling. I put them in water, trying to hide my excitement.

Pete followed me into the kitchen. “What’s with all these shopping bags and shoes?” he asked. Then his face fell. “Oh, I get it. They’re for the show, right?”

“Right,” I said, still fussing with the flowers, unable to meet his eyes.

“Congratulations on making it on.”

“Thank you.”

“When do you have to leave?”

“Wednesday,” I said. I’d never seen him look sad before. It made me feel a little sick. And very disgusted with myself. “I’m sorry Pete.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” He shrugged.

“But I am.”

“Then don’t go.”

“Pete. I have to go.”

“You do?”

“I mean, I’ve gotten this far. I can’t back out now.”

“Don’t say you can’t when you mean you won’t.”

“I mean I can’t. I made a commitment to the show.”

“To the show?”

“Yes. To the show.”

“Okay. If that’s how you see it.”

“Plus, it’s exciting. It’s a big deal that they picked me.”

We stood awkwardly in the kitchen for too long, neither of us speaking.

“What time do you leave on Wednesday?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.

“I’m not sure yet.”

“They aren’t giving you a lot of notice about any of this, are they?”

“I guess not.”

“That might not be a good sign. To me, that says they don’t respect you very much.”

“I don’t know if it really means anything other than that they’re disorganized.”

“Well, be careful.”

“I will. The flowers are beautiful. Really nice.” I sniffed them. “And they smell really pretty.”

“I’m glad you like them.”

“Do you want a beer? Or we could share some wine?”

“A beer would be good.”

“Okay.” I opened two and handed him one, leading us over to the sofa in the living room. I sat down in the middle but instead of settling in beside me, he sat across from me on a chair.

Oh. So that was how he was going to be. Fine. No problem. In fact, it was probably better this way.

“I like this,” he said after taking a swig. He scrutinized the label. “It’s very… hoppy.”

“Glad you like it. I have a whole sampler box of microbrews I got for Christmas from one of my sisters. Her husband is really into beer.”

“That’s cool,” said Pete, taking a swig.

“Crate is more like it. There must be thirty bottles of beer. My whole fridge is full. If you look in there right now it’s just condiments and beer. Really, it’s kind of shameful.”

“Nice,” said Pete, glumly examining the label.

“Some of the flavors are quite unusual,” I continued, trying to lighten the mood. “For instance, pumpkin spice. That sounds horrible to me. Especially the spice part. Pumpkin, maybe I could handle, but once you add spices, well, that’s just gross. There’s also cranberry. I think that has the potential to be good. Let’s try that one next. We’ll split it. Then there’s lavender. That sounds bad. Lavender and beer are, like, opposites. Umm, coffee is another one I think. That’s a stout, of course. Do you like stout? I do. Anyhow, there are all kinds of crazy flavors. What I’ve tried so far has been good for the most part, believe it or not. I don’t have to work in the morning so we could drink our way through all of them if you want.”

“I guess I’m just wondering what you’re thinking. I was under the impression something is happening here.”

“Huh?”

“Weren’t you?”

“I’m not sure I’m following you, Pete.”

“What are you going to do if you make it to the end? I’ve seen those shows. I know the whole point is to get married. What’s your plan if it goes that far?”

“I don’t know,” I said. Couldn’t we keep talking more about beer?

“Am I crazy, or was something happening here?”

“Do you mean happening with us?” I asked.

Pete looked exasperated. “Yes.”

“Well, maybe. Maybe something was starting.”

“Maybe? Just maybe?”

“Okay. Yes. Something was happening.”

“Well thanks for mustering up enough integrity to admit it.”

“Pete, you don’t need to be like this. I’m going to leave soon and I don’t want to feel like we’re not friends anymore.”

“Friends? You don’t want to feel like we’re not friends?”

“Don’t nitpick over semantics.”

“I’m not.”

“You know how much I love those shows. It is such a big deal that I’m about to be on one. Can’t you be happy for me? This is just something for fun. It’s not that serious. And you knew about it before anything ever started with us. I don’t understand why you’re so angry.”

“I’m not angry.”

“Oh really? That’s not how it seems.”

“You know what? I’m not angry at all. But tell me what you’re going to do if it goes to the end and he proposes to you.”

“If it got that far, if I let it go that far, it would mean that was what I wanted. So I would say yes.”

Pete set down his unfinished beer, stood up, and walked out of my apartment without even saying goodbye.

Chapter 11

I spent the rest of my evening organizing clothes and taste-testing gourmet beer, alone. Since I’d started with the more traditional flavors, it got to the point that those remaining were so bad that I could only handle a couple of sips of each. The lavender proved to be the most terrible, as expected. Working my way through the beer was kind of like having a box of chocolates and wrecking each one with a teensy bite. Even though they were inedible to begin with, it carried a certain guilt.

At midnight I thought I heard Pete at my door, but when I took a look into the hallway it was empty. I considered going over to his place, but I figured he wouldn’t want to see me. So I packed for my trip and worked my way through even more bad beers. Throughout the evening, my mood jumped from sobby and guilty to self-righteously angry until I passed out on my bed a little after one o’clock.

At six o’clock in the morning I was awakened by knocking on my door. I wrapped myself in my comforter and went out to see who dared to bother me so early. It was Pete. His hair was tousled, his face was stubbly, and his eyes were bloodshot. He’d never looked better.

“I know it’s really early. I haven’t even fallen asleep,” he said.

“Come in,” I said, taking his hand and pulling him inside my apartment.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he said. He hugged me and I inhaled him.

“I’m sorry too. Come lie down with me,” I whispered, too sleepy to care about consequences.

“Are you sure?”

“We’re just going to sleep,” I said. But just to be safe, I stopped off in the bathroom and brushed my teeth. When I got to my bedroom he was nervously perched on the corner of my bed, waiting.

“Lie down. Go to sleep,” I laughed. I slipped out of the yoga pants I’d thrown on when the doorbell rang, so I was just in a t-shirt and undies and slid into bed. I patted the spot next to me. “Don’t you want to take off your jeans?”

He stood up and unzipped them. His eyes were locked into mine and I felt my heart start to race. He got into bed, wrapped his arms around me, and kissed me. He was so sweet, so passionate. My body pulled up to meet his, seeming to melt right into him. I pushed any thoughts of the future away, happy to have one perfect day with him.

**********

Okay, I’m just going to admit it. We had sex four times and then we got a gourmet red pepper pesto pizza delivered around three o’clock since by then we were famished. We watched National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation and split the last beer. The coffee stout. It was delicious. Then we had sex one more time and he spent the night. I am in love. I mean, I didn’t tell him that, but I am. It was the best day of my life.

Now I’m on a plane, somewhere over Oklahoma I guess, getting closer and closer to California. What have I done? Continuing on with this show is the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.

I will just tell the producers I’ve made a terrible mistake. I’m sure they’ll understand. In fact, if I wait for a day or two and announce it when we’re already filming, it could make great TV. Maybe they will even thank me for a bit of unscripted drama.

“Another Bloody Mary, Miss?”

“Keep ‘em coming,” I told the flight attendant, holding up my empty plastic cup.

“Are you traveling for business or pleasure?” asked the man beside me. Couldn’t anyone come up with a new line?

“Business,” I mumbled. I hate talking to people on planes. The chatty types know they’ve got you cornered and unless you pretend to be asleep, they abuse your captivity.

“Business,” he said, nodding and squinting a little. “By the way, I’m Mart Jarrett.” He shook my hand and fished in his suit pocket for a business card. “Here you go. What did you say your name was?”

“Emma.”

“Nice to meet you, Emma.”

“Likewise Mart.” I looked at his card. He was a Senior Managing Production Analyst. That sounded important, but not important to me.

“Let me guess,” he said, tapping my tray table, “you’re going to be an actress, right? You’re going to be on some new TV show.”

If we weren’t on our way to Los Angeles I might have been a little impressed. “Nope,” I said.

“Hmmm. You’re a pharmaceutical sales rep.”

“Close, but no. Good try though.”

“You’re in some kind of sales, though. Right?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, you’re attractive, and you like to drink.”

“Listen, I need to get some sleep. Nice talking to you.”

“Marketing?”

I shook my head, sliding my padded sleep mask that says Princess down over my eyes. Before I knew it, I was dreaming. Bellamy and I were shopping at an outdoor market. Only he kept turning into Pete. Somehow, they were the same person. My ears were hurting and I couldn’t choose whether I wanted to be with Bellamy or Pete, but since they were the same person, I realized I could have them both. Next we were on a bus. Bellamy had turned into Pete again, and I realized I was glad. I hoped he would stay Pete and not turn back into Bellamy. We were walking through the desert holding hands. I was so thirsty and my ears hurt so much! Then we were getting jostled around. We were back on a bus, rambling through the desert. We were going to crash!

I awoke to discover that we had landed and people were already standing up, gathering their luggage.

“You really passed out,” said Mart.

“I guess I did,” I said.

“You were mumbling. You sounded really distressed.”

“Oh, really? I’m fine now.” My head was swimming. How many drinks had I had? I started fixing my makeup since I’d been warned that I would be met at the airport by people from the show. I looked awful! The sleep mask had totally smooshed my eye shadow and mascara. I glanced up and saw the seats in front of me rapidly cleared out. Time was running out! I tried to discreetly pick some spices out of my teeth. Those must have been from way back at the airport bar where I got that really zesty Bloody Mary. Wow, was I a disaster. I popped a mint.

“Bye,” said Mart. “Have a good stay.”

“Thanks. You too,” I said, staying put, working a brush through my hair. “Go ahead,” I said to the people behind me. I spritzed on some perfume and touched up my lip gloss.

“I’m afraid we’re going to need you to clear out,” said a flight attendant when I was the last one remaining on the plane. I had just dumped out my purse onto the seat beside me in an effort to locate my face powder. I was also trying to gauge whether I had time to apply false eyelashes.

“Oh. Me? Oh. Yes, of course.” I stood up, gathered my purse contents, stuffed everything into my carry-on, and stumbled out of the plane. It wasn’t long before I saw an annoyed looking man standing beside two beautiful women, holding a sign with my name on it. I drew in a deep breath, trying to pull myself together.

“Hello,” I said, holding out my hand, smiling brightly. “I’m Emma.”

“Hello, Emma. I’m Mitch. I’ll be escorting you ladies to your new home. So,” he said, looking around him at the other women, “now that Emma has joined us, we’re ready to go.”

“Hi,” said one of the women. “I’m Cashmere. You can call me Caj. Are you from Chicago too?”

“Uh huh,” I said. “Were you on that flight?”

“Yes. We both were,” she said, nodding at the other woman, who still hadn’t spoken. “That’s Nickie. She’s from Rockford.”

“And you’re both on the show as well?” I asked.

“Yes. Obviously,” said Nickie.

“Oh, great,” I said. I hadn’t occurred to me there would be other contestants on the flight. I tried to recall if I had yelled at the flight attendants or created any kind of a scene. All I knew was that I’d had way too much to drink. I could barely keep up with the three of them, even though I had on flats (how dumb of me) and the other two women were wearing high heels.

“What about our luggage?” I suddenly remembered, stopping in a panic.

“It will all be brought to the mansion,” said Mitch, not even looking back.

“Are we going there now?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“Oh. Okay.” A mansion! A mansion! How exciting! I hurried along, realizing that part of what was slowing me down was the large carry-on bag I was pulling behind me. The other two women had somehow known to check everything.

“This way,” said Mitch, leading us outside into the warm California night. It hit me like a big hug straight from God.

“Ahhhhh, it feels so good,” I said, unable to contain myself. I couldn’t believe hours earlier I had been in blizzardy Chicago. Even though I’d been here just a few days earlier, I couldn’t help myself.

“You’re a freak,” said Nickie.

A limo was waiting for us. The driver wore a fancy suit and a little cap. He was holding the door for us, standing as erectly as a Buckingham Palace guard, and smiling with theatrical grandeur. I had the feeling he was an actor who happened to drive limos and this was his big break.

“Hi you,” Nickie said to him.

“Welcome, ladies,” he said. We piled in and he put my carry-on in the trunk.

“Champagne?” asked Mitch. He poured us all glasses before we could answer. “To all of you finding love, with Bellamy,” he said. We clinked glasses. Even in my drunken state, I recognized that his toast made no sense.

“So, ladies, let’s get to know each other,” said Cashmere. “Like I said, I’m Caj. I’m from Chicago and I’m a model. Mainly swimwear, but other stuff too. Maybe you’ve seen me on water commercials?”

Nickie belched into the crook of her arm and looked out the window at the lights going by.

“I’m Emma,” I said. “I’m from Chicago too. I’m an interior designer.”

“Oh, cool,” said Caj. She looked at Nickie and then looked back at me and rolled her eyes, as if to say What a mess. I smiled, glad to be included in the joke.

“More champagne?” asked Mitch, topping us all off. I noticed Caj had hardly had more than a sip, while Nickie and I were already at the bottom of our glasses. I decided I had better pace myself.

“How will tonight play out, Mitch?” Caj asked, turning her bright, smizey eyes on him and smiling deliciously.

“You three will get a chance to change into evening gowns and fix yourselves up if you need to, and then we’ve got two other girls coming in from Florida who are going to be joining you. I think it will be about one o’clock when you get to meet Bellamy for your first cocktail party.”

“One o’clock in the morning?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“What? We’re meeting him tonight? Already?”

“That’s right,” said Mitch. “Are you excited?”

“But the producers said we were meeting him tomorrow.”

“Technically, it will be tomorrow, since it won’t be happening until after midnight.”

“Oh.” I looked at Nickie and Caj. They seemed to know this already. They calmly drank their champagne, Nickie still glaring out the window and Caj stretching her long legs, looking a little bored. I felt like a nervous little mouse next to two cats.

“Here we are,” said Mitch, as the limo took a sharp right and began to climb up a mountain. We went up, up, up, eventually stopping in front of a huge, rambling ranch house.

“This isn’t exactly a mansion,” said Nickie.

“It’s a mansion,” said Mitch.

“Not really,” said Nickie.

“If you wanted to buy it you would need nine million dollars. It’s a mansion.”

“Nuh-uh. When you say ‘mansion’ this is not what someone would picture. This looks like my parents’ house. Is the cocktail party tonight going to happen at a real mansion?” she asked.

The limo driver opened our door and Caj and I stepped out while Nickie stayed planted.

“Yes. Where Bellamy is staying is probably more what you might consider a traditional mansion. It’s taller and has a nice fountain in front of it,” said Mitch, a tight smile on his face.

“Then I guess this is fine,” said Nickie, sliding out and joining us.

“Okay, ladies,” said Mitch. “Go right inside and have a seat. From here on out you will have microphones on you at all times. They’ll get that all taken care of for you inside. Anyone in there who is part of the show is there to help you. Just consider them all producers and ask them for help if you are confused, or need assistance in any way. Okay? Filming for the show starts when you meet Bellamy, so get ready! For now, make yourselves comfortable. There are drinks and some nice fruits and cheeses waiting for you in there. I suggest you eat something because you’ve got a long night ahead of you. Your luggage should be arriving anytime. We’re going to ask you to stay in this immediate area of the house, right here, and use just the restroom in this area when you get ready. Got that? Like I said, you will be meeting two more girls from Florida soon.” He glanced at the time on his phone. “Rob should be arriving any minute with them, and the five of you will be going to the cocktail party together, but you are not going to meet the rest of the girls until you get to the party. Got that? So no wandering around, because other girls will be getting ready here too, in other wings of the house.”

“So, this is where we’re going to live? This is our house?” asked Nickie.

“Yes,” said Mitch.

“I’m just so disappointed.”

“Did you come here to find love, or to stay in a mansion?” asked Mitch.

“Both,” said Nickie.

“Anyway,” he continued, focusing on just Caj and myself, “have a seat, relax, grab a snack, and get ready for the party as soon as your luggage gets here. If you have any questions, they’ll answer them for you inside.” He turned his attention away from us and hit a couple of buttons on his phone, “Hi. Yep, we’re here. The Chicago three. Okay, sounds good.”

“Hi,” said a cheery little blonde woman, opening the door and waving us inside. “Come on in! Would you like something to drink?”

“Bye!” yelled Mitch. “Good luck!”

We went inside and were ushered down the hall to what I guessed was a master suite. Instead of a bed, though, there were two floral sofas and a low coffee table. On a banquette by the door was a spread of fruit and cheeses. They weren’t nice, though. They looked like the kind of fruit and cheese plates you’d get at a Piggly Wiggly, with the layer of plastic wrap removed. They weren’t even on nice platters. I popped a grape in my mouth as someone attached a microphone to me.

“Our luggage is here,” exclaimed Caj, clapping her long, skinny, alien hands together in glee.

I jumped up and followed her, relieved to be able to change from my frumpy outfit into an evening gown. I vowed that for the remainder of my time here I would look as perfect as I possibly could, even if it meant I’d be uncomfortable the entire time.

“The Florida bitches are here,” said Nickie.

I hauled all my luggage into the bathroom, determined to change before either of them met me. What had I been thinking to dress so badly on such an important occasion? I mean, flats? Flats? “Really, Emma? How could you? How could you?” I asked my reflection. I looked puffy, blotchy, exhausted. I had never looked worse!

Seconds later there was pounding on the door. “We all need to get ready,” yelled Nickie.

“Just a minute,” I said. I wriggled out of my jeans and shirt and stepped into a sparkly blue gown. I was bloated from all the salt and alcohol and could barely zip it. Even my neck looked puffy. I fought hard to keep from crying. I knew once I started I might totally fall apart. The only thing keeping me together was the sleepy cloud of drunkenness that told me perhaps none of this was really happening.

“Let! Me! In!” yelled Nickie, banging the door after each word.

“Fine,” I said, unlocking the door and shoving my stuff into the corner.

“Did we lose a mic?” asked the short, blonde woman, popping her head into the bathroom. “You know you need to be mic’ed at all times,” she said, wagging a finger at me.

“Sorry,” I said. I realized she must have heard me scolding myself in the mirror. And peeing. And blowing my nose. How was I going to live like this?

“You’ll catch on soon,” she said, getting me all set up again.

“Hi there,” said a gorgeous Asian girl. She confidently wedged herself between me and Nickie and began brushing her teeth. After spitting she said, “I’m Amy. I’m from Orlando.”

“Hi,” I said. Nickie ignored her.

“I’m Marissa,” said a short brunette with big horse teeth. “I’m from Miami.” She made herself at home in the shower, emerging moments later in a sparkly salmon colored gown.

“Are you one of us?” asked Nickie.

“What do you mean?” asked Marissa.

“Are you going to be on the show?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. You don’t look like you belong here. What are you, four eleven?”

“No. I’m five feet tall. I belong here as much as any of the rest of you.” She evaluated herself in the mirror, looking worried.

Nickie shook her head and applied another coat of mascara.

“I think you look nice,” I said to Marissa, feeling awful for her.

“Ladies, the limo will be arriving to take you to meet Bellamy in twenty minutes. Please get into your evening gowns if you haven’t already,” yelled a voice from the master suite.

“Can I have a little privacy?” asked Amy.

“There is no privacy here,” said Nickie. As if to prove her point, she stripped down to just a thong and began thumbing through her evening gowns.

I had been planning to wear my hair up, but I noticed that all the other girls were wearing their hair down in big curls or loose, wavy layers. I followed their lead as best I could in the short amount of time I had; I scrunched my hair with some borrowed mousse, trying to emulate the other women’s beachy waves. I didn’t have a curling iron with me, which, apparently, was how these styles were created. Honestly, I didn’t even know people still used curling irons. They made me think of high school. Giving up on my hair, I put on some tall, strappy sandals and clipped a lizard shaped doodad to my ear. Unsure what else to do, I hauled all my stuff back out of the bathroom and sat down beside the food, nibbling on some cheese cubes and strawberries.

Caj had gotten ready in the master suite while we were all piled on top of one another in the bathroom. Her gown was gold and white and very tight. He shoes were silver, but somehow they worked with the dress. Then, as she crossed an ankle over the other, I noticed the soles had a cool, silver and gold Egyptian pattern on them, further linking them subtly to her dress. How stylish and clever of her. She wore just one bracelet on her upper arm. Her dark brown hair was flat ironed perfectly straight. Though her eyes were heavily lined, she had on barely any other makeup. I casually blotted my thick lipstick onto a cocktail napkin, trying to fight the feelings of inferiority.

One by one the other women joined us in the master suite. First Marissa, a stubby pink sausage. Then Amy, dazzling in a lime green gown. Finally Nickie emerged, looking positively stunning in an emerald green strapless gown. If she could keep her mouth shut, she might win the whole thing.

“You all look fannn-tastic,” said the woman who had reattached my mic. “Are you ready to meet the man of the hour?” Five glasses of champagne appeared, one for each of us. There was clinking and giggles and for a brief moment I felt a strange bond with these four women. The next thing I knew, we were back outside, heels clicking on flagstone pavers, our arms getting goosebumpy from the cool night air and anticipation. I looked down below me at Los Angeles, realizing this was really, really happening. We all got back in the limo, and we were on our way.

Chapter 12

“Oh my God! There he is,” squealed Marissa.

We hadn’t driven far, but we were already at Bellamy’s mansion. Caj clutched at my arm, her eyes wide. “I’m so incredibly excited,” she whispered. I tried to catch a glimpse out the window, but all the other girls were blocking me. The limo was stopping. I wasn’t ready for this at all. I was so nervous I could barely catch my breath. Noooo, said the voice in my head.

The door opened and Marissa was the first one out. We watched her sidle up to Bellamy, with a timid yet saucy little swagger.

“Awkward,” whispered Caj.

“There he is,” said Amy. Finally, I was able to really see him. Something in my gut twisted a little, perhaps it was all those Bloody Marys, but Bellamy looked rather… ordinary. And short. Honestly, Marissa didn’t seem that much shorter than him! She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a big hug, then handed him something.

“What is she saying?” asked Caj.

“What is she giving him?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” said Amy.

“Did any of you bring him anything?” asked Caj.

Before anyone could answer, the limo driver opened the door again and Nickie exited.

“Do you think she can behave herself?” I asked.

“No,” said Caj.

We watched her strut up to Bellamy, grab him by the face, and give him a hard kiss on the mouth. Then she grabbed his tie and pulled him right up to her nose and hollered, “Do you like it rough?” He responded by smiling broadly.

“Repugnant,” said Amy.

“I guess we might want to try being aggressive,” said Caj.

Nickie kissed him again, this time dipping him back.

“She is really strong,” I said.

“Look, she brought something with her, too,” said Amy. We watched as she pulled a beer can out from beneath her dress, guzzled the entire thing with foam running out the corners of her mouth, and then crushed it against her forehead.

“Wow,” said Bellamy. I couldn’t really hear him, but I could see his lips form the word. We then watched Nickie tuck the crushed beer can into his lapel pocket, and give it a little tap like Here’s something to remember me by.

“Is she done yet?” asked Caj.

“Yes,” said Amy, nervously wiping her hands on her dress. She was up next. The limo door opened again and she got out. She stiffly walked up to Bellamy, tripped on a cobblestone but recovered pretty well, shook his hand, said a few words, and was on her way.

Next up was Caj. I watched Bellamy’s face light up when he saw her. Ugh. Why hadn’t I planned it better and gone before her? She was a very tough act to follow, and every bit as smooth as I had feared she would be. She elegantly walked up, chatted, laughed, flipped her long straight hair. He looked positively charmed.

Then it was my turn. I took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to calm myself down. I stepped out and smiled, wishing I had given more thought to this moment. Who was I going to be? The sweet Emma? The sassy Emma? The aloof Emma? Before I could decide, a giant coyote came bounding out of the woods, straight for me. “Aaaaaaaah,” I screamed, turning and trying to make it back to the limo. Suddenly there were people everywhere. Cameramen, producers, people with lights and clipboards. Everyone was yelling and rushing around.

“Scram! Scram! Get out of here,” they yelled at the coyote. As quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. I stood there shaking, confused and stunned. My heart was beating so fast I thought I might pass out. Realizing the cameras were still rolling, I fluffed my crunchy hair, smoothed my dress, and walked up to Bellamy. “Hi. I’m Emma,” I said. “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you.”

Bellamy smiled at me. He wasn’t very intimidating. He had an aura of niceness around him. I couldn’t believe it was actually him. He looked so real. So normal.

“Was that your dog?” he asked me, pointing off towards the woods. I realized he was trying to make a joke.

“Yes. I thought you should get to know him too. We’re a package deal.”

Bellamy laughed and laughed, delighted at what he seemed to think was a quick comeback. I felt strangely calm and, dare I say, bored. “I’ll see you inside,” I said giving him a little hug, realizing as the words came out that this was probably his line.

“I can’t wait to talk with you more, Emma,” he said. I nodded, watching another limo come around the corner.

“Can we get the wildlife under control? Geez! I don’t want someone to lose a limb,” yelled one of the producers.

“Quiet!” yelled someone else.

I went inside and was met by the girls from my limo, along with five other girls, none of whom I’d met yet. Champagne flowed like water. A glass was immediately placed in my hand.

“Did you see that?” I asked. “A coyote almost attacked me!”

“We’re not allowed to stand over where we can see, because we would show up on camera and it would be distracting,” said one of the girls.

“What do you mean a coyote attacked you?” asked Nickie. She had a can shaped welt forming in the middle of her forehead.

“A coyote almost attacked me,” I repeated.

“Not fair!” she yelled.

“Huh?”

“That’s not fair. Now there’s no way you’re going home tonight ‘cause he’s going to feel sorry for you. Did you plan this?”

“Of course not. How could I plan something like that?”

“This show is rigged!”

“Hi,” said a familiar voice. It was Vanessa, the marathon running pediatrician from Atlanta. I saw everyone, even Caj, take notice. Vanessa was wearing a long black gown with spaghetti straps. Her hair was up in a twisty knot that looked messy chic and showed off her long neck and dangly, sparkly earrings.

“Emma,” she said, giving me a hug. “It’s so great to see you again!” The other girls looked jealous that I knew her. I returned her hug and opened my mouth to speak, but was cut off by a familiar, booming voice, overtaking the room.

“Hey, hey, hey, you bitches and hos! I’m Shar Shallahan,” barked my nemesis. I froze, afraid to turn around. “The winner’s here! Yes sir, bitches, that’s me. Threatened much? You should be now that I’m here,” she remarked to the room as a whole.

I sat down on a sofa and sipped my champagne, trying to avoid her beady eyes. All the glasses had little charms attached so we could tell them apart. The charm on mine looked like a green, sparkly grasshopper. I pretended to be enthralled by it.

“I remember you,” said Shar, pointing a dagger finger nail at me. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“Surprise, here I am,” I said. I looked around for Nickie, sensing that, like dogs, they would either form a power pack or take each other down.

“Is there a television we can watch?” asked one of the women.

“Bellamy is going to come inside as soon as the last girls arrive, and then you will get to meet him some more. So if you’re bored, just wait. It will get very exciting soon,” said a producer.

“I’m not bored,” whined the woman. “I just like TV.”

“I can barely function without my cell phone,” said someone else.

Then everyone chimed in: “Tell me about it! I feel so unplugged.”

“I so agree! This isn’t even civilized.”

“I’m not gonna make it.”

“Ugh! Me too! I’m suffering from withdrawal.”

“Anything could be happening, and we wouldn’t know.”

“My sister is pregnant, and they wouldn’t even make an exception for me. I mean, what if she, like, has a miscarriage?”

“That is terrible.”

“I can’t believe they did that to you!”

More contestants filled the room, including Shyla, the dog-grooming wannabe actress, and Mylar, the single mom. The decibel level of the room grew louder and louder. The overwhelming aroma of perfume, expensive and cheap, was making me lightheaded. The champagne was bubbly and delicious. It seemed much more expensive than what we had been drinking earlier in the evening, though I really wasn’t much of a champagne judge, having never had it many times before this recent onslaught. I began to feel like I was detaching from the hubbub of the room. Hovering over it, almost. I was impressed that I wasn’t yet puking. Hi God. Please don’t let me puke, I prayed. Everyone sounded so nervous. It was enough to make a person’s head spin. Suddenly we were all quieted by the light clinking of a spoon on a glass.

“Hello,” said a bright, excited woman’s voice. We all perked up. It was Catalina Cartwright, the hostess of the show! She looked tall, thin, and gorgeous in a fringed purple dress that was short in the front and long in the back. Not my style; a little too trendy. But it looked good on her.

Cameras were suddenly everywhere. “Welcome! Welcome! You at home, out there all around America, welcome! Love-seeking ladies to my left and right, welcome! Listen up, folks! We have the most diverse crowd of love-seekers ever this year!” she exclaimed. “Lovely women have come from all corners of the country, including Alaska and Hawaii! We even have some international girls!” The cameras focused on two girls I hadn’t met yet. “Angélique comes to us from Paris, and Jessica comes to us from Australia!” Both women smiled confidently. “We really believe that Bellamy is going to find love with someone right here in this room!”

We all cheered.

Catalina Cartwright continued, now looking pensive and speaking slowly, deliberately, “Bellamy is so ready for love, and has so much to give, and after his heartbreak over Alanna Rutherford,” she paused expectantly, as people holding cue cards suddenly appeared, ducking down below plants and behind furniture, out of view of the cameras. The word Boo was written on the cue cards in big, bubbly, black magic marker. It reminded me of the cue cards on The Newlywed Game. I wondered if the same person wrote all cue cards. Like puppets, we all found ourselves booing. Catalina Cartwright nodded and continued, “After that, all of America is ready to see Bellamy find the love he deserves! This season has been coined Bellamy’s Redemption, since it’s an opportunity for Bellamy to redeem himself! And you, lovely ladies, are our cast of amazing candidates! We’re so excited to have you, America is excited to meet you, and Bellamy is excited to love you! Yay! So, without further ado, I’d like to introduce… Bellamy!”

In he walked, blushing fiercely. Catalina handed him a glass of champagne and stepped out of his way.

“Hi ladies,” he said. He cleared his throat and took a sip of champagne. Then he took another. And another. He cleared his throat again. “Can you tell I’m nervous?” he said. We all politely laughed or sighed or made little It’s okay type sounds. Even Shar and Nickie resisted from screaming out. I noticed that Nickie’s head was getting puffier and puffier, and she had rearranged her hair to try to hide the damage. She actually seemed to have been shamed into silence.

“I am humbled to see all you beautiful women here, for me. Like Catalina said, I’m ready to find love, settle down, and start a family. I hope you’re all serious about this journey we are about to embark on. Now, that’s enough serious talk. Let’s all toast to love and adventure!” He raised his glass and we all did too, clinking with whoever happened to be nearby. I was next to Shar and I could smell her sweaty armpit. I avoided hitting her glass. Even that felt like it would have been more charity than I was willing to throw her way.

“I will try to talk with all of you tonight, but if time is going by and I haven’t spoken to you yet, please come find me. Okay?” he said to all of us. We all nodded.

Catalina Cartwright stepped back in and took control of the conversation again: “Our entire season has been generously sponsored by Deluxe Jewelers. That means that each episode you don’t get eliminated, you will also be receiving gorgeous jewelry!”

We all clapped and squealed. Cue cards didn’t have to tell us to do so; we couldn’t help ourselves.

“Two of you will receive gold bracelets from Deluxe this evening, during this cocktail party. Bellamy will give them to the two ladies who make the biggest impression on him. If you receive a bracelet, you will be safe from elimination. At the end of the evening, there will be an elimination ceremony. Anyone not receiving a bracelet by that point will be going home. Three of you will be leaving tonight. Alright! Let’s get this party started!”

Shar wrestled her way through the crowd and took Bellamy’s arm. Vanessa and Shyla were on either side of me. We watched Bellamy and Shar disappear towards the pool.

“I am so drunk,” whispered Shyla.

“Me too,” I admitted.

“Me too,” said Vanessa.

“Did you see Nickie’s head?” I asked them.

“Which one is Nickie?” asked Vanessa.

“I’m not sure where she went… She was in the limo with me. She crushed a beer can on her head when she first met Bellamy,” I said.

“Tell me that kind of thing doesn’t impress him,” said Shyla.

“Speaking of Nickie, I think she might be going home already,” said Marissa, appearing in front of us with a worried look on her face.

“Really?” asked Shyla.

“Yeppers,” said Marissa. She flashed her teeth in a nervous, equine smile before turning serious again. “She was barfing in the bathroom and they think she might have a concussion, so they took her away.”

“Oh, cool,” said Shyla.

“That’s great news,” said Vanessa.

“I’ve gotta use the little girls’ room. Tootaloo,” said Marissa. She wiggled her fingers and ran away with her knees pressed together as if she might have an accident.

“Is it the dress or do you think she’s going to wet her pants?” I wondered aloud.

“It’s probably just that her dress is too tight. Have you noticed that her teeth are taller than she is,” said Shyla.

“Shhh! Stop being stupid, y’all! Here comes Bellamy,” said Vanessa.

“Hi ladies,” he said.

“Hi,” said Vanessa and Shyla. I just smiled a pitiful, crooked smile, having suddenly lost my confidence. Now, standing before us, he suddenly looked taller and more like the Bellamy of my dreams. Intimidating. Out of my league. I began to sweat. He was looking right at me. “Would you like to take a little walk with me, Emma?” He held out his hand.

“Sure, I’d love that,” I said. I was shocked that he was choosing me.

“How are you doing?” he asked, leading me away.

“Good. What about you?” I asked. He was holding my hand. This guy, the same guy I had just been watching on Betsy’s tiny television, was now holding my hand and we were walking along, being filmed, creating a television show of our own. I thought I might hyperventilate.

“I’m great. This is all pretty overwhelming, but I can’t complain,” he said. It seemed like we were having a normal conversation, but we weren’t. It was hard to ignore the camera people who were walking backwards in front of us as well as off to our side. One of them stumbled over a rock and fell on his butt, and we just kept walking like none of it was happening. “Let me tell you, Emma, you made quite the first impression!”

I smiled at Bellamy, unsure what to say. It was so much harder to talk with all these cameras on us. “I can’t take all the credit for that. Really, I can’t take any credit for that,” I added, laughing.

“But you handled it so well.”

“Oh really? Well, thanks. Um, so, did you like Patches? He can be a little intimidating when you first meet him. But he’s a real sweetie once he warms up to you.”

Bellamy laughed. “Patches? You are so funny! I think he would get along really well with my dog, Smurf.”

“Smurf. What a clever name,” I lied.

“Thanks,” he said, nodding enthusiastically.

“Patches goes by the nickname Smurf sometimes,” I said. “How will we keep the two of them straight?”

At that, Bellamy laughed and laughed some more. He stopped walking so he could focus on the laughter. Eventually he said, “Mine is a Schnauzer. I think we’ll be able to tell them apart.” I wasn’t sure why he was finding me so delightful, but at least he was.

“That’s a relief. I’d hate to put Smurf’s sweater on Patches, or vice versa,” I said. Bellamy laughed some more. I laughed too because I didn’t know what else to say. I felt like a total fool and was ashamed that this was all potentially going to be on TV. I pictured Rachel deleting me from her LinkedIn contacts as I tipped into the category of personal liabilities.

As Bellamy’s laughter finally tapered off, I was beginning to wonder what else he and I might find to talk about when suddenly a rectangular velvet box appeared. “Emma,” he said, “I knew right away that I wanted you to have this.” He opened the box and immediately three cameras were upon us. Inside the box was a gorgeous gold bracelet. Uh oh.

He was taking it out of the box. He was fumbling with the clasp. This went on and on. And on. He was putting it on my wrist. It slipped off my wrist and fell onto the ground. “Darn it all,” he mumbled, then looked up at me and smiled. Now he was returning it to my wrist and trying to hold it with his thumb while fastening it. Should I be helping him? I wasn’t even sure if I wanted it! Then again, it was a really nice bracelet. Now he was sweating. And fumbling with the clasp some more. One of the producers stepped in and attached it to my wrist. “Don’t worry, we’ll edit this part out,” she told us.

“Okay, thanks,” said Bellamy. He now looked very serious. “Emma, I knew right away that I wanted you to have this. Would you accept this Deluxe bracelet and continue on with me on a journey to love and happiness?”

What choice did I have at that point? “Of course I will, Bellamy,” I said.

Chapter 13

“It’s almost five o’clock,” Shyla whispered. Her eyes were bloodshot and she looked like hell. She and Vanessa were sitting beside me. The rest of the girls were avoiding me. Vanessa, who had been similarly shunned when she received a bracelet, was on my left, chatting about vaccinations and how parents no longer wanted to give them to children. Neither Shyla nor I were really listening to her. She didn’t seem to care.

“Is this evening ever going to end?” asked Shyla.

“Please join me in the atrium,” said Catalina Cartwright, reappearing before us. She had changed into an orange one-shoulder gown with a little train. She looked fresh and pretty. I suspected she’d been off some place sleeping for the past few hours. We all filed into the atrium, with Vanessa and me taking our places over in the safe zone away from the others. I tried to ignore the jealous glares. I wondered how Bellamy was going to fasten bracelets to all these wrists. It could take days.

He came in the room, catching my eye and smiling. Despite myself, I felt a little flutter of flattered excitement at the attention. The drunk, sleepy crowd had sprung back to life. There was a great deal of buzz over Nickie’s disappearance. Did this mean just two girls would be going home?

“As you know,” said Catalina Cartwright, “we already lost one contestant. Nickie was not feeling well and went home, and she will not be returning. Three more girls will be leaving tonight, leaving just sixteen of you.” Vanessa and I were happy to hear that, but everyone else’s face fell. Catalina smiled and turned to Bellamy. “Bellamy, go ahead please.”

“Hello,” he said. “It’s been great getting to know you all tonight. As you know, some of you are already safe.” He nodded over at Vanessa and me. We smiled. “Now I’m ready to choose which of the rest of you I would like to get to know better. Starting with Cashmere. Caj, would you accept this Deluxe Jewelers gold bracelet?”

“I will,” she said, smiling and stepping forward.

The producers must have anticipated that watching Bellamy fumble through bracelets would not make good television. They solved this dilemma by allowing him to simply hand boxes to the girls, who would then have the bracelet fastened off camera by a nimble fingered assistant.

“Jessica,” he said to the adorable red-headed Aussie, “would you accept this Deluxe Jewelers gold bracelet?”

“Absolutely,” she said in her cute accent.

“Shyla, would you like to accept this Deluxe Jewelers gold bracelet?”

“Yes!” she said. I was relieved that she would be sticking around.

Bellamy continued on, choosing Angélique next, then Mylar, then Amy, and, to my disappointment, Shar. He whittled down the competition until just four girls remained: Marissa, and three others I hadn’t spoken to. I didn’t think Marissa had a chance, but then, to my amazement, he gave the final bracelet to her, sending home three much prettier women. We were all impressed with his nonsuperficialness.

“Great job, ladies,” said Catalina Cartwright, stepping back out into the room. We looked around and Bellamy was gone. Production people began cleaning up the glasses and empty champagne bottles that were littering the room. I felt like we ought to be helping them, but none of the other contestants seemed to be thinking this so I refrained from doing anything.

“When you get back to your mansion,” said Catalina, “you’ll want to get as much sleep as you can. We’ll be back in action before you know it.”

An assistant opened the door and waved her hand at us. “This way! Over here! Come on!” We followed her outside where a big bus was waiting to take us home. “Pile on,” she said.

It was morning. We all looked ragged in the clear, pink light. With little to say we got on the bus and were delivered back to the ranch house. This time we were dropped off at the front door. We wandered around, trying to find where to sleep. I found a room with an empty bed and passed out on it, in my dress. Everyone else did the same. There were enough beds for everyone and we were all too tired to argue about where we ended up sleeping.

I was awakened periodically throughout the morning by the sounds of retching. None of us were doing well when Catalina Cartwright stopped by at two in the afternoon with a gold foil, embossed invitation. “Special delivery for the fab young ladies of Bellamy’s Redemption,” she said, smiling. She was wearing a pink mini-dress and bright purple Gladiator high-heels. They had gold buckles and went up over her knees. In my hung-over state, she looked garish and crazy. I’d been hoping when I heard the bell that she was a pizza delivery guy.

“Ooh! Open it, open it,” said one of the girls I hadn’t met yet. We were all now wearing casual clothes like yoga pants with tank tops or cut-off jeans with t-shirts. Half the girls seemed to have forgotten that we were always being filmed and looked downright ugly. Despite my pounding head, I hadn’t been so careless. I had on a cute little top and jeans, and just enough makeup to look pretty but natural. I also noticed that only a handful of us were still wearing the bracelets from last night. To me, this seemed like a bad move. Unappreciative. Even a little bratty, perhaps. Mine was on my wrist and I made a point to admire it now.

Shar grabbed the envelope and ripped it open. “Angélique,” she began, and then frowned. “I don’t want to read this.” She threw it down on the floor and went into the kitchen.

“I’ll read it,” I said, stepping forward and picking it off the floor. “Angélique, Paris may be the city of love, but I think we can find love here as well. I will pick you up at 6 pm. Look stunning (I know you will). ~ Bellamy.” I handed it to her. “Congratulations, Angélique,” I added.

“Sank you,” she murmured, rushing off to get ready.

“So what does this mean for the rest of us?” asked Marissa, slumping down into the sofa. “We’re just going to sit around here, waiting for something to happen?”

“Have you seen the pool? It’s amazing. We could go swimming,” said Shyla.

“It’s too cold,” said Marissa.

“We could sunbathe,” said Shyla. “I brought a ton of cute suits. I think they want us to wear them as much as possible. Right?”

“It’s too cold today,” Marissa snapped. “I’m used to Miami. It’s freezing here compared to Miami.”

“Is it true that we can’t watch television?” asked Mylar.

“Well, look around,” said a contestant whose name I didn’t know. “Do you see any televisions?”

“No,” said Mylar, sadly.

“This sucks,” said Marissa. She stood up and stretched, showing off her jiggly spare tire. Then she self-consciously yanked her shirt back down into place.

“I miss Cason,” said Mylar.

“Is that your boyfriend?” asked Marissa.

“No. Of course not! He’s my son.”

“What’s Bellamy going to do if he finds out you have a son?” asked Marissa.

“He already knows. And as you can see, he kept me around. In fact, I showed him a picture of the little guy and he said he couldn’t wait to meet him.”

“I guess that just goes to show what a great guy Bellamy is,” said Marissa. “Most guys would run for the hills if they found out someone they were going to date had kids. Even if guys like kids, they want their own kids. Not someone else’s.”

“Not all guys are like that,” said Mylar.

“Most are,” said Marissa.

“Maybe, but Cason is amazing. He’s not just any kid.”

“Everyone thinks that about their own kid, but they’re wrong.”

“Whatever! Were you scared when you were picked last?” asked Mylar.

“No way,” said Marissa. “I knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was going to pick me. He saved the best for last. And you know what else they say? Good things come in small packages.”

“I’m going to make cupcakes, if anyone wants to join me,” said Cashmere. “Delores, do you want to help me?”

“Sure,” said a waif-like girl who looked about nineteen. Her hair was long and so pale blonde it was nearly white. She gave it a twist and stuck a pen in it to hold it in place. The rest of the girls continued complaining and bickering, so I decided to go to my room and take a nap. As I began to doze off, the tantalizing aroma of baked goods filled the house. My mouth began to water. How positively sneaky! I went to my luggage and gobbled up a small packet of almonds to combat the images of dancing cupcakes that were overtaking my brain. There was no way I was going to cave in to that schemer’s scheme! Not when the threat of having to wear a bathing suit on air loomed over us at all times. I returned to my bed and slept for another hour. When I awoke and went out into the living room, cupcake crumbs and sprinkles were littering every surface.

Caj and Delores were still in the kitchen, hard at work. “We’ve got some red velvet that will be ready in five minutes, and some chocolate I just frosted with cream cheese icing,” said Caj, smiling sweetly at me. “There are a few vanilla funfetti ones left, too, if you’re quick,” she added. Then she broke out in song: “Some say love, it is a cupcake, that soothes, the taste bud’s need…Some say funfetti, is the tastiest, there are three left, give them a try…”

“No there aren’t,” said Shar, cramming one in her mouth and taking the other two into the bathroom with her.

“Oh, bummer. Funfetti is my favorite,” I said. “I guess I’ll have to find something healthy to eat instead.” I looked through the refrigerator, settling on some yogurt and a salad. Caj looked annoyed with my choices. Delores was too busy whisking batter to care what was happening around her. We could hear Shar gagging in the bathroom.

“If you puke those up you won’t get any more,” yelled Caj.

“Oh man! I can hear her. How incredibly disgusting,” said Shyla. She set down her half-finished cupcake in a sea of discarded cupcake liners and champagne glasses.

“Delores, where are you from?” I asked her.

“Oakland,” she said.

“What do you do?” I asked.

“Whatever I feel like.”

I nodded and took a bite of my salad.

“Next up,” said Caj, “are salted caramel brownies, maple bacon scones, and pistachio milkshakes. Love me some food blogs, right? Fashizzle! Boo-yah! But if you’re going to be bulimic, stay away. As a model, I know firsthand about eating disorders, and I cannot condone that kind of unhealthy lifestyle. I saw a lot of girls lose their cookies, and lose their life. It’s no joke! You can’t put a price on good health and good eating habits. You know what I mean?” She looked around at all of us. Her wooden spoon hovered over her head, a blob of batter clinging precariously. “And you,” she said, pointing the spoon at me while I crunched on my broccoli, “you’re not anorexic, are you? Because that is just as unhealthy!”

“I’m not,” I said.

“Okay. Well, I really, really wish you’d have a cupcake. A cuppy cake. A cake cup. I don’t have to make just sweet ones. Have you ever had a savory cupcake? Like cheddar and chive? It is to die! Anyway, you should have one. I would just feel better, you know? I guess I’m the mother hen! Laugh out loud, right? What can I say?” She wiped her hands on her apron and shook her head in amusement over herself. “I just love a stocked kitchen! Huh? Yeah? Look at this place, am I right or am I right?”

What happened to the cool girl from the limo last night, I wondered.

“Caj, we’re so lucky you’re here,” gushed Marissa. She was drunk already. Her face was bright red and she was spilling champagne on her chest as she spoke. “I mean, you model, you bake, you sing. What can’t you do?”

“Oh, stop,” giggled Caj.

“No. I’m serious. You’re amazing. How did you get into modeling?”

“Do you really want to hear that old story? Well, I guess. Okay, so I thought when I was a little girl that one day I would grow up and own a bakery, and that was going to be good enough for me. But when I was thirteen my older brother was looking at college campuses. I went with, of course, because thirteen is too young to spend the weekend alone. We were touring Northwestern and there was a talent scout there from an agency called Bluebelles, which is not even in business anymore, and they signed me. Bluebelles! Isn’t that dippy? They were an agency based out of Nashville, and their thing was young girls ages eight to eighteen. They were strictly commercial. That means lots of smiling, lots of wholesomeness. My first few years I was in catalogs and commercials, always wearing silly flowered dresses with big bows in my hair. That’s what they like down south. And everything, I mean everything, was monogrammed! The dresses I modeled were designed with special, I don’t know what you want to call them, lace bibs I guess, just so you had a place to monogram. They were awful! Then I got signed by Elite models when I was sixteen.”

“Wow. Cool,” said Marissa. I looked up and saw that everyone was listening to Cashmere’s story, and they were all impressed. Meanwhile, more cupcakes had come out of the oven and been frosted, and more cupcakes had gone in.

“Who wants to try these? They’re chocolate with a peanut butter cup in the center, and another melted on top. Just a little something I came up with on the fly,” said Caj, holding up a tray.

“Oooh, lemme have one,” said Marissa.

“Take more than one,” said Caj. “On deck are cornflake crusted mini frittata muffins with chunks of aged cheddar cheese. Num num!”

“They sound yummy,” said Mylar, taking a break from flirting with one of the camera guys. “I totally can’t resist peanut butter and chocolate.”

“Only witches can,” said Caj.

“Me, me, me too! I’ve gotta try some,” said some other woman I hadn’t even noticed before.

Pretty soon all the cupcakes were gone.

