“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.”