Scott, the main camera guy, dogs my every move, while Sasha keeps her equipment trained on the Brittanys’ reaction, which seems to range between confused blink (Brittany M.) and sneer (Brittany B.). They both drive me crazy—the only reason I haven’t sent them both home yet is that I suspect either one would only be more annoying without the other, and I can’t figure out which one to get rid of first.
“Kels is right,” I say with a smile. “We’re here to enjoy cocktails and the sunset.”
“And each other’s company!” Kelsey chirps.
“Jeeeeeeee-sus, give it a rest,” Eden snipes.
I inhale and try to remember that in less than a month this will all be behind me and I’ll never have to see the majority of them again.
Not the Brittanys, not always-angry Eden, not manipulative Cora, not hyena-laugh Aria…
Not Ellie.
I don’t have to turn around to know that she’s behind me, doing her best to stay out of the catfights, the same as she’s been doing all day.
I know, because I can sense the damn woman. No matter how determinedly she refuses to look at me, no matter how much I try to forget the feel of her mouth on mine, she’s always fucking there.
And it’s starting to piss me off.
“Ellie, Paisley, you ladies like sunsets?” I ask, turning and facing them directly.
There’s a moment of surprised silence at my sudden focus on them, and the cameras hurriedly adjust. I know what the camera will see: Paisley’s look of happy surprise, Ellie’s look of wariness.
As the producers have instructed me, I’ve stopped along the walkway at a spot that gives our group a place to congregate without being in the way of gawking tourists.
We’re in Lahaina, which Adam explained was a historic Maui town, now known mainly for its shops and restaurants. I’m all for the restaurant we’re headed for—and the alcohol.
The shopping? Not so much. I’ve spent the past hour listening to the women pretend to coo over art galleries and jewelry shops, and my nerves are officially frayed.
“Who doesn’t like sunsets?” Paisley asks in a slightly puzzled voice.
Her honesty makes me laugh, and the other women quickly chime in, with a brittle, shrill quality to their giggling.
Adam appears out of nowhere, his hair combed to its usual perfection, looking like an advertisement for a travel magazine in his khaki shorts, fancy boat shoes, and pressed linen shirt.
“Ladies, Gage…I have a special announcement to make.”
It had better involve some goddamn booze.
“As you all know, we’ve come here to enjoy a sunset cocktail, and we will. But what you don’t know is that only one of you will be enjoying it with Gage at a private oceanfront table for two.”
“Who gets to go?” Eden demands.
Adam’s bland smile never wavers. “Well now, I’d say that’s up to Gage.” He turns to me. “Who’s the lucky lady?”
A decade of acting experience keeps my expression from betraying my anno
yance at this announcement. They didn’t fill me in on this—deliberately, I’m guessing, so that my choice would be a spontaneous one.
“Gage?” Adam prompts.
I can feel the group holding its collective breath, a few of the women scoping out the others as though trying to determine who I’ll pick.
The producers are looking for drama—it’s the only reason they’ve sprung this on me. Things have been boring as shit today, and we all know it. They want me to get cozy with one of the women so that they can capture the reaction of the rest of them. They haven’t scheduled any one-on-one time with me and another woman since the drive back from lunch with Ellie a couple of days ago, and they’re still pissed they didn’t get any of that on camera.
Fuck, this is exhausting. I resist the urge to rub my eyes.
Do I pick the woman who will make for the best TV? Eden or Brittany B. would cause a stir—both women have sharp claws. Kelsey would raise eyebrows, since I’ve already singled her out tonight, as would Ivy, since I already had one-on-one time with her the first day. Cora would get them whispering, as the cameras have already seen us kissing.