“Vanessa, tell us something about you,” said Amy, who was unaware that she had two kinds of frosting in her hair.

“I’m too full to talk,” said Vanessa. Then she broke into her same story from the previous night about how parents never want to vaccinate their kids anymore, and what a struggle that is.

I glanced at the clock on the wall and realized that Bellamy would be showing up soon to pick up Angélique for their date. I slipped away to brush my teeth and hair before he arrived. When I returned to the living room, Angélique was sitting on the corner of a chair, dressed in an unusual strapless dress covered in a squirrel print. Since she is French, it worked.

“Where do you sink Bellaneese and me are going?” she asked us. Her accent was cute, but so heavy that she was nearly impossible to understand. I predicted just to myself that Bellamy would get frustrated and send her packing.

“To the zoo?” barked Shar.

“Probably dinner and dancing,” said Amy.

“Oooh! I love zee dancing,” said Angélique.

There was a knock at the door and Bellamy stuck his head in. “Hi,” he said. It took me a moment to recognize him since a huge cowboy hat was blocking the view of most of his face. He smiled and came into the living room, removing the hat and holding it to his chest like he was at a prairie funeral. He was dressed in black jeans with a rope belt, cowboy boots with genuine spurs, and a rodeo shirt. I thought he looked ridiculous. I noticed Angélique’s expression turn to puzzlement, but then she attempted to regain her composure. The other girls seemed a bit more impressed by his ensemble.

“Bellamy, dammit, you look hot,” said Shar.

“Thanks,” he said, turning red.

“Like a hot, dirty cattle thief from Wyoming, or a freakin’ movie star,” Shar continued. She was spitting with each word.

“Yup. Thanks, Shar.”

“I say it like I see it,” she said.

“You all look… nice,” said Bellamy, surveying the room.

But he was lying. Nearly everyone was a mess, covered in frosting and crumbs and cupcake shrapnel. The alcohol was flowing again, and several of the girls were only semi-conscious. Many wore expressions of irritation and mortification that he was seeing them like this. I’m not sure how his arrival was coming as such a surprise, or how they were forgetting about the ever-present cameras. It wasn’t as if the camera guys, who had also each consumed a week’s worth of calories in cupcakes, were easy to block out.

“You look beautiful,” Bellamy told Angélique, taking her hand. They went outside where a Clydesdale was waiting, tied to a small white wicker carriage. We all followed after to watch.

“You are so lucky. That should be me,” yelled Shar, as Bellamy helped Angélique up into the carriage.

“Zee wagon and horse are so nice,” said Angélique.

“Cool,” we heard Bellamy saying, and then away they went, off into the distance.

“That should have been me,” Shar repeated to anyone who would listen. She got up, peeled a cupcake wrapper off the back of her pants, examined it, gave it a lick, and tossed it to the ground.

I continued to watch Bellamy and Angelique recede from view. Honestly, being in that rickety carriage, inches from a giant horse butt, didn’t look so great to me. Aside from right here with Shar, I couldn’t think of many worse places to be. I wondered if maybe it was time for me to have a talk with the producers about going home. As we filed back inside and I was mulling this over, there was a knock at the door.

“I got it,” said Mylar, jumping up and opening the door. There on the ground was an embossed envelope. She snatched it up and tore it open. “It’s a group date! Okay, listen up everyone! Shyla, Delores, Emma, Cashmere, Deb, Aubrey, and Vanessa: Do you like to play? I do! Be ready tomorrow morning at 9 am. I can’t wait! P.S. Six of you will have a Deluxe time. One of you will not. ~ Bellamy. What could that mean? ‘Do you like to play?’ I can’t believe that I’m not on here! I’m so sad!”

“This sucks,” said Shar.

“Oh no! One of us is going home tomorrow morning,” said Cashmere.

“It won’t be you, so why are you worried?” asked Marissa. “Plus, from the sound of it, if you don’t go home, you get more jewelry. I would like to have been included, even if it meant I might go home. Obviously he doesn’t like me. No one ever does. I don’t even know how I got on this show. That bitch Nickie was right. I don’t deserve to be here.”

“I don’t think it’s very fair that Emma and Vanessa got jewelry last night, and now they’re both going on a group date tomorrow morning, while I’m stuck here,” said another woman I didn’t recognize.

“This isn’t about what is fair,” said Vanessa. “This is about who Bellamy has a connection with. Grow up.”

“What do you think we should wear tomorrow?” asked Shyla.

“Something cute but versatile,” I said. I was picturing a sundress and sandals.

“I am just so thrilled he noticed me,” said a plain girl in the corner.

“What’s your name again?” asked Shar.

“I’m Deb. Deb Danners from Duluth.”

“What kind of jewelry do you think we’re going to get?” asked Vanessa.

“Lately I’ve been really into diamond barrettes,” said Caj. “They’re just so simple and understated, you know? That teensy bit of sparkle peeking out. I love it. So that’s my guess.”

“I’ll bet we’ll get earrings,” I said, already deciding I could commit to another day of this.

“I used to be a blackjack dealer,” said Deb, opening up like a flower that had finally seen a ray of sunshine. “Who wants to play blackjack?”

“I do,” I said. Shyla, Mylar, and Vanessa joined me. That’s where we still were five hours later when the door opened and one of the assistants wheeled out Angélique’s luggage, signifying that she was not destined to be Mrs. Bellamy Timberfrost.

Chapter 14

“Oh no,” said Delores.

We had all just been handed scripts for the play we were about to perform in. We were dressed as barmaids, our hair braided in tight pigtails, wooden clogs on our feet, and polka music blaring in the background to get us in the mood. We were waiting next to the stage that looked like an Irish pub.

“This is confusing,” said Vanessa. “It says here that we’re in an Irish pub, yet they‘re serving lager. Wouldn’t they be serving ale? And these pigtails seem German to me as well. And the music! That’s not Irish! Are we Germans on vacation? What century is it? Why are we speaking English? Furthermore, what’s up with these wooden clogs? None of this makes any sense. I’d like to speak to the director.”

“Don’t you all look fun,” said Bellamy, appearing before us in Lederhosen and a long red wig.

I smiled at him before looking back down at my script. My line was “Take this corned beef with you down the road, why dontcha? And keep your paws off me!” I was pretty sure I could handle it. I scanned my surroundings for a loose cellphone. I was getting desperate to talk to Pete. I had to explain that it would be a few more days. I was sure he would understand, if I could just talk to him for a minute.

“Okay!” yelled the director. “Are you all ready to make your acting debuts?”

We all stood up and gathered around him. None of us, even Shyla who’d had acting lessons, looked very confident.

“I want each of you to commit to your roles. Got that?” asked the director. “Commitment is the key to success when it comes to acting.”

We nodded. Most of us were still trying to memorize our lines.

“Just like commitment is the key to success in a relationship,” he continued. “Right, ladies?”

We nodded again as a collective group. The wooden shoes were killing me and barely staying on my feet, but I tried to keep a neutral look on my face.

“Just like you came into this committed to Bellony Wintergreen, you are going to be committed to this scene. Right?”

We all looked at one another in confusion.

“Okay, ladies! Commit to your character and take your places!”

We lined up, with Cashmere first in line. Bellamy took his place at a table on the stage. I noticed a small crowd of onlookers gathering to watch us and I felt myself start to break out in itchy hives.

“Ready? Action!” yelled the director.

“Oh how I love the Mother Land,” Bellamy said stiffly in what he imagined to be an Irish accent.

Caj stomped up on the stage and set a big mug of beer down on the table. “Here is the pint you asked for, m’lord. Will you be having a bite to eat?”

“I’ll have a spot of tea, if you don’t mind,” said Bellamy.

“Well then, alas, I shall be on my way,” said Caj, stomping off as Deb from Duluth stomped on stage.

“I reckon you have spun a yarn or two to many a young lassie, but ye shan’t spin a yarn at me,” said Deb. She set a plate with a baked potato down in front of him. Then she curtseyed and was on her way.

“Nice touch,” whispered Shyla, who was next in line.

“Potatoes? Potatoes?” roared Bellamy. “I have seen enough potatoes to last me all my days! Come feast or famine, I shall dance me a jig and eat no more potatoes ever!” The director nodded emphatically at Bellamy’s delivery.

Shyla stomped up on stage, losing her shoe on the way. She hesitated, unsure if she should go back and get it or continue on. She turned, went back to retrieve it, and burst into tears. I froze, panicking on her behalf. Crying was definitely not part of the scene.

“I’ve seen your likes around these parts,” she sniffled to Bellamy, “and you have no right to demand my father’s land.” She forgot to set the plastic slab of ham she was carrying down on the table. As soon as she got off stage she remembered she still had it, and she slid it across the floor, where it skidded into the table leg by Bellamy’s foot. He bent down, picked it up, and smacked it down on the table. It was almost like it was supposed to have happened that way. It was a pretty nice save on his part, but the diversion made him forget his next line.

For a long moment, there was silence. The onlookers fanned themselves nervously. In the far distance there were traffic sounds and the faint squabble of a fire truck. I wondered if I should barge on up to the stage. It might be better than all this silence. But then, before I had to decide, he remembered his line and delivered it with gusto: “I will take your father’s land, and I will take your father’s daughters. Hear my cry, wenches. Hear my battle cry.” He looked up at the heavens and pounded his fist on the table.

It was my turn. Miraculously, I made my way up the steps and onto the stage without losing my shoes. I took a deep breath, setting the platter of corned beef in front of him. “Take this corned beef with you down the road, why dontcha? And keep your paws off me!” I yelled. Then I stomped my foot indignantly and left in a huff with my hands on my hips. As I exited, I heard a sprinkling of applause from the audience. I joined Shyla offstage. She was still crying, her heavy stage makeup streaked from where she’d tried to wipe away the tears. She had already unbraided her hair and kicked her shoes to the side.

“Are you okay?” I asked her.

“You were great,” she whispered. “I am so going home.”

“You weren’t that bad,” I whispered. “Even under pressure you still remembered your line.”

“Thanks. I hope you’re right,” she said, blowing her nose into the hem of her dirndl.

“Wait, wait, I forgot my line,” we heard the woman named Aubrey saying. “And these shoes! These shoes hurt so bad! I’m getting splinters in my toes. Can I take a look at my script and start over? Please?”

“No, just do your best to remember,” said the director.

“I’m telling you, I don’t remember it at all. Can’t you give me a hint?” She was crying now too; I could barely understand her through the blubbering.

“Now that she forgot her lines, I’m totally thrown off,” said Delores. “This is unfair to me. The momentum is, like, gone.”

“I think you’re safe,” I said to Shyla.

“If you’re done you can go change,” said one of the assistants. Shyla and I got up and went back to the dressing room. There were juice boxes resting in a big cooler of ice, and things to make sandwiches.

“This is so lame,” said Caj, fixing herself a slice of Swiss cheese and tomatoes on rye. She had changed back into white jeans, zebra striped sandals, and a gold strapless top.

“You really think so?” asked Deb. “I think it’s exciting!”

Aubrey joined us, hiccupping tears away. “What. A. Disaster,” she said.

“Nice. Seriously. Thanks a lot,” said Delores, following right behind her. “I would have been great, but because of you, I blew it. By the way, your line was the shortest: ‘Your porridge, sir?’ I mean, come on! Please! You had three words. Yet still you ruined it. You are totally pathetic.”

“Please stop yelling at me,” said Aubrey.

“Yeah, she feels bad enough,” I said.

“Butt out! This is none of your business, Blondie! I’ll yell at whoever I feel like yelling at,” said Delores. “You haven’t even heard me yell yet.”

Vanessa arrived last on the scene, beaming. “He kissed me,” she said.

“He did?” asked Caj. She set down her tomato sandwich and held her hand to her gold shiny stomach like she might be sick.

“Bellamy kissed you?” sniffed Aubrey.

“Yes! Can you believe it? Bellamy kissed me!” said Vanessa. She couldn’t stop smiling and fanning herself, and her Southern accent had gotten turned up a notch from the excitement. “Y’all, I just gotta say, it was amazing. He is a great kisser! His lips are so soft. Like two velvet flower petals, but, you know, masculine.”

“How did it happen?” I asked.

“We were the last two on stage. I delivered my lines, and as soon as I said the part about my luck being a’changing, just like that, he kissed me.”

“Did the director tell him to?” asked Shyla.

“No,” said Vanessa. “He just did it all on his own. And then, he gave me these,” she said, holding back her hair and showing off dangling sapphire earrings. “I guess this means I am safe for another round.”

“Oh my God,” said Aubrey. “You get a bracelet at the cocktail party, now this. Clearly, you’re his favorite.”

“I don’t think so,” said Vanessa, rubbing her earrings thoughtfully. “Have you noticed how many of you are blonde? I’m not blonde. I don’t think I’m his type.”

“There are all kinds of types here. I don’t think he has a type. And even if he did, your hair is light brown. That is practically the same thing as dark blonde. Am I right? Whatever. You’re his favorite and you know it,” said Aubrey.

“It’s strange that he likes you so much, considering I’m here,” said Caj, glaring at Vanessa. She took a bite of her sandwich and shrugged, seeming genuinely perplexed by the unlikeness of not being someone’s first choice.

“Delores, could I have a word with you?” We all looked up to see Bellamy standing before us, still wearing his costume and wig.

“Sure,” she said. Her face turned as pale as her long white-blonde hair. She followed him out of the room.

“I can’t believe he just showed up like that! What if we’d still been changing our clothes? Yikers! That would have been ultra-embarrassing,” said Deb, rubbing her hands up and down her arms and grimacing.

“Ugh. I’m in Nerdville. I’m second-guessing even being here,” Caj said, locking herself in the bathroom.

“I think he’s going to send Delores home,” said Vanessa to me and Shyla. “You girls missed it, but she behaved like such a bitch. Aubrey messed up a little, and it totally ruined Delores’s concentration, and she was insanely mean about it.”

“She’s horrible,” I agreed. “We saw her behaving that way again, just before you got back here. She had a freakout at Aubrey and me just a little while ago.”

“While you were busy making out with my husband,” Shyla added to Vanessa.

“You really think he’d send her home instead of me?” asked Aubrey, overhearing our conversation.

“I guess we’ll find out soon,” said Vanessa.

Moments later Bellamy was back, looking very serious. “Would you all mind coming over here?” he asked. We all gathered around him, with the exception of Cashmere. Cameramen got up and jumped back into action to catch the big news from every possible angle.

“Where is Caj?” asked Bellamy.

“She’s busy pooping,” said Shyla, smiling sweetly and plugging her tiny freckled nose.

“Well, I’d like you all to hear the news at the same time. Let’s just wait for a minute,” he said. The minute turned to minutes.

“Just tell us! Is Delores gone? Did you send her home?” Aubrey asked.

“Uh, well. You see, she wasn’t very nice, but, um, where is Cashmere?” asked Bellamy. We all shrugged and waited another couple of minutes. Finally Bellamy couldn’t stand the awkwardness any longer. “Is she okay in there? Maybe one of you girls wouldn’t mind checking on her?”

“I’ll do it,” said Shar.

“I’ll go with you,” said Shyla. Then she looked back at us and added, looking straight into a camera, “I groom doggies for a living, so I’m used to stinky smells.” What she’d lacked on stage earlier she was clearly determined to make up for now.

We all stood around, fidgeting and waiting. And then, a moment later, we heard screams. Shar and Shyla came running back to us with looks of horror on their faces.

“What’s wrong?” asked Bellamy. “Is Cashmere okay?”

“Oh shit,” hollered a producer, tossing aside her clipboard and taking off running in the direction Shar and Shyla had come from, for fear she was missing something big. The cameramen went running after her.

“She’s fine,” said Shar. “By fine I mean she’s having sex with one of the lighting guys.”

“Oh no,” said Bellamy, collapsing onto the floor. His wig slid off in his hands. “I’ve lost two more. We’ve barely gotten started and they’re dropping like hotcakes. I know I will never find true love!” He began weeping.

“Bellamy Sweetie, I think you mean flies,” Vanessa said softly, but he was crying too hard to hear her.

“So that confirms it,” said Aubrey, addressing all of us like she was a cheerleading coach. “Delores has been let go.”

“Bellamy, Bellamy, Bellamy,” I said, going to him since I was the closest. I patted his sweaty, matted hair. “It’s going to be fine. Consider yourself lucky that the bad ones are making it so easy for you to weed them out.” I felt like I was comforting one of the kids I used to babysit.

“Are you sure?” he asked me.

“Sure I’m sure.”

“Come on, Emma, let’s go for a walk and talk a little.”

“Alright,” I said. He lifted up both hands so I could help pull him up. ‘Really?’ I thought.

“Do you want me to come with too?” asked Deb from Duluth.

“Uh, no, you can stay here,” said Bellamy.

Bellamy and I walked down the sidewalk a little ways and then he abruptly stopped. “I hope you don’t mind that I cried,” he said.

“Oh, of course not,” I said.

“When I was on the show with Alanna, I really held back. I can see now that hiding my feelings and not communicating enough is what got me into trouble, and why she didn’t choose me.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Actually, I think she just didn’t like me as well as she liked Antonio, but the producers told me maybe it was my bad ability to communicate. I really don’t know.”

“Who can say why two people fall in love?” I said. “Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“See, that’s why I like you. You just always know exactly what to say. What do you do again? Are you a therapist?”

“No, I’m an interior designer.”

“Oh, right. Is um, Emma short for Emily? I mean, I know sometimes it is, but in your case is it?”

“No. I’m just Emma.”

“Do you ever call yourself Emmie?”

“No.”

“Oh. Why not? You should, it’s cute.”

“Huh. I’ll think about that. Bellamy is an unusual name. Is it a family name?”

“Family name? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Was it your mother’s last name before she got married, or something like that?”

“Yeah, no. My name’s not Bellamy Timberfrost. That’s just something they made up for television. Like Cashmere. I’ll bet that’s not her name. And, um, maybe Vanessa. Is Vanessa a real name? My real name is Dirk Wiedenbueller. My parents call me Dirky. If you marry me you’ll be Emmie Wiedenbueller. But, I mean, that’s just our little secret.”

I looked around at all the camera people.

“You won’t believe how much this gets edited,” he said.

“Oh. Weird.”

“So, back to me and my emotions, I hope I didn’t catch you off guard.”

“Not at all,” I said.

“Let me just, real quick, do this,” said a girl with some hair gel in her palm. She stuck her hand between us, and with a couple of flicks of her wrist, she magically turned Bellamy’s hair into a cool, casual style. A powder puff gently blotted my nose. Some lip gloss was dabbed onto my lips. Bellamy looked unfazed, but I felt my pulse quicken a little. Was I becoming an important part of the show? This was the first time any attention like this had been paid to me. I’d seen them fix up Bellamy now and then, but never any of us girls. It all took no more than four seconds, and then she dashed away.

“Thanks,” said Bellamy. “Anyway, Emma, as I was saying, I want to be myself. The real me is a crier. I hope you don’t mind.”

Why would I care? “I don’t mind at all,” I said.

“Really? Cool. ‘Cause I like to climb mountains and look at eagles flying overhead, and cry.”

“How about that? Good for you.”

“Do you think the other girls will mind?”

“I have no idea. But I don’t mind.”

“In that case,” he said, reaching into his pocket, “would you accept these Deluxe sapphire and diamond earrings?”

“Sure!”

“Here you go. These little posts are tough! My fingers are so fat, man.” He tried to stick one into my ear and poked me in the cheek instead.

“I got it,” I said, taking care of it myself. I guessed this was a lot like how sex with Bellamy would be.

“These earrings mean I’d like you to continue on your journey with me towards true love. Do you accept that?” he asked.

“Yep,” I said, hating myself a little.

“Good deal. Ready to go back and join the crowd?”

“Sure,” I said. We turned around and were greeted by Shar.

“Have you been following us?” asked Bellamy.

“No. I just caught up with you. Have you got a minute?” she asked Bellamy.

“Sure,” he said. “Do you mind, Emma?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll see you later.” I walked back alone. Even though I had a mic on, no camera people were following me, so I paused and removed an earring so I could take a closer look. It was gorgeous! I put it back on and found myself starting to skip. It was exciting to be a favorite! Even if Bellamy was really Dirky Wiedenbueller. The competitive part of me enjoyed this simply because I seemed to be one of the front-runners. Not to mention that the prizes were amazing.

If only everything with Pete could have just waited until after I got back home. Why was I so impulsive? “Because you love him, that’s why,” I said to myself. I pictured Pete’s face, his body, the way he said my name, and I got very sad. “Why are you squandering love?” I asked myself. “True love is very rare. Very hard to find!”

This was all wrong. I needed to get away from it all and back to Pete as fast as I could. I realized that the alcohol, cameras, and constant interaction were confusing me. Only now, alone without cameras and people, was I myself again. Another couple of steps and I’d be back with all the girls. I sat down on a rock behind a tree, trying to hide, trying to think. Suddenly, Shyla was standing over me.

“Emma, you’re back! Get up! You aren’t going to believe it. There’s a television here. Come and see. Whoa! What are those? Oh my God! He gave you earrings. No way! You are the luckiest person ever. Anyhow, come inside and watch TV with me.”

So I did. She was hanging out in the producers’ trailer with Deb from Duluth, watching old music videos.

“We’re not allowed to watch TV,” I said.

“How can they get mad at us when they’re the ones who brought it?” asked Shyla.

“Good point,” I said, sitting down with them.

“Deb,” said Shyla, “did you see that Emma is safe from elimination for another day?”

“It figures,” said Deb. Her eyes were glued to the screen. Sarah McLachlan’s Building a Mystery video was on.

“I always wanted a total dipshit boyfriend like that,” said Shyla.

“Me too,” said Deb.

“Even the sandals in the snow and the tantrums?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Shyla.

The video ended and Deb started flipping through the channels.

“Stop! Stop! Go back,” I said.

“Why? What did you see?” she asked, clicking back a few channels.

“There. Stop there,” I said. And there he was. My man. My Pete. My uterus started beating like a drum. I wanted to have his baby!

“Do you like this guy?” asked Deb.

“No! Of course not! I just love that vegetable slicer dicer! Look at the way it juliennes!”

“Let’s find one of those court room shows,” said Deb. “You know what I mean? I love those shows! Especially Judge Judy. Do they have those where you guys come from or are they just in Duluth?”

“We have them too,” said Shyla.

Deb started flipping through channels again.

“No, wait! Go back please,” I said. “Can’t we watch the slicer dicer show a little longer? I want to see what else it can do. I need something just like that.”

“I suppose,” said Deb, going back to Pete. I couldn’t believe I was experiencing the luxury of watching him, listening to him. It was amazing. He looked adorable. He was so animated and expressive. I couldn’t believe he was mine.

“I think this guy is kind of cute,” said Shyla. “I’ve seen him do other infomercials. There’s just something about him. I mean, he’s no Bellamy,” she added quickly, since we’re never safe from scrutiny.

“I don’t think he’s the least bit cute,” said Deb. “I think he’s way too obnoxious.”

“I’ll bet he’s totally different in real life,” I said.

“Maybe,” said Deb skeptically.

“Are you watching television?” snapped the girl who had just powdered my nose. She looked horrified, like she’d just caught all of us smoking crack.

“They said it was okay,” said Shyla.

“Who said that?”

“Um, I’m not sure what their names are.”

“I think you’d better turn it off and join the others. It’s almost time to head back home. Don’t forget that you all have a cocktail party you need to get ready for tonight.”

We stood up. I took one last look at Pete’s face.

“Geez, Emma, we’ll all chip in and get you one of those slicers, okay?” said Deb.

I nodded and the sapphires bounced against my neck. Oh right, that’s what I was selling my soul for. I followed the others out of the trailer, determined that I would make this my last cocktail party on Bellamy’s Redemption.

Chapter 15

Vanessa and I were sitting away from the other girls since we were safe from elimination once again. Tamika from Topeka was sitting with us too, having earned herself a pair of earrings as well. The cocktail party had been going on for hours. Since Bellamy only had to send one woman home after the surprise of losing Delores and Cashmere earlier in the day, we thought the party might wrap up early. But it seemed he was having trouble choosing whom to let go. Thirty minutes ago we’d been told to get ready for the filming of the elimination ceremony, yet here we sat, as girls struggled to steal another moment with him.

“Did you hear,” said Vanessa, “that Delores and Cashmere had to give back their bracelets when they left?”

“What?” I asked, touching my sapphire earrings. They felt like part of my body. I’d rather lose a finger. “Do you mean we don’t get to keep our jewels unless we win?”

“If you get eliminated at a ceremony or some other scripted elimination you can keep them, but if Bellamy or the producers kick you off for bad behavior you have to give everything back,” said Tamika.

“What constitutes bad behavior?” I asked, imagining my plan to tell them tomorrow about the huge mistake I was making.

“Oh, anything could be bad behavior. Like, if you had a boyfriend at home that would be really bad behavior,” said Tamika.

“Um, that makes sense,” I said.

“Alright, ladies, take your places,” said Catalina Cartwright. Tonight she was dressed in a white tuxedo with sparkly red jewel-encrusted shoes. Her hair was slicked back and her lips were so dark red they were nearly black. I stood between Vanessa and Tamika, trying to ignore the glares coming our way. If I was going to wait until Bellamy sent me home on his own, I was going to have to become a lot more… what? What was it that he liked about me anyway? I decided that whoever he sent home tonight, I would become that person.

“Hi ladies,” said Bellamy, entering the room, nervously smoothing his pants. “I’ve made my decision.”

The other girls had gathered into a bunch, each standing on a small X of masking tape on the floor, with just enough room between them to properly show off their evening gowns. Some were taking deep breaths and wringing their hands. A few were smiling in pained, cheerful ways, but most looked serious and worried.

I stifled a yawn, wondering what Pete was doing. Then I thought about my job, especially Mrs. Norman Fillmore and her houndstooth obsession, wondering how my boss was dealing with her. Next my mind wandered to my mom and dad, and I felt a little sad. I stifled another yawn.

Meanwhile, Mylar, Shar, Deb, and Aubrey had all endured the painful-but-worth-it receiving of sapphire earrings and had joined us in the safe zone. Watching Bellamy give them earrings had been like watching someone play pin the tail on the donkey with daggers. It didn’t help that with each girl he saved, Vanessa flinched and cringed as if she were watching a horror movie. I wasn’t sure how she’d made it through medical school considering how much the sight of a little blood set her off.

I hoped Shyla was going to be safe from elimination. She was the most fun of all the girls. I hoped Marissa would be sent home. She whined and complained ceaselessly. Even Shar was less annoying.

I watched as Bellamy kept both of them around, and made a mental note that he’d had special clip-on earrings prepared for Marissa who didn’t have pierced ears. Was it possible he really liked her? Vanessa raised an eyebrow at me, having caught this detail as well.

“I wish I would have gotten clip-ons,” said Tamika, rubbing her inflamed earlobe.

Eventually Bellamy narrowed it down to Chloe and Eve. They were both rather boho-chic and only had time for each other. Even during the cupcake free-for-all they had sat outside wrapped in hemp sarongs by the pool, playing with tarot cards and Chloe’s belt loom. Now they were holding hands and crying, probably over the idea of separating. I hoped he sent Eve home instead of Chloe. I really wanted her to make me a hippie belt. Well, I decided, whoever is left is going to be my new best friend here.

“Eve,” Bellamy was saying, “will you accept these Deluxe sapphire and diamond earrings, and continue on this journey towards finding love with me?”

“Are they blood diamonds?” asked Eve.

“I don’t know,” said Bellamy.

Eve looked at Chloe. “Should I?”

“Can she continue on with you without taking those tainted earrings?” asked Chloe.

Bellamy looked at the producers. One of them came forward. “This is a two part deal. You get Bellamy and you get the Deluxe jewelry, and you need to seem happy about both. It was in the contract you signed.”

“Maybe I can’t,” said Eve.

“If she can’t, I can,” said Chloe.

“Fair enough,” said Bellamy. “Chloe, would you accept these Deluxe sapphire and diamond earrings, and continue on in a journey towards finding love with me?”

“I will,” she said, stepping forward.

“Bellamy, are you happy with this?” Catalina Cartwright interrupted.

“Um, yes?” Bellamy asked.

“Okay,” said Catalina. “Sorry, Eve. That means you have been eliminated.”

“I’ll walk you out,” said Bellamy, gallantly holding out his arm to her.

The camera crew started wrapping up so I found Shyla and we made our way back to the bus that was waiting to take us home. We took seats across from each other, kicked off our shoes, and waited. I knew how this would go from the way previous nights had played out: About half of us would be here right away and the other half would stay around Bellamy’s mansion trying to get face time with him. It was three o’clock in the morning and I was ready to go to sleep.

“Can you take us home now and come back for the rest of them?” Shyla asked the bus driver. His name was Philippe and he seemed unimpressed with us evening gown-clad, supposedly desirable young women.

“No can do,” he said.

“Did this used to be a school bus?” asked Shyla.

“Don’t ask me,” said Philippe.

“Take us home. Pleassse,” whined Marissa.

“Rules is rules,” said Philippe.

“Did you happen to notice how many people Bellamy kissed tonight?” Shyla whispered to me.

“No. I didn’t realize we’d already moved on to that step.”

“Seriously? Yes, Emma, there was a ton of kissing. First I saw him and Klassie kissing, then…”

“Who?” I interrupted. “Which one is Klassie?”

“You remember her! Rollergirl. The one with super huge, puffy red hair who showed up wearing roller skates the first night.”

“How could I forget about her! Okay, who else?”

“Deb from Duluth really threw herself at him next. They were sitting by the back fountain, and the next thing I knew, she was on his lap attacking him.”

“I thought she was so puritanical!”

“Oh no! Not at all!”

“Where was I when this happened?”

“I think you and Vanessa were getting champagne refills.”

“Oh. Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Then he and Tamika were making out like crazy on the porch swing, and then he and Mylar were all over each other on the marble bench.”

“Wow,” I said. “I really thought we were all still in the holding hands phase.”

“No, Emma. You have to get on board or you’re going to be in trouble!”

“Okay, okay,” I said. “If I just get some sleep tonight I’ll be ready to deliver tomorrow. Did I miss anything else?”

“Well, yeah, of course. Tamika came back for more and interrupted him and Mylar, and then Bellamy kind of shooed Mylar away since I guess he likes Tamika better. Mylar was mad all night after that. Didn’t you notice her glaring at him during the elimination ceremony?”

“No, I guess I missed it all. Wow. Crazy! I really have to pay more attention.”

“I know! And then right before the elimination ceremony I saw him and Klassie going at it again.”

“So it sounds like Klassie and Tamika are the ones to beat,” I said.

“I guess so,” said Shyla. She looked troubled.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her.

Her eyes filled with tears. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

“Really?”

“I don’t know. It’s just, this is harder than I thought it would be.”

“Oh,” I said. I touched my earrings, unsure what else to say.

“How are you handling it so well?” she asked. “Aren’t you jealous?”

“I guess not really.”

“Do you like Bellamy?”

“Oh, sure. Yeah. Of course. I mean, who wouldn’t?”

“Exactly! He’s such a catch! I like him more all the time! I’m going to kiss him the next time I see him.”

“Yeah, just do it,” I said.

“Thanks for talking,” said Shyla. “You’re, like, my best friend here. In fact, I think of you as an older sister, or like another mom to me.”

“Sure,” I said. I settled into my seat and closed my eyes. I started to drift off, but was suddenly awakened by the sound of screaming.

“What’s happening?” I asked, jumping up.

“It’s Shar and that Australian girl,” said Shyla. “They’re in a fight. Come over to my side so you can see better.”

I squeezed in next to Shyla. Shar and Jessica were rolling around in the grass, pulling each other’s hair and shoving each other. A bunch of production people and camera guys were trying to simultaneously break up the fight and film it. Suddenly Catalina Cartwright reappeared, getting her hair and makeup retouched as she hurried along, in case this bit made it onto the show. It looked like she’d been on her way out and had to be dragged back. I noticed that her sparkly shoes were gone and now she was wearing raggedy old boat shoes.

“Break it up you two, break it up!” she yelled. “Everyone get on the bus and go home. Tonight is over. You’ll have another chance at love tomorrow.” Some of the women on the bus clapped at the news that we were finally leaving.

“Keep these two separated,” Catalina told Phillipe.

He shook his head. “I no babysitter.”

“I said, keep them separated,” she screamed. When he looked down instead of answering, she plowed her way up onto the bus and looked down the aisle at all of us. There was frightening silence as we waited to see what would happen next. Her hands were on her hips; her lips were a dark, uneven smudge. “Are you a bunch of kindergarteners? Are you?” she yelled at us.

“No,” we said. I couldn’t believe it was her, the Catalina Cartwright, standing inches away and yelling like an angry parent.

“She’s so mad,” whispered Deb, who had just slid into my seat beside me. “I think everyone in California is on something. Why else would they have these mood swings? In Duluth we don’t have these problems, and this is hard for me.”

“Shhh,” I said.

“Don’t shush me,” she whispered.

Catalina Cartwright’s tirade was picking up even more steam: “You all think you’re special, but you’re not. You all behave like spoiled brats, which you are. I’ve about had it! Do you know how many years I have been hosting this show?”

“Six!” someone shouted.

“And I have never had a worse group than you! I feel sorry for Bellamy. I can’t imagine that he is really going to find a wife in this lot of losers. I hope some of you can pull it together, keep your vaginas in your pants, not start a fight with the girl sitting next to you, and represent yourself like a lady. You won’t get much further in the competition if you don’t grow up!”

Why was she yelling at us, I wondered, when Shar and Jessica weren’t even sitting back here? They were still up front by Phillipe, standing on the bus steps, blocked from coming up any further since she was standing in their way. Catalina apparently had just realized this. She spun around, waving her hands.

“She’s a shouter,” whispered Deb. “I hate shouters. They seem so out of control. I’m scared. I wish Bellamy was here. Then I’d feel safer. Wouldn’t you? I’m telling you, she’s on drugs. I think everybody here in California is on drugs. We’ll be lucky if we aren’t hooked on something by the time we’re through here. I just hope it’s not the meth.”

“You,” Catalina said to Shar, “will go home if you can’t behave yourself. Same to you, Little Miss England. We’ll send you back home too. You can sit on your ass and eat crumpets and think about what you lost. If you think Bellamy is calling all the shots about who stays and who goes, you’re wrong. Got it? The same goes for all of you,” she said, turning back around, surveying the bus.

“I’m Australian, not English,” said Jessica.

“Now you’re on my list,” said Catalina Cartwright, pushing past them, shoving camera guys out of her way. She huffed and puffed away from us, Shar and Jessica sat down far away from one another, and we finally drove away. It was now after four o’clock in the morning.

Chapter 16

There was a knock on the door at 7:00 a.m. It was announcing a date card, unceremoniously and anonymously deposited on our welcome mat. Amy woke us up because we’re all supposed to be present when a date card is read.

“Ooh,” she said, “I’m on here. Okay, are you all ready? Everybody listening? Aubrey, Amy, Chloe, Tamika, Mylar, Jessica, Shyla, Klassie, and Shar: Do you enjoy hash browns and toast as much as I do? Meet me for breakfast at 8:00 a.m., followed by a hike. ~ Bellamy.”

“Eee!” squealed Shyla. Her sleepy expression immediately disappeared, replaced with a look of sheer joy.

“A hike! I love hiking,” said Amy, fanning herself with the date card. “Can I keep this, since, you know, I found it. Would any of you mind?”

“It’s too early to have breakfast and hike,” said Shar. She had a black eye from her fight with Jessica. I couldn’t believe they weren’t going to send both girls home. I guessed since several contestants had left ahead of schedule, the producers realized they had to ignore some of the bad behavior or there would be no show.

“If you don’t want to go, I’ll take your place,” said Marissa. “In case anybody cares, he still hasn’t spent any time with me.”

“You need to make yourself more emotionally available to him,” said Chloe.

“I’m trying,” said Marissa.

There really aren’t words for how relieved I was to not hear my name called. The women on the list went off to get ready while I got to crawl back into bed. I slept until the middle of the afternoon and then joined the other girls by the pool. The group on a date were still gone and the house felt peaceful and luxurious.

“Love your bikini,” Vanessa said to me.

“Oh, thanks,” I said, looking down at myself. I had opted for a nineteen hundred dollar bathing suit instead of the recommended inflatable bra and bikini bottoms I’d been assigned to wear. The suit was silver and pink striped, a one-of-a-kind original by designer Kajuki Sapuri. Long, shaggy fringe dangled all over it. It had come with a matching headband, kneepads, and fringed elbow-length gloves that I had left in my luggage. The ensemble’s suggested use was for rollerblading; I could tell this from the sketch included with the suit, depicting a woman spinning on a boardwalk, the fringe fanning out all around her, and the words ‘Only For Use Rollerskate’ written in the margin. Without the accessories it was almost simple and definitely classy.

“You have the best clothes. Really, I want to steal them all,” she said.

“Thanks. I think your suit is cute too.”

“This old thing?” she said, looking down at her shiny turquoise bikini. “It’s ready for the rag bag. I never even should have brought it here. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I think it’s nice.”

“People think doctors make a lot of money, but actually, we don’t really. I can tell from everyone else’s wardrobes that these girls are just as well-off as I am. Hey, are you filming this?” Vanessa asked a cameraman who had suddenly taken up residence in the next lawn chair over. “Could you please not film this?”

“Fine,” he said, getting up. “Don’t forget you’ve got a mic on.”

“I never do,” she said. Then she turned back to me, “As I was saying, I can tell that other girls, you for example, have a ton of money. I mean, not to be nosy, but what does a wardrobe like yours cost, if you don’t mind my asking.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t know if I wanted to let her in on my secret that nearly all my clothes were borrowed. “Um. Hmm. I’m not sure exactly how much my clothes cost,” I said.

“See, you’re that rich. Money is no object to you. Not that I would ever think this, but there are girls saying that the reason Bellamy likes you so much is because of your awesome wardrobe.”

“I don’t think guys can tell the difference between amazing clothes and regular clothes. Especially Bellamy.”

“What do you mean by especially Bellamy?” asked Vanessa.

“I mean that he’s not that shallow,” I said.

“Well, enough about all this negative stuff,” said Vanessa, smiling. “Do you know that three girls are going home tonight?”

“Yeah, I guess I heard that,” I said. “It seems kind of like he’s flying through people, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe, but once he gets it narrowed down more, things will slow down as he figures out which of us he’s serious about. I imagine we’ll both be safe, as usual. Who do you think is leaving?”

“I think he will put Marissa out of her misery, and probably send Chloe home since he was about to last time. I’m not sure about number three. What do you think?”

“Hmm,” said Vanessa. “Well, I’m with you on Marissa and Chloe. I think Mylar might be going home too. There is no way he’s ready to help her raise that kid.”

“Oh no. They’re back already,” I said. We were suddenly surrounded by sweaty, miserable looking women wearing hiking boots. Shar jumped into the pool in all her clothes and boots.

“This feels so freakin’ good,” she yelled, dog paddling past us.

“I’m in pain. So much pain,” said Shyla, sinking down on the lawn chair next to Vanessa.

“So how was it?” I asked.

“Pretty bad, actually.” She took off her hiking boots, wiggling her toes in the breeze. “First we all ate huge breakfasts. Jessica, the Australian, ordered first, and she got a big stack of pancakes, coffee, bacon, and scrambled eggs. Plus other stuff I think I’m forgetting. I swear, it was like she looked at the menu and picked one of everything. Well, as you both know, she is tiny and adorable, and it seemed like she had set the standard for the rest of us. Like, if she can eat all that and be tiny, maybe the rest of us should be able to also, you know? So we all ordered gross, crazy amounts of food to impress Bellamy with our supposed high metabolism, you know, trick him into thinking we’re men in women’s bodies, ‘cause everyone knows that’s what guys really want.”

Vanessa and I nodded sympathetically.

“Could you excuse me for a minute?” asked Shyla. She got up, went over to a large, potted cactus, and threw up in it. “Sorry,” she said, after she regained her composure and settled back in beside us.

“You don’t need to apologize,” I said, noticing one of the assistants efficiently hauling the cactus away on a dolly.

“Anyway, so then we all went hiking up a mountain for the past several hours, in the heat. It was terrible. Really terrible. Then on our way back we all had to stop for a ‘romantic view and champagne moment’ with Bellamy.” She put this in little finger quotes and rolled her eyes. “Each of us got about two minutes with him, downed some champagne, looked out at the ocean, and got shoved on through so the next girl could have her moment. I’ve had a migraine for hours. I think I’m going to lie down now. See you at the cocktail party.”

“Feel better,” I said.

“I’ll try.” She staggered away while making retching noises into her shoulder blade.

“Poor thing,” said Vanessa.

“Did you notice what she was wearing?” I asked, grabbing Vanessa by the wrist and shaking her.

“No. What was she wearing?”

“You didn’t see her necklace? It was an emerald teardrop pendant surrounded by diamonds!”

“She would have mentioned if Bellamy had saved her. Don’t you think?” asked Vanessa.

“Maybe not if she has a migraine. She’s still over there if you want to ask her,” I said, pointing to where Shyla was on her hands and knees barfing into the fire pit.

Vanessa hopped up, adjusted her bikini, and ran over to her. She returned a moment later with an expression of shocked delight on her face. “You’re good!” she said. “Yes, indeed! She got that necklace today. Klassie and Amy are safe too.”

“Cool. I can’t wait to get one tonight. And to spend time with Bellamy,” I added. “I guess I’m going to have something to eat and get ready for the cocktail party.” I stood up and stretched.

“Look at you. I just must say it again: I love that suit. And you’re so flat, like a model. Seriously, you look so cool and sophisticated. How did you manage that without looking anorexic? Did you get surgery for that?”

“Nope, they’re a hundred percent real,” I said, admiring my pectoral muscles.

“Lucky,” sighed Vanessa.

“Bellamy’s here!” exclaimed Marissa, running past us. She was dripping wet, and swaddled in a striped beach towel. “I’ve got to change before he sees me like this! I can’t believe I was stupid enough to actually go swimming.”

“She’s right,” said Vanessa. “She’s a total amateur. Why would anyone go swimming when there are all these cameras around?”

“Hi there,” said Bellamy. He was wearing a plum colored Speedo and tall gladiator sandals. “Mind if I join two of my favorite ladies?”

“Of course we don’t mind,” I said when Vanessa was too lost for words to respond. I sat back down on my lawn chair even though I was dying to go inside and get some food.

“Does this look stupid?” asked Bellamy, gesturing towards his lower half. “The producers said it showed off my abs, but I’m not so sure.”

“It shows off your abs,” I said.

“Cool,” he said, moving the lawn chair that was next to Vanessa so that it was right in front of both of us.

“I’m not blocking your sun, am I?” he asked.

“No. That’s considerate of you to ask,” said Vanessa, regaining her composure.

“I think both of you know that I think you’re both great girls, right?”

“Oh, thanks,” we said.

“Cool,” he said. He adjusted the chair so it leaned back. “Ahh. It feels good to sit down. We hiked all day. It was great.” Before we knew it, he was snoring.

“Poor little guy. He’s all tuckered out,” said Vanessa. We looked at each other and smirked.

“Time for me to grab something to eat,” I said.

“Me too,” said Vanessa, gathering her sunscreen and magazines.

“Mind if I steal him away?” asked Tamika, appearing before us holding two glasses of champagne.

“If you can wake him up, he’s all yours,” said Vanessa.

“Hey Sexy,” Tamika said to Bellamy, dribbling champagne down his belly. He continued to snore. “Hey Sexy, it’s me, Tamika,” she said louder. He rolled over and managed to curl up in the fetal position without falling out of his lounge chair, still not waking up. Tamika set one of the glasses beside him and wandered away looking embarrassed.

We went inside and were rummaging through the cupboards when there was a knock at the door.

“Maybe it’s a date card,” said Klassie. She hopped off the couch and roller skated over to the door. “Ooh!  I was right,” she said, picking up the large, square envelope from our front step. She skated in circles, scraping up the herringbone teak floors, waving the card around. “Get everyone together. Hurry!”

When we were all gathered around her she tore it open with one of her long, orange fingernails. “It’s not a date card! It’s something from Catalina Cartwright! Here’s what it says: Attention Lovely Ladies, Tonight there will be no cocktail party. Bellamy has already made his decision about who will be going home, and sees no reason to postpone his decision. As always, formal attire is required for the upcoming elimination ceremony. Tonight’s ceremony will be held here, in the back garden. If you have already received a Deluxe Emerald necklace you may or may not be safe from elimination, and your presence is still required. Sincerely, Catalina Cartwright.”

“What a twist,” said Vanessa. “Since when can someone who is already safe be sent home?”

“Yeah, what do you think that’s all about?” asked Shyla, touching her necklace.

“Oh my goodness,” said Marissa. “Here we go again! I’m done here. I’ve got to talk to him and change his mind.”

Jessica glanced out the window to the pool. “Sorry, mates. He’s not out there any longer. He’s gone home, I’m afraid.”

“Well then,” said Marissa, “I guess there is nothing I can do. I just know tonight’s the night that this is all going to end for me. I feel it in my bones. I’m like a turkey on the night before Thanksgiving.”

“Okay, ladies,” said one of the producers. “Get into your gowns. We’re heading to the elimination ceremony in about thirty minutes.”

I put on a streaky, black and chocolate brown dress with a slit up the side that went all the way to my hip. It had one shoulder and a long bell-shaped sleeve. I liked wearing it; it made me feel like a vampire, or at the least like a blonde Morticia Addams. I pulled back my hair into a bun, and wore the navy lipstick that Maggie the clothes-thief had affixed to the hanger in a sandwich bag alongside a note that said ‘Trust me, this works, especially if you wear the navy heels. ~M’

I was sitting on our front step, waiting for the rest of the girls to get ready and enjoying a moment alone, delicately eating an apple and trying to keep my lipstick off it, when a limo pulled up in front of me. Of course I wondered who it could be. I thought at first it might be Bellamy. Then I had the fleeting, unreasonable thought that maybe Pete had come all the way here, to the mansion, to see me. Or perhaps it was the president!

The driver got out, opened the door, and bowed a little. I ran my tongue over my teeth, preparing myself to meet someone important. I wondered if the navy lipstick was a mistake, considered wiping it off with the back of my hand, and quickly decided it would have to stay on my mouth.

I set down my apple, no longer hungry. I was watching, waiting. Was the limo driver actually nervous? He seemed a little shaky. It must be someone terribly important.

First I saw her hand, and then her dark, shiny hair. And then there she was, in the flesh. Alanna Rutherford had returned.

Chapter 17

I’ve got to admit, it felt a little unnerving to be on the chopping block with the other girls during an elimination ceremony. Especially when Alanna Rutherford, in all her elegance and gorgeousness, was standing right next to me.

“Ladies,” said Catalina Cartwright, smiling brightly and clinking a glass of champagne. No one at home would ever imagine the chewing out we’d gotten from her the other night. “I’m sure you all remember Alanna. It seems that Alanna has had a change of heart and would like another chance at love with Bellamy. She realized she made a terrible mistake, realized that Antonio is not the one for her after all, and contacted us to see if she could try to once again win the heart of Bellamy. Some of you may not think this is fair, but really, as they say, all is fair in love and war. Especially in love!” Catalina raised her glass to the camera. “And now… I present… Bellamy,” she said, as he entered the room.

“Thank you Catalina,” said Bellamy. “Hello, ladies. Hello, Alanna. I… Well, I don’t know what to say. Alanna, I never thought I’d see you again. Well, maybe on magazine covers when I was at the grocery store, and maybe on television, or, I don’t know. But in person, no, I didn’t think we would meet again.” He drew in a deep breath and shook his head. “Alanna, you have given me a lot to think about.”

“I know,” she said sweetly. “I’m sorry I hurt you.” One perfect tear rolled down her cheek. It was enough to show how sad she was without wrecking her makeup. I think all the rest of us, even Vanessa, felt like packing up and heading home.

“Bellamy, are you ready to begin your selection process?” asked Catalina.

“Yes,” he said.

