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Int. Library – Day
Aaron is looking directly at the camera, He’s in his late twenties
and dressed in a windowpane shirt and has boyish good looks.
His foot is repeatedly tapping and his eyes shift back and
So, Aaron, are you looking for love or money?
Love? Yeah, yeah, love . . . Um, I suppose everyone is looking for
love, but if you mean right now, like, here on the show . . . uh, I don’t
think a reality TV show is the right place to find love.
What if after you meet our contestant you fall madly in love
Oh. I’m sure she’s a wonderful girl. I mean, sure, she’s probably
great. Nothing against her. It’s just that I’m at a point in my life where
I really need the money. I mean, I really need it, okay?
I awoke in the RV and peered out the door, we were back in Los
Angeles, parked outside the mansion that the men lived in during the
shoot. I was only allowed to have dates there, I couldn’t move in any
of my things. I couldn’t cook or shower there and I certainly wasn’t
allowed to sleep in the incredible master suite.
How cruel was that? So close, and yet so far away.
At least there were no cameras in the bus. I could actually have a
moment of privacy. But only a moment, as it seemed that every other
second there was someone banging around outside or on my door.
One of the bangs was accompanied by Cheryl’s voice singing out,
“You awake, Sleeping Beauty?”
I swallowed past the dryness in my throat. “Come in.”
Cheryl poked her head through the door. “Good. You’re alive. You
need to be at the men’s house in an hour. Harris Carlson is going to
make an announcement.” She eyed me. “Christ. Get into hair and
makeup. No one wants to see you like that!”
She let the door bang behind her.
I lay back down.
Harris Carlson was the host of the show. Surely “his” announce‐
ment was something that Cheryl and the other producers wanted to
tell the cast at the same time. What would happen if I refused to go?
How had we gotten to L.A., anyway? Had I really slept the
And had SFPD really let us leave? The preliminary findings on
Aaron must have pointed toward accidental death. Of course. What
else could it have been?
Before I could contemplate things further, my door opened again
and Becca came in.
“I was told you were given the warning call by the queen herself.
You can’t ignore her, you know. We need you now. You look like crap
and we’re not miracle workers.”
She pulled me up by the wrist.
I moaned as I got to my feet.
“I don’t wanna—”
“Oh, spare me.” She pushed me toward the small toilet at the back
of the coach. “I don’t wanna do a lot of things, either. Most of all I
don’t want to send you to makeup until you brush your teeth.”
I grudgingly stripped and stepped into a freezing shower. Becca
was yelling at me, so I didn’t have time to wait for the water heater to
Fortunately, the cold water helped snap the grogginess out of me.
What was Harris Carlson going to tell us? With any luck he’d tell
us they were canceling the show. But wait: if that were the case, I
wouldn’t have to go to hair and makeup. How could we continue to
film after what had happened? How morbid.
My thoughts turned to Aaron. Had the rest of the cast been told
about him? How could we possibly play this off for the cameras? The
thought made me sick.
I shut off the water and toweled dry.
When I emerged from the bathroom, I spotted the outfit that
Becca had laid out for me. It was the same violet halter dress I’d had
on the first evening. Why in the world would they put me in the same
I stepped out of the bus into bright L.A. sunlight and felt the sting
on my eyes as if I were Count Dracula himself. I looked around for
Becca, but didn’t see her. I was anxious to pepper her with questions
about the previous day and also what was going on now.
I made my way toward the tented area that doubled as hair and
makeup. I sat in a fold-up camping chair and a gal with an enviable
dye job went to work on my hair. She mumbled something to herself
about my posture and I sat up straighter.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐”I couldn’t stop reading!”
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