My mom had called yesterday and at first, she’d pushed for me to come stay with her in Jacksonville. I knew she was worried about me, but I’d assured her I was fine here in Bootleg. It had been a relief to hear she and Stan weren’t watching the show. She was livid over how I was being portrayed, and refused to watch.
I sighed and took another sip. I felt stupid for having agreed to the show in the first place. At the time, Kelvin’s insistence that it was a great opportunity had seemed to make sense. But even if the show hadn’t created this stupid scandal, I didn’t see how it would have led to any real acting gigs. How many reality TV stars wound up with long-term careers? There were probably a few. The rest either did more reality TV shows in an attempt to stay in the limelight, or faded into obscurity.
The truth was, I’d gone along with it because I’d wanted it to be a good opportunity. Not because I’d believed it was. Deep down, I’d known. But I’d been so worried that with my modeling jobs becoming fewer and further between, and no acting gigs materializing, I’d wind up out of work. Then what would I do?
It was something I was still pondering, and the questions were bigger than I really wanted to admit. Why had I wanted this so badly? I’d wanted to be famous for as long as I could remember, but why? What good was fame? Being on the brink of fame as a model for so long had been fun at times. There had been a thrill to seeing my face on advertisements, and even on a few magazine covers.
But did that momentary thrill outweigh the long hours, travel, and constant scrutiny and criticism? I hadn’t felt like I was in charge of my own body since I was seventeen. I had to be careful about what I ate. Couldn’t gain weight. Couldn’t change my hair. My life was dictated by the brands and designers who hired me. I was hardly a person to them—just a face and body they could use to sell their products. Replaceable. Disposable.
But I’d never done anything else. What else was I qualified for? I knew how to walk a runway. How to pose. How to make myself into what the client wanted me to be. Those kinds of skills didn’t exactly translate into other industries.
My phone binged with a text, so I pulled it out to check, thinking it must be Scarlett. But it was Kelvin.
Kelvin: Sending a contract. Need signature ASAP.
Me: What contract?
Kelvin: New show.
He meant the so-called reverse harem dating show. He’d been acting as if agreeing to the show was a foregone conclusion, even though I’d told him no every time he brought it up. He wasn’t listening to me.
But did he ever? He always said he cared about my career, but was that true? It had seemed like it, when things had been going well. When he’d come to me with offers from high-end designers, and we’d celebrated with champagne. When I’d made the cover of Vogue a few years ago, and it had seemed like there was nowhere to go but up. I’d felt like I never would have made it that far without him.
But had he ever cared about my integrity? He certainly didn’t now. With the prestigious jobs drying up like spilled water in the desert, he seemed to have no qualms about selling me to the highest bidder, no matter what they were asking me to do.
Deep down, I knew the truth. He’d always seen me as a commodity. When the buyers had been well-respected designers and famous photographers, it hadn’t felt like anything was wrong. I’d wanted those jobs. But now Kelvin was willing to auction me off to anyone who’d pay for me. He saw no issue with putting me on yet another trashy reality show—and a dating show at that. I’d felt uncomfortable with keeping our engagement secret before Roughing It, but this would require straight up lies. I’d have to pose as single and pretend to want this six-men-to-one-woman scenario.
The strange thing was, looking at his text on my phone, I wasn’t mad. I wasn’t angry, or even hurt. I was just done. I’d been mistaking dependence for love and affection, and I felt like the world’s biggest idiot for making such a colossal mistake.
The words went through my mind. Kelvin, it’s over. I felt nothing. No rush of panic. No sense of regret or heartbreak. I didn’t know what it would mean for my career, and that did send a little jolt of worry through me. But imagining my life without him in it, I felt lighter. In that moment, I knew exactly what I had to do, no matter what it would cost me professionally.