“Even though we have allowed Alanna to join us, you have the same number of Deluxe pendants to hand out, so please keep that in mind as you make your choices,” said Catalina, still grinning like a fool. Then she turned to us. “Bellamy asks that those of you who already received necklaces please stand with the other girls. You may keep your necklaces, regardless of what happens, but if your name is not called, your time here will be over.”

There were audible gasps. We all knew he would be keeping Alanna. That meant four of us were going home tonight.

“Well,” said Bellamy, “because I’d like to hear what she has to say, and because I believe in second chances, I’d like the first necklace to go to Alanna. Alanna, will you accept this Deluxe emerald and diamond pendant on a solid gold chain?”

“I will, Bellamy,” she said, stepping forward and hugging him for a long, long time.

Next he chose Vanessa, and then Deb. Tamika came next, and then Amy. Jessica, followed by Shar and Mylar. I began to feel lightheaded. It had never occurred to me that I was going to go home tonight, and I’d thought that when it happened I wouldn’t mind so much anyhow. But now here I was, practically hyperventilating. What about the trips around the world that were coming? What about the jewels and poolside lounging?

“He just said your name,” hissed Marissa.

“Huh?” I said. “Oh! Oh, whew! Thank you,” I said, going up to claim my necklace. I remembered to give him a hug of appreciation as well, before joining the other girls who were safe.

Finally it was down to Klassie, Chloe, Shyla, Marissa, and Aubrey. Shyla was covering her face with her hands, trying to hide the fact that she was sobbing. I felt terrible for her.

“This is not an easy decision,” said Bellamy. “I think you’re all great girls, but they girl I would like to continue on with is Klassie. Klassie, will you continue on this journey with me?”

“Yes, Bellamy, I will,” she said, skating up to him, doing a little spin, and then giving him a wiggly, rabbity Eskimo kiss. The rest of us looked at one another in confusion, wondering if Eskimo kisses were the new thing or something. Bellamy looked puzzled too. He handed her an empty necklace box since she’d already received her prize earlier on their hiking date.

“Awesommme,” she said, noisily skating over the stone patio to us, waving the box like a trophy.

“Chloe, Shyla, Marissa, Aubrey, I’m afraid it’s time for you to say goodbye,” said Catalina Cartwright.

Chloe and Aubrey seemed fairly indifferent. They each gave Bellamy a little kiss on the cheek and were on their way. Marissa and Shyla were on the opposite end of the spectrum. Marissa was livid. “Can I have a word with you?” she said to Bellamy.

“Uh,” he looked at the producers like Do I have to? Then he and Marissa took a walk down a hallway together. I could hear Marissa asking in a pained, nasal shriek, “Why did you give me those clip-on earrings? They made me think you loved me!”

“Huh?” asked Bellamy.

“Forget it. I hate you! Why did you even keep me around this long? You knew you’d never love me! Why couldn’t you love me? What’s wrong with me?”

I went over to Shyla to try to cheer her up. She was outside on a marble bench, weeping. She seemed inconsolable. “All but one of us will go through this,” I told her.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” she asked.

“I guess not. Sorry,” I said.

“Hi Shiloh,” said Bellamy, returning with a small red hand print on his face. “Could I walk you out?”

“It’s Shyla,” she said, dissolving further into a heap of tears. “I thought I was safe! I thought maybe you really liked me, but you don’t even know my name.”

“Sorry. There are a lot of names to remember. Let me walk you out, please?”

“Fine.”

“I want you to know, if Alanna hadn’t come back you would have been safe.”

“That makes me feel terrible,” she said.

“It does?” asked Bellamy. “Forget I said it.”

I wanted to say goodbye to Shyla, but she clearly was in no mood to speak to me or anyone else. The other girls were gathering around Alanna Rutherford. Some were bitter that she had barged back in, but others seemed starstruck and delighted to actually meet her. They fawned over her more than any of us fawned over Bellamy.

I went back out to the front step to finish my apple but it was gone, so I removed my emerald pendant and took a closer look at it. It was very pretty. A teensy gold tag hung from the clasp with the Deluxe D engraved on it. There was a time when I never thought I’d own one piece of Deluxe jewelry. I would have been happy to have an empty velvet box from Deluxe. Now I had a bracelet, earrings, and a necklace. I was on television wearing glamorous designer gowns and shoes. It wasn’t sure why all of this was happening for me. I’d never thought of myself as very special. I sighed, wondering why I wasn’t more excited about it. I kicked at a crack in the bench with the toe of my Luiz DiAngelippo twelve hundred dollar sandal.

“Hi, Emma,” Bellamy said, sitting down beside me.

“Hi,” I said, jumping a little. I hadn’t noticed him sneaking up on me.

“Are you doing okay?”

“Yes, I’m good. What about you?” I asked.

“This is harder than I thought it would be,” he said. “I don’t like to hurt people’s feelings.”

“You don’t, do you?” I asked. I never felt that guilty about lingering on, except when I actually had to be near Bellamy. Then I kind of hated myself for wasting his time.

“Would you come with me?” he asked, standing up and holding out his hand.

“You don’t want to see Alanna?” I asked.

“There’s too much chaos going on in there. Let’s go for a drive.”

“Really? Just us?” I asked. A drive sounded great. And against the rules.

“Yeah. Follow me,” he said, taking my hand and leading me to his limo driver who was waiting down the hill. The driver opened the door and let us in. I looked to see if any of the girls were watching but they were all inside kissing up to Alanna Rutherford.

The driver took us the short distance to Bellamy’s mansion and let us out at the front door. I was a little disappointed that this was the extent of our big escape, but then Bellamy surprised me some more. “Come on,” he said, smiling and taking my hand again. I followed him up a curving cobblestone driveway to where a line of fancy cars were parked.

“Let’s take this one,” he said, getting into a tiny convertible that seemed like something out of an old James Bond movie. A cameraman squeezed into the backseat with us, of course. Others appeared on the scene a moment later, tailing us in a Ford Focus. I didn’t care; it was great to be out of the house, away from the other women, and doing something completely unexpected.

We drove down the hill and kept going until we’d reached the ocean. Bellamy pulled over and put the car in park. He smiled at me. “Nice, isn’t it?”

“It sure is,” I said. The ocean air swept across my face and through my hair. I closed my eyes for just a second to enjoy it and when I opened them the crewmembers were all pulling in behind us.

“Do you want to go swimming?” asked Bellamy.

“Yes,” I said without hesitation.

We got out and ran to the beach, stripping down to our underwear on the way. Then, in a moment of the most extreme liberation, Bellamy threw his microphone on the sand and I did as well. We jumped into the water and started swimming far, far away from the cameramen and all their assistants. As the shoreline receded, a feeling of authenticity poured over me. I felt present in a way I hadn’t for weeks.

“We’re not supposed to do anything like this,” Bellamy said, when we were far away from everyone. The water was inky black with ripples of silver where the waves caught the moonlight. Back on shore the cameramen were filming us, cutting to shots of our clothes and footprints, cutting back to us. “Ignore them,” said Bellamy.

“This is crazy. I feel so free. It’s heaven to not be recorded for a moment,” I said, splashing around.

Bellamy reached for me and took me in his arms. I didn’t feel uncomfortable, but I didn’t feel much of anything.

“You look so crazy sexy with that blue lipstick on,” he said.

“Bellamy,” I said. I stopped, unsure how to tell him that I wasn’t feeling it.

He leaned in close, his mouth to my ear. “Do you want me to kiss you?” he asked.

“Umm,” I exhaled. Tears started to fill my eyes. I wasn’t sure if he could tell since we were in the ocean.

“Pretend I’m kissing you. Listen,” he said, his mouth by my ear.

“Okay,” I said.

“Are you feeling anything for me? Emma, be honest. This is your only chance to be this honest.”

“I like you,” I whispered back, “but I’m not sure I’m meant to be your wife.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said. “That’s okay.”

“Are you upset with me?” I asked.

“No, not at all,” he said. “Laugh, like we’re sharing a joke, okay?”

I giggled and nodded. I had no idea he was clever. Ironically, now I kind of liked him. Now that I’d just admitted I didn’t.

“Do you want to stay anyway?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, surprised.

“If you want, I’m going to keep you around until the very end, okay? If you want. You can travel all over, get all the jewelry, just be my spy. You’ll come in second. Would you do that for me?”

“What?”

“Would you do that for me?” he repeated.

“Um, yeah. I guess.”

“I really am looking for a wife. I want someone on the inside who can tell who’s right for me.”

“Wow. I wasn’t expecting this out of you,” I said.

“We should start swimming back. They’re going to get suspicious about what we’re talking about.”

“Okay. But wait. You could tell I wasn’t the one for you? I mean, how did you know I would be okay with this?”

Bellamy spun me around and kissed me on the lips. “This is just for show,” he said smiling.

“Of course,” I said, wishing the unexpected onslaught of butterflies in my stomach would migrate away forever.

“I could just tell. But you’re still the coolest girl here. Forget what I said about the lipstick. You remind me exactly of my sister.”

“Got it,” I said. We swam back to shore and got dressed, pretending for the cameras that we were falling love.

Chapter 18

“I’ll be teaching a yoga class at ten o’clock if anyone would like to sign up,” said Klassie. She stuck a sheet of paper onto the fridge with a magnet, and stood waiting to see what would happen. I was at the sink rinsing a glass, so I took a look. The sheet was labeled Yoga Sign Up with the numbers one through five beneath it.

“Sure,” I said, scrawling Emma in spot number one.

“Why not,” said Jessica. She added her name in spot number two. “Do you actually know anything about yoga?” she asked Klassie.

“A little. I have been in yoga classes. I imagine I can teach it.”

“No worries. I was just asking you, mate,” said Jessica.

No one else seemed interested, so the three of us went outside for our class.

“Okay, I guess there are no mats, so we’ll sit on the grass,” said Klassie. “Let’s start by stretching. Just do what I do.”

“Do you think there is any chance Mylar will be back?” asked Jessica as she twisted to the left, twisted to the right, following Klassie’s lead.

“I doubt it,” I said. Alanna and Mylar were off with Bellamy on a two-on-one brunch date. Only one would be returning.

“I heard tonight’s the night,” said Klassie, standing up. “Now do this,” she said, reaching for the sky.

“Tonight’s the night?” asked Jessica.

“Time for us to start traveling,” said Klassie.

“Seriously?” I said. I jumped up and down. “I can’t wait! Where do you think we’re going?”

“I might have heard wrong, but I think Brazil.”

“Oh no,” said Jessica. “Those women from Brazil are beautiful.”

“So are we,” said Klassie. “Okay, enough yoga. I just wanted to be able to add it to my résumé when I get home. Would you two mind being references for me?”

“Of course not,” we said.

“Cool,” said Klassie. “See you later. I’m going to take a nap.”

Jessica and I were still sitting in the grass when a white van pulled up, a dumpy little man got out, and Mylar’s luggage was taken away. As we suspected, she was going home while Alanna remained.

“Oh shit. We’re doomed,” said Jessica.

“If Alanna liked Bellamy so much, why did she choose Antonio?” I said. Now that I was a spy, I had to think about these things.

“Exactly,” said Jessica.

I leaned back, watching the clouds go by. Bellamy would, of course, end up with Alanna now that she was back. What guy wouldn’t choose Alanna Rutherford if given the chance? I considered who was really the best match for him. Shyla had been a good option. She was fun and genuinely interested in him. But she was gone. Of the girls who remained, maybe Jessica was the best choice…

“So Jessica,” I said, lifting up my sunglasses and squinting at her, “how did you end up on this show? Did you watch Bellamy and Alanna’s season when you were in Australia?”

“Oh, no,” she said, swatting at a bug. “I doubt they play it there. I’ve been living here for three years, trying to make it as an actress. One of the producers is a mate of mine. She put me on here.”

“An actress? Have you had any luck?”

“I was on an antacid commercial. I spoke in an American accent and my hair was brown. You’d barely recognize me. I wore a little business suit and was sitting at a desk. Have you seen it?”

“I think I have, actually! The one with the stomach rumbling like a storm rolling in?”

“Yes, that was me! ‘Why did I agree to try that new buffet place? I might have had a free coupon, but now I’m really paying for it!’ That was my big acting debut,” she said, reenacting it with an American accent.

“You were great. I never would have guessed you weren’t from here.”

“Why, thank you, Emma. I can do a spot-on Indian accent as well.”

“Seriously, such versatility.”

“Nothing is more important if you want to act. Except good looks. I mean, that part goes without saying.”

“What do you think of Bellamy?” I asked.

She raised her eyebrows, rolled her eyes, shrugged. “He’s amazing,” she said.

I nodded, lowering my sunglasses. “Any more acting jobs coming up?”

“I might do Sisterhood of Skank once this is over. They approached me about that. Did anyone mention it to you? Though I hate the drama that might come with a show like that.”

“They mentioned it to me too. I imagine that, like you said, there could be drama.”

“Date card!” yelled Tamika, waving it from the back patio door. Jessica and I got up and went inside to where the other girls were waiting expectantly on the sofas.

“Vanessa, Shar, Deb, Jessica, and Amy,” read Tamika, “You all make me feel like I’m on top of the world! Be ready at three o’clock today. Dress casual and sporty.” She tossed the date card onto the coffee table, pouting that she wasn’t on it.

“What could it mean?” asked Deb.

“On top of the world. That means we’re going to be high up. Ugh. Y’all, I can’t do this,” said Vanessa.

“I hope we’re jumping out of a plane,” said Shar.

“Oh my God! No. Please. I would die. Literally. I would totally forget to pull my cord and I would die,” said Amy.

“Maybe we’re hiking up to the top of a mountain,” said Jessica.

“There was already a hiking date, you stupid kangaroo,” said Shar. I wasn’t sure why Shar disliked Jessica so much, but I appreciated that it distracted her from disliking me.

“A kangaroo? That’s really clever,” said Jessica, shaking her head sadly.

“You don’t think I’m smart? I’m smarter than you,” said Shar, and just like that, she and Jessica were shoving and hitting each other again.

“Stop it! Not my face, not my face,” Jessica yelled, throwing punches. She was so scrappy!

Immediately the producers and cameramen were on them, breaking them up. “This is not The Bad Girls’ Club,” said one of them. “This is your final warning. One more inappropriate outburst from either of you, and you will both be going home.”

“You can’t send us home,” said Shar, getting up in a producer’s face, “or you won’t have enough girls to keep the show going. I’m right, right?”

The rest of us looked at one another in disbelief. She was the dumbest person ever.

“We can do anything we want. We brought Alanna back. If we get rid of you, maybe we’ll bring Abernathy Sinclair back. We can do anything.”

We all drew in a collective breath of shock. Abernathy Sinclair was a professional model/ballroom dancer from two seasons ago. Her hair looked like threads of gold. Her waist was so tiny that she had used another girl’s necklace as a belly chain when hers got stuck in the pool grate. Her eyes were purple. She spoke six languages and had a drink named after her at a nightclub in New York that I wouldn’t even have the guts to stand in line at.

“Please, please try to get along,” Vanessa said to Shar and Jessica.

“It’s really up to her,” said Jessica.

“There has been a change of plans,” said a producer, scurrying forward from an impromptu huddle they’d been having, looking nervous. “Shar, you will be staying here today. Emma, you will be attending on the group date in Shar’s place. You ladies had better get ready now.”

“What?” yelled Shar. “Why is that little bitch going instead of me?”

“We’re doing you a favor by keeping you and Jessica separated,” said the producer.

“This is bullshit,” said Shar. She went outside, stripped naked, and jumped in the pool.

“Look at her! I mean, don’t look at her. Eww. What a mess,” said Deb. “In Duluth, people do not get naked. This is really hard for me. It’s, like, culture shock.”

I went off to change my clothes, praying we would not be jumping out of an airplane. While I was getting ready I heard Alanna Rutherford come home from her date. Her fan club, headed up by Deb and Amy, descended upon her to hear all the juicy details. When I came out into the living room, everyone except for Shar, who was still doing naked laps in the pool, was gathered around Alanna. She sat on the sofa while everyone else semi-circled her on the floor, looking up like eager puppies.

“Our brunch was divine. We had eggs benedict and freshly squeezed orange juice…”

“Ooh, I love freshly squeezed orange juice,” Deb interrupted.

“And there was fresh lemon marmalade on raisin scones.”

“Mmm! Raisins,” said Deb.

“We were outside, overlooking the whole city. It was so pretty.”

“You’re so pretty,” said Deb.

“Oh, stop,” said Alanna, smiling and trying to look embarrassed.

“I love your outfit,” said Amy. “Is it Banana Republic?”

“No. It’s um, a designer named, hmm, I forget his name. He made it just for me.”

“Seriously? Like, just for you? No way. You are so cool,” said Amy.

“It’s nothing,” said Alanna. “Honestly, if one of you ended up with your own show after this, like I just had, there would be some unexpected perks for you too.”

“Alanna, what happened with you and Antonio?” I asked.

“Emma! How could you? Have a little respect,” Deb said, protectively resting her hand on Alanna’s arm. “Alanna is not ready to talk about that! It is all too fresh.” Then she turned to Alanna and said in a stage whisper, “I cannot believe she asked you that.”

“It’s fine,” whispered Alanna, blotting at her eyes to show it was not fine.

“Tell us more about your fabulous brunch,” said Amy.

“Did I mention the berries? There were strawberries,” said Alanna.

“No way! Strawberries? I positively, absolutely, am bonkers about strawberries,” said Deb.

“What happened with Mylar? Why did he send her home?” asked Vanessa.

“Aside from the obvious reason that you’re more awesome,” said Deb.

“Well,” Alanna sighed, appearing heavy-hearted. “She kept talking about her little boy, and I think Bellamy realized he was not ready to be father. Well, wait a minute. I don’t mean that he’s not ready to be a father, but he’s not ready to be a father to a child other than his own.”

“Did he say that?” I asked.

“He didn’t say it, but I could tell that was what he was feeling,” said Alanna.

“Of course he wouldn’t say that, Emma! He’s not that rude,” Deb snapped at me.

“I was just asking,” I said. I got up and looked out the window to see if Bellamy was on his way. Maybe jumping out of a plane wouldn’t be so bad. I reconsidered whether my outfit of jeans, a long sleeved t-shirt, and running shoes was sufficiently television-appropriate. Should I have tried a little harder to look nice? The other girls were wearing sundresses, mini-skirts, or at the very least, high heeled sandals with their jeans.

“Are you wearing that on our date?” Amy asked, reading my mind.

“I thought so. The date card said to dress casual and sporty.”

“It’s just that, up until yesterday I never saw you wear anything but zillion dollar dresses and bikinis, and now you look like you have totally given up. Don’t you like Bellamy anymore? Are you in this for the right reasons?”

“Of course I still like him,” I said. “As a matter of fact, here he is now and I can’t wait to see him. Good luck keeping up with me in those heels,” I added, running out the door to greet him.

His limo was just pulling into the driveway. I met him as he stepped out the door of it, and gave him a big hug. Mainly, just to annoy the other women. They were all on the scene moments later.

“Are you ready for an adventure?” asked Bellamy.

“Yes!” yelled everybody.

“Pile in,” said Bellamy, jumping back into the limo and patting the seat beside him.

As we were pulling away, toasting our champagne glasses, Shar came running up. She was barefoot, naked and dripping wet, holding her clothes over her private parts. “Wait,” she yelled, banging on the window with her elbow.

“Stop!” Bellamy yelled to the driver. He put down the window. “Shar, what are you doing? Why aren’t you ready for our date?”

“You still want me to come with you today?” she asked.

“Of course. Jump in,” he said.

“Um, I don’t think she is supposed to come with us,” said Deb.

“No, she certainly is not. There was a change of plans,” said Jessica.

“Says who?” said Bellamy, leaning over to open the door. “We almost missed you. Have a seat. Amy, do you mind pouring Shar a glass of champagne since you’re right next to it?”

Shar sat down, practically on top of Vanessa, and began dressing herself. First she untangled a wadded up thong and skooched into it, then she wriggled into a flame orange bra. “Did I forget my shirt? Oh well,” she said to herself, sighing as she put on her shorts. Vanessa looked like she was going to vomit.

“Now that we’re all here,” said Bellamy, “let’s toast again: To high flying adventures!”

We all raised our glasses. The mood had completely soured. Not only were we possibly about to jump to our deaths, but doing so with Shar made it twice as bad.

“Are we jumping out of a plane?” asked Shar. “Just say it, just tell us. Come on!”

“You’ll see,” said Bellamy.

“Look: My hair is all wet,” she said, squeezing pool water into a cup holder built into the back of the limo. “Do you think I can fill this whole cup holder with water?” she asked us.

“Unreal,” said Vanessa.

“Maybe you shouldn’t do that,” said Bellamy.

“Okay, if you say so. But only ‘cause you said so. I want to be by you,” she said, crawling over all of us until she was on Bellamy’s lap.

“Hi there,” he said. He put his arm around her. It was like the rest of us weren’t even in the car with them.

“So, come on, no secrets. Are we jumping out of a plane? Come on Bellamy, tell me,” she said.

“I can’t say yet.”

“You can too,” she said.

“You might be right,” said Bellamy.

“Woo hoo!” yelled Shar. “I knew it!” She stuck her tongue in his ear and giggled. Then she farted and giggled some more, fanning her butt.

“So, Bellamy,” Vanessa began, trying to take some control over the conversation.

“Hell, yeah! We’re jumping out of a plane! It’s so freakin’ obvious. Am I right? Am I? Can I be strapped to you?” Shar asked Bellamy, bouncing on his lap.

“Maybe,” he said. His face was turning red. “Um, could you stop that bouncing?”

“Do you know the producers tried to keep me away from you today?” Shar said to Bellamy.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

“Isn’t that right, you haters,” Shar said, talking directly into one of the cameras that was mounted on the ceiling. “You want to keep me down. But you can’t stop love. Uh uh. You. Can’t. Stop. Love.” She stuck out her tongue and tried to roll her eyeballs back in her head.

“I’d like to formally relinquish my position as a contestant in the fight for your heart,” Vanessa said. She removed her earrings, necklace, and bracelet, and set them all on the small portion of Bellamy’s lap that wasn’t occupied by Shar. “Furthermore, I would like my time here to immediately cease, since I have no intention of jumping out of an airplane.”

“Huh?” said Bellamy.

“Y’all are crazy if you’re going to put up with this, this, behavior,” Vanessa added, glaring at the rest of us.

“Vanessa, what are you talking about?” asked Bellamy, removing his arm from around Shar’s shoulder and handing his glass of champagne to Deb for safekeeping.

“If you like Shar, you cannot possibly like me. We are too different. We are complete opposites in every way.”

“Haters got to be hatin’,” said Shar.

“You’re quitting?” asked Bellamy.

“Bellamy, look at her,” said Vanessa. “She is dripping pool water all over the place, wearing a cheap orange bra, and she is not even supposed to be here. Yet she is clearly your favorite,”

“Besides Alanna,” Deb interrupted.

“Besides Alanna, she is clearly your favorite,” said Vanessa. She crossed her arms and looked out the window.

“I don’t have favorites,” said Bellamy. “I like all of you.”

“I don’t get why you like all of us,” sniffed Vanessa.

“Shar is fun. I’m looking for someone who can have a good time with me. But you’re smart and beautiful. I want to get to know you better. Put these back on,” he said, handing her the pile of jewelry.

“So you don’t think I’m fun?” asked Vanessa.

“I never said that. Put this stuff back on and don’t go home yet. Please?”

“Fine,” said Vanessa, sulkily reattaching her jewelry.

We all rode along in silence, until Deb clapped her hands and said, “I’ve got a fun idea! Let’s play the license plate game. We’ll see who can find the most license plates from different states. California!” she yelled, pointing out the window at a car passing us. “That means I’m winning.”

“I can’t see any license plates from where I’m sitting,” said Amy.

“I think we’re almost there,” said Bellamy. “I’d like each of you to put on one of these.” He pulled a stack of blindfolds from a bag on the floor none of us had noticed.

“This is hot,” said Jessica, gladly putting on hers.

I tied mine in place. We drove along for what felt like another five or ten minutes. The limo slowed down and stopped. “Don’t take them off yet,” said Bellamy. “I want you to be surprised.”

We heard the limo door open.

“Vanessa, take the limo driver’s hand. He will help you find your way,” said Bellamy, since Vanessa was closest to the door. “Deb, take Vanessa’s hand, and so on, so you have formed a chain.” We did as we were told, awkwardly stumbling out onto what felt like gravel.

“Can we take them off yet?” asked Deb when we were all standing outside the limo holding hands.

“Okay,” said Bellamy. “Take them off!”

We lifted our blindfolds and discovered we were in a gravel parking lot beside a small airfield. A little yellow plane stood about a hundred yards away.

“We’re going to jump out of that plane!” said Bellamy.

“Rad,” said Shar.

“First we’re going to have a brief class on safety, right here,” said Bellamy, leading us towards a building in the opposite direction. “The thing that is really amazing about this is that we’re going to form a free-falling heart. Check it out,” he said, showing a small diagram of cartoon people dropping from an airplane, each one forming a piece of the heart.

“Emma wasn’t supposed to be on this date, and if she tries to be part of the heart it’s going to be lopsided,” said Shar. True enough, the diagram consisted of just five cartoon female skydivers along with the cartoon Bellamy. It was the most sensible thing I’d ever heard her say.

“Shar is absolutely right. I guess I’d better sit this out,” I said.

“Oh,” said Bellamy. “I guess you’ll have to. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind at all,” I said. “In fact, maybe I could take a little walk. I’m feeling a little under the weather.”

“Sure. Yeah, go for a walk,” said Bellamy.

My head was spinning at the potential of freedom. Far, far across the way I could see a small strip mall with what looked like a sub shop, a hair salon, a nail spa, and a coffee shop. There had to be a phone there. Maybe I was going to get an opportunity to call Pete. “I’ll just be getting my nails done. Have fun, everyone,” I called waving and starting on my way.

It wasn’t that easy, of course. An assistant came dashing after me. “Emma, wait. Wouldn’t you like to jump out of the plane too?”

“Oh, hello, Irene. It’s Irene, right?” I said.

“Yes. We’ve only met five hundred times now. So would you like to jump out of the plane?”

“Actually, this is fine. Honestly, I prefer it,” I said, holding up my nails. “Have you ever seen such shabby nails? I can see why Bellamy is more smitten with some of the others than with me.”

“I don’t know that Bellamy cares so much about the details,” said Irene, steering me back towards the training building. “I think he’d prefer it if you jumped out of the plane.”

“He didn’t seem to care.”

“Don’t you care?”

“Sure I care, but I’m feeling a little queasy. Just between us girls,” I said, ignoring the cameraman, “I have cramps. It’s probably not the best day to jump out of a plane.”

“Is that your final decision?” she asked, taking her job entirely too seriously.

“Yes.”

“Okay then. Don’t say I didn’t warn you that jumping out of the plane was in your best interest.”

“I will never say that.”

“Charlie, you can go back with the group,” Irene said to the cameraman. “I’ll stay with Emma.”

“You don’t have to,” I said.

“I do,” she said, a tight smile on her face.

“Well then, let’s make the most of this,” I said. “It can be like a spa day.”

“I suppose,” she said, lightening up a little. “You know, I could really use a massage. I wonder if there is any place around here where I could get one. My back is so sore all the time. Working on this show is, like, a fulltime job.”

“Look over there,” I said. Off in the distance was another strip mall. I could see a sign over there for a place called Back to Yourself. “That looks like a massage place, doesn’t it?”

“I think you’re right,” said Irene.

“You go on ahead,” I said, veering off towards the nail salon.

“I’m not supposed to leave you alone,” she said.

“You’re not?”

“Um, no, I’m not.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“Since you’ve got a mic on, they will know. They’ll know we had this conversation. They’ll know you’re trying to break the rules.”

“I’m not trying to do anything but make your life easier,” I said.

“Why don’t you come with me to the massage place, and then if we have time, we’ll get our nails done,” she suggested.

Just go, I mouthed, wiggling my fingers like a tiny person running towards the massage place.

No, she mouthed, firmly shaking her head.

Yes, I mouthed, firmly nodding my head.

“I’m glad you’ve decided to come with me,” she said, forcibly enunciating each word.

“Fine,” I said, falling into step beside her.

“You were right,” she said as we got a little closer and saw the sign on the store window advertising Deep Tissue Massages just $78! “I am beyond happy to be here. My shoulders are killing me!”

“Sure. Me too,” I said. I could use a massage.

When we got inside I realized it was nicer than I’d anticipated. A fountain gurgled by the front window and the whole place smelled like lavender and eucalyptus. I thought we were listening to some kind of new age music station until I spotted a man in the corner wearing baggy linen pants and a mesh tank top, strumming a harp with his toes while playing a pan flute.

“Wowza,” said Irene. “Impressive touch!”

“No, that’s our sister shop, over in Encino. This is Back to Yourself. What services may we provide for you today?” asked the woman at the front desk.

“Let me take a look,” said Irene.

“Would you both like some chamomile licorice tea while you review our services list?”

“Sure,” said Irene, not even looking up.

“This place is rather fancy,” I whispered to Irene. I only had forty dollars in my pocket. I was afraid the tea might cost that much.

“Here you go,” said the receptionist. She had two ceramic teacups on a platter, with two teensy thimble sized cups next to each teacup. “The teacups, of course, contain tea. These small glasses contain hot wheatgrass chasers, and it’s recommended you make the wheatgrass your second sip, after tasting the chamomile licorice tea. These other small glasses contain muted peppermint oil chasers, which you will want to save until you are done with the larger cup of tea. Would either of you like soy milk or a shot of oxygen?”

“No thanks. I think we’re ready to order. We’d each like the deep tissue full body massage with a buttermilk hot towel facial and fruit plate package for $599 each,” said Irene, after examining what looked like a menu from a fancy restaurant. She yawned and nonchalantly placed a company credit card on the front desk. “Don’t pop anything on her face, please,” she said, nodding towards me. “She has to be on television later.”

“Noted,” said the receptionist.

“Would you two like the couples and friends suite, or would you like private rooms?”

“We’d like our massages and facials in private rooms, but we would like to eat the fruit plates in a communal area, please,” said Irene.

“Perfect. Ian and Spencer will be with you shortly. You don’t mind having men perform your services, do you?” asked the receptionist. She hadn’t bothered with eye contact up until this point, but now she met each of use squarely, challenging us to not accept being fondled by strange men.

“Of course not,” said Irene. “We’re not sexist. Any job a woman can do, a man can do.”

“I’m so glad you feel that way. You’ll find robes that you may change into right through this door,” said the receptionist, her voice once again as light and soothing as the harp/pan flute combo. She ushered us into a violet-lit hallway, gesturing to two frosted glass doors. “Enjoy!”

I realized I was going to get to take off my mic and be away from Irene. Without being too obvious, I scanned my surroundings for a phone. Unfortunately, the spa had evolved past technologies like phones. Instead of electronics there were plants and water and soft light.

I removed my clothes and microphone and put on my robe. I was a little itchy over the idea of being touched up and down by some guy I didn’t know. On the other hand, I was becoming so desensitized to my lack of privacy that I wasn’t sure I even cared.

There were two light taps on my door and it opened a crack. “All set?” asked a deep voice.

“I guess so,” I said.

“I’m Spencer,” said a burly man who was about six and a half feet tall.

“Emma,” I said, holding out my hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Emma.” He shook my hand. His hands were so soft. I suppose from all that massage oil he was always handling. They felt like they were carved out of pats of cool butter. “Follow me this way,” he said.

We were just a few steps out of the room when I made my move. I hadn’t even known I was going to do it, but then, like a cheetah, I sprang into action. “Could I make a quick phone call?” I asked.

“Oh, sure,” he said. “Just come down to this room as soon as you’re ready. I will leave the door open a little so you remember which room.”

“I don’t have a phone with me, I’m afraid. Do you have one I could borrow?”

“Of course. Actually, since you’re in your robe already and probably don’t want to go back up front to the reception area,” he reached into his pocket, “would you like to use mine?”

“Thank you so much,” I said.

“Here you go,” he said, pressing a few buttons and handing it to me. “It should be all ready for you.”

I took it and stepped into the massage room. “It will be just a second. I appreciate this very much,” I said, closing the door.

I started dialing Pete’s number, but my mind went blank. Back at home it was programmed into my phone. I realized that perhaps I didn’t even know his number. I tried to think if anyone else would know it. “Think, Emma. Think,” I whispered to myself. My pulse was racing. This was my big opportunity and I was going to blow it. I took a chance and dialed what I thought the number was. It rang and rang, and then the old familiar greeting came up: “Hey, this is Pete. Leave me a message.”

“Pete! It’s Emma. Don’t call me back. This isn’t my phone. I just want to tell you I’m thinking of you. You don’t need to worry about anything. Okay? I will call you back if I get a chance, but don’t return this call. I miss you. Very much.” I hesitated, unsure if I should say more. “I hope you’re thinking of me. I can’t wait to see you. Bye.” I hung up and sighed, biting my lip. If only he had answered. I should have known he wouldn’t answer a call from a number he didn’t know. Then again, why wouldn’t he, when it might be from me. What if he was angry with me? Could I blame him? I would be furious if the roles were reversed.

I stepped out of the room and handed Spencer his phone. “Thank you,” I said.

“It was no problem,” said Spencer. “Are you ready for your massage?”

“Sure,” I said, lying down on the table. The cold pats of butter descended onto my back.

“You’re tense,” Spencer remarked after a few minutes.

“I know,” I said.

“I’ll take care of that for you,” he said, lighting a few more candles and dousing me in essential oils. Between my irrational fear of exploding into a ball of flames and my fear that Pete was avoiding me, I wasn’t enjoying any of this. Similar to bad sex, it seemed to go on forever. Eventually, when my body felt like tenderized meat probably feels, Spencer stopped touching me and turned up the lights a little. “It’s time for your fruit plate,” he whispered. His breath was warm in my ear.

“Yay,” I said, stifling the urge to gag or giggle.

He led me out to a small courtyard where Irene was already waiting, her feet soaking in a pond of fish.

“Try it. They eat your callouses. It’s great,” she said.

“I’ve heard of this,” I said, sitting beside her. I looked away as two fish fought over a callus on Irene’s heel.

I was nibbling on a wedge of cantaloupe when Spencer reappeared, carrying his phone. I knew right away that I was in big trouble. He smiled, holding it out to me. “It’s for you,” he said.

Irene dropped her fork to her plate with a clatter. “I’ll take that instead,” she said.

Chapter 19

“Who is this?” Irene said into the phone.

“Did I do something wrong?” asked Spencer.

“No,” I said. I stopped eating my fruit, aware that as soon as it was found out that I was a fraud, none of this would be free any longer. I would have to give back my jewelry. I wondered if the show would even pay to fly me home.

“Oh. Oh, I see,” said Irene. She pulled her feet from the fish pond and wiped them on a fluffy towel. Then she stood up and walked away from us. I followed her. “Go away, get away from me,” she hissed, shooing me back to the table.

“You’re going to send me home anyway, so let me talk to him,” I said.

“Yes, yes, I understand,” Irene said into the phone, “but we have strict rules here that need to be followed. Uh huh. Yes, I see. She’s right here, but I’m afraid I can’t allow you to talk to her. No, I understand that. Okay. Yes. It’s been nice speaking to you as well, Mr. Van Elson. I will let her know. Goodbye.” She returned the phone to Spencer and sat back down at the fish pond. She took a bite of watermelon and a few blueberries and then shook her head angrily. “No! No! This is not supposed to be this hard! This was supposed to be relaxing.” She turned to me, fuming. “How am I supposed to relax when you’re being a troublemaker? Do you realize that if you screw up, I could lose my job? I’m babysitting you right now. Or weren’t you aware of that? Think about me the next time you pull something like this.”

“Sorry. So, you spoke to…”

“Your brother. I’m sorry your great uncle is having health problems, but if you needed an update on how he was doing, you should have been straightforward with me. I would have let you use a phone if you had explained to me that it was a family emergency. What I can’t stand is someone who goes behind my back.”

“Sorry.”

“For the record, he’s fine. His surgery went fine.”

“What a relief,” I said.

“Ugh. It’s just, I don’t want to lose this job. It looks stressful, not everybody could do it, but it’s the only job I’ve got and I need to keep it. I have bills to pay. Maybe you can’t relate to that, but I’m a real person, with real problems, and real bills. Okay? Try to have a little respect.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I mean, no, it’s not fine, but I feel like we understand each other now.” She stuck her fork through a piece of honeydew and a bing cherry, her face brightening as she popped them in her mouth. “Oh my God,” she said with her mouth full. “Try those together. Their juices mingle like a lesbian symphony. They’re sooo good.”

I pulled my plate and fork back over to me and made a honeydew-cherry kabob of my own. “Yes, amazing,” I said, still unsure whether I was completely in the clear.

Irene wiggled her toes, making sure the fish didn’t miss anything. “How was your massage?” she asked.

“Great.”

“Mine too. You could, like, hear my tendons popping. Like a rubber band factory burning down. Pop pop pop. It was so dreary to have the severity of my exhausted, overworked condition exposed like that, you know? I had knots and ugh, just, like everything wrong, things a chiropractor can’t even begin to fix, but now I feel like a whole new person.”

“Me too.”

“You know what? Your brother sounds exactly like the guy from those infomercials. Mr. Jabberjaw Asshole. The electric dust mop guy?”

“Hmm, not sure who you mean.”

“Sure you do. Mr. Scammy McSleazebucket. You must have seen him selling his battery powered jump rope that counts for you.”

“Nope. Can’t say I know him. Hey, did you try the honeydew with a grape? Try it, Irene. It’s to die for,” I said.

“You really don’t know who I mean? You must watch television or you never would have wanted to be on a reality show!”

“I only watched Bellamy. The rest of the time I’m reading or doing crafts.”

“Oh please! You don’t know him? Really?” she asked. “That guy who sells that self-cleaning computer keyboard?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know who you mean,” I said firmly.

“Never mind. Oh look! More wheat grass shots.”

“You can have mine.”

“Thank you, Emma. Sorry I melted down on you. You just can’t imagine the type of shit people try to pull on shows like this. I’ve been doing this now for two and a half years and I could write a book about the way these supposed love-seekers try to cheat the system. Isn’t that terrible? We’re talking about love, what’s more sacred than love, and yet people want to screw with each other. They have someone back at home, but they want to be here and be on television, and get all the perks that come with being on a show like this. It’s sickening.”

“Yep.”

“They’re time wasters, on top of being crooks. I don’t know what’s worse. Besides love, what’s more precious than time? Nothing.”

“Yeah,” I said. I nodded, concentrating on the blackberries I was eating, trying to ignore her.

“So I have to assume the worst, you know. Guilty until proven innocent. As much as that sucks.” She downed her wheatgrass shot and mine, and then stood up, checking her watch. “We’d better get our facials taken care of before it gets any later.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Sorry again for blowing up at you,” she said just before we were about to part ways. “I didn’t know you were going through a family crisis.”

“Um, did my brother say anything else?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Just anything about how everyone is doing. Since, you know, we’ve all been so worried about my uncle.”

“Hmm.” She tilted her head from side to side and picked a seed out of her teeth. “Actually, yes. I said I wasn’t going to take any messages, but I guess considering the circumstances, I can share this with you. He asked me to tell you that they all can’t wait for you to be home in Chicago, enjoying red pepper pesto pizza with you. I guess it’s some kind of inside joke with your family?”

“Yes. Something like that,” I said. My heart felt all warm and fuzzy.

“Well, if you make it to Meet-the-Fam dates, which I’m totally sure you will, you’ll have to be sure to serve up some of that famous pizza to Bellamy.”

“Right,” I said.

**********

The limo drive home was very annoying. All the girls were holding 8x10 glossy pictures of the heart they had formed in the sky, framed in silver frames. The frames were engraved with the words High in the Sky for my Special Guy! Lovin’ bein’ on Bellamy’s Redemption. Each frame had a smaller frame affixed to the lower right hand corner, holding a close up of Bellamy, his face distorted by the air pressure. They’d all worn puffy skydiving getups, each in bright fuchsia. It had been a big attraction with crowds gathering to gawk and take photos. Irene and I had missed it all since we’d been busy being nurtured into oblivion.

“That was so exhilarating,” said Vanessa. She was snuggled up against Bellamy, having apparently aced her day with him.

“Yes it was,” said Bellamy. “Best day of my life. So far.”

Shar was not so happy. For reasons unexplained she was wearing some old sweat pants instead of the shorts she’d had on earlier. A greasy hooded sweatshirt covered her orange bra. She wasn’t speaking to anyone.

“What’s up with her?” I whispered to Deb.

“She had an accident,” she whispered back.

“An accident?”

“Yes. An accident. As in, an accident. In her shorts. She could barely jump out of the plane. She was a total disaster.”

“Are you talking about me?” asked Shar.

“No,” Deb and I said in unison.

“If you are, knock it off,” said Shar.

“We’re not,” said Deb.

I closed my eyes, thinking about Pete. We’d practically spoken today! And he’d covered for me. And sent me a secret, coded message. I sighed happily. Everything between us was okay. All I had to do was collect my Deluxe jewels, spy a little, travel the world, and before I knew it, I would be back with him and all of this would be nothing more than a distant memory.

“You probably think you’ve had enough adventure for one day,” said Bellamy when we were almost back to the mansion, “but I have another surprise in store for all of you.”

“Ooh, what’s that?” said Vanessa.

“Will we stop at home so I can change my clothes first?” asked Shar.

“Yes,” said Bellamy. “We’re making a special trip so you can do that. The rest of you can wait in the car with me while she is changing.”

“What’s our big surprise?” asked Jessica.

“You’ll see,” said Bellamy. He poured us all more champagne as the car pulled up to our house and Shar dashed inside, returning moments later in a tinsel-covered royal blue mini-dress.

“Not fair,” said Amy. “Can we all go inside and change into cute little cocktail dresses?”

“No. You all look great just as you are. Let’s just get on our way,” said Bellamy.

“Whatevs,” said Amy, picking at her cuticles.

“Okay, we’re here already,” said Bellamy a few moments later. “Hop out, my sky jumping damn cells.”

“What’s he talking about?” whispered Deb.

“I think he means damsels,” I said. “He’s just pronouncing it funny. Accidentally, I imagine.”

“Oh! Cute,” she said.

We were up on top of a big hill and there were picnic tables set up beneath strings of white lights. I could smell hotdogs cooking. “Are you girls ready for a hotdog eating contest?” he asked us. “The winner of this contest will be safe from elimination.”

“Are we on Fear Factor?” asked Vanessa, unsnuggling herself from him in disgust. “I don’t want to be part of a hotdog eating contest!”

“I don’t eat meat,” I pointed out.

“We thought of that, Emma,” said Bellamy. He went over to a big vat of hot water, removed the metal lid, and showed me piles and piles of hotdogs bobbing in hot water. “See how some of these are kind of light and squarish compared to the rest? Those are vegan hotdogs. Just for you, Emma.”

“But they’re all in the same water,” I said.

“Sure, they look wet now, but they get grilled at the last minute for that fresh-off-the-coals flavor,” he said, pointing over to a band of chefs wearing aprons beside grills. They all had on tall white hats. One of them waved his tongs at us and winked.

“That’s not the point. They’re all, you know, stewing together in the same water,” I said. No one was listening.

“I’m gonna do this,” said Shar, plunking down at a picnic table, ready to prove her fun-ness.

“Aren’t you all hungry?” asked Bellamy. “I’m starving! I’m gonna do it too, if that changes anyone’s mind.”

Deb and Jessica sat down at the picnic tables, ready to get started. Amy, Vanessa, and I stayed near the limo. I knew that skipping two challenges in a row was not going to be a good thing, but I just couldn’t do it.

“No one has to do anything they don’t want to do,” said Bellamy, “but I’m looking for a wife who likes fun and adventure. Someone who isn’t afraid to make a fool out of herself. You know? I’m not exactly keeping score, but I am trying to see who is compatible with my interests. And I like hotdogs.”

“Let’s get this party started,” said Shar, loosening the zipper on the side of her dress.

“I will eat a hotdog,” said Amy, “but I’m not going to participate in the contest.” She took a seat at the picnic table and primly placed a square of paper towel in her lap.

“Count me out,” said Vanessa. She poured herself some more champagne, kicked off her shoes, and settled back to watch.

“Yeah. Me too,” I said, following her lead. I was so relieved to not be sitting this out alone.

“Hello, are you ready for some fun?” yelled Catalina Cartwright. She was dressed like a cowgirl, her hands resting on squirt guns that were in a pink holster belt around her hips.

“Where did she come from?” I asked.

“She just kind of appeared,” said Vanessa.

Catalina Cartwright drew her squirt guns and squirted Bellamy and the other contestants. “Giddy Up! It’s time for a good old fashioned hotdog eating contest! As Bellamy was just explaining to y’all, he wants a woman who is crazy, fun, and not afraid to look a little silly. When you hear that rocket go off,” she said, pointing up the hill past the grills, “dive right in, gobble gobble gobble!”

Paper plates stacked with four hotdogs each were placed in front of Bellamy and the women by some apron wearing assistants. Catalina Cartwright came over to Vanessa and me, rolling her eyes. “What a spectacle. A hotdog eating contest. I mean, come on!”

A cameraman was right on her. Vanessa and I moved out of the way.

“You don’t need to film me right now,” Catalina said to the camera guy, waving him away.

“Can we use our hands?” yelled Shar, just as the rocket was fired.

“Yeah, yeah, use your hands,” said Bellamy. I could barely understand him. His mouth was already filled with a big bite.

“The hotdogs were all left over from a birthday party for the network president’s kid,” Catalina Cartwright explained to us. “I know there’s been concern about our ratings, but I’m not sure if we’re moving in the right direction.” She swatted at her leg where a drip from the water gun was running down it.

“Aha,” said Vanessa, trying to sound wise. I couldn’t believe Catalina Cartwright was hanging out with us.

“Personally, I’d like to see them stick with more of the romantic dates,” Catalina continued. “Don’t you think that’s what viewers really want? Or is there a place for this sensationalism, this ridiculousness? I guess this is why I’m just the host.” She sighed, setting the squirt guns on the grass.

“Jessica is going to win this,” I observed, watching the Australian beckon for another plate of hotdogs.

“I’ll admit,” said Vanessa, “it’s hard to look away.”

Amy removed herself from the table and came over to join us. “I just had one. I didn’t even eat the bun,” she said rather defensively, as if we hadn’t seen her daintily consume one hotdog with a plastic knife and fork.

Catalina put her holster belt back on, getting ready for more camera time. Just as an assistant was finishing touching up her makeup, Shar leaned over and puked all over Bellamy. Bellamy jumped up and was immediately blotted with towels by producers and assistants. Deb started gagging and ran away, leaving Jessica alone at the table, victorious.

Once Bellamy was all cleaned up and dried off with a hair dryer, he presented Jessica with a ruby and Swarovski crystal tiara. She happily accepted it. Then we were redeposited at the mansion.

“See you tomorrow night at the cocktail party,” said Bellamy as we piled out of the limo.

“Are they announcing tonight where we’re traveling?” asked Amy.

“No, that happens tomorrow night after the elimination ceremony,” said Bellamy. “But I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you that, so pretend I didn’t.”

“Okay,” said Amy. “Where are we going to go?”

“I can’t tell you that,” said Bellamy. “I don’t even know that myself yet.”

“Right,” said Jessica.

“Are you going on a date tomorrow morning with anyone?” asked Shar.

“Um, I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure nothing is scheduled all day tomorrow until the cocktail party and elimination ceremony in the evening.”

“Why?” asked Shar. The rest of us were on our way inside now, but she wouldn’t let him be.

“I guess they thought I needed a break,” he said.

“From us?” she asked.

“I guess,” he said.

“Do you want to take a walk with me before you go?” she asked.

“Um, I think I’m too tired. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she said. She looked so sad, standing there with tinsel falling off her and vomit crusted onto her dress that I almost felt sorry for her.

“What are you looking at, bitch?” she yelled, noticing me watching her.

“Nothing,” I said. I went inside and went to bed.

Chapter 20

“That’s a great dress,” said Shar.

