SAVANNAH
Well, this is hellish. While I think Maggie is wonderful and reminds me of my own grandmother, Lainey is awful. She’s like a caricature of herself. Why the Universe is choosing to punish me by having to share a room with her is beyond me.
No, I choose to think positively. Maybe I just haven’t gotten to know her well enough yet. Maybe she gets judged all the time based on how she looks, so she lashes out. Maybe we’ll become best friends and laugh about first impressions later.
Maybe.
“I want this bed,” Lainey says, standing beside the bed I rightfully picked first and am now sitting on, unpacking my suitcase.
“Excuse me?”
“I want this bed,” she says again, slower this time and emphasizing each word. Maggie looks at us from across the room.
“Well, I’m sorry, but I picked this bed, and I like it.” I’m not someone who enjoys confrontation, but I also don’t like bullies.
“I need to be on the wall.” Maggie has one bed on the wall, and then there’s a bed between her and me. That means Lainey doesn’t want to be in the middle.
“Again, I’m sorry but…”
She crosses her arms. “Why are you being such a witch about this? It’s just a bed.”
“Now, girls…” Maggie says, walking over, trying to be the peacemaker.
“This is ridiculous,” I say, standing up to face her. I can feel my heart starting to pound in my chest. I’ve had panic attacks in the past, although not in a few years. I hate this feeling. “We’re grown women, and fair is fair. I chose this bed, and I’m keeping it.” I stand my ground, staring into her icy blue eyes. I can see her lips pursing, and I swear one of her eyelids is twitching so hard that her giant fake lashes might fly off and put my eye out. I wonder for a moment if she’s going to hit me. She definitely looks like she wants to, but she’d probably break a nail. One of the camera people gets so close that I think the lens will bop me on the nose.
“Fine!” she suddenly shrieks and stomps to the middle bed. I’m in shock. I’ve never seen a grown woman act this way. It’s like she got stuck at age thirteen. Or four.
Maggie looks at me from across the room, stifling a laugh. I already like her.
A few moments later, Lainey leaves the room, evidently heading for the communal bathroom in the hallway. Maggie walks over to my bed.
“What on earth was that all about?”
I shake my head. “I have no idea, but I wasn’t giving in. I want you to know I’m very nice, though. I don’t get into arguments with people.”
“Oh, honey, this place will bring out a side of you that you didn’t know you had.”
I wave my hand. “No. I won’t let it. I stay positive, or I would have a daily mental breakdown.”
Maggie sits on the end of my bed. “I’m positive too, dear, but this is a competition. Don’t you want to win?”
“Of course! But do we have to argue and fight to get there?”
She turns and looks behind her toward the door. “Yes, I think we do. These people are the best of the best. They’re not gonna go down without a fight, I do believe.”
“Can I tell you something?” I say, without thinking.
“Of course. What is it?”
“I know two people in this house, and both of them hate me.”
“What? You know people?” The camera crew is lingering around us. It’s so weird to have the feeling of being watched all the time.
I look at the camera. “Yes, and I don’t think it was an accident.”
Suddenly, the camera turns away, and a producer comes running into the room. That’s definitely not supposed to happen. Producers and contestants stay away from each other. The producer, who I think is named Andy, motions for the cameras to leave and then looks at me.
“What are you doing?”
“Excuse me?”
“You can’t divulge behind-the-scenes secrets about the show. You signed paperwork, you know.”
“What did I say?”
Maggie looks as confused as I feel. She scurries away back to her bed. Well, as fast as a woman with an apparent hip problem can scurry.
“You looked at the camera and said you didn’t think it was an accident.”
I stand up, putting my hands on my hips. “Well, I don’t think it was an accident. You obviously brought my ex-boyfriend and the guy I hated from pastry chef school and stuck them in a house with me.” It’s even more infuriating to me when I say it out loud.
His face turns a shade of red I haven’t seen before. “Look, it’s fine to say that you know people in the house. It adds drama. It’s not fine to speculate on the workings of the show.”
I look up to see Rhett standing in the hallway, looking into our room. I glare at him, and he continues walking. How much of that did he hear?
* * *
RHETT
Something’s going on in Savannah’s room. First, I heard what sounded like yelling, and then I saw Barbie doll stomp out of the room. Has the drama already started?
I can’t help myself, so I walk down the hallway and peek into the room. Sure enough, producers are in there talking to Savannah. What did she do? I can’t imagine she started drama. She’s the least confrontational person I’ve ever met.
That was one of many reasons we couldn’t stand each other in pastry chef school. Granted, I was a bit prickly at the time. I hated going to night school. It felt like defeat. I wanted to spend my days learning the craft at some fancy school, but my parents refused to help me financially unless I agreed to attend medical or law school.
