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Hannah: Southern.
Jane: Intense.
And so on.
Finally we’re done, and the makeup girl’s coming at me again, this time with a makeup remover wipe, which I distractedly run over my face to remove the concealer as I check my cellphone.
Yeah, I know. It’s unfair. I get to keep my cell; the women don’t get to keep theirs. I didn’t make the rules.
There’s all the usual shit: Dan asking if I read the script he emailed. The Killboy director wanting to make sure I’m maintaining my workout schedule, because the next movie involves plenty of shirtless scenes. A handful of messages from some of my usual hookups, a smug selfie of Wes in Barcelona with some B-list actress. I suspect I’m meant to envy him, but I can’t remember the chick’s name, so the only thing I’m really jealous of is the fact that he makes his own schedule instead of having to be at lunch in…
Christ, five minutes.
There’s no new message from my brother, and I tell myself I don’t care about that. Nothing from Ellie, and I tell myself I don’t mind that either.
“You ready?” Raven asks, just as I slide the phone back in my pocket.
“Is no an option?”
She shows her teeth, but it’s not a real smile. “One of these days you’ll figure out that I have no sense of humor when it comes to my show.”
“You need a drink,” I say, following her down the stairs to the living room.
“Nope, I need a cigarette. And I plan to indulge just as soon as I load you guys onto the van.”
The women of the A group, or the lunch crowd, or whatever we’re calling them, are waiting in the living room.
The cameras are already rolling, so I hide a smile when I note that Ellie’s determinedly wearing her white T-shirt again, She’s paired it with tiny denim shorts and sky-high platform sandals that dress the whole look up, while making her look casually approachable at the same time.
And lest you think I’ve been living in L.A. too long if I’m noticing women’s clothing, I’d like to state for the record that the star of the show isn’t the shoes, the shorts, or the shirt, but the very nice legs.
I expect her to ignore me the way she usually does, so I’m a little surprised to find her meeting my eyes over the head of the other women who unnecessarily hug me hello as though it hasn’t been less than a day since I last saw them.
I’m even more surprised when she comes up for her own hug, although a second later I realize why.
She goes on her toes as my arms wrap around her, lips pressed to my ear. “I need to talk to you.”
When she pulls back, she gives me a coy little smile, likely aware that the camera and the eyes of the other women are on us, as though she wants everyone to think she’s whispered something seductive and flirty in my ear.
I don’t meet her eyes, nor do I acknowledge her request. I already know what she wants to talk about—she wants to go home, wants to make sure I haven’t changed my mind about eliminating her at the ceremony tonight.
As though I’d somehow forgotten between midnight last night and this moment that she doesn’t want to be here.
I’m plenty used to people thinking actors are morons, but the fact that she feels she has to repeatedly beat me over the head with her demands rubs me the wrong way.
I ignore her altogether, instead wrapping an arm around the waists of Maria and Kelsey as we head out to the van that will take us to lunch.
Breakfast was just a short drive from the villa, but the producers have something different in mind for the lunch crew, because the drive feels endless. Or maybe it’s just the fact that I have several female voices talking over each other in an attempt to get my attention. Brooklyn, Naomi, and Ellie are mostly quiet except when prodded by the other women, and I’m grateful that I have only six women giggling in my ear rather than nine.
Finally the van pulls to a stop, and we all pile out and make our way toward a beachfront restaurant.
I’m prepared for one of the women to try to take me aside for a moment, but I’m a little surprised when it’s Ellie who pulls me to a stop before we can step inside.
“Gage, I need—”
Aware of the cameras, I dip my mouth close to her ear, allowing a smile to play on my lips as I speak. “To go home. I haven’t forgotten.”
She huffs. “Well, yeah, but—”