“It’s too late to butter me up. Anyway, it doesn’t matter what I think. You should direct some of your fake positive energy towards Bellamy,” I said.

“It’s too late. I’m going home tonight. How could there be any other outcome after I shat myself and puked all over him yesterday,” she said, shaking her head and downing her cocktail. It ran down the sides of her mouth. “God, I’m such a freakin’ slob.”

Once again, I almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

“Did you spend much time with him tonight?” she asked.

“A little. Not enough, of course,” I said. In reality, I’d spent about two minutes with him. He’d asked me how I was doing and if I was getting along with all the girls. I’d taken that as my cue to send him a hint, so I’d said that everyone seemed pretty nice, but Shar wasn’t my favorite person. It wasn’t really the most helpful feedback, but he’d seemed happy enough with my response.

“Mind if I join you ladies?” asked Tamika, sitting down beside us.

“Did you get any one-on-one time with him yet tonight?” Shar asked her.

“About two minutes before Alanna showed up and stole him away from me. Honestly, I don’t think any of us stand a chance now that she’s back.”

“Does anyone know what happened with her and Antonio?” asked Shar. “Why aren’t they planning their wedding right now like they’re supposed to be?”

“Who knows,” said Tamika.

“Okay, ladies, gather around, gather around,” said Catalina Cartwright. “We’ve got a very big night ahead of us. As you may or may not know, two of you will be leaving tonight. One of you, Jessica, is already safe.” She gestured towards Jessica who was standing off to the side alone, her hair in an elaborate up-do that perfectly complemented her tiara. Jessica bowed a bit in a way that might be considered normal in Australia. Catalina continued, “So, without further hesitation, ladies, take your places. Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

We all found a small masking tape X to stand on and took our places. As always, they arranged us a bit by size and dress color until they thought we looked right. Once we got settled into place, Bellamy joined us.

“Bellamy, welcome! Have you made your decision?” asked Catalina.

“Hello Catalina. Hello again, ladies. Catalina, it’s never easy to send any of these wonderful women away, and tonight was the hardest night ever. I was, like, looking at their pictures, and remembering good times, and thinking and thinking. Geez. It was not easy.”

“But you made your decision?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Great. Go ahead, Bellamy.”

“Okay. Here I go,” he said, reaching for the first tiara. “Emma, will you accept this Deluxe ruby and Swarovski crystal tiara?”

“Yes,” I said, stepping forward. He gently placed it on my head and kissed me on the lips. My body jolted awake. My lips started kissing him back with a mind of their own until we were full-on French kissing.

“Excuse me,” said Catalina, dinging a spoon against her champagne glass.

“Um, thank you, Bellamy, for this tiara,” I said in a persnickety, business-like manner, trying to recover from my hotwired hormones. I joined Jessica.

“What was that all about?” she asked me under her breath.

“I’m just dumb like that,” I said.

“Alanna, will you accept this tiara?” asked Bellamy.

“I suppose,” she said, looking beautifully devastated over the display of affection that he and I had just shared. She joined Jessica and me, but she stood a couple of inches off her X and wouldn’t look my way.

Vanessa was next, then Tamika and Klassie. Then there were just three girls remaining: Shar, Deb, and Amy. Shar was wearing a pink sequined dress with matching shoes and a purple feather boa. Her face was covered in splotches and fresh tears were running down her face. She looked like a big old mess.

“Bellamy, can I have a word with you? Please? Please?” she begged.

“Yes Shar, but I’ve made up my mind already,” he said.

Instead of going away for a moment with him, she just started blathering: “Maybe if I could just talk to you. Maybe then! Maybe I could change your mind. Bellamy, I have never left the country. Never! Everybody has been some place but me.”

“I haven’t either,” Deb interrupted.

Shar ignored her and continued, “I‘ve only been to five states. Only five! I want to see the world! You could do that for me. And I really like you! Don’t you think I’m more fun that these other girls? Don’t you think I’m hotter than them?”

“Shar, stop please,” he said.

“You’re going to… send me home, aren’t you? Don’t! Please don’t.”

“Shar, please…”

“But I’m so… hot. …I have a… hot body… and I’m… fun,” she said, choking out the words as she swatted at the stream of snot running from her nose.

“Deb,” said Bellamy, holding up the last tiara, “will you accept this Deluxe ruby and Swarovski crystal tiara?”

“Yes,” she said, helping him set it on her head. She joined the rest of us.

“Amy, Shar,” said Catalina Cartwright, “your time here on Bellamy’s Redemption is over. Please say goodbye.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” said Shar, brushing past Bellamy.

“Fair enough,” he said. “Amy, may I walk you out?”

“Sure,” she said, waving goodbye to the rest of us. She didn’t look too upset.

“That was so embarrassing,” said Alanna. She shook her head and sighed a delicately sweet little sigh. “I feel so sorry for her,” she continued. “Meltdowns like that make me cringe inside. Poor thing! She needs professional help.”

“I know! How sad,” said Deb.

“Oh. Well, anyway, that was horrible to watch. Horrible! I really hope she is going to be okay,” said Alanna.

I thought it was fascinating how Alanna had completely insulted Shar, yet managed to do so in a way that made herself look kind and concerned. As if to reinforce this, Deb said, “You’re such a good person, Alanna.”

“Oh, stop,” said Alanna.

“Shar’s pretty tough. I think she’ll survive this,” I said.

“Oh, you think so? In that case, I guess there is nothing to worry about,” said Alanna. She gave me a tight, plastic smile and turned away. Clearly, she was still mad about the kiss.

“That was not easy! Not easy at all,” said Bellamy, rejoining us. “I’m still sweating from that one! I made the right choices, though. I’m very glad you’re my final seven. To all of you, my final seven,” he said again, raising his glass. “I have some news for you: You may think I didn’t send any of you packing, but actually, I am sending you all packing!”

“What do you mean?” asked Deb.

“We’re leaving tonight for Venice! You all have one hour to pack your bags and meet me back here.”

We all jumped up and down, screaming. Alanna even lost her composure for a moment. We knew we were finally something special when we saw that a limo, not a bus, was waiting outside to shuttle us back to our house.

“Does anyone know where Venice is?” asked Deb, once we were on our way back. It was taking us a long time to get home since our limo driver had taken us on a detour to buy ice cream for Alanna.

“It’s in Italy,” said Vanessa.

“Like Italy, Europe? Gosh. I have never been there. Do we need to have a passport?” asked Deb.

“Of course,” said Vanessa.

“Oh. I hope the show worked that out for me. I don’t think I have one, but I imagine the producers will have it all figured out.”

“It was one of the requirements for coming on here,” said Tamika. “I don’t think you could be here if you don’t have one.”

“I don’t know,” said Deb. “My mom filled out most of the paperwork for me, so she probably handled it. Is a passport a little book with my picture in it?”

“Yes,” said Alanna. She sighed. Her patience with all of us was wearing thin.

“Hmm. Yeah, I think I have seen passports before, like, in movies and you know, just in general, but I am not sure if I ever got one. Well, it will work itself out, right?” asked Deb.

“No. If you don’t have one it will not work itself out,” said Alanna. “If you don’t have a passport, your time here is over.”

I could tell what the other girls were thinking: Another one bites the dust. I, however, had confidence in the producers and believed that none of us would be contestants if we did not have valid passports.

“I’ll bet I’m going home,” said Deb. “I screwed this up. I screw everything up! Once I had a job at a popcorn stand at a carnival and I blew it. Can you imagine getting fired from a popcorn stand? By a carnie? Who ran the ducky game? Who never even wore a shirt? Who was my uncle? Well, it happened to me.”

“For real?” asked Tamika.

“I wouldn’t make up something like this! It was pretty much the worst night of my life. The popcorn machine started on fire. I tried to put out the fire with Sno-Cone ice and syrup, but it didn’t work.”

“Is there something illegal in Sno-Cone syrup?” asked Klassie. “It’s so yummy.”

“I feel the same way,” said Vanessa.

“Especially cherry,” said Klassie.

“See, I would have said especially blue raspberry,” said Vanessa.

“I think just lots of sugar,” said Deb. “Anyhow, it was about a hundred degrees out and maybe one fifty in my popcorn shack. Livin’ On a Prayer was playing. I was wearing cut off shorts and a pink tie dyed t-shirt, and some blue sandals with beads on them. I can picture it all like it was yesterday. My hair was in braids. God, it’s like rushing back at me. I can remember everything! My nails were painted dark pink! It’s like I’m right back there.”

“It’s okay, relax,” said Tamika.

“I’m okay. Thanks,” said Deb, nodding and taking a sip of her champagne to calm herself a bit. “Have you ever seen the way fire can leap across a fairground? It’s something about all that dry, crunchy grass and oily, sweaty people. It’s like a perfect storm. Excuse me,” she said, lowering the window long enough to let a gnat fly out. “I love gnats. I thought that little guy was going to end up in my champagne. He would have drowned. I had some gnats as pets when I was a kid,” she added, a hazy smile of remembrance on her face.

“I can’t imagine they made good pets,” said Alanna.

“They have personalities like anything,” said Deb. It was right then and there that I decided she should be Bellamy’s wife.

“Then what happened? I mean with the firestorm, not the gnats,” said Vanessa, leaning forward, tucking her hair behind her ears so she wouldn’t miss a word.

“A ball of fire shot from my popcorn stand straight over to the Bulldozers, and started a stuffed purple panda on fire,” said Deb.

“How did you end up working at a carnival?” asked Alanna. “Do you come from one of those carnival families?”

Deb ignored her and continued with her story: “The panda fell on the ground and a line of fire starting burning, heading straight over to the Tilt-a-Whirl. I almost started the Tilt-a-Whirl on fire. With kids on it! Geez, it was really bad.”

“It sounds awful. Super scary,” said Vanessa.

“So, I guess this means I don’t have a passport, since that’s the way things always go for me,” said Deb.

“The producers have it,” I said. “They have all our passports. Don’t you remember them confiscating them? Tonight when we get our plane tickets they’ll give us our passports back.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” said Alanna. “When I was the star of my own show, one of the guys got sent home for some kind of paperwork error, so you never know.”

“You were the star of your own show?” asked Jessica.

“Very funny,” said Alanna.

“I agree with Emma. I think you’ll be fine,” said Vanessa.

“Thanks. I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” said Deb as we turned into our driveway.

Sure enough, passports materialized for all of us, along with airline tickets and Venice travel guides. The best part of Bellamy’s Redemption was about to begin!

Chapter 21

“Hi there, are you Albergo?” asked Deb.

“Excus-a me?” asked the adorable little man who seemed to be running the show at our hotel.

“Are you Albergo Vincenzo?”

“This is Albergo Vincenzo,” he said, pointing to the marble floor.

“I really don’t get what you mean, but could you get us some more peanuts when you get a chance? All this bubbly water is making me want something salty.”

“It’s making me thirsty,” said Alanna, who was jetlagged bordering on hysterical. She had been drinking bubbly water, champagne, and some kind of orange liquor since 5:00 a.m.

“Me too, y’all,” said Vanessa, holding up an empty crystal tumbler.

“It’s so horrid to be trapped here like this, just watching the world go by, not able to get out there,” said Alanna. “And to be so sleep-deprived is criminal. My God, I just can’t handle this.”

We were all stretched out on antique wicker lounge chairs, up on a rooftop terrace, watching gondolas go by on the Grand Canal. Klassie and Tamika were on a two-on-one date, and only one of them was coming back.

“Do you think it’s appropriate for us to be wearing bikinis?” asked Deb. “Everyone else is wearing, you know, clothes.” She waved her empty peanut bowl at the few other tourists nearby. Far to our left were two older Germans wearing slacks and button-down shirts. To our right was a middle-aged woman reading a novel. She had on jeans and a fleece pull-over. She was distancing herself from us since she was Canadian and fancied herself to be superior to us.

“Oh, who cares?” said Jessica. “I’m going to show off all the skin I can until I’m old and saggy.” The middle-aged woman shook her head but didn’t look up from her book.

“There shouldn’t even be other people around,” said Alanna. “I was told we would have a closed set at all times.”

“Is it lunchtime yet?” Deb asked Albergo, when he reappeared with a delightful brass cart holding peanuts, bubbly water, flat water, and a couple of bottles of champagne.

“Our restaurant begins serving in one hour,” said Albergo.

“I guess I can make it a little longer,” said Deb, scooping up a handful of peanuts. “I can’t believe how fat this show is making me.”

“You still look fine,” said Vanessa.

“Nuh-uh. I’m probably a size eight now.”

“Gross,” said Alanna. “You definitely are not.”

“Who do you think is coming back? Tamika or Klassie?” I asked.

“I think both will go home soon. The order doesn’t matter,” said Jessica.

“Tamika is boring, and Klassie is too wild. Like, the roller skates. Is that for real, or is it just a gimmick?” asked Vanessa.

“I think that’s her being her,” I said.

“Oh, Emma, you’re so naive,” said Alanna. “When I was the star of my own show, last season, half of the guys had a gimmick. One showed up wearing a Marshmallow Man costume because he was so sweet. Like, ha ha. Another wore a vintage bomber jacket and sunglasses and tried to pretend to be Tom Cruise. I was like ewww. Who’s grosser than Tom Cruise? Nobody! And how about the guy with the pointy goatee and horn implants who tried to convince me he was a Minotaur?”

“I don’t remember that,” I said.

“You don’t remember that?”

“Sorry. I missed an episode once when I was working late.”

“Working late? Like a… dad? From the 1950’s? I’ve really had it up to here with you,” she said, sawing at the air above her head. “Working late! I’m going to scream.” She turned to a cameraman. “Can I get my own hotel? She just said she was working late. That is the fakest excuse I’ve ever heard. I’m being lied to. Straight to my face. It’s just like Antonio all over again. Ugh!” She shook her head, dismissing me with the wave of her hand as she turned to face the others. “Didn’t any of you even watch me? Apparently you really aren’t fans like I thought you were.”

“We’re your fans! We’re totally your fans,” said Deb.

“Thank you, Debbie. Anyway, Klassie is the same as all those fools from my season. She’s a big faker. She’s trying to be memorable with a gimmick to make up for a lack of real personality.”

“I really don’t think that’s the case with her. I think she likes to roller skate. I don’t believe it’s more complicated than that,” I said.

“Emma, Emma, Emma.” Alanna shook her head. “I thought you were smarter than that. Seriously, I thought aside from Vanessa and myself, you were maybe in third place for smartness. Now I see you’re a naive liar who isn’t smart at all. How about that Eskimo kiss she gave Bellamy the other day? What was that all about? Can’t you recognize a gimmick when you see one?”

“Yeah, that was odd,” I admitted.

“Thanks for agreeing with me when I’m obviously right. I mean, it’s the least you could do. I guess what I am trying to say is, I wish you would go home. I’m sick of seeing your face around here.”

Deb gasped a little over this, but quickly looked down. Before I could come back with any kind of response, Jessica jumped in on my behalf: “Would you listen to yourself, you bloody wombat? Don’t you realize there are cameras all around you? I hope they keep this in and show you like you really are,” she said to Alanna.

“Are you talking back to me?” asked Alanna.

“Yes! Enough already.”

“You can keep your little sayings to yourself. Bellamy would never end up with someone like you. You’re Australian,” said Alanna.

“Goodbye,” said Jessica, getting up and leaving. Vanessa covered her face with her book to keep from participating in the conversation. I opened a bubbly water and sipped it, looking out at Venice. The people walking by on the little bridge down below were so much classier looking than Americans. I caught a cute guy looking up at us and I accidentally waved, then yanked my hand back down to my side and pretended I’d been swatting at a fly. I considered going inside and taking a nap to get away from everyone but there was too much to see out here.

“Hey, Alanna,” said Deb, “I’m done looking at this magazine if you want it. It’s all in Italian, but you’d probably like it. Everyone looks really stylish, like you.”

Alanna took it and shoved it under her lounge chair. Then she sighed and her eyes filled up with tears. “Forgive me if I sounded mean a second ago,” she said to everyone and no one in in particular, “but all these people around are getting to me. I’m an introvert and people suck my energy from me. They’re spirit-mosquitoes. I wish this was over. I’m just really exhausted from all this constant pressure and the lack of privacy. I know he’s going to pick me, but I’m sick of waiting and sick of all of you. I hope I’m not upsetting you. I’m just being honest.”

“You’re not upsetting us. Not at all,” said Deb.

“Good.” Alanna turned to the camera guys. “Hi Luca. Hi Bob. Luca, you look cute today. Bob, I like your t-shirt. It’s so funny! At first I didn’t get it, but now I see that the donkey is really a cat, and it makes sense. You guys are awesome. Don’t make me look mean on TV, okay? Please! Pretty please? You can delete some of this if you want to. You know I’m not actually mean, right? You know I’m just having a bad day. I’m so jetlagged. And I don’t know what’s in this orange stuff, but whew! It’s making me loopy! I’m sorry.” Then she turned back to me. “And you, Emma, wise up!”

I turned away since I didn’t trust the producers to edit my response in a favorable way.

“Don’t sweat it, Alanna,” said Deb. “We’re all still crazy about you.”

“Thanks, Debbie. You’re a sweetie,” said Alanna.

“You can just call me Deb. Only my grandpa ever called me Debbie. He called me Little Debbie. Like the snack girl. It was his special name for me.”

“Cute,” I said.

Alanna glared at Deb, so Deb cleared her throat and continued, “But Alanna, if you want to call me Debbie, that’s fine. You can call me whatever you want. It’s really up to you.”

“Debbie is easier to remember,” said Alanna.

“It is?”

“Sure,” said Alanna.

“Oh. Can I call you Lannie?”

“No way.”

“That’s fine. You can still call me Debbie. Anyhow, these peanuts taste different. I guess ‘cause they’re Italian peanuts. They taste, I don’t know, just different I guess,” said Deb, rubbing her bloated little tummy. She belched quietly and dropped a wadded up tissue into the peanut bowl. “That ought to keep me from eating the rest. Or maybe not. Knowing me, I’ll just keep on eating them anyway. I hope Bellamy likes curvy girls. By curvy, I mean fat. Isn’t he amazing? He’s exactly like I thought he would be, but a million times better. I wish he’d just pick me to be his wife. His wife. That sounds so amazing! No offense, Alanna, or you either Emma; it’s not that I wouldn’t want him to pick one of you, but I really love him. I told him that even. Have either of you told him that yet?”

“What?” we all asked in unison. Vanessa who had been pretending to be asleep was now sitting up, gawking.

“I love him. I am in love with him. And I told him so,” said Deb.

“You did?” asked Vanessa.

“Am I supposed to keep this a secret?” Deb asked, turning to address a cameraman. He just shrugged a little.

“How did you know?” I asked.

“I just knew,” she said. “Have any of you told him yet?”

We all looked at each other. None of us said anything. Then Alanna spoke up: “I did. I had to explain why I was back here, so I told him that I’m in love with him.”

“Are you?” asked Jessica, reappearing on the scene.

“Yes,” said Alanna.

“Are you ever going to tell us what happened with you and Antonio?” asked Vanessa.

“I suppose I might as well. You’ll all just read about it in magazines anyway. This definitely isn’t going on the show though,” she said, raising her eyes at a producer who was sitting off on his own playing with his phone. “Hello, Jules. I know you’re listening. Tell me that I can say something off the record or I’m not going to tell them. Luca, turn your camera off.”

“You’ve got five minutes,” said Jules. “If anything big happens we’re going to film it, so be prepared to shut your mouth or what you say could make it on the show.”

“Thank you,” said Alanna. “Okay, I will make this fast. I really did love Antonio, but I also liked Bellamy. I mean loved Bellamy. I mean, I still love him. But back to Antonio. I felt pressure to pick one, so I did.”

“So you didn’t want to get engaged?” asked Deb.

“That’s not what I said, Debbie. I felt pressure, but I did want to get engaged.”

“Okay. Sorry,” said Deb.

“A week after Antonio and I got engaged he told me that he is a virgin, except for one brief encounter where his older male cousin gave him a hand job at a movie theater. I was devastated, but I told him we could try to work through it with counseling or therapy, or maybe a trip to some place tropical. I really wanted to go to Saint Maarten.”

“Ooh, I love it there,” said Vanessa.

“I’ve never been,” said Alanna.

“Wrap up your story. The girl who didn’t get kicked off is coming back soon and we want to be able to film that,” said a producer.

“Okay, no problem Jules. So, we signed up for some counseling in Santa Monica and it was way too new age for me. The counselors were married. Have you ever heard of that?  A married couple doing counseling together?”

“Ick! That sounds like a recipe for disaster,” said Deb.

“It was! They were super old. Like fifty probably. They used crystals and made us soak our feet in olive oil baths. There was so much incense burning that I could barely breathe. I had to pretty much burn my clothes after a session, because of the god-awful stench.”

“Terrible,” said Vanessa.

“Tell me about it! They played bongo drums and they liked not having the lights on very bright. They seemed to think light was disruptive or bad, and they told us to ‘talk things out’ by candlelight. How dumb! And they tried to make us plant a garden in paper cups because they thought we needed something to nurture together. One whole session was about dirt and seeds and Dixie cups. Can you imagine? Can you even imagine? Worst of all, I could tell from all their shenanigans that they didn’t comprehend that we had real problems! Like Antonio’s compulsive lying! He told me that he never eats junk food, and I built my perceptions of him on statements like that. I was building feelings based on lies.”

“What do you mean?” asked Vanessa.

“It turns out, he does eat junk food! What did I find in his car when he came back from visiting his brother at college? A Mulliver’s hamburger wrapper! A gross, greasy, skanky, unhealthy hamburger wrapper! Actually, actually, hang on. I think it might have been a cheeseburger wrapper.”

“A cheeseburger wrapper? Even worse,” said Vanessa. “This reminds me, as a pediatrician, that childhood obesity is a national epidemic. In the States, anyhow. I’m trying to come up with ways to singlehandedly solve this problem, like maybe a line of pre-packaged healthy kids’ snacks and microwavable meals. What do y’all think?”

“Yeah, a cheeseburger wrapper is totally worse,” Alanna continued, ignoring Vanessa. “He said it was his brother’s, but I know he was lying because it was crumpled into a ball, and he likes to crumple everything up into a ball.”

“I love Mulliver’s. Do you really consider them to be junk food?” asked Deb. She looked seriously concerned. “I think maybe they’re kind of healthy, right? Mmm, I’m getting hungry just thinking about that place. Mmm, Mulliver’s Milky Malt! Lemon Snow Shavers! Pot Roast Lunch Bucket! Mmmm.”

“What’s a Lemon Snow Shaver? It sounds delicious,” said Vanessa. “Do you think it would fit into my childhood obesity food plan? I mean, kids gotta go out to eat still, right?”

“Debbie, where’s your loyalty?” asked Alanna. “I thought you always had my back.”

“You’re right. What a creep that Antonio turned out to be,” said Deb. “I can’t believe he left you to be with his brother, when you two were just starting out.”

“Exactly. We were only together maybe a month total, but the lies and deceptions he packed into that month are more than I may ever recover from. And how were we supposed to heal from everything he did to me? With talking and drumming and chanting! No wonder we were doomed! Those froo-froo counselors didn’t understand or appreciate that I am a traditional girl. Worldly and sophisticated, yet basic. I’m Prada, not Juicy Couture, ya know? I’m simple. I mean, for God’s sake, I’m Canadian. That’s right, I’m a Canadian too,” she said, interrupting her story for the benefit of the middle aged woman in fleece.

“Get me oat of here,” muttered the Canadian to her book.

“The final straw was at our second therapy session when one of the counselors suggested that we not be engaged yet. Can you imagine? I had a gorg ring that I was supposed to give back? It was platinum! Ugh. Such a bad day. Antonio agreed with the counselor. We had a big fight and broke up. And now I’m here. Oh, and to top it all off, now I have loyalty and trust issues. Thanks, Antonio.”

“That’s a sad story, but we’re glad you’re here,” said Deb.

“Okay, your time is up,” said a producer. The camera guys stretched and got ready. The door burst open. It was Klassie, on her roller skates, a topaz and diamond brooch shaped like a gigantic spider pinned at her hip. She clomped in and then skated around us in circles, smiling, waiting for one of us to comment on her winnings.

“My floor, my floor,” said Albergo, who had returned with his cart of goodies.

“Yes, I’ve heard that before. Why is everyone so hung up on material stuff? You can always get a new floor. Look at my prize,” she said, showing us the brooch. “It’s vintage Deluxe from the Deluxe vault. Each girl is going to get one that is unique this time. Just like all of us.” She flung her leg out and spun down into a spiral, collapsing dramatically in a heap.

“Hello, ladies,” said Catalina Cartwright. We all clapped. Deb sucked in her stomach a second too late. It was the first time we’d seen Catalina since we’d arrived in Italy. “Please join me in the lounge,” she said. She was wearing a long orange dress with a matching mask that she held on a tiny stick at the side of her face. We followed her into a dark interior room filled with candles and mirrors. The room was breathtakingly beautiful. We oohed and ahhed appreciatively.

“The theme for tonight’s cocktail party will be Masquerade Ball,” said Catalina. “You will all get to wear vintage gowns and masks, and you’ll each get the opportunity to spend plenty of one-on-one time with Bellamy. But first, there will be a casual lunch cruise with Bellamy, so get ready. He will be here in about an hour.”

“Me too?” asked Klassie.

“Yes, all of you,” said Catalina.

“No fair,” said Deb, since Klassie had just spent all morning with Bellamy. “Just kidding,” she added. “I forgive you.”

We all ran off to get ready, trying our best to interpret what attire was most suited for a casual Venetian lunch cruise. Or, as Deb kept accidentally calling it, our Vietnamese boat ride. When we rejoined one another down in the lounge, we discovered that we all had very different ideas of what made a casual outfit. Klassie had on the same outfit she’d worn to brunch, but she had switched her skates for tall combat boots.

“Do you think these are good enough?” she asked me. “This is how I look in real life, and I want him to know the real me.”

“In that case I think they’re perfect,” I said. I really did mean it. I suppose the other girls thought I was trying to sabotage her.

Deb was wearing maroon silk overalls with a lace shirt underneath. It was possibly the worst outfit I’d ever seen.

“I love these overalls,” she told us. “They’re from Dress Barn. Or no, maybe not. Does Dress Barn sell clothes that aren’t dresses? Gosh, I can’t remember. I normally wear them for church concerts and stuff like that. Only then, in that case, I wear a turtleneck underneath instead of this lace top. You wouldn’t probably guess this since most of them are carnival folk, but my family is very conservative and shy. We’re not your usual carnival people. We’re part of a Christian gambling and carnival ring.”

“It sounds like the best of all worlds,” said Klassie.

“It is. We have some unique ways about us. But back to my outfit, I’ve had it for years. It’s just, you know, my very favorite. It has to be dry-cleaned. So, as much as I said I would share anything I brought with all of you, please, please don’t ask to borrow these.”

“We won’t,” said Alanna, who had on jeans, heals, and a perfectly ragged t-shirt. She had painted her fingernails black and almost seemed edgy. Of course, she looked accidentally perfect. To prove how much she didn’t care, she was reading a yellowed copy of some vintage paperback with the cover torn off, her leg casually slung over the arm of the fancy chair she was sitting on.

I was wearing an off the shoulder mini-dress, pacing since the dress would crease if I sat down. I was wishing I had worn jeans as well.

Catalina reappeared, now dressed in a long, peach strapless gown. Her hair was slicked back and her lips were the exact same color as her face. Her eye makeup was severe. She looked so famous. “Where are Vanessa and Jessica?” she asked.

“They’ll be here soon,” said Klassie. “Vanessa was helping Jessica with her makeup.”

“Here they come now,” said Alanna. She tried to hide her distaste over their outfits, but I saw her nose wrinkle a little at the site of them. Jessica had on cropped sweat pants, a half-shirt that said U.S.A. and red, white, and blue sparkly heels. Her left hand had red fingernails. Her right hand had blue. She was blowing on them; apparently they were still wet. Vanessa was wearing a palm tree print maxi dress with a scraggly shawl. Her hair was pulled back in a bun. Flip-flops were on her feet.

“I’m being ironic,” said Jessica.

Vanessa pressed a heating pad to her stomach, wincing. “I’m not, y’all. I’m dead serious. I have my period and I feel like hell. Pardon my Yankee-mouth. I’m totally bloated. I feel like Deb looks today. Somebody shoot me.”

“So I am fat,” said Deb.

“Thirty minutes ago you were in your bikini, looking skinny,” I said to Vanessa. “What happened?”

“It just hit me. Like a ton of bricks. Like a truck. Sweet Jesus, do we really have to do this? I’d like to sit this out.”

“Me too,” said Alanna. “I’m so jetlagged. Let’s stop filming today. Please.”

“I hate to say it,” said Catalina Cartwright, “but in all my years of hosting these shows, you are the sorriest looking bunch I’ve ever seen. We’re in Italy. They care about style over here. You ladies are not representing yourselves or the show very well.”

“Are you teasing us?” asked Deb, looking down at the overalls she’d just been bragging about.

“I’m perfectly serious,” said Catalina.

“We’ll be changing into those vintage evening gowns you told us about after our river cruise is over,” said Klassie. “Maybe you can focus on getting some good footage then.”

“It’s not some river cruise,” said Catalina. “It’s a voyage down the Grand Canal. Furthermore, on behalf of the entire Bellamy’s Redemption staff, we would all appreciate if you ladies would stop giving us editorial advice. We will host, film, and edit the show as we all see fit. Now, are any of you going to change into something else, or should we go?”

We stood around yawning and wishing we had phones to check, avoiding eye contact with her. I suppose we all thought she was talking about anyone but us.

“I’m going to stay in my overalls, if you don’t mind,” Deb finally said, very softly.

“Unreal!” Catalina exclaimed. She marched outside in a huff and we followed her since we guessed it was what we were supposed to do. “Stand here,” she said pointing at a big urn of greenery, “and try to look excited when Bellamy arrives.”

“I won’t have to try,” said Deb.

A moment later a gondola came into sight. Perched high in the middle of the back of it was Bellamy. He had a little hat upon his head and he was wearing a striped shirt. He waved nervously at us.

“Look at him,” said Deb. “Look at him on that long skinny boat. Is that Bellamy or some Italian guy? Oh, I can tell now. It’s Bellamy. Hi, Bellamy!” she yelled.

“Hi girls,” he said, drifting up to us. Some Italians and camera guys helped get the gondola near us, and helped each of us get in. Bellamy was covered in sweat. A real gondola driver took over and Bellamy settled in between Alanna and me. “I can’t believe I didn’t tip it over. I can barely swim,” he whispered to me, raising his eyebrows. I gave his arm a squeeze.

“Why are you whispering to her?” asked Alanna. “Maybe you’d rather if the rest of us weren’t even here? That’s how you’re making us feel. We’re all your guests.”

“Sorry, Alanna,” he said. Instantly a look overcame him like he’d been punched him in the gut. “It’s great to see all of you,” he added, pulling away from me.

The gondola was held in place while Catalina presented her little spiel from shore: “Bellamy, you looked like a real pro out there.” Her voice was crisp and flirtatious and her smile was radiant. She smirked cutely into the camera. “You’re giving these Italian stallions a run for their money! One of these lovely women, just six left, will be Bellamy’s fiancé soon! I’m not sure who it’s going to be, but I do know that she’s going to be one lucky lady! It’s all so exciting! I suppose I’d better let you go on your cruise of Venice’s famous Grand Canal now. Have fun!” She waved as we were let loose and we began to drift a little. Then she took a few steps up a little stone bridge and waved as we floating underneath it and emerged on the other side. She tossed some rose petals on our heads and laughed delightedly.

“Ugh,” said Alanna, brushing a petal from her hair.

“And they’re off! Off to find love!” Catalina exclaimed. She immediately slumped and applied a heavy coat of Chapstick once the cameras cut away from her.

“So here we are,” said Bellamy as we floated along.

“Here we are,” said Deb, nudging him with her toe.

“This afternoon is going to be really great,” said Bellamy. “We will take in the Venice scenery, and then we’re going to stop for a special lunch. There are just six of you left, and this is getting really serious. I’m going to make a point to spend some one-on-one time with each and every one of you today. This is your chance to show me you care, too.”

“What happened with Tamika? Why did you send her home?” asked Deb.

“Oh, um, I wasn’t sure if we had a connection…” Bellamy scratched his neck, looking uncomfortable about being put on the spot.

“Who cares?” said Jessica. “One more down, five to go, right Bel?”

“Bell?” asked Bellamy.

“Can we go to that island where they make glass trinkets? I want some glass trinkets,” said Vanessa.

“I don’t think they have islands here. We’re pretty far from Hawaii and other tropical places right now,” said Bellamy.

“He’s right,” said Deb.

“Sweetie, you wouldn’t mind if I took a little nap, would you?” asked Alanna, curling up into a little ball and putting her head on Bellamy’s lap. A moment later she was snoring softly. Bellamy played with her hair absentmindedly the way someone might pet a cat.

“I hope the guy driving this boat sings the Hamburger Helper song,” said Deb. “Remember that song, from when we were little kids and the Hamburger Helper glove guy was in a boat just like this? Does anyone know what I’m talking about? I wonder if our guy will sing it.” Then she broke into song: “Oh Mama Mia, For your Fam-i-lee-a…”

“Bellamy, I’m not hungry yet,” said Klassie. “Could they loop around and drop me at the hotel so I can look at that book in the lobby?”

“What book?” asked Vanessa.

“I forget what you call it. It’s full of puzzles that look like little charts.”

“A Sudoku puzzle book?” asked Bellamy. “You want to leave this tour of the Grand Canal to do puzzles?”

“No, I guess not,” said Klassie.

“I hope not. I just sent Tamika home, but if you don’t want to be here I could probably still catch her before her plane leaves.”

“Geez Louise. Sorry,” said Klassie. She double knotted the ratty shoelaces in her combat boots with an aggressive yank. One lone tear slipped down her cheek. We all sat there silently bobbing along.

“Is that anything important?” asked Jessica as we approached the Rialto Bridge.

“Just some bridge,” muttered Bellamy.

“I love ferrets,” said Deb.

“Here we are,” said Bellamy as our Gondola veered off into a small canal. He poked Alanna’s shoulder and she sat up looking unrumpled and perfectly composed.

“I feel a hundred percent myself again,” she declared, stretching exaggeratedly until her stomach was exposed and she had knocked the rings on her hand against Deb’s head. “Sorry I was a crab earlier,” she added quietly just for Bellamy’s sake, looking at him from beneath her long lashes.

“It’s okay. You’re never a crab,” he said, giving her a little kiss on the forehead. He blushed over the thrill of it. I could practically see his heart pounding right out of his chest. His face was all glowy and cloyingly adoring. I could tell he was going to pick her, no matter what any of the other girls did. “Okay, ladies,” he said, trying to get back down to business. “It’s just down the street from here.”

We got out and followed him down a winding passage to a small arch. It was so quaint and beautiful that I suddenly felt overwhelmed with loneliness. I wished I was with Pete. Or Betsy. Or Rachel. Or my mom and dad. Anyone would do. Anyone who knew me and loved me. But not these people. I hated to admit it to myself, but these people seemed like idiots. I actually thought for a moment I might start crying, but I pulled myself together when the distraction of a cameraman tripping on some cobblestones reminded me that this was all being filmed.

Beyond the arch was a tiny courtyard with a festively set table. There were flowers, pretty glasses, white napkins. It looked like we were at someone’s wedding. There were place cards with each of our names. I took a seat between Vanessa and Alanna, while Bellamy sat at the head of the table. Alanna scooted her chair over even a little closer to Bellamy. On the other said were Deb, Jessica, and Klassie. I wasn’t thrilled to be across from Jessica; her table manners were appalling.

“To six lovely ladies,” said Bellamy, rising from his chair and toasting us with a glass of champagne.

“Where?” joked Jessica. “I don’t see any lovely ladies here!”

We all toasted. Once Bellamy sat back down, Alanna reached over to him and brushed something imaginary off his arm.

“Was there something on my arm?” he asked.

“Not actually,” she said giggling. She leaned in for a kiss and the two of them made out for a full minute. Meanwhile a waiter brought a tray of pickled yellow and red peppers and cheeses to us.

“What are those slimy strips?” asked Klassie. “Is that spicy fish?”

“I’ll try some,” said Vanessa.

“I’ll have some too,” I said, recognizing they were peppers.

The waiter ignored Alanna and Bellamy and went away. I watched as Vanessa cut her peppers into bite size pieces and made Pinterest-worthy doodads of stacked cheese and pepper bits. She didn’t actually eat any of them.

“Bellamy, tell us something about your family,” said Deb.

“My family is great. My dad is my hero. My mom is great too. She stayed home with us kids and always made us a nice dinner. Every night. She even made dessert. She sewed our Halloween costumes too. A real Betty Crocket. I couldn’t have asked for better parents. I’d like to have a family just like that.”

Hmm. I looked around the table to see if everyone else was onboard with Bellamy’s vision. No one’s face registered the panic I was feeling.

“Great,” said Deb. “What else?”

“That’s about it,” said Bellamy. He reached across the table. “Vanessa, do you mind if I eat your cheese?”

“Go ahead,” she said.

“Our next course is a belissimo fish soup,” said our waiter, kissing his fingers emphatically. He brought us each an overflowing bowl of the stuff.

“This fish soup is delish goop,” said Klassie.

“Mmm. God,” said Jessica, slurping away. It was running down her chin. “Ugh,” she moaned. She shook her head, grimacing. She rolled her shoulders, I guess to make more room in her stomach cavity. It was almost like she was in pain.

“I know. I know! It’s so good. Right? I told you it was great. I need to loosen my boots to make more room,” said Klassie.

“Please don’t,” said Vanessa.

I looked down and stirred my soup. Tiny chunks of fish were hiding beneath the surface. When I stirred, they all appeared at once. The fishy smell made me want to gag. I imagined myself gagging and puking in front of everyone. The cameramen would all zoom in on me. It would be captured from four different angles. I would be mocked on late shows for a night or two, and then disowned by everyone I’d ever known.

Calm down, said the voice in my head. It was all I could do to keep the words down, to keep them from slipping past my tongue and out into the world where everyone was watching.

The urge to cry was coming on very, very strong. I took a sip of water and tried to think about things that weren’t sad. Things that meant nothing at all. A stack of paper bags. A bottle of mustard. A bookshelf. A rusty car.  I couldn’t help it; the tears began pouring down my face.

“Emma, what’s the matter?” asked Deb.

“Nothing,” I said. “Could you excuse me?” I got up and started walking. I wasn’t sure where I was going. Of course a camera man was right by my side. I ignored him and just kept walking.

“Wait,” said Bellamy. I felt his hand on my shoulder.

“I’m okay,” I said. “You can go back to them. I’m just going through something weird. I guess I’m a little homesick. I didn’t mean to ruin your dinner.”

“You’re not ruining anything.”

“You can go. I’m wasting your precious time. I don’t want to do that.”

“You’re not wasting my time,” he said.

“Thank you for coming to check on me,” I said.

“Could you give us some space?” Bellamy said to the cameraman nearest us. There were two now. They both stepped back just a little.

I stopped walking and sat down on a bench by the water. “Thanks for bringing us here. It’s beautiful.”

“You’re welcome.” He sat down beside me and put his arm around me. I put my head on his shoulder and we sat like that for a while, watching gondolas go past. Across the way was a gelato stand. “Want some ice cream?” he asked me.

“Sure,” I said. I dried my tears and we crossed a tiny bridge, coming out next to the gelato vendor.

“What color do you want?” asked Bellamy.

“They all look good,” I said.

“Two pink ice creams. Do you have waffle cones? Never mind. Any cone is good,” said Bellamy. The woman at the stand shook her head at our lack of finesse. She handed us two tiny cups of gelato with mini plastic spoons stuck in each one.

“This isn’t what I had in mind,” whispered Bellamy. He took a tiny taste with the itty bitty spoon, playing up its teensiness to be silly. I laughed a little.

“Emma,” said Bellamy, “I know you’re having your doubts about whether you should be here, but I want you to know that I like having you here, and I think you should stay. We have so many fun adventures ahead of us. Would you stay for me?”

“I’m not sure. I’m feeling really lonely,” I said. “It’s not your fault at all. It’s me.”

“I screwed up. I haven’t made you feel special. Can you wait here?” he asked, handing me his gelato and running off before I could stop him. He darted over the bridge and back to the other side where an assistant was leaning against an old stone wall, texting. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach.

A moment later he was back. “Emma, would you accept this vintage ruby, emerald, and diamond octopus brooch from the Deluxe vault? It’s the only one like it in the world.” He held up the strangest, most magnificent piece of jewelry I’d ever seen. Each eye of the octopus was a sparking diamond. The legs were lined with graduated emeralds. Here and there a ruby was thrown in, reminding me of tests for colorblindness. It was bigger than my palm and as heavy as a small frying pan.

“It’s solid gold,” added Bellamy. “Look at the back.”

I flipped it over. Engraved in the middle was the signature of Leopoldo Vanti Deluccio, the original jewelry designer for Deluxe.

“Greta Garbo wore that brooch. Or was it Audrey Hepburn? Sorry, there was a card about it, but I only read it once and now I’m forgetting everything. I’m pretty sure it was Greta Garbo.”

The brooch had to be worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. “Are you sure you’re supposed to be giving these out?” I asked.

“I guess so. I overhead something about the owner of Deluxe going through a divorce and needing to liquidate assets.” The cameraman shook his head at that. “So, yeah,” Bellamy continued, “It’s yours. It’s the nicest one of the whole bunch.”

I drew in a deep breath. “I don’t know, Bellamy…”

“Come on, just take it,” he whispered. “And don’t tell anyone this, but we’re leaving for Paris tomorrow.”

“Well, in that case…” I said. The brooch made my stupid dress look magically, instantly, way less stupid.

Chapter 22

The next morning we were all lounging around our hotel suite eating fruit and drinking cappuccino. Our masquerade ball scheduled for the previous night had been canceled after everyone but me came down with food poisoning. I guess it must have been the fish soup.

No one was speaking to me. They had collectively decided that I was a big faker and that I had to go. In response, and also out of fear it would be stolen, I was wearing my brooch affixed firmly to the middle of the t-shirt I had slept in. At eleven o’clock there was a knock at the door. Before we could even get up to answer it, the door swung slowly open. There was Bellamy, dressed in a striped shirt not unlike the shirt he’d been wearing on the gondola. However, instead of a little Italian hat, he had a beret on his head and a baguette under his arm. “Bonjour,” he said.

“Eeeeeee,” screamed Vanessa, jumping up and down. Her cappuccino splatted onto the antique wallpaper but she didn’t notice.

“I guess Vanessa already figured out what I came here to tell you,” said Bellamy. “We’re about to leave for Paris!”

“But first,” said Catalina Cartwright, appearing in the doorway, dressed in a similar French getup, “there will be an elimination ceremony.”

“Oh no,” gasped Klassie.

“Klassie, you and Emma are safe since you both received brooches from the Deluxe vault yesterday. All of you please put on the masquerade dresses that were provided for you yesterday and join me in the mirrored lobby in one hour. Have your bags packed and ready because we will be leaving immediately following the elimination ceremony.”

“See you all soon,” said Bellamy, waving his loaf of bread at us. Then they were gone and we were all left sitting around, staring at one another.

“I can’t get up. I’m too tired,” said Alanna. “I was up all night. Again! I can’t handle this.”

“We were all up last night. Everyone except Emma,” said Jessica, glaring at me.

“Did you put something in our soup?” asked Alanna.

“Of course not! How dare you accuse me of such a thing?” I got up and took my dress from the rack by the door. It was midnight blue and came with a midnight blue masquerade mask. Everyone had complained when they’d seen our costumes, but secretly I loved mine and felt I’d gotten the only pretty one.

“I should have been given that color instead of you,” Vanessa said. “It doesn’t go right with your coloring.”

I ignored her. They could all sit around and spend their hour being miserable complainers, but I was going to start getting ready.

“It is a little funny how we all got sick but you,” said Deb.

“You’re even turning on me?” I asked. And I had thought sweet little Deb might be the right choice for Bellamy! Perhaps none of these women were good enough for him. “How is it funny? You all ate something I didn’t eat. There is nothing complicated about it.”

“Fine. But what about the crying? What was that all about?” she asked.

“She’s right,” said Vanessa. “It seemed very manipulative.”

“I was feeling homesick.”

“Give her a break,” said Klassie. “So she started crying and didn’t eat the soup that made the rest of us sick. So what?”

“Thank you, Klassie,” I said.

“The only reason you don’t care is because you’re already safe from elimination,” Vanessa said to Klassie. “One of the rest of us is leaving. One of us is not going to Paris. It’s getting really serious!”

“Is that all you care about? Going to Paris?” I asked. “Who here really cares about Bellamy? Because he is going to propose to one of us very soon, and I am starting to think no one actually cares about him at all.”

“I care,” said Deb.

After too long of a pause everyone else joined in, nodding and professing their love for him. I grabbed my mask and garment bag and went off to the bathroom to get dressed away from them. When I came back out twenty minutes later with my hair up and my makeup done they were all still sitting around in their regular clothes.

“I suppose it’s that time,” said Alanna, getting up slowly. She went over to the rack, grabbed her caramel colored gown and mask and headed towards the bathroom.

Klassie and Jessica took their gowns and got dressed right in the middle of the room.

“Are you really going to wear those Sponge Bob undies beneath a fancy vintage couture gown?” Vanessa asked Jessica.

“Sure, mate. What’s the difference?”

“It seems wrong.”

“It’s not anything,” said Jessica, zipping herself up and stepping into her shoes. She ran her tongue over her teeth and sat back down, apparently all set to go.

Deb and Vanessa remained seated. “We still have time, and I’m totally packed already,” said Vanessa, examining her designer wristwatch. “I guess I should set out a traveling outfit, but that will only take a minute.” She yawned and closed her eyes. “What I would really like is a nap.”

“What I would really like is to skip the masquerade ball,” said Deb. “My dress is way too tight. I tried it on yesterday and couldn’t even zip it. I’m kind of dreading having another go at it.” She took a bite of a hazelnut biscuit slathered in butter and Nutella and washed it down with some cappuccino.

“Maybe you’ll be skinnier today since you were sick all night,” said Klassie.

“Good point,” said Deb.

“I’m ready,” said Alanna, appearing back in front of us, pulling her luggage. She looked perfect. It was unfair how her natural beauty gave her a permanent head start.

Deb looked defeated. She got up, took her bright yellow dress and mask and disappeared into the bathroom.

“Vanessa, we only have ten minutes left. Aren’t you going to get ready?” asked Klassie.

“Fine, I’ll get ready,” she said. The last remaining dress was blood red and covered in matted feathers. It may have been pretty long ago, but it was horrible now. It looked like a costume from a school play. Also, it was two sizes too big for Vanessa. She pulled it on right over her nightgown.

“Keeping your singlet on is worse than wearing Sponge Bob under-chunders,” said Jessica.

“I simply don’t care,” said Vanessa. “Honestly, I think it’s terrible they’re making us do this when we all had such a bad night.”

“They’re not making us do anything. If you’re so unhappy, go home,” said Klassie.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” said Vanessa.

“Don’t tell me what to tell you,” said Klassie.

“Stop fighting. It hurts my head,” said Alanna. “Headaches make me frown, and frowning makes my forehead get a little wrinkle in it. So stop fighting or I’m going to get really, really mad!”

“I got it zipped! Yay for food poisoning,” said Deb, hurrying back out to us. Her dress came with a small, pointed yellow hat that tied beneath her chin in a curly yellow bow. She’d forgotten she’d be wearing a mask and had applied a thick coat of blue eye shadow to her lids.

“Good Lord,” said Alanna.

“Oopsie! Forgot about this guy. So much for my hard work with the eye shadow,” said Deb, sliding the canary yellow mask into place. Hers was the only one that fastened with an elastic band like a child’s party mask. They must have known that she’d lose the kind on a stick. A small smudge of Nutella remained on her neck, somehow unnoticed when she’d applied her makeup. She looked like a happy little banana.

