The camera guy’s shoulders shook as he tried not to laugh at what I’d said. I wanted to offer him some pie, but we weren’t allowed to talk to him.
And the person I should be giving pie to was Dante. I owed him an apology. I had sort of used him, and it wasn’t cool.
Carefully carrying a slice upstairs, I looked around corners, making certain the way was clear. I tiptoed past the bedrooms, in case anyone was taking a nap as a way to kill time. At the far end was the flight of stairs that led up to Dante’s room. His master suite took over the entire third floor. I was envious of all the space and that he had his own bathroom.
There was a rope barrier and a sign, but, not seeing any crew members or cameras, I decided to risk it. My heart beat quickly as I ducked under the rope. It was exciting sneaking around. More real-life Harriet the Spy.
I gently knocked on the door to the master suite. Too bad we didn’t have a code. Dante opened the door, gorgeous as ever, and I handed him the piece of pie.
“Sorry I was being insane last night. Burdette is making my life miserable.”
“Thank you, and I understand.” A big, heartfelt smile, and I knew all was forgiven. Another thing I liked about Dante. He never held grudges. Me, I could hold a grudge like nobody’s business.
He took the pie and stood to one side, offering to let me into his room. I didn’t think that was a great idea. Particularly given how very tempted I was to accept.
And what had happened the last time we were alone in his bedroom.
“I just wanted to tell you to have fun tonight, and to please be careful.”
He knit his eyebrows together. “Careful?”
“Yes, Timmy. Stay away from the well.”
Now he looked even more confused.
“That’s a Lassie reference. You can look it up later. Abigail is not to be trusted.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Okay, well, I’m going to go do, uh, a whole lot of nothing. So, see you later.”
“Thank you for the pie.”
He closed the door and I was glad that I’d finally had the chance to do my job. Now he knew Genesis = good, Abigail = bad.
What he chose to do with that information was entirely up to him.
Most of the girls had gathered in our room, where we were having a grownup slumber party. Painting each other’s nails, braiding hair, that sort of thing. I had suggested it as another chance for me to check out the girls and their personalities. Which so far seemed mostly nonexistent. Most of them were the type of women who’d always been pretty, and so they didn’t ever need to try very hard at school or, you know, at life.
“I think he has money. Do you think he has money?” Emily F. asked.
“He wears expensive suits. Maybe he does, or maybe the show is trying to trick us into thinking he’s rich and then we’ll find out at the end that he’s really poor so they’ll see if we loved him or his money,” Jessica T. offered.
I pressed my lips together. I would not smile. I also would not tell them that he was the kind of rich that would buy a new yacht because the old one got wet.
“Who cares if he’s rich when he looks like that?” Ashley M. giggled, and to be honest, I could not disagree.
“I don’t think money matters. I think you should be with someone because you really like them,” Genesis said, and about half the girls side-eyed her like she’d just announced that spray tans would cause cancer.
A peaceful ceasefire and weird camaraderie existed, but the strangeness was compounded by the fact that all of these women wanted the same man. They’d all be dating him and possibly kissing him and maybe more, but I didn’t want to think about that part.
My evil witch senses started tingling, and sure enough, Abigail came floating into the room looking entirely too smug.
I wondered how she could breathe in a dress that tight.
“In case any of you were wondering, he is amazing. In every physical sense of the word.” She slowly and carefully enunciated each word in her last sentence.
She pivoted on her heels, leaving a cloud of floral-scented perfume behind. How did she know what to say that would piss me off the most?
Everyone sat silently, probably wondering, like me, if what she’d said was true. Had she and Dante actually . . . he wouldn’t, would he? That was foul.
I would seriously lose all respect for him if he had. He would be tainted. Because that girl was so stuck-up, she’d drown in a rainstorm. I decided to ignore the waves of jealousy that threatened to choke me. Even though they were also making me want to choke her.
There were cameras pointed at me. I refused to dignify her vileness with a reaction. I wished I could telepathically communicate with the other girls to tell them not to react either, but most of them already looked so disappointed.