“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.