“Cute,” I said. The rest of the girls shook their heads in annoyed disgust.

There was a knock at the door and it swung open. Catalina Cartwright poked her head in. “It’s time,” she said. “Leave your luggage here and follow me.”

I looked around me. Alanna looked great, and I had tried hard, but the other girls looked really bad. Were they really going to let us go out looking like this? Vanessa, Klassie, and Jessica all had total bedhead. None of them were wearing makeup. They hadn’t even brushed their teeth or washed their faces. One of Jessica’s eyebrows was smooshed up giving her a look of constant surprised skepticism. Klassie had a patch of white, dried saliva on her cheek from where she’d drooled in her sleep. And then there was Deb, squeezed into the yellow dress. She was breathing in little puffs like someone in a lamaze class. Her hat had slid to the side of her head, and she’d accidentally smeared the Nutella up onto her face.

“What are you waiting for?” asked Catalina. “We’ve got a segment to shoot and a plane to catch. Let’s go.”

We followed her to the mirrored lobby where Bellamy stood waiting. He was now dressed in a tuxedo. I had to admit, he looked gorgeous. I took my place next to Klassie. We had each fastened our Deluxe brooches to our vintage gowns, probably depleting our gowns’ values by half. I held my silly little mask over my face since it was what we’d been told to do. The other girls stood in a line, each covering her face with a mask as well.

“Hello and good evening,” said Catalina, carrying on as though it was still the night before and not the middle of the day. She lowered her mask and gave the camera a sultry look. “Welcome to our masquerade ball. Emma and Klassie are safe, and just four other ladies remain in the fight for Bellamy’s heart. Bellamy, are you ready to begin?”

“Yes, Catalina. I’m ready.”

“Then by all means, please go ahead.” She stepped back, out of the way, examining her mask. It was way cooler than all of ours. ‘I’m going to keep this’ she mouthed to one of the producers. The producer nodded.

“This is not an easy decision,” said Bellamy. “In fact, it gets harder and harder at each elimination ceremony to say goodbye. I think you are all amazing women, and the more I get to know you each as individuals, the more I see something to love in each and every one of you.”

“Aww,” said Deb.

“Today’s decision is probably the hardest one yet. But I have to keep moving forward, since I really want to get married and be a dad and settle down.”

I felt a pang of sadness for him.

“So, let’s get started,” he said, reaching for the first brooch. He held it up. It looked like a sparkly pink cat. I was so glad he hadn’t given it to me. “Deb, would you accept this vintage brooch from the Deluxe vault, and continue on this journey towards love with me?”

“Yes! Of course,” she said. She stepped forward and he awkwardly tried to fasten the brooch near her armpit. She blushed over his close proximity to her boob. “Hoo hee,” she said fanning herself dramatically with her hand as the moment went on and on. When the brooch was finally pinned in place she waddled over to us beaming. By this point her face was scarlet and shimmering beneath a coat of sweat.

The next brooch was even worse. It was round and covered in scrollwork. In the middle was a blob that looked like a horse. The horse portion was covered in brown diamonds. I didn’t care how much it was worth; it was atrocious.

“Alanna Rutherford, would you accept this vintage brooch from the Deluxe vault, and continue on this journey towards love with me?” asked Bellamy. I winced when he called her by her full name. We all did. It was like, she was just so famous to him still. Vanessa’s eyes met mine and she shook her head a little.

“I will,” said Alanna. She glided over to Bellamy and kissed him on the lips.

“Wowie-zowie,” he muttered. All my prior sympathy for him evaporated.

“A horse. I love horses! It’s so pretty,” Alanna lied.

“I thought you’d like it,” said Bellamy. He pinned the brooch to her sash and then she joined us, giving each of us a fake little smile for the benefit of the audience at home.

Catalina Cartwright stepped back into the center of the room. “Just one vintage Deluxe brooch remains, but we have two wonderful women standing before us. Bellamy, have you made a decision about which girl you’d like to keep?”

Bellamy sighed. “I guess so, Catalina.”

“In that case, please go ahead.”

“Okay. Thank you Catalina,” said Bellamy. He ran his hands through his hair and loosened his tie a little. “This is really difficult,” he said. “But I know I’m making the right choice.” He picked up the final brooch. It was a huge orange butterfly. It was pretty awesome, but I still liked mine better. “Vanessa,” said Bellamy, “will you accept this vintage brooch from the Deluxe vault, and continue on this journey towards love with me?”

“Yes! Yes! I totally will,” she said, running up to him and throwing her arms around him. I heard her dress rip a little. “You scared me! Oh my God! Thank you! I thought I was going home.”

“I’m not sure how to attach this thing to all these feathers,” he said after fumbling around for a minute.

“Just give it to me,” said Vanessa.

“Here,” he said, putting it in her hand. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and did a little victory dance over to the rest of us.

“Jessica, this means I need to send you home now. I’m very sorry,” said Bellamy. “I really enjoyed my time with you, but I think our geographical differences may be too much for me.”

“Because I’m from Australia?”

“Yeah.”

“Problem solved. I live in Los Angeles now,” she said. “Plus, I’m willing to relocate to your climbing gym in Fort Worth.”

“It’s not in Fort Worth.”

“Well, wherever it is, I’ll move there.”

“Yeah, well, okay…” He looked at Catalina for help. She wasn’t paying attention; she was having too much fun playing with her mask.

“So should I stay?” asked Jessica.

“I think our geographical differences may be too much for me,” Bellamy repeated like a robot.

“I don’t see it that way, but it’s up to you,” she said.

“Cool. Thanks. I appreciate that. Could I walk you out?”

“Sure,” she said. She waved goodbye to us and the two of them strolled away.

“Whew,” said Vanessa. “I thought this time I’d run out of luck.”

“Me too. I was sure you were going home. Wanna switch with me?” asked Alanna, holding up the horse pin.

“Nah, I think I’ll keep mine,” said Vanessa.

Deb untied the bow from beneath her chin. She was still beaming. “There are just five of us left. Can you believe it? I’m so excited!”

“Hi ladies,” said Bellamy, stepping back into the room after just a couple of minutes. The camera guys swooped back in. A tray of champagne on a wheeled cart was shoved in front of us. “Let’s toast to the adventures that await us… in Paris!”

We all cheered, clinked our glasses, and took a sip. Our celebration was cut short when Catalina Cartwright stepped back in, bravely donning the concerned expression of a news reporter who had some heavy beans to spill. She had changed out of her masquerade ball gown and was wearing a teal leather motorcycle suit with white leather driving gloves. It was very European. Her hair was in total contrast to her outfit. It was done up in an elaborate Southern Belle style that looked like prom in the 1990’s, complete with sprigs of baby’s breath tucked into it. On her feet were tall, shiny, spiky white heels. She looked strange. Deb nodded appreciatively at the ensemble.

“Bellamy, ladies,” Catalina began. She sighed heavily to help make the point that we were transitioning from happy time to serious time. “This process can be heart wrenching; it’s never easy to say goodbye, like Bellamy just had to do with Jessica, but it’s worth it. Really, isn’t anything worth it if it’s for love? I hope you are all appreciating the seriousness of this. This is about Bellamy. This is about love. This is about togetherness. This is about foreverness.”

Several seconds passed, like a moment of prayer, for us to let these words sink in. When the proper amount of respect had been paid, Catalina continued: “So, on that note, please say goodbye to Venice and all your new friends at the Albergo Vincenzo. Grab your bags and prepare yourselves for the next leg of the journey. I will see you all again soon, in Paris! The city of lights and love!”

We cheered again. And then we all scrambled to make our plane.

Chapter 23

My suspicion that only Deb truly had any interest in Bellamy was confirmed when a date card arrived along with a copy of French Vogue and Alanna and Vanessa practically tore the French Vogue in half fighting over it.

“Hello! Over here! Alanna, Vanessa, pay attention,” said Klassie. She was fanning herself with the date card, her hair slicked back and covered in a thick coat of pale hair dye. Tied around her neck like a bowtie were her new shoelaces, which she had yet to put in her combat boots.

She’d thought it amazing good fortune that the street vendor outside our building was randomly selling shoelaces and knockoff purses, the two things she had wanted to get while in Paris. The purse was a faux Louis Vuitton with about eight zippered pouches inside. Already two of the zippers had gotten stuck in the lining and Klassie was not pleased. The laces were magenta and shiny, made of fine, flossy bits of crispy tinsel. Alanna speculated that they were spray-painted strands of asbestos, and I think she may have been right.

“Ooh goody! A date card! I hope it’s for me me me,” said Deb. She tapped her fingertips together excitedly.

Klassie waited for Alanna and Vanessa to put down the magazine and then she ripped open the date card and cleared her throat: “Ahem, Deb, Join me for fun-filled day, and don’t forget to enjoy the view. ~ Bellamy.”

“Oh my goodness! It’s really for me! I’m just, so… flabbergasted. Really, can’t you tell? Look at me. I’m shaking,” said Deb. She held her hand out in front of her. It didn’t appear to be shaking, so she wiggled it just a little bit. “What am I going to wear? Can someone help me with my hair? Oh my God. This is so awesome. What do you think he could mean by don’t forget to enjoy the view? I suppose maybe we’re going some place high up?”

“You’re probably going to the Eiffel Tower,” said Alanna.

“Ooh, I’ve heard of that. So that is here, in Paris?” asked Deb.

“Yes,” said Alanna.

“Wow. Crazy. Of course it’s in Paris. How dopey of me. Yeah, I’ll bet that’s where we’re going. Okay. And then what do you think? What else is there to do here?”

“Lots of stuff,” said Alanna. She looked at me and made a small gesture of shooting herself in the head. Everyone had gotten over my crying attack in Venice and as far as I could tell, we were all friends again.

“Seriously, guys. I wonder what else we’re going to do,” said Deb. “I hope we’re not going to go out to eat anyplace. I hate all this foreign food. Honestly, I’d rather just pick up some granola bars at a gas station. Do you guys all like granola bars, or do you like cereal bars better? To me, cereal bars are almost like dessert. Granola bars are more like a main meal. What I really like are pretzel bars. My mom makes those homemade. You mix pretzels, marshmallows, and I think there is one other ingredient. They’re so good. And healthy. I think they’re totally fat free, except if you grease the pan. You’ve got to grease the pan. Or wait, wait, you could use wax paper. My mom is an excellent cook.”

“You’d better get ready,” said Vanessa. “Run along. I must get an outfit like this while we’re here,” she added, holding up the French Vogue to a page showing a model wearing a blue checked romper, sucking on a pacifier. Her hair was in piggy tails. It was completely inappropriate and bizarre.

“Seriously?” asked Deb. “You like that? I think it’s really cute too, but your clothes seem more serious than that. No offense.”

“None taken,” said Vanessa.

Deb went away and returned a moment later carrying two hangers. One held a very 1980’s inspired sundress covered in bright rainbows. I actually kind of loved it. The other hanger housed what looked like a blue velvet bathrobe. “Which one?” she asked us.

“Not that bathrobe,” I said.

“Is that a bathrobe?” asked Klassie.

“Yes, but it cost a lot of money, and I think when I belt it with a leather belt it brings it into daytime mode,” said Deb. “I wear it with brown leather boots, and I bring my vintage brown leather satchel, and it all works great.”

“Debbie, I had no idea you were so fashion forward,” said Alanna.

“Maybe to you guys I’m not, but I am very fashionable in Duluth. You could go so far as to call me edgy.”

“I guess we didn’t understand the whole vision, but now that you describe it, go with the bathrobe,” said Alanna.

“Yes, for sure. The bathrobe,” said Vanessa. She hadn’t even looked up from the magazine.

“Are you guys for serious?” asked Deb.

Klassie shrugged. “I’ve got to rinse my hair.” She skated away.

“Hmm,” I said. I shook my head a little. “The sundress is cute too. Maybe you should at least try it on for us. Keep in mind, they will be playing reruns of Bellamy’s Redemption until we’re super old, so a bad fashion choice could haunt you for a long time.”

“Emma, don’t rain on her parade,” said Alanna. “Debbie, wear the bathrobe. You’ll look great.”

“Just out of curiosity, what do you wear beneath it?” I asked.

“I brought some blue boy-short undies and a matching bra so if Bellamy sneaks a peek I’m all matchy matchy.”

“How risqué,” said Vanessa.

“Bath-robe, bath-robe, bath-robe,” chanted Alanna, pounding her hands on the coffee table.

“You talked me into it, Alanna. Be right back. Once you guys see me in it, you will love it.”

Alanna went out to our balcony and surveyed the city. “If I lean, like this, and then tilt my head, like this, I can see the Eiffel Tower,” she yelled.

“I think it’s really cheap of them to put us in a place where we can’t simply look at it,” said Vanessa. “I don’t want to hurt myself trying to catch a glimpse of it.”

“Vanessa, you’re so spoiled,” said Alanna. “I’m just happy to be in Paris again. It’s been practically a whole year since I’ve been here. A whole year!”

“Oh. No wonder you’re so excited. I was just here three months ago for a pediatric influenza conference. I’m here all the time. This is not the neighborhood I would stay in, if I had my choice, of course.”

“How do you find your way around? I don’t imagine you speak French. I do, you know. Since I’m Canadian,” said Alanna.

“Yes, I noticed you speaking it at the airport. It was a shame the man working there looked so confused and cut you off and started speaking to you in English. I’m sure he was just a little confused by your Canadian accent,” said Vanessa.

“He understood me perfectly. French is not my second language. I have two first languages. A concept you people from the States can’t comprehend. Don’t feel bad; it’s just a cultural difference. I think what happened with that guy at the airport is that he wanted a chance to practice his English. These Europeans are always trying to practice their English.”

“I know that,” said Vanessa. “Like I said, I’m here all the time.”

“Ta da!” said Deb, already dressed in the bathrobe. It billowed out over an old brown leather belt. Cowboy boots were on her feet. Her hair was in a side ponytail tied with a leather cord. She was carrying a brown bag that looked like it was from Dr Quinn, Medicine Woman. “How do I look?”

“Oh, Debbie,” said Alanna. “You’re a vision.”

“I told you guys that I know fashion! Vanessa, can I borrow that magazine?”

“Go for it,” said Vanessa, tossing it to her.

Deb sniffed through it, finally settling on a perfume sample on a pure white page. “Ooh, plain white. Boldly simple, like a snow princess,” she said.

“Those samples are full of carcinogens,” said Alanna. “That means they cause cancer.”

“That’s not true. They don’t really cause cancer,” said Vanessa.

“Even if it is the truth, I don’t care right now,” said Deb. “This date is way too important to worry about catching cancer.” She rubbed the page up and down her wrists. “This smells subtle, like how I want to be. It smells like a Parisian lady. A Parisian snow lady!” She rubbed it on her neck until her skin was flaming pink.

“I think that’s enough,” I told her.

“Today’s the day I’m going to tell him my secret,” she whispered, tossing the spent page to the floor.

“What secret?” asked Vanessa.

“Well, I’m not sure I want to tell you guys before I tell him…”

“You can tell us, Debbie,” said Alanna.

“Great. Now I’m itchy. An itchy snow princess. Darn it! Am I still pink? Never mind, it will fade,” she said, examining her reflection in the cloudy antique mirror hanging on the wall.

“Debbie, tell us your secret,” Alanna pressed on.

“It’s really not that big of a deal. Have you guys told him your secrets yet?” asked Deb.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Before we came on here they said that it is good to share something big, like a big secret, with Bellamy. To open up to him, and to help us get bonded together. Didn’t they tell you this? Didn’t you guys prepare a secret?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Vanessa.

“I’m pretty sure this conversation happened,” said Deb. “Yeah, for sure, I remember it. We’re definitely supposed to have a secret. The producers told me this way back during interviews.”

“They never told me that,” I said.

“Come on you guys,” said Deb. “We’re all supposed to have a secret we unload on him. It’s supposed to help love grow. You guys better come up with one if you want him to fall in love with you.”

“We will,” said Alanna. “So tell us yours, Debbie.”

“Ugh. I’m not sure.”

“You don’t have to tell us,” I said.

“Just tell us,” said Vanessa.

“Tell us, Debbie,” said Alanna. She patted the sofa cushion beside her.

“Alright,” Deb said, settling in beside Alanna. “When I was nine my dad went away. I don’t know where he went. My mom said he was going to be gone for two to five years. I still don’t know what that was all about. Anyway, on my eleventh birthday I woke up and my mom wasn’t home either. My sister said my mom went to have a baby. The neighbor came and stayed with us. A few days later my mom came home with my little brother Soupie. Soupie doesn’t look anything like us and everyone got really, really mad. All our relatives. Everybody. I didn’t get why everyone would be mad about a baby. I thought people loved babies. When I got older, I figured out Soupie is not really my brother. But he is, but, I mean, he has a different dad from the rest of us.” Deb sighed.

“Let me get this straight. You didn’t know your mom was pregnant? Really?” asked Vanessa.

There was a long moment of silence. Finally Deb said, “I was eleven.”

“Exactly,” said Vanessa.

“Well, she’s kind of a husky lady. I never noticed she was getting bigger, and I don’t remember anyone saying anything about it…”

“Go on with the rest of your story,” said Alanna.

“You see, I realized one day, and I’m pretty sure I’m right about this, my mom had an affair when my dad was gone! It’s obvious, right?”

“Yes. Clearly,” said Alanna. “Let’s get some cigarettes. They’re so much better in France.”

“Ugh. An affair. Really? Ugh! Yep, I thought so,” said Deb.

“Is your dad back?” asked Vanessa.

“Yeah.”

“Do you know where he went?” asked Vanessa.

“I’m not really sure. On a trip, I guess.”

There was another long moment of silence. Alanna opened her mouth but I cut her off. “That’s great that your dad’s back from his trip. Are your parents still together?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s some secret,” said Alanna. She picked up the French Vogue and started thumbing through it. “Hey Bob,” she said to her favorite cameraman, “Do you like this perfume better, or this one?” She pressed the magazine into his face. He pointed to the first page she’d shown him. “Me too. Would you grab me another glass of champagne?” He happily obliged.

“I heard you can see the Eiffel Tower from here?” asked Klassie, skating out to us. Her hair was practically glowing.

“Klassie, that is intense,” said Vanessa.

“I nearly went blind from it,” said Klassie. “I got a little in my eye. I think I’m going to be fine though. I’ve been splashing water in my eye for fifteen minutes and I can see out of it again.”

“You can see it if you lean way to the left and look over your shoulder,” said Alanna.

“Cool,” said Klassie.

The next part happened in slow motion. I heard the scraping of skates across the floor, the sound of the balcony doors opening, Klassie saying, “Ooh! Now I see it,” a moment later, followed by a gasp and a scream.

We all rushed over, expecting to see her crumpled and oozing on the sidewalk. Instead, down below us, emerging from a heap of garbage in the back of a truck, was Klassie.

“I’m fine, I’m okay. Just got the wind knocked out of me,” she called up to us. She leaned over, huffing and puffing, holding her back.

“Oh my God,” said Alanna, sinking down to her knees.

“Don’t move, I’m coming down,” yelled Vanessa, springing into doctor mode. She expertly pulled back her hair and affixed it in place with a pencil, and ran out the door.

“No, stay there. All of you. Really, I’m okay. That awning broke my fall,” said Klassie, pointing up. “I bounced right off it. It could have been much worse. Really, I’m not even sore.”

Cameramen and producers were already on the scene, gathering all around her. Even the French people on the street looked interested in the spectacle. “Medic! Medic! Someone call an ambulance!” yelled my spa chaperone Irene to the crowd of café-goers and pedestrians.

“Irene’s back,” I said. “I love her new haircut. I wonder if she got it here in Paris.”

“No,” said Alanna, shaking her head with a disgusted look on her face. “There is no way that’s a genuine Paris haircut. Trust me.”

“Someone help us,” yelled cameraman Bob.

“God, can’t any of them speak French?” said Alanna. “Look at our crew down there, panicking. Wearing their stupid fanny packs and ironic t-shirts. They all look like they’re from Portland. I’m so embarrassed to even be associated with this clan of morons. I thought maybe Luca was smart, but no. Of course not. Seriously, you Americans are imbeciles.” She drew in a deep breath and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Appelez une ambulance,” she yelled down to the crowd, jumping up and down. She waved her hands. Next she whistled and did some Sasquatch whoops. “Up here! Look at me! Listen! Listen you idiots: Excusez-moi! Excusez-moi! Appelez une ambulance! Appelez une ambulance,” she yelled again. Everyone looked up at her. “Not for me! For her,” she said, pointing at Klassie.

“What’s that funny noise? ‘Rear-rear, rear-rear, rear-rear.’ What could it be?” asked Deb.

“It’s an ambulance, you ninny,” said Alanna. “It’s coming because I yelled for it. I can’t believe everyone else just stood there.”

“It’s coming because I told the guy at the front desk to call for help,” said Vanessa, reappearing in the doorway. “I’ve already been downstairs, saved Klassie’s life, and even picked up these.” She showed off a few postcards that were all black and said Paris by Night.

“I’m not a ninny. And that doesn’t sound like any ambulance I ever heard,” said Deb. “Oh. Oops. Yep, there it is. You’re right. I’m wrong. It’s an ambulance. I guess French ambulances sound different from American ambulances. Live and learn.”

Klassie waved at us. “I guess I have to go away for a little while,” she called. “See you soon. Have a good date, Deb. I think you should wear the sundress. Bye!” She gave us a shaky but heroic thumbs-up as they took her away on a stretcher.

“Was she serious?” asked Deb. “Doesn’t this robe look cool?”

“Very cool,” said Alanna.

“Well then, good. I’m wearing it and that’s that. Enough overthinking things, right?”

“Right,” said Alanna.

There was a knock at our door.

“I’ll bet it’s him,” said Deb.

“I’ve got it,” said Vanessa. She flung it open and acted surprised to see Bellamy standing there. “Bellamy! What a wonderful treat! Are you here to see me?”

“Hi,” he said, nodding to Alanna and me. “Hi, Vanessa.” He gave her a hug. “I’m here for my date with Deb.”

“That’s still happening?”

“Sure.”

“Oh. I thought maybe since Klassie almost died you’d rather spend your date with me. I’m a doctor. I saved her life.”

“Huh. I didn’t hear about that. You’re kidding, right? So, anyhow, I’m here for my date with Deb.”

“Oh, yeah. That. Have a good time,” said Vanessa. She plunked back down on the sofa, picked up her postcards, and started filling them out.

“Are you ready?” Bellamy asked Deb, eyeing her robe.

“Yes sir! Am I ever! Shall we?” she asked.

“If you’re sure you’re ready,” he said. “I can wait if you need more time.”

“No sir. I’m all set,” she said, holding out her arm like a country gentleman. She tipped an imaginary five gallon hat with her fingertips and winked. “I guess the question is, are you ready?”

“Uh, sure I’m ready,” he said, taking her arm. “Bye,” he said to the rest of us. I waved. Alanna and Vanessa ignored him.

“You smell so good. What kind of aftershave are you wearing? Is it Old Leather like my grandpa wears?” we heard Deb whisper to him on their way out the door. Alanna made a quiet retching sound without looking up from The Paris Museum Lover’s Guidebook. As soon as they were gone, Vanessa threw her pen and postcards to the floor and Alanna tossed her book over the balcony.

“Careful with that,” I said.

“Let’s have some fun,” said Alanna.

“Okay,” I said. “But they aren’t going to let us leave our hotel, of course. Should we play a card game? Or do our nails?”

“We’re in Paris! I refuse to stay inside. Let’s get out of here,” said Vanessa.

“Can we?” I asked, looking helplessly at the producers and cameramen.

“We’re not prisoners,” said Vanessa. “This isn’t a war. We can do anything we want.”

“We’re not criminals,” Alanna added. “Let’s get the fuck out of here!” She polished off her champagne, handed the glass to Bob for a refill, and had a giggling hiccup fit. “I’m always… drunk… I love it,” she said between hiccups.

“What about our contracts?” I asked.

“We’re not going to break our contracts. We’re just going to have some fun,” said Vanessa.

“Have you ever done anything fun?” Alanna asked me.

“Well, of course I have.”

“Really? I doubt that. Bobby, where’s my champagney?”

“You’re so different from how you seemed on TV,” I said.

“It’s called editing. Put on one of those ten thousand dollar cocktail dresses you stole and try not to look like an uptight librarian. We’re leaving in fifteen minutes,” said Alanna. She shakily stood up and danced around. Despite her status of heavily intoxicated, she was still a great dancer. “Fifteen minutes! Get ready in fifteen minutes! Woo hoooooo,” she screamed.

“Seriously, Emma. Get dressed. We should go before the adrenalin wears off,” said Vanessa. “Alanna, can I still borrow your strapless taupe dress? The mini-dress with the lace-up sides?”

“You can have it. It’s so nasty. I can’t even believe I own it.”

“Were you both planning this?” I asked, feeling a mix of sadness over being excluded, but happiness over being included.

“Come on, nerdling,” said Alanna. She stopped dancing and tried to be very serious. “Get dressed and stop worrying about consequences. We’ll be fine. There is no show without us. Klassie isn’t coming back. We are now a very precious commodity since there are always four Meet-the-Fam dates, and with Klassie gone, there are only four of us left.”

“Klassie’ll be back. She seemed perfectly fine,” I said.

“Did you see her? She’s not fine at all. She’s practically dead,” said Alanna.

“Nuh uh. I saved her,” said Vanessa. “But you’re right that she totally isn’t coming back. She is going to need to recover. Her back is going to kill tomorrow.”

“So, because of her little mishap, even Little Debbie is safe now. We’re all in the final four,” said Alanna.

“Final four,” Vanessa added.

“And,” Alanna continued, “we can do anything we want. Because we are a valuable commodity. Repeat after me: valuable commodity. Trust me. I’ve been down this road. Bob, would you mind not filming this? Pleassse? Thank you, Bob. So, let’s get out of here. Let’s get drunk. I mean, let’s get drunker.”

“Really?” I asked. I could feel myself blotching up. Were we actually going to boldly, openly break rules? It was so not me.

“Would you have ever dreamed this would be the final four?” Vanessa asked no one in particular, drawing an invisible circle around the three of us and making her finger lasso me about ten times. I felt like reminding her that before Alanna came along, she used to be rather nice.

“No way,” said Alanna. “Emma, can I borrow your black one-shoulder mini dress? Actually, can I have it? Oh, and what size shoes do you wear?”

“Hmm… What? I missed that,” I said, panicking. How could I explain that they were loaner clothes? The idea of lending out loaners was scarier than letting someone borrow a library book. I swallowed a couple of times trying to think of what to say. Hives started prickling my face and neck.

“I want your dress. The black mini one. The one shouder one. It’s a Valducci Gazpacho, right? I call it Gracie because it’s so graceful. That is my name for it. I named it so that means you have to give it to me. Don’t look at me like that! Can I have it? Pretty please. It would look so good on me.”

“Actually, I would, but… I’m a terribly possessive person who hates to share… Plus, I plan to wear it soon.”

“Are you serious? Possessiveness is the worst. Really. What a horrid trait. Bob, can you tell Emma to give me her dress?” He shrugged and shook his head. She kept forgetting that he wasn’t supposed to be part of the show.

“Well…” I said.

“Forget it. Never mind. I don’t need your clothes to look good. God, I thought we were friends, Emma!”

“Should just you and I go out?” Vanessa asked Alanna.

“Yeah, that sounds cool,” said Alanna.

“Wait,” I said. “You can’t go without me!”

There was a knock at the door and Catalina Cartwright stepped through it, draped in a flowing gold dress with a short chiffon train. Her hair was ironed perfectly straight. She reminded me of a pretty version of Donatella Versace. She was wearing a plastic coach’s whistle on a cord around her neck and just as all the cameras zoomed in on her she blew the whistle five short, loud times. “Did I get your attention?” she asked.

“Yes, of course,” said Alanna, her fingers shoved in her ears.

“I heard you girls are plotting an escape. I guess we’re not keeping you entertained enough. Is that right?”

“Oh no, Catalina. That’s not it at all. We’re totally entertained,” said Vanessa.

“Yes. Constantly,” I added.

“Good. I’m glad to hear it,” said Catalina. “What about you, Alanna? Is this enough entertainment for you?”

“Yes,” Alanna said, sounding almost meek.

“Wonderful. Now that we’ve established that you’re all properly entertained, I have a little surprise for you. I would like you all to meet me downstairs in the ballroom in twenty minutes. Dress in evening gowns. You three have an elimination ceremony to attend.”

“What? How is that possible?” asked Vanessa. “Aren’t Bellamy and Deb out on a date?”

“If I were you, I would use all twenty minutes getting ready instead of blabbering. I mean, actually, all nineteen minutes, now. I wouldn’t say any of you have properly represented our brand the past several dates. But hey, that’s just my opinion. What do I know,” said Catalina. “I’ll leave you three to get ready. See you soon,” she said, blowing the whistle one long last time and marching towards the door.

“Wait. Stop, Catalina,” yelled Alanna.

Catalina paused in the doorway, looking down at Alanna. “What is it, Alanna?” she asked. I did so admire her blatant contempt for Alanna Rutherford that I couldn’t quite tear myself away from the scene.

“How can there be an elimination ceremony? That doesn’t fit with the formula. I have never heard of such a thing! Is it just for the three of us? Bellamy would never do that to me!”

“Bellamy didn’t arrange this. Bellamy doesn’t even know about this yet,” said Catalina, smiling a smug, evil smile.

“Did you decide to do this?” asked Alanna. “I didn’t think you had that kind of pull.” She put her hand on the wall to steady herself. Her face was flushed a lovely shade of pink. Like everything, drunkenness made her even prettier. “Did the producers come up with this? I don’t understand. Bob, did you know about this? Bob, we’re totally friends. I can’t believe you didn’t say anything to me!”

Bob shook his head.

“Be downstairs in…” Catalina checked her diamond covered Art Deco wristwatch that was probably a non-working prop. “Now it’s fifteen minutes. I’m done adjusting schedules and making exceptions. Even for you, Alanna,” she said.

“Why would you all do this? Why?” asked Alanna. “You’re not really going to send me home. That would be suicide for the show. You know I’m right. Right, Catalina? Is this all a joke?” But Catalina was already gone.

I couldn’t be bothered any longer with listening to her speculations. I threw on an evening gown and began applying eye shadow and mascara. My hair looked dull and greasy so I pulled it back in a ponytail, which made it look even greasier. I took it out of the ponytail and tried to fluff it up, but it was like fluffing oily spaghetti noodles. We only had ten minutes left. Desperate, I clipped one of Deb’s faux extensions to the top of my head. I teased it and ratted it. It looked like matted doll hair and did not properly match my own hair, but at least it hid the greasiness a little. I sighed. Yet another moment of me looking bad, captured on TV.

I sneaked a peak at Vanessa and Alanna. Neither was dressed yet, but from the neck up, they both looked like they’d been getting ready for hours. Vanessa’s hair had somehow become a cascading waterfall of loose waves while Alanna and Catalina were arguing. Alanna, who had only joined us seconds earlier, now looked unpink, unruffled, and her hair was magically, perfectly, pinned back in a low chignon. Unfortunately, even with just a moment’s notice neither was capable of looking ugly.

I ran off to find some shoes since we were nearly out of time. I wanted to wear some strappy, sparkly sandals, but I was afraid I didn’t even have enough time to fasten them properly. I started throwing shoes left and right, trying to find something suitable.

“Emma, let’s go,” said Vanessa. How were they ready already?

I gave up and followed her and Alanna downstairs. On the way down the stairs, I tripped on the front of my dress, tearing the hem. Now it was impossible to hide that I was wearing tan businessy pumps with a rose colored evening gown. How many times did I need to wear the wrong shoes before I finally learned my lesson? Why had I even brought these shoes along? And to top it all off, they squeaked with every step I took. “Don’t cry. Do not cry,” I whispered to myself, brushing Bob and his camera out of my face.

Standing in the ballroom was Catalina Cartwright, grinning radiantly. She raised her glass and smiled warmly into the nearest camera. “Welcome ladies! Welcome. Please take a seat.”

Three tall-backed chairs were set in a line against the wall. We sat down. I was in the middle and I realized as I looked out the corner of my eye that Alanna was wearing my one-shoulder dress. I wanted to punch her. At this point, though I was embarrassed about my appearance, I was still relatively unfazed by our surprise elimination ceremony, thinking there was no way it could personally affect me. We’re probably going to have to eat something gross, I figured. If I can, I will. If I can’t, I won’t. I trust Bellamy; he will keep me around no matter what. But if he does send me home, well… Who cares? I yawned and tucked my feet discreetly beneath my chair.

Catalina Cartwright continued: “Tonight is a special night. A very special night! A night that will truly test the bonds of love, and help Bellamy on his search for love, truth, and honesty. What these three finalists don’t know is that they are about to face a challenge. A love challenge.” She turned to us and smiled. “You’re about to face a love challenge,” she repeated to us.

“Super,” I said, nodding. Alanna smiled tightly and Vanessa pretended to be distracted by her cocktail ring.

“You see,” said Catalina, talking back into the camera, her face scrunching up, an eyebrow cocking, “we’ve done a little research this season, and discovered that these three ladies all have a past.”

Alanna and Vanessa both became incredibly still and pale.

“A past is nothing to be ashamed of,” Catalina continued, her voice suddenly sweet and soothing. “Anyone who has lived has a past. We just want to be sure that all three of these ladies are ready to let go of their pasts, in order to move forward. What do you think? Should we find out if they’re ready?” She paused, smiling a mischievous but not unkind smile, allowing the audience at home a chance to cheer a little.

“May I be excused?” Vanessa whispered to a producer. Instead of responding to her pleas, he got busy pretending to be focused on the malfunctioning mechanical pencil in his hand.

“Before we have our elimination ceremony, where one or more of these ladies may be going home, we need to have a cocktail party,” said Catalina. “Let me introduce our guests. First, we have Bernstein Mulberry-Schlotz, who knows Vanessa very well. Come on out, Bernstein.”

Vanessa looked over at Alanna and me. “That’s my ex,” she mouthed. I couldn’t tell if she was happy or horrified. A guy with brown hair and a tweedy Mumford and Sons type outfit came prancing towards us. He didn’t look like much to me.

“Oh, Bernie,” said Vanessa, gasping, covering her mouth with her hands.

She stood up and they embraced. A velvet curtain dropped from the far wall, displaying a regal portrait of Bernie and baseball card-like statistics about Bernie and Vanessa’s relationship: Met in 2008. Dated for 3 years. Consummated relationship aboard The Sea Princess in May of 2008. Planned on having three children.

Catalina handed them each a glass of champagne. “I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about,” she said, ushering them away from her and over to the dance floor. Do You Realize by the Flaming Lips began playing and soft sparkles of light speckled the floor.

“Oh Bernie! They’re playing our song,” gushed Vanessa. “What are the odds?” The next thing I knew, they were kissing.

“Just as I suspected,” said Catalina into the camera. Her expression turned earnest. The sympathetic newscaster. My least favorite version of her. “Now, to our viewers at home, please understand that this Love Challenge has the best of intentions. We want to find true, committed ladies who are serious and ready to settle down with Bellamy. Bellamy deserves that. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I need to leave. Please,” Alanna whispered, searching for returned eye contact from one of the producers. They all ignored her.

Catalina continued with her monologue: “Lingering love, those pesky old flames, can be detrimental to new love. They can be the snuffer that puts out new flames. So this is important, and fair. We’ve said it here before, but it bears repeating: All’s fair in love and war.” She nodded thoughtfully, stroking her chin, letting the words sink in for a contemplative moment. “On that note, our next guest of honor is Jean-Luc Fortin. Alanna, I’m sure you recognize Jean-Luc. Welcome, Jean-Luc!”

Out came a huge, gorgeous hockey player. It didn’t matter that one of his front teeth was knocked out. He was an amazing specimen of manliness. I wished he was here to represent Team Emma. He went straight to Alanna, swooped her up in his arms, and began kissing her. I was seethingly jealous that I would never know the joy of tonguing some hot hockey player’s tooth gap. She had everything, even in this moment, my dress. Life can be so unfair.

From the far wall another velvet curtain dropped, revealing a giant portrait of Jean-Luc with his mouth closed, looking even hotter. Along with the poster were statistics about his relationship with Alanna, as well as what appeared to be a proposal: Met in 2006. Dated until 2007. Dated again in 2008 until 2009. Dated for three months in 2010. Dated again in 2011 until 2012. …Baby, I’m sorry I hurt you. You can count on me this time around. You know you can’t quit me! Will you marry me?

“Why don’t you two take a walk through Paris and catch up,” Catalina suggested, sending a camera crew after them. Then she turned to me. “Emma, did you think we forgot about you? Of course we didn’t! We’ve saved the best for last. Let’s see if you’re as serious about Bellamy as you would need to be to marry him. Let’s see how you feel about this.”

I braced myself. Pinpricks of nervous energy ran down my spine and I felt like I couldn’t get enough air, but unlike Alanna and Vanessa, I wasn’t scared. I was thrilled. I realized my time here on Bellamy’s Redemption would be over, but I didn’t care. In fact, I was ecstatic. I squeezed my fists into little balls and smiled, ready to see Pete. Ready for all this to be over. Ready for honesty again. Ready to be safe in Pete’s arms.

“Let’s give a warm welcome to our next guest,” said Catalina, swinging her arm grandly towards the ballroom door.

There was such a glare that I couldn’t see him at first. So many cameras on me and so much heat. I began seeing sparkling stars and the next thing I knew, I was falling right out of my chair. Oh no! I was fainting! Why? Why me? I knew enough to have one final thought before plunking to the ground: “This… is… so… embarrassing.”

Chapter 24

“She has barely been eating,” Vanessa was saying. I couldn’t see her, but I could recognize her know-it-all Southern drawl. I tried to say that she was lying, but my lips wouldn’t move. My eyes seemed to be glued shut. When I finally forced them open, I was looking up at many faces. Too many faces. There were Catalina and Vanessa, producers and assistants, and the Bellamy’s Redemption medics.

“Back away, give her some air,” said one of them. Everyone inched back a teesny bit.

“Are you okay? I was so worried about you,” said Vanessa. I realized she was holding my hand. I tried to pull mine away, but hers was clamped onto me like a vice. Behind her was Bernie. I looked at our hands and realized there was a huge diamond engagement ring on hers.

“Bernie and I are engaged,” she whispered. “It just happened. While we were dancing.”

“We’re going to need you to do that again,” one of the producers said to Bernie.

“Sure. You don’t have to ask me twice,” he said.

“Emma, are you feeling better? Can you stand up?” asked a producer.

“I think so,” I said, starting to sit up.

“No. Not yet. Rest a little longer,” said one of the medics, pressing his big hand against my throat.

“Who came to see me?” I asked.

The faces above me exchanged puzzled glances. No one spoke.

“Who is my special guest?” I asked.

A short, squatty guy who was leaning over me, who I had assumed to be some random French person, cleared his throat. “Don’t you remember me, Emma?”

I squinted up at him. “Are you an American?” I asked him.

“Yeah. Of course. Emma, it’s me. Richie Buffalo. Your junior prom date. From high school.”

“Richie Buffalo?” I repeated.

“Hi, Honey. It’s great to see you. You look great. Even better than you looked back then,” he said. His face was large and round with enormous pores. His eyebrows were bushy and beads of sweat were everywhere. I closed my eyes. Vanessa moved out of the way and he moved in even closer. He began stroking my hair. “Remember how you wore that awesome turquoise dress and I had a matching pocket square and cummerbund? Remember that?”

“Everybody did that. What are you doing here?” My head was throbbing.

“I’m your special guest. Your long lost love. I’m here to see if you could be tempted away from Bellamy.”

“Richie Buffalo? Why Richie Buffalo?” I asked, turning to a producer.

“Umm…” she said. She began flipping through the yellow legal pad on the clipboard she was holding, as if the answer might be there.

“So, what do you think?” asked Richie Buffalo. “Do you feel well enough to take a walk with me around Paris and talk about our feelings?”

“No. Not really.”

“No problem. So, what have you been up to?”

I shook my head. “Ugh,” was all I could say.

“Well, I’m a stockbroker now. I hate to talk money, but I’m exceptionally wealthy. Mucho dinero.”

“Huh,” I said. I turned my head away and closed my eyes.

“You’ll never work again,” he continued. “If you marry me, you will be, by your association to me, very, very wealthy.”

“Marry you?”

“Marry me.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I mean it, Emma. Will you marry me?”

“No thank you.”

“I understand. I get it. This is sudden, right? We have some catching up to do. We’ll stroll around Paris and have a chat.” He pronounced Paris like Pair-ee.

“Richie, no…” I winced and shook my head.

“Come on, Emma,” he continued. “Get up. I’ll help you.”

“I’m sorry, Richie. It’s just… I’m in love with Bellamy.”

There was a collective gasp followed by excited buzzing whispers and high fives.

“She said it!”

“We’ve got another one!”

“Did you catch that on camera?”

“Awesome!”

I closed my eyes, hoping when I opened them that everyone would be gone. Especially Richie. Instead, when I opened them he was still hovering over me and now Vanessa was also two inches from my face. She drew in a deep breath, raised her eyebrows, and smiled. “Hi again, Emma. Excuse me, Richie.” She elbowed him out of the way. “I’m so happy for you. I totally know Bellamy’s going to pick you. Especially once you tell him you love him! Alanna is still off walking around with that hockey guy, and Klassie is still in the hospital, so you’re pretty much competition-free. I think we should do a double wedding special. Maybe we could do it live. What do you think?” She turned to the producers and camera guys. “Wouldn’t that be great? Seriously, if Bellamy picks Emma, and he totally will, I want to have a double wedding. Could we do it here in Paris? Please?”

“Sure. That’s a great idea,” said the producer with the legal pad.

“I’m not sure about this,” I said.

“Why not?” asked Vanessa. “We could have matching dresses. No, on second thought, that would be lame.”

“Aren’t we putting the cart before the horse?” I asked.

“Cart before the horse. Where do you come up with these things? You’re so funny. But I love you. I hope you know, you’ve totally been my best friend on the show. Where is Bernie? Bernie, come over here. I want you to meet Emma. Bless her heart, she is just the best. We’re all going to have a double wedding together. Oh, her eyes are closed again. Emma! Snap to it. Emma, sit up!”

“Could I have a minute?” I asked.

“Get her some water,” someone said.

“No. I don’t need water. I just need some space.” I stood up, wobbly, and somehow found my way out of the room. As I exited I could hear Vanessa saying, “But if Bellamy and Alanna end up together, which they totally might, then could Alanna and I have a double wedding special instead?”

“Sure. That’s a great idea,” the producer was saying.

I looked behind me as I made my way back up the stairs. Miraculously, no one was around me. I still had a mic on, of course, but I was alone. I took off my shoes and sighed, contemplating my escape routes. Feeling too defeated to come up with a scheme, I sank down on the stairs and surveyed my beautiful surroundings. I was too numb and exhausted to care much about a lovely old Parisian hotel.

I evaluated what had just happened. I had just received a marriage proposal. Not from Pete, not from Bellamy, not from any guy I’d dated in the past ten years, but from Richie Buffalo. And to make it all even more insulting, there hadn’t even been a ring involved. “What kind of a loser proposes without a ring?” I wondered aloud.

Who could possibly have told them that Richie Buffalo was my great lost love? The producers of the show came up with him somehow. Did my mom throw me under the bus? My old high school principal? Who would have done this to me? I tried to picture everyone I knew. Before long I decided it had probably been Judijean. She had always had a thing for Richie Buffalo and could never believe that I wasn’t just as in love with him.

“Why didn’t she go after him herself?” I heard myself mumble. Ugh! It was happening again! I pressed my fingertips to my lips. I thought perhaps I had kicked the habit, but it seemed that anxious, nervous words were always waiting for their chance to spring from my mouth. Perhaps some meditative breathing would help me. I drew in a deep breath through my nose and exhaled through my mouth. Or was I supposed to do it the other way around?

“This is all so embarrassing,” I whispered, giving up on meditating, instead playing with my raveling hem. “I’m never going to recover from this. Never.” I tore a thread off my dress and the remainder of the hem loosened up. I kept talking: “Why am I even on a show like this? It’s so inelegant. Look at me! First I wear stupid shoes, then I faint, and then Richie Buffalo shows up wanting to marry me. Without a ring. And it’s all captured on camera for the whole world to see.” I yanked the hem off my dress. It came off in one tidy strip. “That was strangely satisfying,” I told myself. By this point, I was on a roll: “If they were going to pick some random jerk from my past they could have at least picked someone cute. But Richie Buffalo? Richie Freaking Buffalo? Really? I mean, please!” I started to cry and went into hardcore self-sabotage mode: “It just proves that I have no great love. Everyone else, by this point, has had some miraculous love story. Some amazing story that made their life worth living. But not me. I’m so pathetic. What’s wrong with me?”

“I’m on it! I said I’m on it,” said Bob the cameraman, yelling back at the ballroom, running down the hall towards me. As soon as he saw me sitting on the stairs he screeched to a halt, his sneakers leaving black marks on the marble floor. “Oh. There you are. Hi there, Emma,” he said.

“Hi Bob,” I said.

“Sorry. I didn’t realize we’d left you alone during such a critical scene. You should have said something.”

“I didn’t mind,” I told him.

“Yeah, but still.”

“You didn’t miss anything,” I said.

“Did you want to say anything to that Richie guy? I think they’re going to send him home now, so if you want to say goodbye you probably should.” He wasn’t suggesting I do it for the show, but was speaking to me like a friend offering me some advice.

“I guess it would be the nice thing to do, but I don’t really care right now,” I said.

“I understand,” said Bob.

“My ten year reunion is coming up this summer. I’ll talk to him then,” I offered.

“Yeah, that’ll soften the blow,” said Bob. It was rare to be unchaperoned and to be able to have a somewhat honest conversation. Normally there were always other girls around, and usually a producer as well, but with all the hubbub happening, we seemed to be a little understaffed. Bob wasn’t filming any of our conversation. As a rule, a conversation with a cameraman would never make it on the air anyhow. I felt a smidge of trust towards him that I hadn’t felt before, but not enough to let my guard down. I wiped away my tears and headed up to the room. Bob followed behind me. Once I got inside I flopped down on the bed and he settled into a chair and began reading the thick novel about the Trail of Tears that he’d been working his way through since we were in California.

“Good book?” I asked him.

“Hmm. This? Oh. Yep. It’s pretty interesting.”

“So what’s happening right now in it?”

“Well, they’re on this trail, and things aren’t going very well.”

“Are you honestly reading that, or is it a decoy?” I asked him

“A decoy?” he asked.

“An eavesdropping tool. It’s just, you’ve been working on it forever. Are you really that slow of a reader?”

“It’s two thousand pages long. It would take anyone a long time to read it,” he said.

I rolled over and buried my face in the pillow. Just as I was about to doze off, I heard a commotion from the street down below. There was talking and shouting, and it was all in English. I realized that it was Alanna and the hockey player coming back from their walk. Bob sprang to his feet. “Emma?” he asked.

“Hmm?” I murmured, pretending to be more asleep than I actually was.

“You gonna be sleeping for a while?”

“Hmm?”

“I think I’d better head down there. We’re down a cameraman today and it sounds like we’ve got something big happening.”

“Mmm.”

“I gotta go. Don’t do anything while I’m gone.”

“Okay,” I mumbled. I waited until a few minutes had gone by, and then got up to use the bathroom so I would be out of view from the camera mounted in the corner of the room. While in there I carefully removed my microphone, hiding it behind a stack of towels. I opened the door a crack, sneaked out, and slithered along the wall like a snake, hopefully out of view of the camera. I grabbed my room key and before I had time to change my mind, I was out the door, safe and anonymous in the hallway. I breathed a deep sigh of relief, but then remembered I hadn’t grabbed any money. And I was still wearing an evening gown, but I was now barefoot. I wasn’t sure exactly what my plan was; I just wanted a little freedom.

Suddenly I heard voices from down below me and footsteps coming up the stairs. I panicked, trying to get into the rooms nearest to me. They were all locked. The footsteps were getting closer. I recognized Alanna’s voice: “How can I get past everything that happened, just like that? Do people really change, Jean-Luc? Have you really changed?”

