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“This isn’t exactly a mansion,” said Nickie.
“It’s a mansion,” said Mitch.
“Not really,” said Nickie.
“If you wanted to buy it you would need nine million dollars. It’s a mansion.”
“Nuh-uh. When you say ‘mansion’ this is not what someone would picture. This looks like my parents’ house. Is the cocktail party tonight going to happen at a real mansion?” she asked.
The limo driver opened our door and Caj and I stepped out while Nickie stayed planted.
“Yes. Where Bellamy is staying is probably more what you might consider a traditional mansion. It’s taller and has a nice fountain in front of it,” said Mitch, a tight smile on his face.
“Then I guess this is fine,” said Nickie, sliding out and joining us.
“Okay, ladies,” said Mitch. “Go right inside and have a seat. From here on out you will have microphones on you at all times. They’ll get that all taken care of for you inside. Anyone in there who is part of the show is there to help you. Just consider them all producers and ask them for help if you are confused, or need assistance in any way. Okay? Filming for the show starts when you meet Bellamy, so get ready! For now, make yourselves comfortable. There are drinks and some nice fruits and cheeses waiting for you in there. I suggest you eat something because you’ve got a long night ahead of you. Your luggage should be arriving anytime. We’re going to ask you to stay in this immediate area of the house, right here, and use just the restroom in this area when you get ready. Got that? Like I said, you will be meeting two more girls from Florida soon.” He glanced at the time on his phone. “Rob should be arriving any minute with them, and the five of you will be going to the cocktail party together, but you are not going to meet the rest of the girls until you get to the party. Got that? So no wandering around, because other girls will be getting ready here too, in other wings of the house.”
“So, this is where we’re going to live? This is our house?” asked Nickie.
“Yes,” said Mitch.
“I’m just so disappointed.”
“Did you come here to find love, or to stay in a mansion?” asked Mitch.
“Both,” said Nickie.
“Anyway,” he continued, focusing on just Caj and myself, “have a seat, relax, grab a snack, and get ready for the party as soon as your luggage gets here. If you have any questions, they’ll answer them for you inside.” He turned his attention away from us and hit a couple of buttons on his phone, “Hi. Yep, we’re here. The Chicago three. Okay, sounds good.”
“Hi,” said a cheery little blonde woman, opening the door and waving us inside. “Come on in! Would you like something to drink?”
“Bye!” yelled Mitch. “Good luck!”
We went inside and were ushered down the hall to what I guessed was a master suite. Instead of a bed, though, there were two floral sofas and a low coffee table. On a banquette by the door was a spread of fruit and cheeses. They weren’t nice, though. They looked like the kind of fruit and cheese plates you’d get at a Piggly Wiggly, with the layer of plastic wrap removed. They weren’t even on nice platters. I popped a grape in my mouth as someone attached a microphone to me.
“Our luggage is here,” exclaimed Caj, clapping her long, skinny, alien hands together in glee.
I jumped up and followed her, relieved to be able to change from my frumpy outfit into an evening gown. I vowed that for the remainder of my time here I would look as perfect as I possibly could, even if it meant I’d be uncomfortable the entire time.
“The Florida bitches are here,” said Nickie.
I hauled all my luggage into the bathroom, determined to change before either of them met me. What had I been thinking to dress so badly on such an important occasion? I mean, flats? Flats? “Really, Emma? How could you? How could you?” I asked my reflection. I looked puffy, blotchy, exhausted. I had never looked worse!
Seconds later there was pounding on the door. “We all need to get ready,” yelled Nickie.
“Just a minute,” I said. I wriggled out of my jeans and shirt and stepped into a sparkly blue gown. I was bloated from all the salt and alcohol and could barely zip it. Even my neck looked puffy. I fought hard to keep from crying. I knew once I started I might totally fall apart. The only thing keeping me together was the sleepy cloud of drunkenness that told me perhaps none of this was really happening.
“Let! Me! In!” yelled Nickie, banging the door after each word.
“Fine,” I said, unlocking the door and shoving my stuff into the corner.
“Did we lose a mic?” asked the short, blonde woman, popping her head into the bathroom. “You know you need to be mic’ed at all times,” she said, wagging a finger at me.
“Sorry,” I said. I realized she must have heard me scolding myself in the mirror. And peeing. And blowing my nose. How was I going to live like this?
“You’ll catch on soon,” she said, getting me all set up again.
“Hi there,” said a gorgeous Asian girl. She confidently wedged herself between me and Nickie and began brushing her teeth. After spitting she said, “I’m Amy. I’m from Orlando.”
