Wanting Sheila Dead(89)

“I’m right here,” Mary-Louise said, coming from the direction of the front door. “I was just getting some air for a second. I feel like I’m going to faint. But it’s raining again.”

“Of course it’s raining again,” Olivia said. “Into the living room. Into the living room, all of you. I think we’re going to have Sheila in the chair in front of the fireplace. We’ll have you people in front of her—Ivy, sit on the couch. You make a good focal point. Alida, too. Grace, I know you don’t want to be right in front of Sheila anymore, but she’s not going to have a fit at you on camera—”

“She always has a fit at people on camera,” somebody said.

“Yes, all right,” Olivia said, “I meant she isn’t going to do it during a scripted sequence, and this is a scripted sequence. All right, if Grace won’t sit on the couch, why don’t we have Shari and Linda. That will work. You’re both small. If the rest of you could just stand right behind the couch, stand up so that we can see you. We’re going to have only the one camera again, so make sure you’re all visible. We’ll be shooting you from a little far back, because the focus here is going to be on Sheila. If you’ll just move in a little closer—”

Gregor moved in a little closer, too. He even came into the living room, although he knew better than to get too close to what they were doing there. He scanned the crowd of girls behind the couch. Olivia Dahl had told him yesterday that there were fourteen of them, fourteen girls who had been chosen to move into Engine House and begin the real competition. He tried counting them now, but they were moving around too much. Olivia was moving with them.

“Stand still, for God’s sake,” she was saying. “Stand still. Why can’t any of you ever stand still? Janice, come closer to the back of the couch. You’re shorter than Suzanne. Marcia, the same with you. Faith, I want you farther back. You’re as tall as a flagpole. Brittney—”

They were milling around a lot. They were. Gregor’s head was spinning. He tried to make himself concentrate. The girls kept shifting in and out. They were all nervous.

There was a sudden hush, and then a light directly on Sheila Dunham. From this distance, she looked more regal than sad. Gregor couldn’t see the lines on her face, or the tightness where the plastic surgery had tried to fix them.

“Ladies,” Sheila said. Gregor supposed there was nothing she could do about that voice. It was harsh and flat and angry, and always would be.

“Ladies,” Sheila said again. “You have just completed the last challenge you will have this week before the judging panel, and an elimination. You know that there will be an elimination every week while you’re here, and that when a girl is eliminated, she has to pack her bags immediately, and go home. We’ll have a car waiting at the door for you when the time comes. We’ll take you directly to the airport. We’ll have plane tickets waiting, if you need them. If you live closer than that, we’ll do something else. Olivia will handle it.”

The girls all laughed. Gregor had no idea why they were laughing.

“So,” Sheila said, “this is to put you all on notice. Every one of you signed a contract when you came here, promising to reveal nothing about what went on in the show until after the show is aired. We’re not stupid. We do realize that some of you come from small towns and that your casting for this show was big news there. If you go home early, the papers in those small towns will probably have something to say about it. What we care about is that you do not under any circumstances talk to reporters, or anybody else, about what you have seen and done here. We don’t even want you to confirm your elimination. If you’re asked—and you will be asked—just say that you’ve signed a contract not to talk until the season has aired, and keep your mouth shut. Because if you don’t, if we find that you’ve given an interview, or put up information on your blog, or on Facebook or MySpace or wherever, if any of that happens, we’ve got lawyers from here to Sunday and we will sue you. And we’re good at it. That goes double for any video you may have taken while you were here, or any you get your hands on. Any of the video we’ve taken ourselves belongs to us. Any you’ve taken, you’ve taken illicitly and in violation of your contracts, since you’re not allowed to have video cameras here, or still cameras, or even your cell phones. Revealing what has gone on in this house before it airs is like telling somebody who done it before they’ve read a murder mystery. It makes the entire exercise futile. And I won’t have it. Am I clear?”