I ran down the hall and dived into an alcove with an ice machine. Beside a cigarette machine (how French) there was a tall, skinny door. I fiddled with the old fashioned latch, expecting it to be locked, but instead found a closet filled with brooms and cleaning supplies. I ducked inside and closed the door. A moment later they were right outside the door.

“I’m older now. I’m wiser. Quit with these stupid shows and come home.”

“Bellamy really likes me. Maybe I’ll marry him.”

“You would have married him last time if you had wanted to marry him. You’re doing all this to torture me.”

“You always think everything I do is all about you. Maybe I’m doing this just for me.”

“No one is going to love you like I do, Alanna. You make a great first impression, and everyone is crazy about you, but then they realize you aren’t perfect, and they give up on you. I’ve seen it a thousand times. I’m the one who stuck around long enough to see who you really are after the first impression, after the big let-down. I know the real you. And I love her.”

“Awww,” I whispered, unable to help myself. Even if it was kind of an insult, his sincerity made it practically a compliment.

“Did you hear that?” asked Jean-Luc.

“It’s just the ice machine,” said Alanna. “What about the other girls? What about all the cheating? You broke my heart! How can I ever trust you again?”

“Oh. That,” said Jean-Luc. I heard the door creak a little. He must be leaning against it. I edged away from the door, feeling around in the dark, trying not to knock over any brooms or bottles. As I took a step back and moved my hand up the wall behind me, I felt another latch, and the next thing I knew, I had opened a door into a small room. The closet had two entrances! I peeked in to the other room, feeling like Alice in Wonderland. It was a tidy little room, probably belonging to a housekeeper. Luckily no one was in it. It was nearly dark, with just a sliver of light coming in from a small window in the corner of the room. A television, a vase with wilted flowers, and a few bottles of perfume were on the dresser. Across the room were a chair and lamp beside a bookshelf filled with photos and magazines. And on the nightstand beside the bed, was a telephone.

Without hesitation, I tiptoed across the room, picked up the telephone and called Pete.

Chapter 25

“Hello?”

“Pete! It’s Emma,” I whispered.

“Emma! Emma Van Elson! How are you?”

“…Good. How are you, Pete?” Was it just me, or did he sound… weird? Why was he acting so strange and formal?

“I’m good. Uh, could you hang on for just a second?”

“Sure,” I said.

There was some muffled, scuffling sounds, and static. I stood there in the semi-darkness, watching the door to the broom closet and the main door, waiting for one or the other to spring open, waiting to be caught. The clock began to tick very loudly. Nearly two minutes went by.

“I’m back,” he said eventually.

“Pete, I miss you,” I said.

“Yeah. Me too,” he said.

“How’ve you been?” I asked.

“Oh yeah. Good.”

His answer didn’t really make sense to me, but I was too happy about having the chance to talk to him to let it stop me from barging forward. “Pete! Pete! I can’t believe it’s you. I can’t believe we’re actually talking. Can you believe it? I’m finally alone. I’m never alone. You can’t even imagine,” I said.

“Yeah. When do you think you’re coming home?” He seemed to be whispering. I understood why I was whispering, but why was he whispering?

“I don’t know. This seems like it’s never going to end. Why are you whispering, Pete?”

“Whispering?” he whispered. “I’m not whispering.”

“Is someone there?” I asked.

“No. No way. It’s great to hear from you. So what have you been up to?”

“I’m in Paris.”

“Cool.”

“Uh huh. I guess. Pete, are we still good?”

“Sure we’re good.”

“You aren’t mad that I’m on this show, right?”

“No. It’s, uh… hey…”

His voice trailed off. I thought for a moment that we’d been disconnected, but then I heard a soft thwack and giggling. I pressed the phone closer to my ear and in the background I heard a woman’s voice say “I told you it was gonna hurt!” followed by more giggling and another thwack. Had the wires gotten crossed? Whose conversation was I listening to?

“Hey, uh, are you still there?” Pete asked.

I couldn’t speak for a moment.

“Hello?” he asked again.

“Pete,” I ventured, “is someone hitting you with pillows… or sofa cushions?”

“What?” he asked, sounding shocked.

“I can tell what’s going on,” I said, tears welling in my throat. “I’m an interior designer. I know what pillows and cushions sound like.”

There was a long pause. I thought perhaps he was going to chicken out and just hang up on me, but then I heard his muffled side of a conversation: “Krissie, give me a minute, okay? One minute,” and he was back. “Sorry about that,” he said. I heard the sound of a door close. “Okay, I can talk now. How’s it going?”

“What happened? I thought we were great,” I said. I tried to hide the fact that I was crying, but it was impossible. I did my best to keep from hiccupping and snorting.

“We were great, Emma.”

“Were great? That’s the past tense. Are we over, Pete? Tell me we’re not over.”

“We are great. I mean, when we’re together, we’re great. It’s just…”

“It’s just what? What went wrong?” I asked.

“Are you kidding?”

“Why would you ask me that? This is serious,” I said.

“Emma, in my defense, you went on a game show to find love and get married. You’ve been gone for almost two months. I’ve only heard from you once in all this time. Are you going to end up married to that guy?”

“No way! I’m just in it for the jewelry!”

“Okay. I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“Are you the moral police now? Because that might be a little hypocritical.”

“Are you ever coming home?”

“I just got here.”

“You’ve been gone two months.”

“Has it really been two months? That seems impossible. You must mean two weeks.”

“No. I mean two months.”

“I thought you’d wait for me.”

“I waited for a month and half. But I can’t wait forever.”

“Can’t wait or won’t wait?”

“It’s up to you how this goes. At least you’ve still got that going for you. That might not be the case if you’re gone for another two months.”

“I feel like you’re turning this around on me and making it all my fault,” I said.

“If you ever come home, I’m all yours. Until then, I have a pillow fight to continue with. See you around.”

“This conversation isn’t over,” I said, “and if you think you’re going through with that pillow fight, you are wrong.”

“I’m leaving, Emma. Good luck deciding who you want.”

“I want you. To not have a pillow fight.”

“Then come home.”

“I will soon.”

“Right. I’m hanging up now.”

“Don’t go,” I said. But he was gone. He’d hung up on me. I guess you could say this was the turning point.

Chapter 26

“Oh my gosh. It was so hard climbing the Eiffel Tower in this robe. I think all of France saw my undies,” said Deb. She had just returned from her date with Bellamy. A sparkling purple comb was holding up one side of her hair. The rest of her hair was a snarled mass of windblown tangles. She was beaming and looked love-glazed.

“Did you wear some kind of a harness in case you fell?” asked Klassie. She was back, wearing a neck brace but otherwise unscathed.

“Oh sure. Yep. They put us in some harness thingies. It was like wearing a big diaper attached to a big wire. Not very romantic if you ask me. When we were at the top we yelled ‘Viva France!’ at the top of our lungs. It was so cool. The producers told us to do that, but they told us to make it look like it was a spontaneous decision. I thought that was pretty darn smart of them. Bellamy and I are getting really serious. I told him that I want to have five kids and he said he wants to have five kids too. I hope you guys don’t mind me gushing about him. I’m just so excited I can’t shut up.”

“Five kids?” asked Klassie.

“Or more,” said Deb. “I wouldn’t mind having twenty kids. I thought about it and if we had a couple sets of twins, it would be very doable.”

“How would having twins make it more doable? You’d still have twenty kids to take care of,” said Klassie.

“So I wouldn’t have to have babies for twenty years straight. If I had some twins, I could have babies for maybe just ten or fifteen years straight, and we’d be child-free and ready to travel before we were too old to enjoy it. This trip is making me realize I want to travel the world! With Bellamy! Gosh you guys, I hope all my talking about Bellamy and how much I love him and how I’m going to marry him isn’t making you guys mad at me. I’m just so crazy about him. Anyway, back to our family plans, I’ve got it all worked out. Except where we’re going to live. I want to be close to my family, but Bellamy wants to be close to his family too. I’m not sure how we’re going to handle that.”

“What did you do after you climbed the Eiffel Tower?” asked Alanna. To my shock, she’d sent the hockey player home and was holding out for Bellamy.

“We had a fancy French meal at a teensy little bistro table that was set up on a balcony overlooking the city. It was so pretty! There was a man playing a fancy instrument and then fireworks went off. Did you see them? They were for us.”

“I guess we missed it,” said Alanna.

“Oh. Too bad! They were pretty. Lots of hearts exploding out of other hearts. Those are my favorite. I’m starting to wonder how I’m going to handle it if I have to go home. Every day is so full of exciting stuff. I can’t imagine having to go back alone to Duluth without Bellamy. I would die of a broken heart. What do you guys think? Isn’t it exciting being on this show?”

I shrugged. I had been bleaching my teeth for forty-five minutes to avoid having to speak. The whitening strips were French and very, very minty. They made my gums burn. I was a little afraid to remove them for fear my teeth might have completely eroded. The upside was that I could blame my tears on them.

I couldn’t get my argument with Pete out of my mind. Somehow I’d been able to sneak back to the room undetected, but if I wasn’t careful, my emotions were going to give me away.

“No kidding,” said Klassie. “I woke up in Paris, fell off a balcony, got taken away in an ambulance…”

“A French, foreign ambulance,” Deb interjected.

“We didn’t think you’d be back,” Alanna added, accusingly.

“Yeah, okay,” said Klassie, “but I’m fine, so here I am. Anyhow, as I was saying, I’ve had a crazy day too. Not as crazy as Vanessa though, I guess.”

“Is she really gone?” asked Deb.

“Yes,” Alanna said smugly.

“Wow. That’s insane! And she’s engaged now? I can’t believe it. Did you see the guy?” asked Deb.

I nodded.

“He was so ordinary that it made me want to cry,” said Alanna.

“I wonder why just you three got put to the test,” said Deb. “They didn’t have any exes lined up for me or Klassie. Don’t you think that’s kind of strange?”

“I know,” said Alanna. “Why would they have ever questioned my loyalty towards Bellamy? Honestly, I feel like they were trying to set me up for failure. But I proved them wrong. So did you, Emma.”

“Mmm,” I said, nodding.

“Well, they were on to something,” said Klassie. “I mean, not with you two, but with Vanessa. They suspected that she loved someone else more than she loves Bellamy, and they were right.”

“Does she have to give back her jewelry?” I asked.

“We can’t understand you with those whitening strips in your mouth,” said Alanna.

There was a knock at the door. “You know what that’s going to be, don’t you?” asked Deb, her eyes gleaming. “I’ll bet it’s invitations to meet Bellamy’s family!” She dashed across the room and yanked open the door.

Instead of a date card, Bellamy was standing there. It was almost midnight and none of us were prepared to see him or to be filmed, but he came with a camera crew in tow, as always. I pulled off my whitening strips and chucked them beneath the sofa, giving a quick swipe to my mouth with the back of my hand. Alanna gasped and stuffed her glasses into the book she was holding, simultaneously shaking out her hair that had been piled in a messy bun on top of her head. Klassie and Deb just smiled at him.

“Hey. Surprise,” said Bellamy. He looked tired and depressed.

“Hi,” we all said. I ran my tongue over my teeth, making sure they didn’t feel gummy.

“I’m glad you’re still up,” he said to us. “I was afraid I might wake you.”

“Bellamy, of course we’re still up!” said Alanna. She stood up and made her way over to him, faux-absentmindedly twisting her t-shirt into a knot until her entire stomach was exposed. “Do you know that you’re just totally my favorite person ever?” she asked him, giving him a little hug.

“Emma, could I have a word with you outside?” he asked.

My heart dropped. How stupid of me to think I could get away with having a phone conversation with Pete when there were cameras everywhere.

The other girls looked at one another, trying to gauge if this turn of events was in their favor or against them.

“Right now?” I asked.

“Yeah, right now,” he said.

“Sure,” I said. I grabbed my sweater and slipped my shoes on. I decided to let him do the talking, and he didn’t say anything until we were outside and had walked quite a ways down the street. I noticed the cameramen were lingering far behind us, which I thought was strange considering that a bunch of drama was about to get unleashed.

We walked and walked, in silence. I began to let my guard down, wondering if I might still be staying around longer despite my call to Pete. After all, Bellamy had made it clear that I meant nothing to him. That I was like a sister. That I was just a spy.

“Come this way,” Bellamy finally spoke. He took my hand, pulling me down a dark cobblestone passage. “Run with me,” he said, so I did.

It had just rained a little and the streets were wet. The air felt misty and the night felt magical. Despite the knots in my stomach, I couldn’t help but appreciate this magical place and Bellamy’s hand in mine as we ran. In the distance I heard music and people laughing, but where we were, there were no other people but us. I knew that if I looked back, we’d probably still be in view of cameras, but they seemed very far away. I looked up at him and he looked down at me. I realized he wasn’t tired and depressed; he was… emotional. It was the same look I’d seen on his face when he’d realized Alanna was in love with Antonio. A look of vulnerability and sweetness and heart wrenching agony.

We stopped running and faced each other. I knew he was going to tell me to go home. I deserved it, but now that I was in the moment of it actually happening I realized I wasn’t ready to go. I was ashamed of myself and dreading having to defend my actions. I looked down at the pavement but he touched my chin, tilting it up, forcing me to look in his eyes.

“Bellamy, I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Why would you say that?” he asked. “I’m glad.”

“You’re glad?”

“Emma, I know how you feel,” he whispered. His face was inches from mine. We were stopped now in a doorway and his arms were around me. “Bob told me that you love me. He wasn’t supposed to, but he did. It’s what I wanted to hear.” He kissed me. He was so tender, so passionate, that I found myself pulling him closer, kissing him back. I stood on my tiptoes, wanting to be even closer to him. We kissed for several minutes. Just as he slid his hand beneath my sweater and touched my back, I felt Bob’s camera lens bump my face.

“Whoopsadaisy. Sorry ‘bout that,” said Bob. I took a step back. Now we were surrounded by cameras.

“Emma, does this mean you’d like to come home to Denver with me?” asked Bellamy.

“Yes,” I said. And for the first time since I’d landed in Los Angeles so many weeks earlier, I really meant it.

Chapter 27

“I can’t believe it’s finally happening,” said Deb, looking out the window of the plane. “I had no idea Denver had mountains. This is so exciting!”

Alanna leaned over me to peer out the window. “I love it here. The last time I met Bellamy’s family, in case you forgot that I’ve met them, they were so amazing. I really could imagine being a part of their family. I mean, you did see me meeting them, right? Remember how much they liked me? I think they’re going to be really happy to see me again. I know I’ve missed them a ton, so I assume they’ve missed me too. I hate to say it, but they loved me.”

“I saw that episode, and I remember it differently,” said Klassie.

“Differently how?” asked Alanna.

“Just, um, less intense. Less love.”

“I guess you had to be there,” said Alanna.

“And now we all will be,” said Klassie.

“Are you trying to start a fight with me?” Alanna asked Klassie.

Klassie shook her head. Then nodded it when Alanna was no longer looking.

“We all remember that episode,” said Deb. “Of course we do! After all, it just happened. You wore the peach and turquoise strapless sundress, right?”

“Yes. It’s Michael Kors.”

“It’s what?” asked Deb.

“Never mind. Forget it,” said Alanna. Her lips began to tremble and her eyes grew moist.

“There, there. I know who Michael Kors is,” I said, patting her arm. She shoved me away and shook her head.

“I remember that they served corn on the cob and you ate it so delicately,” Deb continued, squinting a little as she recalled details of Alanna and Bellamy’s previous Meet-the-Fam date. “Like a little rabbit. Not one kernel got lodged in your teeth. And you totally clicked with Bellamy’s family, Alanna. They adored you. The rest of us might as well not even bother meeting them.”

“I did click with them. Thanks for backing me up, Debbie,” said Alanna. She glared at Klassie and then at me; I was guilty too, since I hadn’t stuck up for her.

“Do you think it’s a little odd that we’re going to Denver instead of to Arizona? I’d like to see Bellamy’s place instead of his parents’ house. What if he lives in a shack, or an efficiency apartment? I’m on to something here, right?” asked Klassie. She adjusted her neck brace and twisted her white-yellow hair.

“The point is to meet the fam,” said Alanna. “Meet the fam. Not the roommates. Not the co-workers. Not the frat boys. Not the skanky ex-girlfriends. Not the neighbors. The fam-i-ly. That’s what ‘fam’ stands for. Seriously Klassie, did you ever watch the show before you came here?”

“Yes Alanna. God! Back off. You’re such a piranha. Anyhoo, what do you girls think of my hair? It’s blah, right? Not at all me, right? I think I’m going to dye it back to red. Don’t you all think so? I just don’t feel like myself right now without my red hair.” She twisted a chunk of it around her fingers over and over and made a face. Ever since she’d fallen off the balcony, she seemed to be experiencing bouts of skittishness I hadn’t noticed before.

“Alanna, tell us more about his family. Are they amazing?” asked Deb.

“Yeah, Debbie. They’re really great. You know what the best thing about them was? I mean, besides their general awesomeness? They’d heard of the band I was in! Isn’t that so sweet of them?”

“You were in a band?” asked Deb.

“Sure! Chipmunk Super Highway. I mean, this was years ago, back when I was a kid. We were über-famous in Saskatchewan. That’s where I lived when I was little. Never mind. I mean, now I’m blabbing about nothing, just like you, right Debbie?”

“I don’t know,” said Deb.

“So,” Alanna continued, “his parents are really nice and normal, and he has a younger sister who seems really sweet and sporty, and an older brother who also seems cool. I’m not so sure about the brother’s wife, she seemed a little off, like 2007 Britney Spears, or Sylvia Plath or something, but otherwise they’re a great bunch. I hope they don’t have any hard feelings towards me, you know, for not picking Bellamy last time. It’s just, I was confused, you know?”

“Sure,” said Deb. “Who’s Sylvia Plath?”

“Oh Debbie, you poor little fool,” said Alanna.

“Are you for serious?” asked Deb.

I was so annoyed that Alanna had been in Chipmunk Super Highway. I wondered now how I hadn’t realized it sooner. Chipmunk Super Highway had been a band made up of five adorable little girls with chic bobbed haircuts and shiny yellow raincoat themed clothing. They’d had their own television show that played on Sunday afternoons after Saved by the Bell reruns. They had even had a somewhat-known song that got a little radio air time called School Blues. I bit my lip to keep from humming it.

“So,” said Deb, already having forgiven Alanna, “do you think they’re still mad at you, or have they gotten over it? I’ll bet they’re over it.”

“Yeah, Debbie, I think they’ve had enough time to heal. If I can heal, so can they, right? Honestly, I was the victim in the whole ordeal. More than Bellamy and certainly more than his parents. None of them had to deal with Antonio and his lies. But like I’ve said, I’m over all that and ready to move on. Time heals all wounds. Yeah, I’m sure they’re over it. Case closed,” said Alanna. Then she turned to me and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “You know, Emma, you’re being awfully quiet.”

“I’m sleepy,” I said. When I closed my eyes, reruns of the Chipmunk Super Highway girls singing and dancing overtook my brain. I could see clearly now that the little tambourine Chipmunk was Alanna. Remembering that, I next recalled that I had once owned a lunchbox with her face on it. Not even a nice lunch box, but a pathetic, thermosless hand-me-down from my younger cousin. My own futility smothered me like a lead blanket. I sank down farther and farther in my seat.

“What’s bothering you? Tell us,” said Alanna, giving me a poke in the forehead.

“Nothing,” I said. I blinked my eyes a couple of times, trying to erase the memory of that lunchbox. On top of the annoyances of the moment, I was distracted by worries about Pete and the pillow fight girl. I’d tossed and turned all night, obsessed with scenarios of the two of them frolicking naked in goose down ecstasy. Then, while trying to sleep at the airport, I’d overhead some producers discussing Vanessa. It turned out that she and Bernie had called off their engagement, and she was coming back. She would be meeting up with us in Denver. I hadn’t bothered to tell the other girls. I wasn’t even supposed to know about it.

Also, I’d realized when I’d looked at my plane ticket that somehow it truly was two months later than the day I’d first arrived in Los Angeles, and that Pete had every reason to be upset with me. Not to mention that it was my mother’s birthday. I’d asked a producer if I could call her and I was told I couldn’t. I resented having to ask for permission for something so basic, and then being told No. It reminded me of being a child and having to ask to use the restroom during school. It was outrageous. I felt all around horrible and was considering quitting the competition. I figured that with Vanessa’s return, perhaps they’d all barely notice saying goodbye to me. If only I hadn’t developed the teensiest bit of real feelings for Bellamy.

“Do you know what a Chipmunk Super Highway is?” asked Alanna, with her pretty, sneery little smirk.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said.

“I think I heard you start to hum School Blues a second ago.”

“I did not.”

“Maybe just the first few notes?”

“No.”

“I think you did.”

“Uh uh. No way,” I said.

“Were you in my fan club? We had a fan club, but I also had my own fan club. Did you belong to both fan clubs or just mine?”

“Neither.”

“Hmm. I’ll bet there’s a letter from you in the giant crate of fan mail at my parents’ house.”

“I’m certain there’s not,” I said, fully aware that there might be. “How sad of you to hold on to those old mementos of your better days,” I added.

“Well played, Drabby. You’re more of a bitch than people know.”

“So are you,” I said.

“I hope that doesn’t make you think we have anything in common. Anyway, do you know what a Chipmunk Super Highway is?” she pressed on.

“No.”

“It’s a downspout,” she said. And then she burst into giggles.

I crossed my arms and sighed. It was like being trapped in seventh grade.

“Why are you such a grumpy-puss today?” asked Deb.

“No kidding,” said Klassie. “I’ve never seen you so miserable.”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“They’re right,” said Alanna. She replaced her sneer with a look of sappy, condescending concern. “You’re so… pardon me for saying this, but I’m worried about you. You’re so… bitchy looking. Are you suffering from something you’d like to share with us?”

“It’s my mom’s birthday,” I said. “I asked them if I could call her to wish her a happy birthday and they told me I couldn’t. I think they’re taking this whole lock-down thing a little too far.”

“It was my mom’s birthday last month and I couldn’t call her,” said Klassie.

“Okay,” I said.

“Doesn’t your family understand that you’re on a mission to find love?” asked Deb.

“Yeah. But still, I’d like to call home for a minute or two.”

“I’m starting to think you’re not strong enough for this competition,” said Alanna.

“I’m strong enough,” I said.

“Just hold on a little longer,” said Deb. “If things go well with Bellamy’s family, you’ll get to be back with your family soon, during part two of the Meet-the-Fam dates when he meets yours.”

“And if things go badly, you’ll still be home with your family soon,” said Alanna, smiling benevolently.

I ignored her intentions. “You’re all right,” I said. “I don’t know why I’m having such a hard time. I’m overreacting. I think I’ll just take a little nap now.”

I closed my eyes and pulled my eye pillow down into place to signify that we were done talking, but Alanna pushed it back up. “I think there’s something you’re not telling us,” she said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“I have Debbie and Klassie all figured out,” she said; neither seemed the least annoyed by this statement, “but I’m not so sure about you.”

“There’s nothing to figure out,” I said.

“Really? How do you really feel about Bellamy?”

“How do you really feel about Bellamy? Better than you felt when you told him that you didn’t want to marry him, but that you did want to marry Antonio?” I asked her back.

“I’ve explained that I was confused, and that now I’ve realized I made the wrong decision picking Antonio. I have done plenty of explaining about that. But we’re talking about you now.”

“Not if I don’t feel like talking,” I said, yanking my eye pillow back into place.

“Explain to me why you have a ‘princess’ eye pillow that looks like it’s from the dollar store, but your dresses are all super expensive,” she said, pushing the eye pillow back up on top of my head.

“Hmm,” said Deb, nodding.

“Easy with the eye pillow. And my hair! This eye pillow was in my Christmas stocking. Are you saying my parents have bad taste? Because that would be very rude of you.”

“Explain why you’re so quiet,” said Alanna.

“I’m talking right now,” I said.

“You do kind of keep to yourself,” Klassie said accusingly.

“You’re all being ridiculous,” I said.

“Explain why your surprise visitor was so gross,” Alanna continued. “It’s like, they totally let you off the hook. Did you really even go out with that guy? Did you even know him? Or was he some fake guy they brought in so they could try to frame me and Vanessa, and make it look like you were also getting tested?”

“He was real,” I said. “Though I have no idea why they chose him. I seriously have way better ex-boyfriends than that. Honestly, I’m still embarrassed about it. If anything, you should take that whole mess as a sign of my authenticity.”

Alanna picked at small zit on her chin and glared at me. “I’m just… ugh,” she said, shaking her head.

“What?” I asked.

“Never mind,” she said, moving on to pick at her fingernails.

“Fine,” I said. I pulled my eye pillow back down.

“Don’t hide behind your dumb eye pillow when we’re in the middle of a conversation.”

I took it off and stuffed it into my pocket.

“Thank you,” she said. “So Emma, the thing is, I get this impression like he likes you, and I have no idea why. I just, like, don’t. It’s very, very annoying. Very.”

“You get the impression he likes all of us, right?” asked Deb.

“Would you mind if I took that vacant seat?” I asked the flight attendant who happened to be passing by. I pointed towards the back of the plane where I’d noticed a couple of empty seats earlier when I was coming back from the restroom.

“Sure, you can take it,” she said.

“Thank you,” I said. I got up to leave, but Alanna was still not finished.

“You may have some of the answers, but there are still many, many questions. I’m watching you,” she said, pointing at her own eyes with two fingers, then pointing at my own.

“Bellamy likes all of us, right? Don’t you think he’s still into all of us a lot?” I heard Deb asking again as I found my way as far away from them as the plane would allow. A producer got up and wordlessly followed me, taking a seat behind me. I sighed, put on my eye pillow, and finally got some sleep.

Chapter 28

“His family is going to hate her,” Alanna said. She was talking about Klassie, of course, who had just left our hotel room. She would be gone all day, and possibly overnight if Bellamy’s family invited her to stay.

I knew from previous seasons that spending the night at a family’s home was very rare and equally significant. It hadn’t happened as far as I could recall since 2009 when Parsley Devenshire had been invited to stay with the family of George Haberfield after a particularly successful Meet-the-Fam date. Parsley and George are now married with triplets who are all named after herbs. They have their own Hamptons-themed decorating company and they’ve started a charity for people who are struggling financially to keep their yachts. It’s called Staying Afloat. I read about it in Town & Country magazine. I should hate them, but they actually seem like wonderful people.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. If they’re anything like Bellamy, they’re too sweet to hate anyone,” said Deb.

“I’m with you, Deb,” I said. I angled my chair so I wouldn’t have to look at Alanna.

“At least she left her roller skates here. I really thought she was going to wear them to his family’s house. God, that would have been hilarious. I can’t believe the producers didn’t try to sway her into doing that. Can you believe those stupid things? They’ve been all over the world and here they are. I can’t believe they made it through customs. Have either of you smelled them? They stink. I’d like to burn them,” said Alanna. She pinched her nose and cackled.

Despite my disdain, I was secretly mesmerized by her multi-faceted personality. I was both relieved and disappointed that the perfect Alanna I’d seen on television was an unattainable character, not a person. Maybe the editors of the show would pull a one eighty, this time revealing all her snarky, whining, zit-picking glory. It was all right there if they chose to show it. I doubted it would happen though, since they’d practically created the Alanna Rutherford brand the first time around, and to expose her as an ordinary (though gorgeous) human would surely lessen audiences’ interest in her and the potential for more shows starring her in the future.

“I’ll give them a little sprinkle of perfume,” said Deb. She spritzed the roller skates with a few squirts of the lavender room spray from the wicker basket of free goodies on the coffee table.

“She’s totally going to know we did that. They’ll probably smell even worse now. I love it,” Alanna said, laughing. She rummaged through the basket for a moment, unwrapped a mint and ate it, and then suddenly began to pout. “Another day of sitting around. I wonder if anything interesting will happen today.”

“I’ll bet something interesting is going to happen,” I said. I was pretty sure that Vanessa would be turning up shortly.

“I doubt it,” said Deb. “I’m going to tell you two a story while we’re waiting. You can listen too, Bob,” she added for the sake of our favorite cameraman.

“Cool,” said Bob. His eyes lit up and he smiled. I’d noticed that he’d stopped wearing his wedding ring when we were in Europe and that he still didn’t have it on. I wasn’t sure what his deal was, but I suddenly sensed that he was very interested in Deb.

“Okay, so as you guys know, I was born in a barn. Like Jesus,” she said.

“We didn’t know that you were born in a barn,” I said.

“Oh. Okay, so I was. You can imagine that I got a lot of harassment over that my whole life. You know, people asking ‘Were you born in a barn’ if I, say, left my school desk a little messy, and I’d have to say that I was, and all of that. But it wasn’t all bad. I’ve never had allergies, and I think it’s because I was exposed to all that hay as a baby…”

Just then the door opened and Catalina Cartwright barged in. “Hi girls. We’ve got a special announcement and we’re going to film it in fifteen minutes. Change your clothes and put on some makeup if you’d like to. See you in a few,” she said, and with that she was right back out the door.

“What was that all about?” asked Alanna. When Deb and I looked at her blankly without offering an explanation, she turned to Bob and snapped at him: “Bob, fill us in. I hate all these surprises. What’s up with us getting jerked around this season? Is this just how it is being on the other side? If so, I want my own show again.”

Deb froze. “What did you say, Alanna?”

“I said I’m sick of all these surprises. I feel like we’re pawns who are getting pushed around a chessboard. Giving us fifteen minutes to get ready for important airtime? Really? I didn’t agree to that.”

“No. You said you want your own show again. If you were truly here for Bellamy, you wouldn’t be thinking like that.” Deb began to cry. Not just a couple of tears, but angry sobs. “How dare you stay here if you don’t love him? How dare you? I do love him and to me this isn’t a joke, and it’s not just a show.”

“Calm down. I’m here for Bellamy. Really,” said Alanna.

“You are not,” said Deb.

“Debbie, relax. You’re getting all worked up.”

“Quit calling me Debbie. I’m telling Catalina what you just said, and as soon as I see Bellamy, I’m telling him too,” said Deb. She left the room in search of Catalina.

“Baby spaz,” said Alanna to the closed door. She didn’t look very concerned about Deb’s accusations or the fact that she was being tattled on. She tucked her shirt into the jeans she was wearing and said to Bob, pointedly ignoring me, “Do I look like a dumbass? Just watch. In six months everyone will wear their shirts tucked in. I’m ready for filming. Seriously. I’m ready.” She turned to me then: “Why don’t you put some spackle on your face, Emma, instead of staring at me. I’m not kidding. You’re wasting precious time. Scurry off to your stained up little makeup bag and give your stubby little eyelashes another coat of Frosty Girl. Or no, wait, it was even worse, wasn’t it. Big Eyes, right? Can’t you buy that brand at grocery stores? You fraud.”

“Were you looking in my makeup bag?” I stammered. I felt so exposed.

“Maybe.”

“You had no right to look in there.”

“There’s nothing else to do around here. I didn’t even know they made those brands anymore. Big Eyes mascara? I mean, how quaint. Even your Q-tips look generic.”

“All the models use Big Eyes,” I said.

“Is that what they tell you in your ladies’ magazines? How to lose ten pounds and make some meatloaf and don’t forget to wear your Big Eyes.”

My anger was bubbling over. “Alanna, you’re horrible,” I told her, practically spitting. “It’s going to come out for the world to see. I’ll tell Bellamy what you’re really like. There’s no way he’s going to end up with you.”

She just laughed and said, “We’ll see about that.”

I left the room and changed into a dress, my hands shaking so badly I could barely zip it. I could hear Alanna out in the living room, carrying on to Bob about her fabulousness: “The producers of this show think they made me, but it has always been like this for me. When I was a baby, I was cuter than all the other babies. I’m not even exaggerating! There are pictures to prove it. I never got to know what it was like to be normal because I was too bright and adorable. And then, I became cool when I was around seven. Maybe six, actually. I just had, like, an inherent understanding of what music to listen to, what to say, stuff like that. Even when I was twelve years old my friends’ moms wanted to be me. I felt sorry for them.”

As I touched up my eyelashes with a substance that was apparently one step above tar, I grew angrier and angrier. So angry that I felt the tears welling up. And then it happened; I began to cry. I decided that if I were Bob, I’d make an exposé about the real Alanna Rutherford. I’d show the world what a horrible bitch she really was. Even if it meant losing my job. That’s what I would do. If I were Bob.

But, I wasn’t Bob. And I doubted Bob would do anything other than what he was told to do. So this meant I had to do it myself.

I snapped my cheap lipstick’s cap back into place. Why hadn’t I ever realized that wearing something called Citygirlz Razzberry Twizt is really, really sad? I decided that I must steal Bob’s tapes. Or were they disks? Or some cloud hovering above us? Where was all this footage being stored? What exactly should I steal? Already my momentum was fading.

“I’m going to ruin you, Alanna Rutherford,” I hissed, trying to reinvigorate myself. I zipped up my cheap, ugly makeup bag. “What a stupid makeup bag. How could I be dumb enough to own such a thing? The details. It’s always about the details. It’s like designing someone’s house. It’s like… everything.” I tried to stop crying, knowing we were going to be filmed any moment. “Maybe if you had fancier makeup it wouldn’t smear,” I told my reflection.

“You ready, Emma?” asked Bob, knocking on the bathroom door. “They’re ready for the next segment.”

“Just a minute,” I called, taking my time blotting at my face with a tissue. I blew my nose and dabbed my face some more until the redness had subsided, and went out to join Alanna and Deb. They had both already left the room. Bob was waiting for me.

“Are you doing okay?” he asked me.

“I guess so. I’m sorry I’m late,” I said.

“It’s alright,” he said. “They’re already outside. We’re filming out there since the scenery is so nice. We’d better hurry.”

“Bob, where’s your wedding ring?” I heard myself ask as we were on our way.

“Ugh…” He looked shocked. “I can’t believe you noticed it’s gone.”

“If you like Deb, and if she and Bellamy don’t end up together, I think you should ask her out. She’s pretty nice,” I told him.

He nodded. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Thank you for joining us, Emma,” called Catalina Cartwright as Bob and I neared a small clearing beside the hotel. The backdrop was gorgeous mountains. Alanna stood waiting with her arms crossed and her shirt still tucked in to too-high jeans. She looked like a kid at camp. It really wasn’t a good look. Deb stood as far away from her as possible, scowling and sniffing back tears.

Catalina fluffed her short tulle skirt and straightened her leather sports bra. “Are you girls trying to be the worst cast ever? Honestly, Alanna, your outfit is not stylish at all.”

“Says the woman wearing a tutu. By the way, we’re women, not girls,” said Alanna.

“And the rest of you,” said Catalina, “quit crying. I’m sorry Alanna is a mean girl, but it’s time to film now.”

“I’m fine,” sniffed Deb.

We took our places and Catalina’s tired scowl was replaced by a camera-worthy look of someone about to share an exciting secret. “Thank you for joining me, ladies,” she began, facing us with a smile. Anyone who didn’t know better would assume she liked and respected us. “While Klassie is away getting to know Bellamy’s family, we have a special announcement. A special twist, if you will.” Now she turned from us, directly addressing the audience at home: “As you at home may recall, Vanessa recently chose to return to her former love Bernstein, and she left the show. However, Vanessa has had a change of heart. It didn’t take her long to realize that she had been falling in love with Bellamy, and she needed to return, to see if his feelings are as strong as her own.”

A black limousine began driving our way. I looked out of the corner of my eye at Alanna, waiting for her to have an outburst, but she didn’t even flinch. Deb, on the other hand, began weeping all over again.

The limousine pulled to a halt in front of us and the driver got out and stood beside the back door. The tinted window edged down just an inch or two and some red fingernails slid out from the crack, waggling at us teasingly. We all drew in our breath. I was surprised at the heavy feeling of dread in my stomach. Vanessa had been way too strong of a contender. This was very bad news for all of us. Then and there, it became clear to me: I wanted to win.

“Vanessa, please rejoin us,” said Catalina, with a flourishing hand gesture. The limo driver opened her door, and out she stepped in a long red gown. She looked… different. Better. Her nose was tinier. Her boobs were bigger. Her hair was longer.

“Hi,” she said to us. She blew us a kiss and flashed a bigger, whiter smile than she’d had before.

“Vanessa,” said Catalina, “we’re so glad you’re back. Please join the others. And, while you’re all together, I have some news for you: Bellamy has decided that Klassie is not the woman for him. Sad news for Klassie, but good news for the four of you. Let’s make a toast to all of you, the new final four!”

Glasses of champagne landed in our hands and we four toasted one another. I noticed Vanessa eyeing Alanna’s outfit with bemused disdain. Alanna’s eyes were glazed over like someone in a rabid trance. I suspected she was furious and was using every ounce of willpower she had to not freak out. Deb was still sniffling and the cameramen were trying to capture us toasting while avoiding any face-on shots of her.

“I’m so glad to be back,” gushed Vanessa. Her Southern accent seemed to have been turned up a couple of notches. She was like Vanessa squared. “I missed y’all! Leaving Bellamy was my biggest mistake ever.” We clinked glasses and all took a few drinks as the camera captured our happy reunion.

“Okay, thanks for pulling yourselves together,” Catalina said once they’d gotten the footage they needed. “You can go back to your room. There’s a date card waiting for one of you. Hey, Bob, come over here and rub my shoulders. There’s a really bad knot in my right one.”

Bob obliged, but I noticed him looking at Deb to see if it was bothering her. She was sitting alone in the grass drinking champagne right out of the bottle, too distraught to care.

“Don’t you want to see if the date card is for you?” I asked her.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter. He’s never going to pick me. Especially now that Vanessa is back. It’s not fair that she’s wearing an evening gown and we’re all dressed like crap.”

“We could have tried harder,” I said.

“Is that what you tell yourself when someone gets ahead of you? I wish I could think like that. But the thing is, I didn’t know we were supposed to dress better. I just didn’t know. It’s like, they tell us what we did wrong after the fact instead of preparing us ahead of time. I hate that.”

“Yeah, it sucks.”

“Does Vanessa look different to you?”

“Maybe a little,” I said. “Come on.” I helped her up.

“What are you wearing, Alanna?” Vanessa asked as we began making our way back to our room. She and Alanna were a few steps ahead of Deb and me.

Alanna ignored her question. “It’s ludicrous that you’re back. Ludicrous. Aren’t you and that Bernie guy getting a special on-air wedding?”

“No ma’am! Mercy me! I got caught up in the moment. Honestly, I think they were just trying to create some quick drama with those reunions, since so many girls got sent home too early and they thought there might not be enough stuff to make a whole season. That’s what my daddy said anyway. It was so great to be back home. Mama made me fresh peach cobbler! I felt like a little girl all over again. I stayed with them since I was afraid my apartment might have a spider in it, from being abandoned so long.”

“But what about your engagement to Bernie? Why are you back here?” asked Alanna.

“Oh, that. Sakes alive! Well, the producers talked me right into marrying Bernie, you of all people should understand the pressure! And then they talked me right out of it once I got home, especially when I explained that Bernie is from a family of poor people who shoot deer and grow their own vegetables, and his relatives are unattractive folk who might not make for good television.”

“Gross.”

“I know! And Bellamy. I missed my Bellamy. It was like, there was a hole shot clean through my heart.”

“Still, I can’t believe you’re back. It’s like, pick a side. Anyhow, where’s your luggage?”

“Already up there.”

“Did you get a boob job?”

“So?”

“And a nose job?”

“What? Good heavens! No way!”

“Why do you sound like Blanche from The Golden Girls?”

“I’ve always sounded like this. And I did not get a nose job. I’m hurt that you’d even ask that. I’ve always had a cute nose,” said Vanessa. She turned back to me and Deb and pointed to herself. “Same old nose, in case y’all are wondering, too.” I realized then that it was her lips that were different. They were fuller, making her nose look smaller. “Y’all” she continued, “I can’t believe what I’ve been missing. This hotel is so pretty. Have I mentioned how happy I am to be back? Alanna, speaking of old flames, I totally thought you were going to go back to your hockey guy. He was such a cutie.”

“He couldn’t be trusted,” said Alanna.

“Emma,” Vanessa drawled without bothering to turn around, “what was up with that loser they tried to fix you up with? Did you really used to love him?”

“No,” I said.

“Ooh, color me excited, girls! This lobby is just to die for! Or TDF as we say back home.” She fanned herself and giggled. “Would y’all just look at that cute little ol’ chandelier? It looks just like the one at my mama and daddy’s plantation.”

“I hate how they’re best friends and we’re totally unpopular,” Deb whispered to me. She still hadn’t stopped crying. She was hiding behind sunglasses, but they could only do so much. “I’m ready to gag. Literally! I’m gonna puke. I can’t stand the way they’re carrying on! I want to shoot them both.”

“We’re not unpopular,” I said, slowing down so we were farther from Alanna and Vanessa.

“We should hurry up. If they get to our room before we do, Vanessa’s going to steal my bed.”

“We won’t let her. And by the way, they are not friends. Haven’t you noticed how Alanna keeps sticking her fingers in her ears so she doesn’t have to listen to Vanessa?”

“Hmm, that’s a good idea.”

“Anyway, I thought you were Alanna’s biggest fan,” I said.

“Not anymore. Do you think they’re going to make her out to be perfect again this season?”

“Probably,” I whispered. “However, I have a plan: I think we should expose her for the awful person she really is.”

“Really?” Deb wiped at her tears. “How?”

“I’m not sure yet,” I said.

“What are you two whispering about back there?” Alanna snapped.

“Nothing,” I said.

“This hotel is ginormous! I just love, love, love how it smells like fresh pine needles in here,” Vanessa said, sniffing in a big whiff of hotel air. A passing hotel guest of about eighty, making his way down to the pool in just his swim trunks and barrel chest, waggled his wiry eyebrows at Vanessa appreciatively and said, “Aren’t you dressed up.”

“Well I never,” she said, giggling daintily behind her fingertips.

“I’m going to kill her,” Deb whispered.

“I don’t smell any pine needles. We have pine needles everywhere in Canada, and I would know if this place smelled like pine needles. All I smell is chlorine,” said Alanna.

“We have pine needles in Georgia, too, and it most definitely smells like them here. Ooh, there it is! A date card!” said Vanessa, pointing down the hotel corridor to a white square leaning against a champagne bucket on a cart by our suite door. She picked up her hem and went running down the hall towards it, but Alanna cut in front of her and shoved her out of the way, reaching it first. The cameraman Luca, who had been following along behind Deb and me, darted around us to capture her tearing it open.

“Emma,” Alanna began, “Please join me and my family for a day of love, laughter, and logrolling. Wear your best lumberjack attire! Yours, Bellamy.” Since she knew this would make it on television, she managed to smile while calmly handing the card to me. “Good for you! I hope you have a wonderful time with Bellamy’s amazing family.”

“Lucky!” said Vanessa. She gave me a big, camera-friendly hug.

“I wish I’d gotten the logrolling date,” said Deb. “I’ve always wanted to try that.”

I took the card, feeling prickles of excitement running up and down my arms.

“I’m so glad I wasn’t next,” said Alanna, as soon as we were in the room. “Everyone knows that the order really matters, and it’s best to be saved for last. And logrolling? Well, that just sounds terrible.”

“I’m excited about it,” I said, gathering my designer lumberjack wear that I hadn’t thought I’d have an opportunity to wear. I wasn’t sure if I knew what logrolling was, but I didn’t care. “So excited, in fact, that I’m going to pack already. Should I bring these tan suspenders or these black suspenders? The black ones have nice brass clasps, but the tan ones seem to be a little bit more authentic looking. You know what, they don’t take up much space; I’ll bring both. I wonder what time he’s coming to pick me up tomorrow.”

“Actually, your date starts right now,” said the voice of Catalina Cartwright. I looked up to see her standing in the doorway of our hotel. “Bellamy has requested that you join him and his family tonight, for dinner, and spend the night at their home so you can get started bright and early tomorrow morning. If that works for you, Emma, there is a limo downstairs waiting for you.”

The mouths of Deb, Vanessa, and Alanna all simultaneously dropped open. I, Emma Van Elson, had just been invited for a rare, highly coveted Meet-the-Fam overnight date.

“Of course that works for me, Catalina,” I said. “I’ll gather my things and be right down.”

Chapter 29

“It’s so great to see you,” said Bellamy, greeting me with a kiss. The limo pulled away down the steep, stone driveway, leaving us standing alone before his family’s chateau, high in the mountains. The late afternoon sun cast a shimmery glow on everything.

“It’s wonderful to be here,” I said, returning his kiss. His arms wrapped around me and we kissed for several minutes, as if we were any couple who had missed each other. So, is this real now? I wondered. Somehow, everything about it seemed normal. Wonderful and amazing, yet normal. I suppose it seemed normal because it was really happening.

“I’ll take that,” he said, reaching for my luggage. “Are you nervous to meet my family?”

“A little,” I said.

“Don’t be. They’ll love you.”

Prior to the limo ride here I had not given this moment much thought, but as we walked up to the house nerves began overtaking me. I was carrying a bouquet of wildflowers that one of the producers had given me to present to Bellamy’s family. The flowers were making my eyes itchy and I couldn’t wait to be rid of them. When we reached the front door, it flew open and there was Bellamy’s whole family. I recognized them from the episode when Alanna had met them. I swallowed; my mouth had gone completely dry.

“Emma! Come on in, kiddo! It’s great to meet you! I’m Larry,” said Bellamy’s dad. “Are these for me? Thanks, they’re the kind I always pick out for myself,” he joked, taking the flowers and giving me a big hug. “I think these are actually for you,” he said, handing the flowers to his wife.

“Nice to meet you, Larry,” I said. There were cameramen everywhere. Despite having been a part of the show for months, I still wasn’t used to these moments where so much attention was specifically on me, and it was a little overwhelming.

“Emma, so pleased to meet you! I’m Bellamy’s mother Katherine. You can call me Kate,” said his mom. “These flowers are lovely.” She gave me a big hug.

Next was Bellamy’s sister Dericka. She looked like she was about twenty. She wore a sundress and had a huge, colorful flower tattoo covering her left arm and shoulder. She was positively adorable. “Hi,” she simply said, giving me a hug and stepping back. She looked mortified by all the attention.

“Hey Emma, good to meet you,” said Bellamy’s older brother. “I’m Dwight, and this is my wife Sherifaye.” He gave me a hug, but Sherifaye stuck out her hand to me instead, so I shook her hand.

“So,” said Bellamy, “this is everyone. Why don’t we head outside and get to know each other a little better?” He took my hand and led me out to an expansive deck overlooking the mountains.

“Would you like red wine or white, Emma?” asked Bellamy’s mother. Somehow she had managed to put the flowers in a vase already. She set them down on one of the patio tables.

“White would be great,” I said. I wanted red, but was afraid it would stain my teeth. She poured me a glass, and one for Bellamy. The rest of his family had red wine, except for Sherifaye, who had a glass of water. As I sat there sipping my wine, taking in the view, I noticed a shiny, magenta thread clinging to a splinter in the deck flooring. I immediately recognized it as part of Klassie’s shoelaces. Something about this made me feel really strange. The assembly-line-ness of this process hit me. Klassie had just been here. They’d just pulled off all this same hospitality and niceness for her. In fact, that bouquet of yellow and peach roses I’d passed on my way through the kitchen had probably been from her. By tomorrow night, I’d be gone and the next morning some other girl would take my place. I took a big gulp of wine and reminded myself not to get too comfortable.

“So Emma, what made you want to come on a show like this, instead of finding love in a more traditional way?” asked Dwight.

“It wasn’t so much the show that interested me, as Bellamy. I really just wanted to meet Bellamy.”

“Awww,” said his mom. Bellamy squeezed my hand. “So is our boy everything you thought he would be?” she asked.

I hesitated, trying to find the truth. “He’s different, but even better. He’s very real and very kind. I think it’s sweet how concerned he is about all our feelings.”

Bellamy seemed to be embarrassed by our conversation, so he took over and changed the subject: “The first night I met Emma, she almost got mauled by a coyote.”