So, that meant I worked during the day to pay for those classes. But did that get me any points with my parents? Did they see me working hard and think, “Wow! Our son really wants this, so we should support his dreams!”
Nope.
As I’m thinking through all of this, I don’t realize that I’m standing in the doorway of Savannah’s room now, staring at her like some kind of lunatic. She glares at me, and I quickly continue down the hallway. I have no place to go in particular. I just want to see what this house has to offer. I head back downstairs to investigate.
I had hoped my mother would be excited for me when I called to check on my father and tell her about the reality show. She was most definitely not excited for me.
“You’re doing what?”
“It’s a great opportunity. I could win a huge money prize, a book deal, and I get to make a wedding cake…”
“Rhett Jennings! You must get out of this whole thing immediately!” Her screeching voice made my ear drums twitch.
“Why would I do that?”
“Do you even care about your family?”
I don’t know how to answer that one.
“Of course,” I say, underwhelmed.
“Then you have to get out of it!”
“I’m not getting out of it, Mother.”
“Rhett, please. This is embarrassing! Our friends are going to see this. Oh goodness, we’ll have to skip the Summer Formal at the club. I can’t show my face there.”
“Because of the facelift?” I know I shouldn’t say it, but I can’t help it. My mother’s recent plastic surgery has made her look like she got stuck in a wind tunnel for a few weeks, and her face never went back to normal. Or like one of those dogs with big flappy cheeks sticking its head out of the car window.
“You know exactly what I mean. I don’t want to be too harsh, but…” Since when had she not been harsh? “Well, I’m just going to be blunt like I am with my patients. Like Susie Coleman, who came in this morning and won’t take her blood pressure pill regularly. I said to her that she’s going to die.”
“And you think I’m going to die? By going on a reality show?”
“You’re going to ruin any chance you have of getting into a good school or working as a doctor or lawyer.”
“When will you get it out of your head that I’m ever doing those things? Because I’m not. I’ve repeatedly told you this, and you don’t listen. I sure hope you listen better when your patients talk to you, Mother. For their sake, I hope you listen.”
“Rhett, I’m not supporting you in this. Any of it. This has all gone too far.”
I pause for a long moment. “You’re right. It has gone too far. I’m done being judged and criticized for following my passion. Goodbye, Mother.”
When I hang up the phone, I fully accept that phone call might be the last time I’ll ever hear my mother’s voice. I should feel sad, but what I actually feel is free.
* * *
SAVANNAH
I might’ve gotten myself in over my head. Now that I finished getting berated by one of the producers, I want to hop the next bus back to my tiny, crappy apartment and hug Big Thelma.
Well, maybe that’s a little too far-fetched, but still. I don’t think I thought this whole thing through. I just saw dollar signs. I saw Sadie waving at me as I dropped her off at some fancy college. I saw myself signing a lease on my new bakery.
I did not see myself locked in a house with my arch-rival and my ex-boyfriend. Don’t even get me started on Lainey. I would love to meet her parents and see what kind of people raised a woman like that.
I can’t stay in the room anymore. Maggie is taking a nap despite all the noise of people talking and shouting at each other up and down the hallway like a bunch of college students moving into their dorm rooms.
Lainey has disappeared, but when I enter the hallway, I see her talking to Connor in front of his room. She seems fine now, with her huge smile and her index finger touching his chest. Weird.
I go in the other direction and down the staircase. I don’t know where I’m going. This house is huge. I just need some air, so I look for any exit I’m allowed to go out of. A cameraman is following me the whole time, so I can’t get a moment’s peace unless I tell him I need to pee.
Only I do need to pee. I have a very small bladder. It’s one of many endearing yet annoying qualities about me.
I find what appears to be a bathroom near the kitchen and smile back at the cameraman. “I’ll be right back.” I’m trying not to talk directly to him because the producer told me we need to pretend they aren’t there. He claims after a few days, we won’t notice them. Okay, sure.
I walk into the room and flip on the light, only to find Rhett sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. “Oh my gosh!” I say, putting my hand up to my chest. “What are you doing? Are you trying to watch people going to the bathroom?” He quickly jumps up and reaches around to turn off the mic pack that’s attached to my lower back before he sits back down.
He rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on. Seriously? You think I want to see people pee? Or worse?”
“Then why are you in here?”
“Lower your voice, Greene.”
“Why?” I say in a loud whisper.
“I needed a break from all of… that,” he says, waving his hand toward the door. “If you keep screeching like a barn owl, they will know I’m in here.”
“How did you lose your camera guy?”