“No way!” said his sister.

“Really! It came running out of the woods, straight for her, as she was getting out of the limo.” I smiled and nodded at his enthusiastic retelling of it, realizing that this could potentially be the story of how I met my husband. The story that I would tell and hear told for my entire life. “Luckily, it missed her. By this much…” He held up two fingers an inch apart. I nodded again, thinking that it had actually been several feet from me. “She was such a good sport about it. She was joking around that it was her dog.”

“Now that is quick thinking! Hilarious,” said Larry, laughing like it really was.

Bellamy continued, “Hilarious is right! She said that they were a package deal.”

“I think you actually asked me if it was my dog, so you’re the funny one, not me,” I said.

“See, and she’s generous! Look at her giving me all the credit,” said Bellamy.

“Speaking of dogs, where is your dog Smurf?” I asked. There was an awkward silence. “Is everything okay with Smurf?” I asked, wondering if I had totally put my foot in my mouth.

“Smurf is staying with a friend,” said Bellamy.

“Farrah, right? Smurf is at Farrah’s house?” Sherifaye volunteered.

“Yep. Farrah’s house,” said Bellamy. “Anyway, I loved the way Emma handled the whole situation. From the first night, she really stood out as being cooler than the other girls. Able to roll with crazy situations. Here for me. Not so concerned about the things happening in the house. Less into the drama. More confident.”

“Oh, thank you. I am here for you,” I said, considering my plan to expose Alanna as a bitchy fraud. It hadn’t occurred to me it might be an uncool move. Perhaps I should let go of that small dream.

“Well, Emma, we’re very pleased that you’re here with us,” said Bellamy’s mother. “We’d like you to join us at our favorite restaurant, the Fireside Grille. They have plenty of nice vegetarian dishes.”

“Oh, how thoughtful,” I said.

“We’ll take the convertible so we have a little time together, just the two of us,” said Bellamy.

“Super,” I said. Even if they were nice, I was relieved to have a small break from his family.

“Luca,” Bellamy said to the nearest cameraman, “the convertible only has two seats, so it will be just me and Emma. I hope that’s not a problem.”

“Oh. Huh. Did you hear that, Irene?” Luca said. “Are you cool with them driving to the restaurant without a camera close on them?”

“I don’t care. Ask someone else.”

“Hey,” Luca said to a producer, “are you cool with Bellamy and Emma driving in a two seat car without a cameraman?”

“Sure. It’s not far from here. Just as long as you’re close enough to show them driving in the car.”

“Cool,” said Luca.

So the next thing I knew, Bellamy and I were driving down his parents’ driveway, alone.

“I’m impressed that you keep managing this,” I said.

“We’re not really alone. Look behind us.”

I turned around in my seat and saw a huge SUV driven by his dad inches behind us. Luca sat in the front passenger seat, waving at us, a camera pointed right at us. Another carload of crewmembers was inching down the driveway behind them.

“It’s still a nice change of pace,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“Sure,” I said.

“Hold on,” he said, and the next thing I knew, we were flying down the driveway. When we got to the highway and saw that no one was coming, Bellamy turned right, barely slowing down. He turned up the radio as loud as it would go and adjusted the speakers until he presumed them to be pointing at our microphones. He shrugged and smiled like Maybe that will work. I smiled back at his cute little trick.

Safe in an elusive cloud of temporary invisibility, Bellamy reached in his pocket, took out a folded note, and pressed it into my palm. Read in the bathroom at the restaurant it said in tiny letters. The rush of excitement that comes with an unexpected surprise gave me a little jolt. I’d never seen Bellamy’s handwriting before. I’d always felt that receiving something handwritten from someone was like having a little piece of them. I slid the note into my pocket.

“Hey,” said Bellamy.

“What?” Our eyes met and we smiled. I had butterflies in my stomach. Actually, they felt more like moths flapping around. I was dying to know what the note said.

“I’m crazy about you,” he said.

“I’m crazy about you, too,” I said, tingling with the adrenaline rush of driving fast and breaking rules and the words that were being spoken. And I meant it; I was crazy about him, or at least this experience. It was getting hard to tell the difference. Yet there was something still holding me back. Some part of me that couldn’t jump all the way into the pool.

“I wasn’t sure.”

“Well, I thought I reminded you of your younger sister.”

“I never should have said that.”

“No, you really shouldn’t have,” I said laughing. “She’s adorable, but I don’t want to be your sister.”

“I just said it because I didn’t think you were interested in me.”

“I was a little confused coming into this, but I think I’ve worked through my doubts,” I said.

“Whew!” He pretended to wipe some sweat of his brow. “So, could you see yourself coming back here again? Spending holidays up here with my family?”

“Yes, for sure, Bellamy,” I said. Then I wondered, would I still call him Bellamy, or would I call him Dirk if we were married? Well, whatever. What’s in a name, right?

“I want you to know,” he said, “that I think you’re really a great girl.”

I swallowed. “And you’re a great guy,” I said. I couldn’t believe how serious this was all getting. I looked around me at the mountains and trees whizzing by, and at Bellamy’s tan, manicured hand comfortably resting on the leather steering wheel. I wasn’t sure about the manicures. Was that a coat of shiny clear polish on them, or had they been buffed to a reflective state? Hopefully that would stop once we were married. I’m sure it was just a part of him being on the show.

“Yep,” he continued, “I really see you meshing with my family.”

“Super,” I said, noticing the pattern of the fancy wooden dashboard. The car was so expensive that I didn’t even know what kind of car it was. Something foreign and really obscure. What did his parents do, anyway? Why were they so rich?

“Can you see yourself being part of my family?” he asked.

I found myself nodding emphatically. “Sure! It’s great here!”

“Awesome,” he said, running his right hand up and down my thigh. “Oh, they’re back on our tail,” he said, catching a glimpse of his parents’ SUV in the rearview mirror. He slowed down and turned down the radio. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

“You’ll love this restaurant. Every time I’m home we come here. We’ve been coming here since I was a little kid. It’s great.”

“Do your brother and sister live near here?”

“Dwight and Sherifaye live about thirty minutes away. I’m not sure if you already caught onto this, but Sherifaye is pregnant.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” I said.

“Uh huh,” said Bellamy, without a huge amount of enthusiasm. I was getting the impression that he and his family weren’t crazy about her. “My sister goes to college in California. She’s quite a bit younger than my brother and I.”

My brother and me, I thought. “Where did you go to college?” I asked. Oh no. I’d seen myself do this before. I was going to pick apart everything about him and talk myself right out of this. Prove me wrong, Bellamy, I mean Dirk.

“I started at the Arizona Rock Climbing Academy. That place was insane. They aren’t in business anymore. Then I took some business classes online for a while. Now I run my own rock climbing studio near Phoenix. Have you ever been to Arizona?”

“Not yet.”

“You’re going to love it there. It’s so beautiful. Do you like the desert?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never been to the desert. But I’m sure I would love it.”

“You will. You definitely will. Well, here we are,” he said, turning into the parking lot of a place that looked like a giant lodge. His dad pulled in right alongside us, and the carload of cameramen and crew took the spot beside them. Everyone piled out

“It looks like rain, honey,” said Bellamy’s mom to his dad.

“Why don’t you put the top up, son,” his dad suggested, nodding at the convertible.

“I don’t think it’s going to rain,” said Bellamy.

“Just to be safe, why don’t you put it up?” said his mom. “You and Emma wouldn’t want to ride back on wet seats, would you?”

“It’s not going to rain,” said Bellamy. He licked his thumb and held it up to the wind. “No, I can tell it’s not going to.”

“I can feel the rain coming,” said his mother, wrapping her sweater tighter around her.

“Emma’s starving. Let’s go inside,” said Bellamy.

“I’m fine. I can wait,” I said.

“Larry…” said Bellamy’s mom, rolling her eyes at his dad.

“You kids go ahead,” said his dad. “I’ll take care of it.”

“No dad. You don’t need to,” said Bellamy. He gave the keys to Irene. “Here you go, miss. Would you mind putting the top up? Thanks. Okay, let’s go inside.”

We all headed inside, cameramen in tow. The hostess had clearly been warned that we were coming. She greeted us like we were royalty and gave us a huge table overlooking mountains… and the parking lot. We all sat down and arranged our napkins on our laps as Irene crawled around in the convertible down below us, pushing buttons. We watched the windshield wipers take off, and then the headlights flashed on and off a few times. Bellamy’s family politely ignored her. A waiter came around delivering glasses of water with floating bits of cucumbers in them, as the clouds rolled in, all settling like thick gray cotton directly above the convertible. I couldn’t help myself; I identified with the help so strongly that it might as well have been me out there.

I half listened while they ordered some wine with blackberry, peppery notes. I nodded along to a few chirpy anecdotes from our waiter, who seemed to know them all very well and who was clearly hoping to get some airtime. As he went on to describe the vegan wild rice and cranberry loaf that was the chef’s specialty, and Bellamy’s family beamed at me, giving the impression they’d arranged it all on my behalf, Irene was fishing through the glove box, retrieving a leather portfolio that contained the car’s instruction manual. She was thumbing through it, thumbing through it, thumbing through it again. Her misery was palpable and utterly distracting. She was a pathetic, nervous flipbook that wouldn’t stop flipping. I turned away from the window as much as I could, but her panic still dominated my peripheral vision.

“Yes, yes, I’ll take the rice loaf,” I told the man.

“It’s wild rice and lentils. And cranberries, of course.”

“Fine, fine.”

“I’d like the Moroccan flank steak with onion pancakes and chive crepes,” said Bellamy.

“You always get that,” said his sister.

“If it ain’t broke...” said Bellamy. He draped his arm over my shoulder, and I remembered the note in my pocket. I needed to get away so I could read it.

“Emma, tell us about your family. What do your parents do?” asked Bellamy’s mother.

“They’re both retired now, but my dad had his own bookbinding and restoration business and my mom taught home economics. What’s funny is that my mom is the worst cook. I mean, she knows she is so it’s okay that I’m telling you this, and she doesn’t enjoy sewing, or anything like that. I’m not sure how she ended up teaching home economics.”

Everyone looked uncomfortable. Did they think I was being mean? Disloyal? Critical?

“Actually, I take that back. She makes excellent gravy. And isn’t gravy the hardest thing to make?” The story was true-ish. It was all I could come up with under pressure. Once when I still ate meat, when I was very young, she’d made mushroom gravy from some powder and it had been fine. She’d served it over some very bad meatloaf. It was one of her last attempts at cooking. Come to think of it, I recall her saying once in a confessional way that her home economics class was mainly about making salad dressings and watching movies.

“Oh, is gravy difficult to make?” asked Bellamy’s mother. She looked bored and confused.

“I guess.”

“Bookbinding is unusual,” said Bellamy’s brother. He said it encouragingly, as though unusual might mean special. At the same time, the car alarm went off down below us. Irene pointed the key fob at the car, pressing buttons with aggressive desperation. A different waiter politely lowered the blinds so we wouldn’t have to watch Irene’s misery. It did nothing to drown out the noise, of course.

“Dwight,” said Bellamy’s mother, trying to speak over the din, “Why would you say that? I think it’s useful.”

“I didn’t say unuseful, I said unusual,” said Dwight.

“Oh. Unusual, yes.” She nodded. The car alarm stopped and there was a stretch of awkward silence.

I thought about telling them how people from all over the world came to my dad when they needed their rare old books fixed up, and how he painstakingly would repair smalls tears and recondition leather covers, adding many years of life to family bibles or other treasured books that had been passed down for generations, but I sensed that no one would care, or worse, it might confuse them. “So that’s their story,” I added to wrap it up. “They live in Florida now.”

“Oh, you’re from Florida?” asked Bellamy’s father.

“I’m from Chicago. My parents retired to Florida.” I was realizing that Bellamy had not exactly prepped them on me. It couldn’t be a good sign.

“And you’re an only child?” asked Bellamy’s mother.

“No, I’m the youngest of six.”

“Six children,” said Kate. She and Larry exchanged a look.

“Yep, that’s right,” I said. Bellamy gave me a little pat of encouragement. I realized everyone was looking at me, waiting for some kind of additional response. What could I say? Dumb things came to mind like, “They liked babies! Making ‘em, anyway!” but I kept my mouth shut.

There seemed to be some kind of unspoken message traveling around the table that I wasn’t quite picking up on. A loud thunderclap sounded ominously and I took another sip of water.

“Have you two gotten a chance to talk about things like children, and religion, and other big topics that really matter?” asked Kate.

“Hmm, not really,” said Bellamy.

“Nope,” I said, shaking my head. I was thinking I’d like to escape to the restroom to read my note, or better yet, I’d like to be sitting on Pete’s couch eating some string cheese. Then I got irritated with myself for thinking of him at a time like this, in the middle of my Meet-the-Fam date. I shouldn’t be thinking of him at all, considering he’d participated in that slutty pillow fight, and probably many other slutty events since I’d been away. I squeezed Bellamy’s hand beneath the table to remind myself what a lucky girl I was.

“Larry, did you hear it thundering just a moment ago? Please help that girl with the car before it pours on her.”

“Please excuse me,” said Bellamy’s father. He stood up, tossed his napkin on the chair, and bolted out the door. Bellamy sipped his wine with guiltless oblivion.

“Emma’s an interior decorator,” said Bellamy. He winked at me, which confused me, and poured himself more wine.

“So is Kate,” said Sherifaye. “Aren’t you, Kate?”

“It’s just a hobby,” she said.

“Oh Mom! You’re so modest,” said Dericka.

“Yeah,” said Bellamy. “Don’t be so modest. Tell Emma about Interiors Monthly.”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” said Bellamy’s mother. “Our living room was just featured on the cover.”

“And there was a twelve page spread about the rest of the house,” said Dericka.

“How lovely for you,” I said. I had thought their house had that rather obvious heavy-beamed lodge with toile wallpaper effect that is so 1997. I considered asking what year they’d been featured, but fortunately our food arrived just then.

“For the lady of the hour,” said our waiter, placing a crusty little loaf of legumes and berries before me. He smiled down at me with faux innocence, as if his comment was simply ironic and not to be taken literally.

“This looks so healthy,” I said brightly, “and don’t you look cute in your little suit.”

As the rest of our meals were deposited, Bellamy’s father, who had returned a few moments earlier from rescuing Irene, decided to stand up and make a toast. He cleared his throat importantly, kicking his chair back away from himself into the path of another table’s waitress. “To Dirk and Emma,” he said with his glass raised, pausing briefly with mild irritation at the sound of her and a tray of food clattering to the floor as she fell over his chair.

“Dad, he’s Bellamy now,” said Dericka.

“Er, to Bellamy and Emma,” Larry said, giving it another try.

“To Bellamy and Emma,” everyone agreed, clinking glasses and taking sips. Bellamy gave me a sweet little kiss on the lips and everyone, even the people at the tables near us, smiled and clapped a little.

“Congratulations,” whispered the woman at the table nearest us.

“Thank you,” said Bellamy.

I wasn’t sure what to make of all this, so I decided to focus on my meal instead of the possibility that I’d gotten engaged without realizing it. I took a few dainty bites of my dinner, smiling and nodding as if it were tasty. In reality, it tasted like greasy, pan-fried breakfast cereal. I also thought I detected a twinge of turkey-ness to it, but I tried to reassure myself that restaurateurs who owned fancy establishments like this place had to be ethical or they wouldn’t have come this far.

The note was really burning a hole in my pocket. When I’d made my way through nearly half the lentil loaf I excused myself from the table. Cameraman Luca followed along after me, just in case I decided to do something exciting. I found the restrooms in a long, dark hallway near the coat room. Instead of a large ladies’ room with stalls and a large men’s room with stalls, there were individual powder rooms. This seemed luxurious to me, since it meant they wouldn’t be sending some female assistant in to check on how I was doing if it was taking me too long.

I went into the dim, wallpapered space and firmly locked the door behind me. The floor was made of marble basket-weave tiles. Exactly the kind I’d like in my home one day. Everything was clean and perfect and smelled of bergamot. It made me miss my apartment and other clean, quiet spaces. After I took the opportunity to pee and check my teeth and makeup without a camera crowding me, I sank down on the chair in the corner of the room, grateful it was there. I hated how time spent with Bellamy sometimes made me feel lonelier than being alone. I wasn’t sure how that could be, or how much of it had to do with all the people who were always around us. Maybe it was the in-law effect. Time spent with significant others’ families was usually, to some degree, exhausting.

I turned on the faucet to drown out the sound of the note sliding from my pocket and being carefully unfolded. I couldn’t properly enjoy the moment, or my privacy, already concerned that I was taking too long and they were all back at the table discussing whether there was something wrong with me and if maybe Bellamy ought to come find me.

Just as I got the note unfolded there was a knock on the door. I froze. Had they heard me opening the note? How was that possible? I thought I had been so incredibly sneaky.

“Emma? It’s Irene. Are you okay in there?”

“Yes, Irene. Of course. I’m fine.”

“Whatcha doing?”

“Using the restroom.”

“Can I come in?”

“No.”

“Okay, well, I’m right out here if you need anything.”

“I don’t need anything.”

“But if you do, I’m right here.”

“Honestly, Irene, I’m fine. Go away.”

“I’ll just wait instead…. I’m right here. Just let me know…”

I nodded, deciding that she was one tiny notch less awful than a paparazzo. My sympathies towards her regarding the car alarm fiasco were erased. I looked at the note, preparing to read it as fast as I could. I saw that it wouldn’t take me long, since it was only three sentences long:

Dear Emma,

I love you. You’re The One. Please flush this when you’re done reading it because it’s against the rules for me to tell you this already.

Love,

Bellamy

My heart kind of stopped for a second. That’s what it felt like, anyhow. I realized I was excited. Maybe even thrilled. Having someone declare his love for you is a pretty huge deal. I had to sit back down for a second. This meant, among other things, that I was the winner of Bellamy’s Redemption. Wow.

Despite the rules, I didn’t want to flush it. And I didn’t like that he wanted me to flush it. Shouldn’t I keep something the represented such a pivotal moment? I read it again and again. Touched it. Looked at the way he signed his name. Would I have liked it better if he had signed it Dirk? Would that have meant more to me? I wasn’t sure.

Perhaps I could conceal the note in my shoe. Who would know?

“Emma?” asked Irene, knocking again. “Are you okay? Are you sick? Do you want me to get Bellamy?”

“No, I’ll be right there.”

“I’m going to have to come in soon. I’m worried about you.” She rattled the doorknob.

“Just give me another second,” I said.

So I did as I was told, saturating the note in water from the tap and then flushing it once it had begun to disintegrate. I could hear Irene just outside the door complaining to Luca, “What is she up to in there? Why is the toilet flushing again?”

I didn’t care any longer about Irene, though. A poster of a kangaroo that my older sister had in her bedroom when we were kids suddenly came to my mind, seeming very relevant. The kangaroo was on a diving board about to jump, hands poised like a prayer and a big smile on its face. The caption beneath it said A Smile is a Springboard to Happiness. I had never really gotten it, but now I realized that it meant that deciding to be happy was the first step in actually being happy. It was that easy!

I was done being irritated, done with my bad attitude, done obsessing over Pete, and ready to rejoin my future husband.

Chapter 30

“Ready for logrolling?” asked Bellamy.

“Hmm?” I pushed myself up in bed, realizing it was morning. I’d gone to sleep expecting him to sneak into my room in the night, but here it was, 7:00 a.m., and I was as untouched as when I’d gone to bed.

“It’s perfect weather,” he said. “I thought for sure it would still be raining, but it’s a beautiful day out there.”

“Mmm,” I said. I was exhausted. I needed at least four more hours of sleep.

He gave me a kiss on the top of my head. Something about it reminded me of my mom and made me want to die. I turned away and saw that Luca was standing near the window with a camera pointed right on me, so I buried my face in the pillow. Bellamy began bustling about opening curtains.

“Let’s let some light in,” he said. When I didn’t respond he asked, “Did you sleep well?”

“Mmm,” I said.

He took my grunt as a yes. “Good. Me too. My mom is a real stickler for nice bedding. I thought you’d appreciate it. Why don’t you meet me down in the kitchen for some breakfast with my family whenever you’re ready. We’re having waffles and orange juice, and Dwight usually makes hash browns with peppers and onions, so whenever he gets up you’ll get to try those. You can’t logroll on an empty stomach.”

“No,” I agreed.

“My mom put out some towels and things in your bathroom. Do you have everything you need?”

“Uh huh.” I nodded.

“Okay. Have a nice shower.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

He and Luca left the room and I dragged myself out of bed. I felt achy and fuzzy. At first I couldn’t understand why, but then I remembered that we had all spent hours playing strategic, apocalypse-themed board games and drinking wine the night before. I must have had six or seven glasses counting the wine I’d had with dinner, and now I felt positively awful.

I’d been ready for bed by midnight, but they were all too competitive to call it quits. I was beginning to get a clear picture of what life with Bellamy and his family would be like: I’ve been around overachievers before; there’s never a lot of downtime. The good news, if you could call it that, was that Bellamy seemed more laidback and independent than the rest of his family. I took it as a good sign that he lived nearly a thousand miles away from them. I just hoped he wasn’t like other rich boys I’d dated: thrice daily potsmokers pursuing Ernest Hemingwayish experiences like trespassing at an abandoned Russian cabin and living off canned fish for a few months, before taking over their family’s business and running it into the ground.

I looked at myself in the mirror. My face somehow appeared simultaneously puffy and sunken. I wasn’t sure that I was really up for logrolling. It sounded dangerous.

I turned on the shower, noticing fancy little bottles of high-end toiletries artfully arranged in a basket by the window. I uncapped one and inhaled. It seemed to ease my hangover a little, so I tried another. This one was even better. I felt a tiny bit cheered up. Kate seemed like she would be the kind of mother-in-law who gave pretty good Christmas gifts. I would have to find a moment to pull Sherifaye aside and get an outsider’s perspective on their family.

I stepped into the shower and was just lathering up my hair when something caught my eye. It was a shower squeegee with a radio in the handle, suction-cupped to one of the granite shower walls. Squeaky-Tunes said the peeling sticker on the top of it. In such a spa-like bathroom it really didn’t fit in; honestly, it was kind of gross. But that was not why I couldn’t stop staring at it. A flood of emotions overtook me. Pete had the same shower squeegee suctioned to his shower wall. I had noticed it many times when I used his bathroom, and I had always found it curious that he’d have such a thing. Perhaps it was something he’d promoted on an infomercial. Or maybe it had been a gift from some random weirdo or ex-girlfriend. I’d never given it much thought, but now it seemed like a symbol of home and truth and everything that was real and holy.

I took the squeegee off its suction cup hook and made a couple of half-hearted swipes at the shower wall. It occurred to me that I had never taken a shower at Pete’s. Why would I have when we’d always just been friends and I had my own shower right next door? I looked around me. Why was I in this fancy bathroom? Who were these people? Did they really think I belonged here? I felt broken-hearted and pointless. I hung the squeegee back on the hook and coated my hair in conditioner. I tried to focus on the scent of the conditioner, being present only in this exact moment. No past. No Pete. No future. No plans or worries. No logrolling or fams. Just rosemary mint tea tree oil happiness. For good measure, I doused myself in some more potions and lotions. This is nice, I told myself as I drew in deep breaths of minty lavender steam. This is the kind of thing you really love.

I wondered if he even missed me anymore. He was probably in some kind of relationship with the pillow fight girl. Of course he was. Why wouldn’t he be?

Not that it mattered. Why was I even thinking about him still?

It was time to move on.

“And that’s what you’re doing,” I told myself. “In a big way. Now remember: A smile is a springboard to happiness.” I tried smiling to see if it worked. When it didn’t I added some more conditioner to the ends of my hair. I considered shaving my legs, but since I’d be dressed like a lumberjack all day, I figured there was no reason to. I finished up with my shower, half-heartedly did my hair and makeup, and got dressed.

When I got down to the kitchen, Bellamy’s whole family was there bustling about. I was glad they’d started without me. It made me feel more like a part of the family and set me at ease a little.

“Good morning,” they all said in near unison. Everyone had on lumberjack attire, down to their rugged hiking boots. They looked like a family from a breakfast sausage commercial.

“Good morning,” I said back. It was still hard to believe I could be a part of something like this. I told myself that if I could stop being so judgmental, stop thinking about how cheesy it all was, I could be pretty happy joining a family like this. Growing up in my own family, we had eaten mainly cans of soup or microwave dinners. We certainly did not take the time or effort to create a big mess like this at eight in the morning, just to gobble it up and be left with dirty bowls and pans. I don’t even think our stove worked. We’d all done a lot of sneaking off to bedrooms or the TV room to be away from one another, to eat our bland little snacks or meals in a state of lonely, unceremonious distraction. And though we occasionally ate dinner together, we had never gotten up early enough for a real, hot breakfast. None of us. Ever. So this was my big chance at being part of a close-knit family.

“I saved you a place,” said Bellamy.

“Thanks,” I said, taking a seat beside him. Seeing him again made me feel better. It was hard to be in a bad mood around him. He was so smiley and sweet.

“Bellamy told us you like coffee,” said Dericka. She set a mug in front of me. “Do you want cream or sugar?”

“I’m good, thanks,” I said. I took a sip. It was delicious. Maybe today would be okay after all. I looked around me, taking it all in. There was so much to think about. When you pick a husband, you really are picking a whole family. A whole lifestyle. Traditions, habits, attitudes. Could these people sense that I was normally more of a TV watcher than a logroller? Or had they misunderstood and thought I was some kind of athletic daredevil? Perhaps they truly thought I’d like this. In that case, I was flattered. If they saw it in me, maybe it was real. Could they turn me into someone better?

“So, here’s our plan,” Bellamy began. “As soon as we finish here, we’re going to head up to Woods View Point and practice our axe throwing. Have you ever thrown an axe before?”

“Hmm,” I said, spreading some raspberry jam on my raisin toast. “I’m not sure.”

“It’s just something we do. Dwight was the Colorado All-Around Men’s Lumberjack Champion in 2005.”

“Good for you,” I said to Dwight.

“Aww, it’s nothing,” he said. “More hash browns?”

“Sure, I’d love some more,” I said, deciding I had better fuel up for the day ahead of me.

“And,” Bellamy continued, “Dericka was Little Miss Chop-N-Saw when she was a kid. What year was that?” asked Bellamy.

“Oh, I’m not sure. Maybe when I was in third of fourth grade. I only got the title since we were cutting down saplings. Anyone can chop down a sapling.”

I nodded as I sipped my coffee, wondering whether I could chop down a sapling.

“After we warm up with the axe throwing,” said Bellamy, “we’ll head up to the lake. There’s a log sawing competition going on up there today, too. That’s more of Sherifaye’s forte.”

“Well, maybe not this time,” she said, patting her stomach.

“She’d never even tried it before she and Dwight got together, and then one day we brought her along and she jumped right in and took away a second place ribbon.”

“It’s all the yoga I do. My back is really strong,” she said.

“You’re probably right,” said Bellamy. “Do you do yoga, Emma?’

“Sure,” I said. “I recently took a yoga class, as a matter of fact.”

“Cool. And then it will finally be time for logrolling. They’re having a pretty big competition today, so you’ll get to see us do our thing, and you’ll get to give a try, too. It’s going to be a great day. Not as great as Hayward, but still pretty great.”

“Hayward?” I asked.

“Haven’t you heard of the Lumberjack World Championships in Hayward, Wisconsin?” asked Bellamy. For the first time ever, he looked like he was doubting his choice to be with me.

“Oh, that Hayward. Of course I’ve heard of that! Sure. I practically live in Wisconsin. Chicago is practically in Wisconsin. Not close enough to walk to, but you could definitely ride your bike there.” I stuffed the rest of my piece of toast in my mouth and took my time chewing it.

“Good. I figured everyone had heard of it. Hayward is where my mom is from. Maybe you two know some people in common.”

Kate nodded. “You never know,” she said.

“Maybe,” I agreed.

“Anyway,” Bellamy continued, “I think we’re all going to qualify again this year for Nationals. Maybe you’ll surprise yourself and qualify too.”

“For logrolling?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“I thought I was just going to give it a little try.”

“You might as well try to qualify for Nationals,” said Bellamy.

“Of course you’ll try to qualify,” said Kate. “Why wouldn’t you when you’re right there?”

I shrugged. “Okay.” And maybe I could speak Mandarin if I just tried.

“Would you like some more juice?” Dericka asked me, holding up a glass pitcher. I noticed for the first time a pile of squelched out orange halves stacked beside the sink like so many toppling cereal bowls.

“No thank you,” I said. “I would, it was delicious, but I’m stuffed,” I added, when she looked disappointed.

“In that case, shall we get on our way to Woods View Point?” asked Bellamy.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” I said. I hoped it was far, far away so I would have some time to relax before dislocating my shoulder or decapitating someone. Perhaps if it was very far, I could even squeeze in a nap on the way.

“Awesome,” said Bellamy. He leaned close and gave me a quick kiss. “You’re going to be amazing.”

I nodded. “Let’s hope so.”

Chapter 31

“I want you to know,” said Catalina Cartwright, “this has never happened. Never. Throughout the entire history of these shows.”

“You calling a contestant on the phone?” I asked.

“No! I mean you staying for two nights. It’s never happened before. I wanted you to know that.”

“Oh. Thanks for telling me.”

“Bellamy seems really excited about you.”

I twisted the phone cord. I was in Bellamy’s parents’ library, standing on a strategically threadbare Turkish rug. The floors were hand-rubbed barn boards. It was a step up from the toile and slipcovered sofas in the rest of their home. This room, despite looking the oldest, was the newest. This entire wing of their home had only been added a year earlier. I could tell it had been professionally decorated. It bore none of Bellamy’s mother’s faux French touches. Secretly, it was everything the non-city version of me had ever wanted.

Somewhere down the hall, never far away, was a cameraman. But for now, I was alone. In my hand was the receiver of a heavy, black manual-dial telephone. It seemed to weigh ten pounds. I’d never been on a phone that rooted me in one spot and it felt the way I imagined a dog on a leash would feel. The phone was meant to look charming, or to give the room an air of authenticity. I couldn’t imagine a time when people really used such a thing. It was worse than the dial-up internet of my childhood.

“I’m excited about him too,” I said.

“Are you?” asked Catalina. I wondered why she was talking to me instead of having one of the producers do it. Despite how it looked to the people at home, she wasn’t a very big part of the show.

“Of course,” I said.

“Great!” She was being much nicer than usual. “So don’t be afraid to tell him.”

“I think I tell him all the time how I feel,” I said.

“But you aren’t actually saying the words he wants to hear. I’m not trying to steer you in any direction, but I want to be sure he knows how you feel. So if you love him, why hold back?”

“I’m not,” I said.

“Hmm.”

“Really, I’m not meaning to.”

“Okay. Okay, Emma. Well, you are very lucky to have another evening with Bellamy, but this is the last time you’ll have to spend with him before he chooses to meet just three contestants’ families. If you’d like to be among his final three, please be sure to express your feelings so he has all your cards on the table. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said.

“Super talking with you,” she said.

“You too,” I said.

“Okay then. Buh-bye.”

“Bye.” I set the phone in its cradle and picked up the brandy old-fashioned I’d been drinking. It had been a long, exhausting, crazy day. Somehow in the midst of throwing axes and qualifying for the women’s Lumberjill rookie division at Nationals, I’d received an emerald necklace and an invitation to stay another night. It was turning out to be the night that never ended. Bellamy’s family and several of their neighbors were gathered around a campfire outside and spilling over into the kitchen. They were drinking and sharing stories about our day in enthusiastic play-by-play detail. I ate the cherry off my swizzle stick and checked out a wall of photos, stalling.

Just as I was getting to the really good pictures (Bellamy going to prom with a tall, cow-looking girl), I felt someone come up behind me. “Hey,” I said, turning around. I was expecting it to be Bellamy.

“Hi,” said Sherifaye. “How are you doing?”

“Good. Great. How are you?”

“I’m pretty good. Still feeling a little sick.” She held her stomach. “I guess you heard I’m pregnant?”

“Yes, I heard that. Congratulations.”

“There’s really no point in congratulating me. Congratulating me would be unlucky.” She took a long drink from the bottle of water she was holding. I didn’t know what to say so I just nodded. “Can you believe how much he’s changed?” she asked, poking her finger on the glass over Bellamy’s prom picture. “What a nerd! Cute, but a nerd. Now he’s Mr. Bigshot, but back then he was just a regular guy.”

“He still seems very down to earth,” I said.

“Oh, he is. But he has changed a lot. For the better. You know. I guess everyone gets better as they get older.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” I said.

“He certainly did, anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh. Better and better and better.”

“Yeah,” I said. “He’s pretty great.”

“He is pretty great,” she said. “The best. I hope you know how blessed you are.”

I nodded some more, trying to recall if I knew any other women who were this defensive of their husband’s brothers. I took another quick glance at the prom picture to make sure we weren’t talking about Dwight. That would be embarrassing if she thought I was checking out her husband. No, we were definitely talking about Bellamy. The whole while she was looking me up and down, squinting her eyes like she was analyzing me. I smiled, trying to hide my discomfort.

“You know,” she said, “you completely rocked the challenges today. I’ve never seen anything like it. How’d you manage that?”

“I think I just got lucky.”

“Lucky? I’ve had to do those challenges. They’re not easy. Have you done a lot of logrolling? You have, right?”

“Not at all,” I said.

“You probably did your research and got really prepared, right? I mean, before you came on the show. Tell me the truth.”

“No. I barely had any time to prepare for any of this. It was a big whirlwind. Seriously.”

“Well, okay. I’m just saying, you’re the best accidental Lumberjill I’ve ever seen. Really. You’re amazing.” She was smiling, but her eyes were doing their own thing. It was almost like she was glaring at me. “You’ll get to spend a ton of time doing things like that once you’re a part of this family. You’ll be hiking, biking, logrolling, all of that and more. I can tell it’s going to be no trouble for you, though. You’ll be outdoors constantly. And camping. Sometimes they don’t even use tents. Do you like camping?”

“Sure,” I said.

“Good. They love to camp.”

“Cool,” I said. I couldn’t help but wonder how much time we were all going to be spending together. “Is Bellamy here in Colorado much?” I asked. “Or is he usually in Arizona?”

“Well, he’s there most of the time, of course, but he comes home a lot too. I’d say he’s here five or six times a year. Seven? Eight? Maybe more.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Come to think of it, it’s more than that. Maybe twice a month. You wouldn’t have a problem with that, would you?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Good. His last girlfriend, Farrah, didn’t like him to have any space. She especially was jealous of me. Like, she never wanted him to be near me. Isn’t that the craziest thing? She was such a bitch. Cute, I guess, but a bitch. She was in Playboy once. Are you threatened by that? Just kidding. You totally shouldn’t be. But yeah, Playboy. Tacky, right? At least it was before they got together. But still. It really didn’t go over well once Kate and Larry found out. It’s an embarrassment to have a son involved with someone like that, you know? You haven’t done anything like that, have you?”

“No,” I said.

“Good. It always comes out. You think you can bury your past but you can’t.”

“No, I’ve never done anything like that,” I said.

“So,” she said. “Ask me anything. What do you want to know? Ask away. I mean it.”

I shrugged.  “Have you and Dwight been together long?”

“Good question! It’s hard to pinpoint when we went from hanging out to really being together, you know? What’s funny is I actually used to be Dericka’s babysitter when she was little.”

“Huh. Interesting,” I said.

“I knew everyone in the family before I knew Dwight. I was hanging around with all of them for years. I was over here three times a week, before I’d even met Dwighty Whitey. Did you notice that’s my little name for him? There’s a long story there. I’ll tell you some other time. Anyway, Dwighty was at college. I’d only heard about him and seen his picture, but now, dunt dunt da dunt, we’re married. It’s funny how things work out. Who do you think is cuter?” She asked, tapping a picture on the bookshelf of Bellamy and one beside it of Dwight.

“Bellamy,” I said.

“Hmmm,” she said. “I like… both. Just kidding. But yeah, isn’t it funny how things work out?” She recapped her water bottle and tipped it upside down, right side up, upside down. Then she turned it right side up again and carefully balanced it on her head.

“It is funny, isn’t it?” I agreed. I was being as boring and lame as possible, the way I get when I don’t want to lead someone on.

“Emma, you never know what connects two people. People are like puzzle pieces. Sometimes they click right together, sometimes they don’t. Some people are universal pieces who can click together with lots of other people. And then some people are corner pieces who have way less options. They can only click with a small number of people.” The whole time she talked the bottle stayed balanced on her head. Perhaps she was trying to send me the message that even though she hadn’t competed in today’s challenges, she was capable of performing unusual physical feats as well.

“What a great analogy,” I said. “Puzzle pieces.” I nodded as though I really liked this. What I was actually thinking about was Pete. I wished he was here to see this weirdness. He would find the whole situation funny. We would laugh about it. I wondered if Bellamy would think it was funny, or if he would be as defensive towards Sherifaye as she was towards him. I was also wondering if they possibly had ever hooked up. God, I hoped not!

“Puzz ell Peeee sezzzzz,” she said deliberately.

“Yup,” I said. “Do you mind? I think I’m going to grab a refill.”

She took the water bottle off her head and took another drink. “Wait a minute. I want to tell you something.”

“Okay.”

“Do you know about Charles Lindbergh?”

“Well, I know about him flying across the ocean. And his baby was kidnapped, right? I don’t know much else about him.”

“Now there’s an interesting one. You could read up on him every day for a month and you’d only be seeing the tip of the iceberg. They should make the study of Charles Lindbergh a college major. A person could be a Charles Lindberghologist. First of all, he fathered a lot of secret children. Because he believed in eugenics.”

I wasn’t sure what eugenics were. “Wow. How… disloyal and… careless of him,” I said.

“Careless?” she hissed with a furious wrath. “It was intentional.”

“Oh.” In my head I was thinking Google Youjennicks as soon as you get home.

“I think Dwight’s dad might feel the same way. Secretly, what attractive, successful person doesn’t, right? But it could be a real slippery slope. Luckily, the losers of society are popping out babies left and right so they have nothing to worry about. They won’t go extinct anytime soon. Dwight and I are thinking Delaney Linden for a girl and Dwight Junior for a boy. What do you think?”

“Those are nice names.”

“Linden sounds like Lindbergh. How strange that I never noticed that before. You’d better not steal them,” she said.

“Your children?” I asked.

“The names! You’d better not steal my names.”

“Of course I won’t. Um, please excuse me,” I said, edging towards the door.

Sherifaye casually shifted one of her long legs, scratched it, and in doing so plunked it up onto an end table, her dirty shoe amidst the knickknacks. A chunk of mud fell into one of Kate’s dishes of potpourri; she gave the potpourri a quick little flick and the mud was buried beneath a pinecone. “She’ll never know,” she said, like we were sharing some uniting daughter-in-law secret. Her leg separated me from the doorway like a fence. She smiled and put her hand on a bookshelf to keep her balance. “Just stretching,” she murmured.

It was too much for me to handle. “I’m going to get a refill,” I said, holding up my glass and scoping out the best route around her.

“Wait, Emma! No,” she said. “If you’re so thirsty, have some of my water.”

“No thank you.”

“Let’s talk some more. It’s so hard to get a chance to talk. We should take advantage of it.”

“I’m wearing a microphone, you know.”

“I know. It’s not like we’re saying anything we shouldn’t say. It’s just so nice not having the cameramen around. I think they’re all busy with everything going on outside. And honestly, I think some of them are drinking, so they’re like totally slacking.” She crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue.

I don’t know why I didn’t just walk around her. Well, aside from the obvious reason that she kept stopping me. I suppose I was still trying to behave like we were having a normal conversation.

She saw me continuing to eye the door, and she grabbed my arm, nodding solemnly. “Do you ever drink water? It’s healthy, you know.”

“I know. I drink quite a bit. Usually in the form of ice cubes,” I added trying to make a joke.

She sighed a long sigh, her viselike grip pressing into my arm. Once again she was focused on the pictures of Bellamy at prom. “Just look at his date. Sarah Buttersmoot. Look at her stupid smile. She’s so full of herself. I wish I could wipe that smile right off her face.” She dropped my arm and scrubbed at the picture with her thumb. “And what a dumb dress. Speaking of dresses, Kate picked out my wedding dress.”

“Really?” I asked.

Encouraged by an ounce of responsiveness from me, Sherifaye let loose. She lowered her voice and began speaking with a fierce urgency while noisily tapping her water bottle, I think in an effort to drown out her whispers from reaching our microphones. “My wedding dress! Can you believe it? Wow, Emma, it is so great to have someone to finally talk to. Being part of this family is like living on the Kennedy Compound. The isolation. The loneliness. Do you understand what it takes to be part of a family like this? I’ll bet you don’t. Really, you probably can’t even imagine. If I’m acting crazy, it’s because of them. You’ll see. First of all, you can never get fat. And you can’t do asinine things in public. Don’t let Dericka’s tattoo fool you; it’s only acceptable because it’s big enough to be considered artistic instead of seedy. That Kate is a control freak about anything having to do with fashion or style. I hope you don’t care about things like what clothes you wear or how your home looks. Yeah, that’s right! She decorated our house too. She’ll drive you batshit crazy. You will lose your mind. I’m going to say it again: You will lose your mind.”

“Hmm,” I said, nodding.

“That’s all you’ve got for me?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“In that case, never mind,” she said, shaking her head. I was the rescue helicopter beelining away from her island.

Unsure of what I should say, knowing I wanted to say nothing, I shrugged feebly and held up my empty glass.

“You’re thirsty! That’s right,” she said, returning to her previous persona. “But before you go, I still can’t believe he took Sarah Buttersmoot to prom. Can you? Look at her,” she said, tapping the glass. She was leaving marks all over everything. I supposed they had a cleaning crew who would erase it all soon.

“I think I need to use the bathroom,” I said. You can’t argue with someone needing to use the bathroom, right?

“Emma, wait. I’m talking to you. Why are you leaving? Seriously, you’re hurting my feelings.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I just want to get back to Bellamy.”

“You’ll have your whole life to be with him. Do you realize how lucky you are?”

“Of course. Yes, I’m so lucky,” I said.

“I knew Sarah Buttersmoot since I was born. I introduced them. But she swears they met once back in sixth grade at camp.”

“Oh. It’s such a small world.”

“Not really. I’ve never understood that expression.”

“Okay,” I said. What dreams I had of being part of the perfect family were shattering. Fortunately, they had been weak, watery, easy-come-easy-go dreams. Now I just really needed to escape. Sherifaye alone was too much for me to bear. And a mother-in-law picking out a wedding dress and decorating my home? Could anything be worse? And all the sports. And all the togetherness. And a father-in-law who believed in youjennicks? They sounded very sinister.  It was time to give up. Time to remove myself from the competition. I didn’t care if I ended up poor and alone. As long as I was some place quiet with a soft bed I would be happy all my days.

Or perhaps it was just the exhaustion and alcohol talking.

“Small world,” Sherifaye continued. “The world is huge. It’s the biggest thing there is.”

“I don’t mean that the world is literally a small place. I guess I’m going to head outside…” I began to say. She cut me off: “I think they really want you to be a part of this family.”

“That means a lot to me,” I said.

“If Dirk proposed to you, would you say yes?”

My first instinct was to ask who Dirk was, but I immediately remembered she meant Bellamy. I found myself nodding. “Yes,” I said. I realized my mouth had formed the words, but no sound had come out.

“Well, in that case, I guess we’ll be sisters-in-law soon. I mean, if he asks you. It’s not like I have any inside information.” She winked. Then she leaned forward and gave me a big hug. She smelled of sweat and expensive perfume. I reciprocated even though I wanted to pull away.

“You can be in my recipe club one day,” she whispered in my ear. As she let go of me and took a step back she smiled a tight, strained smile. “You should go find him. I think he’s out by the fire. I’m sure he misses you.”

“Good idea,” I said, so glad to slip away from her.

Chapter 32

“Did you have a nice talk with Sherifaye?” asked Bellamy.

I couldn’t help myself from looking at him like he had to be kidding. In his special way, he did not pick up on the message I was trying to send. Instead, he wrapped his quilted flannel jacket around my shoulders and began to strum his guitar and sing. “Oh Sweetheart Lucinda Sue, from down yonder by the bayou,” he crooned. All the others around the campfire jumped right in to the sing-along.

I flipped up the quilted collar and slinked down into the jacket until it came up past my nose. I wanted to plug my ears but I resisted. Honestly, it took everything I had to keep my fingers out of my ears. I kept telling myself that if I could just make it until tomorrow, I would have the time and space to figure out everything. Maybe I did like Bellamy. Maybe it was just all these people and cameras and the constant action. I’d always been someone who liked my time alone. Maybe if I just got a little alone time again, I could sort out what I really needed.

“Don’t you know this one?” Dericka mouthed to me sympathetically. I shook my head. As soon as the song wrapped up she leaned across me and tapped her brother’s arm. “Play one that Emma knows next,” she said.

“First of all,” said Bellamy, standing up, “I need to introduce Emma to all our neighbors. Emma, this is John and Mandy Babcock and their daughter Maeve, and that handsome couple next to them is Prescott and Louise Gentry, and then to their left eating s’mores are Sandra and Bob Arnold, and that’s Josiah,” he said.

“Josiah’s ours,” said Louise, raising her hand.

“And this is Emma,” Bellamy said, pulling me up and giving me a squeeze.

“Hi everyone,” I said.

“Hi Emma!” they all cheered. They sat on L.L. Bean wool blankets that were spread over halved log benches. Canning jars of beverages were in their hands. The children held sticks with browned marshmallows.

“How do you like it here?” asked Louise.

“It’s very beautiful,” I said. In the flickering firelight, the crowd looked like a maniacal version of a Kinfolk magazine spread.

“You’ve got yourself a great guy here in Dirk,” said one of the men. Bob maybe.

“Don’t I know it,” I said.

“Emma, what campfire songs do you know?” asked Dericka.

“Oh, just sing whatever songs you like. I’ll listen. I’m not much of a singer,” I said. Did their expectations never end?

“Oh, come on,” said the crowd.

“No, that’s okay,” I said.

They all chimed in at once in a chorus of encouragement: “Everyone can sing!”

“You don’t have to be perfect.”

“Just jump right in!”

“We won’t be able to tell which voice is yours!”

“Ugh...” I said, trying to think of any campfire song. I looked at Bellamy helplessly. He smiled back at me and plucked a couple of strings.

“Let’s sing the one about the bear in the boat,” Dericka said firmly but cheerily to her brother, mercifully derailing the potential for one of those escalating moments where everyone helpfully, persistently pushes you to do something you have no intention of doing.

I sank back down into the quilted jacket, going back to the happy place where I pictured the airport, the plane ride, my apartment, Pete. Pete. At this time tomorrow I would be right down the hall from Pete. I spaced out as Bellamy and the crowd sang one song after another, my mind alternating between dreams of the next day and sleepy blankness.

Finally someone announced, “Would you believe it’s nearly two in the morning?”

Yes! said the voice in my head.

“We’d better go,” said Louise. Everyone else agreed that it was time to say farewell, and they all made a production of hugging and kissing me goodbye. I felt sorry for the other girls at this point, all back at the hotel, expectations on high, looking forward to their own upcoming chances with Bellamy’s family.

A short while later I was in my room, face washed, teeth brushed, ready for sleep. Just as I was about to turn off my bedside lamp there was a knock on my door.

“Come in,” I said.

“Hi,” said Bellamy, sticking his head in just a little. “Mind if I come in?”

“Of course not,” I said. He and Luca made their way inside my room, closing the door behind them since other members of Bellamy’s family had gone to sleep.

“Did you have a fun day?” he asked me.

“Sure,” I said.

“You did a great job.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re such a natural.”

“I don’t know how all that lumberjack stuff went as well as it did,” I admitted.

“Well, I just thought I’d say goodnight…” He kissed me. “You look so sleepy,” he said.

“I’m beat,” I said.

“You have to leave pretty early in the morning, don’t you?”

“I think I have to be up by six,” I said.

Neither of us mentioned that another girl would be showing up probably by mid-morning.