“He had a technical issue, so he said stay there, and he’d be right back.”
“And you didn’t stay right there?” I say, which is a stupid and obvious statement I immediately wish to take back.
“Right on top of things, as usual, Greene.”
I hate that he calls me Greene. I repeatedly reminded him in school that my name was Savannah, and I didn’t want to be called by my last name. That made him do it more.
“Whatever. Well, I actually do have to pee, and my camera stalker is right outside, so…”
“So?”
“I have to use the restroom. Get out!”
“But I’m not done hiding from the chaos out there,” he says, leaning back and crossing his arms. This man is infuriating. And built like a truck. In school, I only saw him in our requisite white aprons. Today, he’s wearing a tight gray t-shirt and jeans. I want to say I find him ugly, but I can’t say that. He looks like someone chipped him right out of a large piece of marble.
“There’s going to be a puddle on the floor in a second.”
He stands up, and I think he’s leaving. Instead, he turns around and presses his face to the wall. “Fine. Go ahead.”
“I’m not peeing with you in here! You’ll hear me!”
“I’ve heard people pee before, Greene. It’s no big deal.”
I can’t afford to argue anymore. That huge iced coffee I had on the plane is ready to make its landing. “If you turn around, I swear…”
“I won’t. I’m a man of my word.” The way he says it makes me believe him. “So, are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?”
“What do you mean?”
“They set us up.”
“They set me up, you mean.”
“How so?”
“Well, they put me in here with my archnemesis and my ex-boyfriend, so it seems I was the target.”
“Wait. Your ex-boyfriend?”
I finish, quickly pull up my capri pants, and then walk to the sink to wash my hands. Before I can answer him, there’s a knock at the door.
“Savannah, are you in there?” It’s my cameraman.
“Yes. I’ll be out shortly,” I call back. “I have… a stomach issue.”
No response. Nobody wants to ask follow-up questions when you say that.
Rhett turns around, a slight smile on his face. “Nice save. Although, now everyone thinks you have diarrhea.”
I can feel my face flushing. “Did you mention me during your interviews?”
He laughs. “Absolutely not. Why would I?”
“I was just wondering.” Why did I ask that question?
“Wait. You mentioned me?”
“No, of course not.”
“That’s how this happened. That’s why I originally got the email application. I just figured the school gave them my info, but it was you. What did you tell them about me?” he asks playfully. He’s so amused with himself.
I glare at him for a moment. “I told them I loved pastry chef school except for a jerky guy in my classes.” I might have gone into more detail, but that truly was the gist of it.
“I feel like there’s more to that story, but I’m very interested in the ex-boyfriend part. Who is it?”
I sigh and lean against the wall, really wishing I hadn’t wandered into this bathroom. “Connor.”
“My roommate? Yuck. I don’t like that guy at all.”
My heart suddenly swells a bit. “You don’t?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “He seems like a tool.”
“He is a tool.”
“So he dumped you?”
My mouth drops open. “Excuse me, but he did not dump me!”
“Sure…”
Now I remember why I can’t stand this guy. So smug and sure of himself. Probably because he’s fifty feet tall with shoulders like a line of tanks. I wonder what they would feel like under my hands. Gosh, I really need to date more.
“I’m not doing this with you. I refuse to let you or Connor ruin my chances here. I’m going to win this competition, and both of you are going home,” I say, standing in front of him with my index finger pressing to his chest. Dear Lord in heaven. It’s like touching a piece of stone. It’s warm, and I feel his heartbeat, but I have to remind myself that although he’s incredibly drop-dead gorgeous, he’s just a robot. He’s not a real human with emotions. He’s Rhett Jennings, the guy who will do anything to win this competition.
He looks down at my finger and then slowly looks me in the eye. Smoldering is what I’d call his blue eyes. They’re flanked by black eyelashes that are way better than mine. His thick black eyebrows arch upward as we stand there. Why haven’t I moved my finger? It seems to be magnetically stuck there. I can hear my breathing. I can see his lips curving upward.
“You done here?” he finally says, looking at my finger. My face flushes as I quickly pull it back.
“Yes, I’m done. I just wanted to get my point across, and I think I have,” I say, backing toward the door, trying to maintain even the slightest bit of dignity. I hate this guy. I hate this guy. I must remind myself that I hate this guy.
“Turn the light off when you leave,” he says, sitting back down.
“You’re staying in here?” I ask, incredulous.
“I got interrupted. I just need a few minutes of quiet time before I go out there and start eliminating all of you one by one.”
I no longer have to remind myself that I hate this guy. I leave the light on, open the door, and yell, “A contestant is hiding in the bathroom!”