“Alright, get some sleep. I’ll get up with you in the morning so I can say goodbye.”

“Thanks. That’s sweet of you,” I said.

“I’m going to miss you. I won’t see you for days,” he said.

“I’ll miss you too.”

“I can’t wait to meet your fam,” he said.

“Aww,” I said, just the teensiest bit annoyed that he was referring to them in the lingo of the show.

He gave me another kiss, and then he tucked me in, stuffing the sheets and blankets around me until I felt like a stiff mummy. “Aww,” I murmured politely, again. I was out of conversational material.

“All tucked in,” he said smiling.

“Yup.” I’d unstuff myself once he left.

Luca reopened the door letting a little of the hall light in and Bellamy turned off my bedside lamp. “Goodnight,” he said as he followed Luca out the door. They both waved at me. I couldn’t wave since my arms were as immobilized as a fly in amber, so I just blinked a couple of times. They closed the door and I untangled myself.

And then, despite how tired I had been all night, I found myself unable to fall asleep. The hours ticked by on an antique alarm clock beside my bed. I listened with a calm sort of omniscience to the sounds of the house. A toilet flushing at 2:30. Floorboards creaking at 3:30 followed by water running as someone got up to get a drink. I kept waiting for Bellamy to come to me, but I knew he wouldn’t and he never did.

It wasn’t the expectation of a visit from him that was keeping me awake, however. It was an old habit that had been with me for as long as I could remember. I’d done it at classmates’ houses and at camp, while on vacation with my family as a child, and later as an adult, lying awake at soon-to-be ex-boyfriends’ apartments; I was memorizing it all, sensing on some unutterable level that despite it all supposedly being mine for the taking, I might never be back.

When the alarm went off, I couldn’t even remember having closed my eyes.

Chapter 33

My apartment felt like a cold, grey tomb. The first thing I saw was a heap of mail cascading over my front hall floor. As I turned on lights and looked around, I discovered that my home was much smaller and not nearly as nice as I remembered. I parked my luggage beside the hall table and knelt on the floor, scooping up the mail into a tidy pile. I realized that I’d paid my rent, cable, and utilities a few months ahead, but somehow forgotten about my credit cards. A knot of panic twisted in my stomach. I hadn’t been back for five minutes and the reality and responsibilities of regular adult life were depressing me.

When I’d walked up to my apartment, I had looked over to the row of five tall windows that represented Pete’s space, and they’d been dark. It was a grey, drizzly afternoon and I thought if he was home there’d be a light on. It was possible he was sleeping. Or working. I wasn’t sure if I should stop by his place or not. I turned on all my lights and put on some music so he would know I was home. I’d let him come to me.

I had left the heat set at fifty degrees to save money and I’d forgotten to ask anyone to take care of my houseplants. Between the lack of water and warmth, they were all dead. I got a garbage bag from the closet in my kitchen and poured the plants inside, stacking up their pots to be washed. The radiators started working and as the apartment warmed up, I felt a little better. I changed into old sweats and an old t-shirt. I hadn’t looked this casual for months. I found a beer in the back of my fridge and opened it. This slobby version of myself felt pretty good.

I wanted to call my friends but I had been contractually sworn to secrecy. They would want to know if I was still in the running and I wasn’t sure I could trust any of them enough to share details with them. I’d agreed not to talk to anyone outside my immediate family until after Bellamy made his final choice. Until he proposed.

I needed to call my parents, though, to tell them that they would need to participate in the Meet-the-Fam date. I was pretty sure my mom was going to freak out when she heard the news. Only, how was I going to call her? I realized then that the producers still had my phone. It must have been a mistake. How would they let me know the details about my Meet-the-Fam date? I decided I’d better check my email. But then I realized that along with canceling my landline before leaving, I was also without internet, since my contract had expired.

My relief about being alone was starting to fade. Now I felt isolated. Panicky. Invisible. Just as suddenly my frumpy attire started to get to me. Why was I wearing old clothes? I looked like a grey, melting lump of dust. Who would want to look like that? No one. I started to cry. Was I having post-reality television depression? I had to talk to someone now!

I decided I would just have to go over and borrow Pete’s phone and use his internet. I had no other choice. It wasn’t that I wanted to see him, I told myself, so much as any human. And of course I needed to call my mom. I’d already been home for nearly an hour without contacting her. How rude of me. I mean, she’s my mom.

I changed into jeans and a sparkly, sequined top and poked my head out into the hall. It was dim and quiet, and smelled of curry and wet wool. It made me miss Paris and Venice and everything else. I began to sob, but I tried to control myself. Between gasps, I listened. No sound came from Pete’s apartment. No light came from beneath his door. I started to close my door again, thinking there was no point in even trying, but then I decided that there would be no harm either since he most likely was not there.

I tiptoed to his door and put my ear to it, listening. Nothing but silence. I got down on my hands and knees and listened at the bottom of the door. Still nothing. I tried the door, gently, but it was locked. I looked around me at the empty hallway and decided no one would know if I investigated a little further. I slinked down and spread out on the cold floor and tried to look underneath the door. I could see what appeared to be the edge of a fringed rug. Why was there a fringed rug in there? I didn’t remember Pete ever having a fringed rug. Did he still live there? Was this someone else’s apartment now?

A horrible emptiness filled me. What if Pete was gone? I had to figure out if this was still his apartment. I sniffed at the bottom of the door, trying to detect anything familiar. I stuck my hand beneath again, the little bit I could fit, trying to grab at the rug. I could just barely move my fingertips enough to jab at the stringy, dirty fringe. These doors had to be in violation of fire safety codes, I decided. Perhaps it was time for me to move away. Of course it was. I’d be living in Arizona soon, right? This part of my life would be a receding memory growing fainter and fainter. One day I wouldn’t even know it had happened.

After several tries, my desperate little finger scrapes were able to pull the rug a little closer. I scooted back away from the bit now poking out beneath the door and took a look around me; the hall was still dark and silent. I thought I heard something several stories down but it didn’t concern me. I gave the fringed edge a yank and was able to slide nearly the entire rug out into the hall. I knelt there looking at it, puzzled. It was a flowery, hippie-like rug of fairly high quality. Newish. A bit dirty but not terribly so. I was completely perplexed. I began trying to slide it back into the apartment, only to be interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind me.

“Emma? Is that you?” said Pete’s voice.

I jumped up and spun around, leaving the rug half in and half out of Pete’s apartment. Despite my tears, I was smiling. I couldn’t help myself; the smile came through my tears like sunshine.

“Pete,” I started to say, but my voice trailed off. He wasn’t alone. There was a girl with him. By girl I mean woman. Everything seemed to come to a thudding halt. I became acutely aware of the curry hallway smell and of my own strange nightclub attire.

Pete and this woman were both bundled up in winter clothes, each carrying a couple of bags of groceries. Reusable bags. Not something Pete had ever been on board with before. He and this woman looked very… domesticated. Comfortable. She was wearing his scarf that I’d made him for Christmas. She was beautiful. Snowy and red-cheeked and bright like cherries on ice cream. Her beauty was a punch in the gut. Her friendly smile was a slap across my puffy, splotchy face.

“Emma, this is Krissie. Krissie, this is my neighbor Emma.”

I couldn’t speak. Krissie. I knew that name. The pillow fight girl. I just nodded. Despite her snowy mittens and bags of wine and navel oranges and other signs of sweet abundance with my man, my man, the one I knew I truly wanted, only him, no other, no other, she came forward and put that snowy mitten straight out to me like someone waiting to receive a baton and said, “Emma, it’s so nice to meet you.”

I shook my head then turned it into a nod and my hand, more civilized than the rest of me, extended and limply offered itself. An embrace of cold, wet, confident wool enveloped it and moved it up and down twice, firmly. As Krissie stepped back my hand stayed between us, curling in space like a dead spider. A moment later my brain reminded it to drop down by my side. I shoved as much of it as I could fit into my pocket to keep it out of trouble.

Pete set down his bags and came forward, offering a tapping little hug. It felt nothing like the Pete I remembered. His eyes said nothing. There were no hidden messages transferred in that moment. It was as meaningful as brushing past a cold rack of parkas.

“Pete,” said my mouth. Like my hand, it did its own thing.

“You’re back. Does this mean you’re not going to be Emma Timberfrost?” he asked cheerfully. His banal enthusiasm was a flashback to awkward drive-home chats with the dads of kids I’d babysat in high school. Before I had a chance to answer, he bent down and retrieved his groceries from their I like big books and I cannot lie canvas totes, pausing to carefully arrange a carton of organic brown eggs.

My nodding head settled on a stupid, slow wobble and I took a few steps back, edging along the wall, stepping in a bit of slush. “I’m not at liberty to say,” I whispered.

Krissie tilted her head in bemused confusion. She was a Pomeranian. I was a Chihuahua.

I took another step back. How far away was my apartment? I looked over my shoulder. Too far. Much too far way.

“Did you need anything?” asked Krissie. Less brightly. She looked concerned about the crazy person in the hall.

“Ugh,” I said.

“Are you feeling alright?” asked Pete. He looked genuinely concerned, but in the generic way a good citizen gets concerned about suffering strangers.

“Your phone?” I asked.

“You need to use my phone?”

I nodded.

“Sure. Of course. Come on in,” he said.

Krissie reached in her pocket and withdrew a ring of keys. “I’ve got it,” she said, unlocking the door and holding it for us.

Pete took over holding it and Krissie gracefully suggested that she’d be in the kitchen putting away the groceries. I slinked past Pete, trying not to gawk at his made-over crafty-chic apartment. It smelled like coffee and cookies. A mustard yellow lace bra was drying on the living room radiator. Very nice leather riding boots leaned against the coat rack like a page from a catalog. An easel was set up in the corner of the living room with a half-finished painting of a meadow on it. On the coffee table, a string cheese wrapper marked a page halfway through War and Peace. The knife in my heart took a jagged turn with each new detail. This girl was no random pillow fight skank. She was every girl’s dream best friend and every guy’s dream girlfriend. Fuck.

“Here’s the phone,” said Pete, handing his house phone to me. “It doesn’t work in the hallway,” he added as I began to take it with me. I considering asking him for his cellphone, but I sensed I wasn’t in much of a position to make demands.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, dialing my parents’ number since I didn’t know what else to do. I went over towards the door, trying not to look at the handbag hanging on the coat rack, trying not to notice the opened invitation on the table by the door to ‘Croquet in the Snow, Rain, or Sun (who can say what spring in Chicago will be like?) for Camden’s first birthday’ addressed to both of them.

My parents’ phone rang and rang. I began to feel a twinge of relief. As I was about to hang up, my mother answered.

“Hello?” She sounded confused.

“Mom, it’s me, Emma. I’m calling you from… my neighbor’s phone.”

“Emma!” she said. She sounded so happy to hear from me that it made me start crying again. “You’re back in Chicago! I can tell by the area code! Why aren’t you calling from your apartment? Is everything fine? How long will you be back?”

“Just for a while. I have to tell you, Bellamy’s going to want to meet you guys really soon. I’m one of the finalists.” I looked at Pete out of the corner of my eye, and I thought I saw him flinch a tiny bit. This gave me the smallest boost of confidence. Maybe there was still hope for us. After all, he’d only been with Miss Artsy-girl a month or two.

“So it’s going really well?” she asked.

“Yes. Can you and Dad come to Chicago for my Meet-the-Fam date? I think I want it to be here instead of in Florida. I want him to see my apartment and get to know what my life is like here. The show pays for your airfare and everything.”

“Oh, Emma. It’s so cold there. That’s why we moved away.”

“Mom.”

“We’re hosting bridge club next week at our condo,” she continued. “I already bought the snacks.”

“Mom, this is huge!” Please don’t argue with me about this in front of Pete, I wanted to add.

“Well, I suppose meeting our future son-in-law is worth it.” She giggled a little. “This is exciting, Bug.”

“Isn’t it?” I said. I heard Krissie call to Pete for help putting something on a high shelf. He immediately trotted off to the kitchen and then I heard the smacking sound of a butt getting affectionately slapped. The sound was followed by her laughter and “Easy, Tiger.” I wanted to puke.

“So, you really think you won?” my mom asked me.

“I think so.”

“You think he loves you?”

“Umm, yeah. Pretty sure.” I strained to hear what was happening in the kitchen. What if they were making out with me right here?

“And you love him?”

“Sure. Listen, Mom. You can’t tell anyone outside our immediate family about this. I think I only want to involve you and Dad, since once I start getting everyone else involved, someone will probably leak the story. This is all supposed to be kept under wraps.”

“It sounds serious.”

“It is.”

“And you’re sure you want to spend your life with him?”

“Sure. He’s a real catch.” I heard the sound of a blender. They were making smoothies. Or mixed drinks? On a cold day like this?

“What did I tell you? Isn’t this soup blender amazing?” Pete was saying to Krissie. “It turns fresh broccoli and shredded cheddar into a bowl of hot delicious soup in two minutes.”

“Yummy,” said Krissie.

“Well, I guess we’d better start packing. What other choice do we have?” laughed my mom. “What kind of clothes should I wear? Who will book our flight for us? Should we go to a travel agent?”

“I’ll have to go out and get a different phone today,” I said. “I’ll call you after I do that.”

“Say, you probably haven’t heard this since you’ve been gone, but Tina quit her job,” said my mom, dishing about my brother’s wife as if this was just another phone call.

“Crazy. Well, I’d better go. I will talk to you soon, Mom. Say Hi to Dad, and don’t tell anyone about this. It’s top secret, okay?”

“I promise my lips are sealed, Bug,” she said.

I sighed, trying to ignore the smell of toast wafting from the kitchen, the blender noise, the laughter. Suddenly instead of saying goodbye and hanging up, other words were spilling out of my mouth in a low, rushed whisper: “Mom, what should I do? Should I say yes if he proposes?”

She missed the urgency of my tone. “Hmm. You think for sure he’s going to?”

“Yes!”

“Okay, well I’m asking because I wouldn’t want you to be disappointed. Aren’t those other girls real lookers?”

“Mom! I don’t always look the way I do when I’m hanging out with you and Dad. Sometimes I dress up.”

“Well, that’s good. But still, Emma, it could go in a direction you weren’t supposing.”

“I know, but I don’t think it’s going to.”

“Not that you aren’t cute too.”

“Whatever. It’s fine.”

“And this show, are they going to let it go that far?”

“Mom! That’s the whole point of the show!”

I could hear Krissie suggesting spices to Pete. What about cumin? Would cumin be good in broccoli soup? What about paprika? Mmmm. Mmmmm. Mmmm. I wanted to chuck something against the wall. Instead I found myself twisting the one year old’s birthday invitation into a sweaty knot. Once I realized what I had done, I tried to uncrumple it, but it was too late. I shoved it into the dusty abyss between the table and wall.

“Hmm,” said my mom. “And you really love him already? It’s been such a short amount of time.”

“I don’t know. How can I tell? There’s so much going on all the time it’s hard to even judge.”

A song began playing in the kitchen. Something ridiculous I’d never heard before, blaring over the sound of the mixer. It was a ringtone, I realized. “Hello!” said Krissie. She sounded like she had a smile in her voice like we’d been taught to sound when I worked in a call center during college. I made a mental note to become the kind of girl who has funny ringtones as soon as I had a phone again. And to put a smile in my voice.

“Well, Emma, you should know whether you love him or not. Would you want to write him a love letter, or would it feel funny?”

“What kind of a question is that?” I asked.

“That’s how I picked your dad over another boy. I couldn’t picture writing that other boy a love letter. I tried, but it felt real funny. Well, anyway, is he what you thought he would be?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Do you want to get married?”

“I think so.”

“How many of you are there left?”

“I’m not supposed to say.”

“Not many though?”

“No.”

Pete passed by me, carrying two bowls of broccoli soup and a small stack of buttered toast on a tray. He wiggled his eyebrows at me as he went by, and then began arranging the meal on the coffee table in a cute, orderly fashion. The show Big Love shot into my brain and for a brief moment I imagined being one of Pete’s wives. It actually seemed better than not being his wife at all. I could picture there being another bowl of soup on the tray. Really, it might not be so bad.

“But you’re pretty sure he’s going to choose you?”

“Yes. Listen, Mom, I gotta go.”

“Well, remember, he might not choose you after all, so all this worrying might be for nothing.”

“Thanks Mom. I’ll call you back as soon as I get a phone.”

“Okie doke. Talk to you soon.”

“Bye.” I handed the phone to Pete. We could hear Krissie chatting in the kitchen and for a moment we just looked at each other.

“So, it seems things are going well for you,” he said.

“Yes, for both of us I guess,” I said. “And so quickly,” I added.

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Thank you for letting me use your phone. Please don’t mention where I’m at with all this, and please ask…” I couldn’t say her name. I nodded towards the kitchen.

“Krissie,” he said.

“Yes, that’s right, Krissie. Please ask Krissie to also keep my secret. I’m in a contract and I’m sworn to secrecy.”

“You’ve mentioned that.”

“So I have.” I smiled weakly. Pete just looked at me. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. I shrugged and went to the door. “See ya,” I said.

“Thanks for stopping by,” he said.

I nodded and let myself out of his apartment. Before I had time to further digest what had just happened, I saw a delivery guy standing by my door. He turned away to leave just as I began walking towards him. “Wait,” I called.

“Do you know the person who lives here?” he asked suspiciously.

“It’s me. I’m Emma Van Elson,” I said.

“In that case, please sign for this,” he said, holding up a thick, padded envelope.

I signed and tore it open. Inside was my phone. I went inside and plugged it into its charger since it was dead, and made myself some tea. Cold rain came down outside, washing away the little bits of dirty slush that had remained. It was April, but felt like late February or early March. I filled the bathtub, trying not to picture Pete and Krissie, mere steps away from me, having soup followed by sex followed by something cooler and crazier than anything I had to offer. As I sank into the hot water, I tried instead to imagine how the Meet-the-Fam date would be. Bellamy would be polite to my parents. They would be cute and embarrassing. It would be fine. I poured some bath oil into the water and yawned. It would be fine.

Chapter 34

“Tomorrow night? Sure,” I said. I was groggy. I’d been taking a nap when my phone rang. It was Christine Leary, calling to work out the details of my Meet-the-Fam date. I sleepily gave her my parents’ phone number, and jotted down other details on the pad of stationary I kept in the drawer beside my bed:

Mom and Dad will arrive at 5 pm.

Limo to deliver them here.

Bellamy’s plane arrives 5:25 pm.

Limo to deliver him here.

Dinner at Fresh Basil at 7 pm.

Show to make dinner reservations for us.

Mom and Dad to stay at Park Hyatt Hotel.

Bellamy to stay at Waldorf Astoria. I may stay with him, if we both choose.

Bellamy and I to have brunch next day with my parents at 10 AM.

Bellamy to depart at 4 PM.

When would I like my parents to leave? Let Christine know ASAP and she will book it.

When I got off the phone it occurred to me that I hadn’t checked any of my messages for months. Now that my phone was charged and back to life, I was excited to find out what I had missed. Right away I saw I had only fifteen regular messages. Sure, there were over two hundred text messages, but for the most part, they count so little compared to real messages. I felt like a total loser. How could I only have fifteen messages in months? Perhaps the older messages have self-deleted, I told myself, on account of how old they are. But that didn’t turn out to be the case.

The very first one was from my former boss. She was not happy. In fact, she sounded irate. I deleted it without even getting through the first sentence. Her tension seemed foreign to me now that I hadn’t worked in months. I could still relate to feelings of sadness, or boredom, or nervousness, but that unique, work-related stress that people can catch seemed downright silly to me now. Really, could anything be worse than having a job? I remembered that if I married Bellamy, I probably wouldn’t need one.

The next message was from Pete. It was from the day I left: “Hey, Emma. Wow. I can’t believe you’re gone. I can’t believe you’re doing this. But hey. It’s okay. I’m not even worried. Really. I think we have something really good. I think you’ll be back. I miss you.”

I shook my head, hating myself. Why had I ever gone away? How had I let it go so far? I was so confused. The thing about Bellamy was that he wasn’t so bad. He could be sexy and he was really nice. And rich. Athletic. Honestly, if it wasn’t for Pete, I’d probably think he was the best thing ever. But compared to Pete, he was missing something. Or maybe it was me. Maybe the problem was that I was missing something when I was with Bellamy that came naturally when I was with Pete.

I listened to the next message. It was Pete again, from later that same night: “Hi. I miss you. I really, really miss you. I don’t want you to do this. I want you to come back. I’m not okay with this. I should have said so, but, you know, I’m saying so now. I just, I had to say that.” Then he took a deep breath and I thought he was going to say more, but he didn’t. Had it really just been a couple of months ago that he’d wanted me, and now he had simply moved on and forgotten me? I rubbed my temples, realizing how majorly I’d blown my life.

“No, no, no,” I corrected myself aloud. “Life with Bellamy is going to be great. Amazing. Seriously, focus on the future, not the past.”

The next message was from my mom. It was from the next day. I braced myself for a sappy message but instead I got this: “Hi Bug. Listen, your dad and I thought those sheets you got us for Christmas were nice, but I’m not sure about purple. I didn’t take them out of the package because then they probably won’t let me take them back, but I can tell they’re not going to match our walls. So I guess we’d like the receipt if you hung onto it. Let me know. Okay, kiddo. Bye.” I picked at my cuticles, depressed.

Then she called right back and left another message: “I forgot you went on that show! Don’t worry about those sheets. We’ll use them in the guest room. I’ve wanted to make that room purple. Good luck! Give me a call!”

The next two messages were Pete, both simply stating that he was thinking of me. They were still from way back during my first week away. It might as well have been years ago instead of just months ago. Again, I reminded myself that I had Bellamy and wasn’t I lucky. Perhaps I should delete all the remaining messages without even listening to them. But of course I couldn’t do that.

Next was a message from Betsy, from about halfway through my time away: “I thought maybe you’d already been sent home from that show and were hiding out, and maybe I could catch you. I really, really want to get a drink and complain about my day. I got fired. Fired. Can  you imagine? I’m so ashamed. Not that you care. You probably won’t even want to be my friend anymore. You probably think you’re too good for me. I think my company is going under, so that’s good news, considering I hate them all now. Oh my God, speaking of stuff like that, Rachel’s company folded. It just happened last week. I think she got some kind of severance package, but still. So I guess the three of us are unemployed losers together. Or maybe not. Maybe you’re a winner. Who knows? Anyway, I miss you. If you’re secretly there, please call me. I won’t tell anyone. I swear.” I wanted to call her right back, but I refrained, somehow.

And then, apparently the whole world had forgotten about me. There were no messages for weeks on end, until the barrage of recent calls, all from the show, all about plans and schedules for my Meet-the-Fam date. While I was traveling the world, feeling like my whole life before filming Bellamy’s Redemption was nothing but a distant dream, apparently everyone else had been feeling the same way about me.

I got out of bed and stretched, trying to figure out what to do with myself. It was late afternoon. In twenty-four hours, I’d be about to introduce Bellamy to my parents. To say I was dreading it was really far too strong of a description. It was more like I just wished I could put it off indefinitely. It was then that I realized I had to talk to Pete. Even if he was happily shacking up with the pillow fight hipster. I picked up my phone and called him, praying she wasn’t nearby.

“Hello,” he answered after just a couple of rings.

“I got my phone back,” I told him.

“So I see,” he said.

“Are you alone?” I asked.

“Uhh. Not really.”

“Oh,” I said. I wished I could backtrack. Calling him had been a terrible mistake. “Oh. Well, good. That’s good.”

“Why is it good?” he asked.

“Just cuz. I mean, it’s not good. It’s more like, you know, that’s fine.”

“Alright,” he said.

I realized I was pacing and I stopped in case he could hear me. “So anyway,” I said, “is your power on over there?”

“Sure. Is yours out?”

“No. Not at all,” I said.

“Are you okay?” he asked me.

“I don’t know. Do you really want me to answer that? I mean, can I really start a conversation like that with you? Don’t you have company?”

“She’s taking a shower,” he said.

“So you have… what… two minutes to talk?” I asked.

“I guess so,” he said.

“Fine. Then I’m just going to tell you what I have to tell you.”

“Okay,” he said.

Why wasn’t he stopping me? Did he really want me to put myself though this? I opened my mouth, but instead of words coming out, there was just a raspy sound catching in the back of my throat. It sounded like paper being torn. I gagged a little and tried again.

“Hello?” asked Pete.

“Yeah, I’m here,” I said.

“What did you need to tell me?”

I tried again, and this time the words came tumbling out. “I want you. I want to be with you.” My words sounded squeaky. Like more of a question than a statement. Not strong and sexy. Not appealing at all. I sounded like a mouse asking for a cheese crumb. I couldn’t believe I was saying it. I waited for him to respond. He said nothing.

“Are you there?” I asked, after he was silent for far too long.

“Yes.”

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“I don’t know what to say,” he said.

“If you can’t say it back, then I guess there’s nothing to say.”

“This is very bad timing. I need to go,” he said.

“Okay,” I said. That completely told me where his priorities were. “Bye, Pete.”

“Bye,” he said.

I calmly set my phone on my bed. I felt very… numb. Weightless almost. Instead of being emotional, it was as if my mind and body had shot straight to detached rationalism in an effort to protect myself.

He didn’t like me anymore. Okay. That was that. What could I do about it? Apparently nothing. Apparently it was too late. I had ruined my chances with him. Maybe I had ruined my life.

For once I didn’t start bawling, I just sat there staring at the wall. I was incredibly humiliated. Yet empty. A small part of me wondered if this was a bad dream I might wake up from. The soup, the toast, the bra on the radiator, the meadow painting. They all kept flashing in my mind.

I felt like I was about thirteen years old. That was the last time I’d liked a boy so much and been flat out rejected by him. It was the worst feeling in the world, and now that I was older and there was so much more at stake it was that much worse. It felt like heartbreak and hopelessness and unpopularity all multiplied together infinitely.

“You need to start over with Bellamy,” I told myself. “You need to let go of Pete and try to evaluate Bellamy without comparing him to anyone else. You might as well just like him. Right? You might as well just do this. It’s amazing that he likes you. Really! And if you gave him a real chance, without distractions and backburner boyfriends, you would probably be insanely crazy about him.

“You are the luckiest girl in the world right now. Everyone thinks so. So enough of the Pete Vincent obsession. Seriously! Remember how he liked you forever? Why’d you have to go and like him back? You can never like a guy like that back. They only want the chase and you know it. Quit doing things you know are dumb. You knew he was trouble! You knew he was a player! Let it go! In fact, move away from here. Living near him is half the problem. Marry Bellamy, or Dirk, or whatever his name is. You’ll have a super huge wedding on television, and you’ll be rich, and actually kind of famous. At least for maybe a year or two. In fact, your picture is probably going to be on magazines in grocery stores. How crazy is that? Didn’t you kind of always want something like that to happen to you? Why are you fighting this? This is fun. This is like a totally fun ride. And he’s a totally great guy. Go for it.”

I nodded at my reflection in the mirror above my dresser.

“And if this is all a big mistake, you can always get divorced later,” I added, a moment after I thought my conversation with myself was over.

I got up and went to my closet to pick out what I’d wear to dinner the next night.

“Tomorrow night definitely calls for sparkles,” I said with false, hysteric enthusiasm, pulling a gold sequined miniskirt from my closet and laying it over a chair.

Clearly the pep talk hadn’t worked completely, however, because there was already a new thought forming in my brain: If Pete doesn’t contact you all day tomorrow, then give Bellamy a chance. For real.

Chapter 35

“Aren’t we having a wonderful, wonderful time?” asked my mom, smiling deliriously into the camera like someone who had just downed a bottle of methamphetamines.

“We sure are,” said Bellamy.

“Mmm. This crab cake is so flaky,” she added.

“This steak is juuuust right,” said my dad, holding up a pink piece to prove it to us.

“My meal is great too,” said Bellamy. He smiled affectionately at his baked chicken and fries, and then turned to me. “How are you doing, Sweetie?”

“Great,” I answered. “Sweetie,” I added, just to try it on for size. He beamed and squeezed my leg and shoveled some fries into his mouth.

So far my parents and Bellamy were hitting it off like old pals. The three of them were doing a good job carrying the conversation amongst themselves, somehow collectively missing that I was vaguely removed from it all. I took a big swallow of ice water, hoping it would wake me up.

“How’s everyone’s meal?” asked a waitress who wasn’t even assigned to our table. I felt like telling her that they would edit her out, despite how much lipstick she put on or how many times she stopped at our table, which was now reaching double digits. She was wearing a tuxedo jacket over a low-cut blouse, blue jean miniskirt, and cowboy boots. In her defense, all the waitresses had on similar getups.

“Mmm mmmm,” said my mom and dad, nodding with their mouths full.

“I like these sweet potato fries because they’re sweet like you,” Bellamy said to me. He dipped one of the fries in ketchup and stuck it in my mouth before I had a chance to protest that it had been nestled beside his chicken.

The four of us were having dinner at Wally’s Steakhouse. Despite the producers’ best efforts to send us all on a date that would reflect my vegetarian ways, we’d ended up at a place that made my parents comfortable instead. It was for the best, I decided, as I nibbled on iceberg lettuce and ranch dressing over a bed of crouton stones. Like a golden retriever puppy, Bellamy seemed pretty happy anywhere, and if my parents weren’t choking down tofu kale smoothies we’d all be better off.

It was after eight o’clock, late for my parents, and but neither was showing any signs of fatigue. They were both a little drunk and hyper, invigorated by the cameras and something close to fame. Topping it off was the prospect that their youngest daughter, who until recently they’d feared was unmarriageable, was now potentially about to wed a rich, handsome man in a ceremony they wouldn’t have to pay for. You can see why their adrenaline was maxing out. As if reading my mind, my dad said, “I think I’m going to get one of those little cups of coffee. What the heck if I’m up all night?”

“Waitress,” called Bellamy to the cowgirl passing by, “four expressos over here please.”

I’d decided around three o’clock in the afternoon, when Pete had made no effort to contact me, that I was going to entrust myself to Bellamy. I would commit to whatever he had to bring, whether it was a proposal or just a whole lot of logrolling. I’d shaved, waxed, plucked, lotioned, and perfumed every inch of my body. I’d made my way through all twenty-three minutes of my Killer Thighs from Hell workout DVD that I’d received for Christmas eight years earlier and had never previously opened. I was wearing a silk thong and matching bra, and was determined to accept an invitation to the Waldorf Astoria if it should present itself. And not just for the high-end shampoo samples. Remembering that I might soon need to have as flat a stomach as possible made picking at my salad instead of enjoying some kind of delectable vegan potpie less painful.

“It’s a shame you’re not meeting Emma’s brothers and sisters and their families,” said my mom. “But there’s so many, what with all the grandkids, that it gets a little intense for a new person.” She couldn’t stop staring at the cameras when she spoke. My dad had the opposite problem: he couldn’t stop staring at his plate.

“Emma’s told me a lot about them all,” said Bellamy.

I looked up from slicing through my pink tomato wedge. Had I really? I listened up, curious to hear what nuggets of wisdom he’d been gathering about my family.

“She’s told me that she’s the youngest, and that even though everyone lives around the country now, you’re all Midwesterners.”

“That’s right,” said my mom.

Bellamy nodded affirmatively, proud of himself for passing the test, and added a poopy little squirt of mustard to the thick pile of ketchup he’d made on the side of his plate.

I wondered if he was going to ask my dad for permission to marry me. On other seasons, this was the night. Some guys asked both parents. Most just asked the dad. Some didn’t ask either. I’d never thought I’d be the kind of person whose parents got asked by someone for permission to marry me, but if this show was teaching me anything, it was that perhaps I was less picky than I’d thought.

I decided I should excuse myself from the table to give Bellamy a moment alone with my parents. Or better yet, maybe I could get my mom to come with me, so it would be just him and my dad. I cleared my throat but no one seemed to recognize that it was a secret code. I tried again and my mom reached into her purse and found a lint covered unwrapped cough drop for me.

“Mom,” I said.

“Hmm? What, Bug?”

“I think I’m going to go to the ladies’ room. Would you like to join me?”

“No thank you. I’m still working on these crab cakes. Say, did you bring that receipt for the purple sheets?”

“It’s at home. Are you sure you don’t want to join me?”

“No, I went before we sat down. Remember?”

“Okay,” I said. I rose from my chair while the three of them continued with their meals. I felt a brief surge of annoyance. If I was Alanna Rutherford, everyone would have stopped eating, stood up, and stared at me adoringly, too distraught to eat until I returned. Well, whatever.

“Excuse me,” I said as I backed away from the table, prepared to be followed. Not one cameraman so much as shifted. Apparently they were all thinking what I was thinking and didn’t want to miss a potential big moment.

I made my way past the bubbling wishing fountain, past the stuffed grizzly bear, down the timber planked hallway towards the restrooms, and was just about to pass beneath the oxen yokes when I heard someone say my name. I spun around and there was Pete. Not the old Pete who had loved me, but the new and improved, styled-by-a-girl Pete. He looked strategically casual in corduroy pants and a long sleeved shirt. He smelled like cologne. I immediately sensed that Krissie was nearby.

“Pete,” I said.

“Emma,” he said again, now close enough to kiss me.

I took a step back. I was afraid I was going to throw myself at him if I didn’t. Having him so near and knowing I couldn’t have him actually physically hurt me. At the same time, some dumb part of my brain that hadn’t gotten the message that he was no longer mine was irrationally ecstatic to be so close to him.

“What are you doing here?” I asked him. I realized I said it angrily, accusingly, like he was stalking me. I don’t know why it came out this way. I suppose it was the shock of seeing him. I felt a mindfulness prickling through my cells. The sleepiness that had semi-engulfed me all night was dissipating like fog as I became startlingly alive.

“Krissie’s got a work party. Her boss is retiring and I’m here with her. Listen, I need to talk to you. But, hey, what are you doing here?” He said it back to me a bit accusingly as well; perhaps it was me who was stalking him.

“Bellamy is meeting my parents. I’m sorry about yesterday. Please just forget it.”

“Oh. You’re here with him?” He gave me a quizzical look.

“Yeah. You didn’t see the cameramen?” I asked.

“No. I guess I missed them. We’re in a banquet room.”

“We’re in kind of our own area too.”

“Okay. I didn’t realize he was here in town with you.”

“He just got here this afternoon. So did my parents.”

“I thought the show was over for you. I was getting the impression you’d withdrawn yourself from the competition.”

“Oh. Really? Huh,” I said.

“So, what was that conversation you started yesterday all about if you’re here with him?” asked Pete.

I shrugged. “It was nothing.”

“It was nothing,” he repeated.

“Seriously, Pete, please just forget I said anything yesterday. It was totally inappropriate and stupid of me.”

“Okay,” he said, raising his eyebrows in a supremely exaggerated way. His response to me made me feel bipolar, ashamed, deflated. It was as if the old Pete, the one who used to know me and understand me, was gone. Now in his place was this new Pete who could only see my nervousness and quirks as instability. Suddenly, I just wanted to get away from him. If he wasn’t going to love me, I realized that at least for now I had no use for him, as a friend, as anything. I didn’t know what to do with him if loving him wasn’t an option.

I considered ducking past him into the restroom, but I felt like I had to offer some kind of explanation. “Seriously, I’ve just been really… confused,” I said.

“Okay,” he said again. He crossed his arms. What was he thinking? I couldn’t tell. It would be nice if he’d say something. Nice if he’d give me a break. Maybe he’d never been very nice. Maybe all that time I’d resisted him had been for a reason.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked.

“So now you aren’t interested in me?” he said.

“I… I’ve… I’m about to get engaged,” I said.

“To Bellamy?” he asked.

“Of course to Bellamy.”

“That’s crazy,” he said.

“It is not! Do you think it’s crazy that someone would want to marry me? Bellamy doesn’t! You know, he’s a really great person. Straightforward. Easy to understand. Simple! I’m very lucky. And he thinks he’s lucky to have me, too,” I said.

“What?” said Pete. Again with that look like I was nuts. Why couldn’t I shut up?

“Excuse me, please,” I said, and went into the ladies’ room.

“Emma…” said Pete. The door softly thudded closed and I exhaled, as the tears began rolling down my cheeks. To my shock, he followed right behind me.

“What are you doing? Get out of here,” I said.

“No,” he said.

“Yes. Please go,” I said.

“No,” he said again, locking eyes with me. The eye contact was too much. I looked down and he took a step forward, reaching for me. I couldn’t handle a sympathetic, platonic hug, and I squirmed away, afraid he was going to patronizingly pat me on the back. Instead he grabbed me and pulled me up against him and kissed me. It was forceful. Aggressive. I was too dumbfounded to even decide whether I liked it. He pulled away a bit, giving me a moment to process what was happening. His arms were still around me as he looked into my eyes, not saying a word. His expression verged on an intensity that almost felt angry. He kissed me again. This time I kissed him back, pulling him as close to me as our clothing would allow. And then he pushed me against the sinks and before I knew what was happening, our clothes were coming off and we were having crazy steakhouse sex. We broke the sink right off the wall. The timing couldn’t have been worse. My parents had just agreed to accept Bellamy Timberfrost as their future son-in-law.

Chapter 36

About six months later…

You’d think it would have been really difficult to give back all that jewelry, but actually it wasn’t that tough. Even the whole debacle that ensued once the show aired and designers began noticing I was wearing their clothes, many of them one-of-a-kind originals, got resolved quite neatly. Maggie the dress thief stepped in with a doctor’s excuse saying she’d suffered from a brief psychotic episode when she took them, and promised I’d had no idea they were stolen. Really, she was such a champ about it, and the designers all collectively agreed that if I returned everything, all would be forgiven and they wouldn’t press charges against either one of us. Except for one adorable tulip covered Anabella Marin scarf that never made it on air, I gave back everything.

What is hard is all the meanness that comes with being half of ‘The Sleaziest Couple in America.’ It took a while for things to really snowball out of control. At first there was the calm before the storm, as my horribleness was kept on the downlow before the show aired. I actually thought it was all blowing over and that I had dodged the worst of it. Hurting my parents and Bellamy was bad enough, but just when I started to feel better, having realized that despite the harm I’d caused, I had Pete, which was everything I really wanted, the show debuted. And then it all started over from scratch.

Pete had broken up with Krissie the morning of the steakhouse incident and had only been attending her work party to be polite. We’ve been together non-stop since that night. With me, he has watched every episode of the show, despite the helpful advice I received from many people advising me not to watch it at all.

I’ve looked like such an idiotic bitch. I don’t know why I put myself through the weekly humiliation, but I think it’s only natural to need to see how it all plays out. Those contestants from past seasons who say they never watched themselves are probably lying.

First of all, the producers and editors found what seemed like a hundred examples of me wearing the wrong shoes with my outfits and they drew gobs of attention to it each time it happened. As someone who fancies herself to be pretty fashionable, that really hurt.

Far worse, however, is that they made me look like a complete psycho. Lots of talking to myself, lots of crying, tons of shots of me without makeup just to be mean. Shortly into the season, news leaked about me and ‘Mr. Infomercial,’ so the producers decided to incorporate this into the show. They made little skits of my self-talk, and spliced the skits into regular scenes. They would cut from a moment of Bellamy and me on a date, back to a shot of me in the bathroom getting ready for the date, talking to myself as I put on my eye shadow. “Okay, Emma, you need to follow your heart,” I’d be saying, and they would make it repeat about five times with Pete’s infomercial face popping up after each sentence and old-school rap music side effects. Then it would snap back to the date with Bellamy, zooming in during a poignant moment of him looking especially puppy-doggish.

Another rotten little trick they pulled was to show me doing something that could be construed as mean or bitchy, and then splice in a little clip of me saying, “That was strangely satisfying.” Apparently I said this one night after I tore the unraveling hem off my dress. I don’t even remember saying it, but it happened and they really took advantage of it. It’s like a big joke now. Strangers see me on the street and yell, “That was strangely satisfying!” I’ll never live it down.

I suppose if it hadn’t been about me, I might have thought it was all funny and clever, and even somewhat deserved. But what the producers failed to show is that I did care about Bellamy. Despite how things ended up, hurting him is my biggest regret, and they made it seem like I thought his feelings meant nothing. It’s this manipulation of the truth that I hate them for most.

Alanna, as predicted, came out of it looking like Miss Perfect. She’s pretty much the most loved B-list celebrity in all of America right now. Vanessa too looked adorable and perfect, though the world has already forgotten about her. Deb looked like a goofy hayseed. Vanessa, Deb, and the rest of the contestants ended up seeming like footnotes compared to me and Alanna. I swear, the show was like the Emma and Bellamy show, with large amounts of Alanna thrown in during the second half of the season. Despite the actual small amount of time Bellamy and I spent together early on, they made it seem like it was all about the two of us. They captured every little smile, every glance. Any straw they could grasp at, they grasped at.

And then they made the night of my Meet-the-Fam date into a two episode event. The part where Bellamy asked for my parents’ permission, which couldn’t have lasted more than ten minutes, became a forty minute commercial-free musical montage. They threw in tons of clips of him as a child, including a snippet of an old home movie where he says “I want to be a daddy when I grow up.” It was so pathetically sad that I still cry when I picture it. Worst of all, it totally ruined my happy memories of the sex I was having with Pete at that same moment.

Once the truth about Pete and me was out, paparazzi stalked us relentlessly. It’s not as great as it sounds, mainly because we were seen as scumbags instead of beloved celebrities. Headlines like Infomercial King Bangs Finalist While Bellamy Prepares to Propose were everywhere, and unlike most tabloid headlines, this one was true.

I couldn’t go the grocery store for months without being confronted by tabloids showing Pete and myself, looking our absolute worst, often never having realized at the time we were being photographed that anyone was even watching us. It was so creepy to realize we’d been followed and stalked. Even Pete, who is used to being recognized, was overwhelmed and traumatized by it all.

Speaking of Pete, he’s wonderful. Despite all the chaos and hurt I caused, choosing him (or should I say, him choosing me) has been the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Being with him makes up for all the pain I caused myself, Bellamy, my parents, and everyone else involved.

And speaking of Bellamy, well, he ended up choosing Alanna. Long before the show ever aired, I heard from runner-up Vanessa that this was how it turned out. Christine, the producer who I talked to at the start of everything, personally called me a couple of weeks after the steakhouse incident and said, “I’m not going to tell you who Bellamy chose, but I want you to know that whether or not you did what you did, he was never really going to choose you. I just want you to know that.” Talk about sour grapes! Anyhow, he and Alanna are engaged and still together. In fact they’re going to be guests on some late night talk show this evening and Pete and I aren’t above watching it. I doubt if they’ll ever actually get married. From what I’ve heard through the grapevine, Alanna is lobbying to get her own reality workout/singing competition show. If she does I really hope I have the willpower to never watch it.

After several weeks of my faux pas being the topic of conversation around their retirement community, my parents’ neighbors got distracted by a saucier scandal involving the local alligator park owner feeding his gators steroids. Mom and Dad have forgiven me, even if my actions hurt them and nearly got them booted out of their bridge group. They’re focusing on the bigger picture now, which is that I am with the man I love and that I have finally exchanged their purple sheets for some nice beige ones. Also, despite their rocky first impression of Pete, they can’t help but be proud to brag to their friends that their daughter is dating the Spin-Chop-Dryer guy.

My friends are doing okay. They’ve accepted Pete into our group. Now that they know him, they see that he’s a great person, and a lot different from the character he plays on television. He’s been supplying everyone with tons of free gadgets, and I’m pretending I don’t know that Betsy and Rachel are both selling theirs on eBay since neither has found a job yet.

As for my own work status, I recently decided after several months of teaching water aerobics part time and living off Pete’s generosity that it was time for me to get serious again. I got back in touch with some contacts from my previous job and already have scheduled three meetings for design consultations. I’m officially launching my company Emma Van Elson Interiors this week. I got my business cards back from the printer today, and they’re getting a special finishing treatment right now in Pete’s latest product. It’s a laminator-type machine that magically smooshes the scent of bergamot and eucalyptus right into the paper. Between that clever gimmick, my semi-famousness, and my actual design talent, I feel like my company is going to be a big success. Believe it or not, I can hardly wait to jump back in to the working world.

Speaking of big, serious news for grownups, Pete and I are talking about getting married. By talking, I mean I think he’s going to propose soon. He’ll be asking me, not my mom and dad. Of course I will say yes.

Life can be good… or bad… when you follow your heart. If you’re lucky, it’s good. But when it’s good for you, the unfortunate side effect is that it sometimes means hurting people you care about. For some of us, that can be the most daunting part of the risk. Even so, it really is worth it. Take it from me. And if you don’t want to take it from me, take it from the wise Catalina Cartwright who says, “All is fair in love and war. Especially in love.” She’s right. Even if she is just reading a cue card.

About the Author:

Holly Tierney-Bedord lives in Madison, Wisconsin. She’s the author of several novels and novellas, including Bellamy’s Redemption, The Snowflake Valley Advice Fairy, Run Away Baby, Surviving Valencia, Coached, and more.

Visit www.hollytierneybedord.com to subscribe to Holly’s book newsletter.

Thanks for reading Bellamy’s Redemption. I hope you enjoyed it!

~Holly

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About The Snowflake Valley Advice Fairy:

At just twenty-five years old, Elinor has landed the job of her dreams: She’s going to be Merry the Advice Fairy for the Snowflake Valley Gazette. She’s ecstatic that she’s about to embark on a fun, cushy career while living in the cutest, quaintest town she’s ever known.

She’s barely settled into her desk at work when that famous Snowflake Valley shimmer starts to fizzle. The real Snowflake Valley bears little resemblance to the picture postcard tourist destination she and her family loved when she was a child. Her new co-workers are uninspiring, to say the least, and the problems that people are submitting to the Gazette are much weightier than what she was expecting.

Losing faith in herself, Elinor considers cutting her losses and moving on. However, the attention of hot young reporter Nile might be enough to get her past her chilly start in Snowflake Valley, and back to seeing its charm once again.

Click here to learn more or purchase.

About Coached:

"Fizzy and fun."
- bestselling author Jacquelyn Mitchard

Rowen “Ro Ro” Walverstein had high hopes for her twenties, but now, three years in, nothing is turning out like she imagined. From her frumpy wardrobe and dead end job to her boring social life, each day is a letdown. When her boyfriend Sherman leaves her, Ro Ro decides it's time to take action and turn her life around.

She hires a tough-love life coach named Crystal Class to get her back on track. Crystal is older, wiser, and very pulled together. She’s also a little bit unorthodox in her teaching methods. If Ro Ro can survive Crystal’s extreme tactics, there’s a good chance she could find herself standing on top of that elusive golden mountain of evolutionaryness that Crystal keeps telling her about. But getting up there isn’t going to be easy.

See more details or buy Coached.

About Sunflowers and Second Chances:

When Mandalyn Laramie starts working at McCauley’s Sunflower Farm, the last thing she wants is attention. Her fiancé Jack has recently been killed in a fire, and she needs time to process her grief.

Before long the farmer’s nephew Braydon arrives from California and is given a job alongside her, as her boss. Braydon is as bewitched by Mandalyn’s beauty as she is annoyed by his laidback, quirky ways. Her irritation with him turns to affection as his kindness and good humor undo her plan to spend her summer in mourning. Against all odds, she finds herself attracted to him.

Still devoted to Jack’s memory, this romance comes with guilt and confusion. Has Mandalyn been given a second chance at love, or will Braydon break her heart before it's barely had a chance to heal?

See more details or purchase Sunflowers and Second Chances.

About Surviving Valencia:

Twins Van and Valencia Loden are killed in a tragic accident shortly after they start college. Charmed, bright, and beautiful, they held their family together and elevated their family to greatness. In their loss, a shadow is cast upon the family, particularly on the remaining child, who lacks the easy grace and popularity her older siblings took for granted.

As an adult, her life begins to turn from mediocre to amazing when she is saved by cool, artistic Adrian. The kind of happiness once reserved only for others is finally hers, until pieces of the past begin ruining what seems to be a perfect life.

See more details or buy Surviving Valencia.

Visit Holly Tierney-Bedord’s Kindle page.