I managed to grab only half of a power nap, but that combined with a huge cup of strong, black coffee had me back on the road by nine a.m. If traffic and luck were on my side, I could make it to the Hamptons in time.

Goodbye broke, shitty motels. Hello . . . less shitty motels. I’d have a job for the next few weeks, one that made beaucoup bucks in overtime, and if I was really lucky, I could ride this opportunity to future ones. At least I wasn’t going to have to go to my sister and ask to stay on her couch. I love my sister, but I had shared a room with her enough times growing up to know that we both did better when we had our own space. Besides, Penny thought most of the things I did were totally nuts. She was a completely by-the-book, takes-life-seriously kind of girl. She would have never agreed to drive to New York with a hot guy that she barely knew. And she definitely wouldn’t have ended up making out with him in a seedy motel in Pittsburgh.

Memories of those few hot moments with Dash made me shift in my seat. It had been so long since I’d had a really good sexual encounter—that is, a really good sexual encounter with another person—and now my body was hungry for more. Maybe if I was lucky, there’d be a cute crew member on the show who could help me out with that problem.

But the thought of anyone but Dash satisfying this lust surging through me was completely devoid of appeal. Maybe he had broken my libido. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Just to spite him, I blasted Taylor Swift as I sped down the highway, knowing that if Dash had been in the car, he probably would have groaned and leaned back in his seat as if the music was slowly eating away at his will to live. But then after a few hours of Tay-tay, I ended up switching back to the country music station he had originally put on. For whatever reason, I was really craving some Dolly Parton.

It was just shy of four o’clock when I sailed into the Hamptons, singing along to “9 to 5” at the top of my lungs. Letting my phone’s GPS guide me, I drove through one of the most beautiful neighborhoods I had ever seen. All the houses were mansions, enormous and expensive, with iron gates and huge manicured hedges. Just beyond the houses, I saw the blue shimmer of the ocean. It was so tempting that I had half a mind to pull over and jump right in. After all the traveling I had done—not to mention an extremely brief shower due to the abysmal water pressure and lack of hot water I’d had at the hotel—I was pretty sure I could do with a rinse-off.

But even though I was close, I wasn’t there yet. I had to get to the Ever After set before filming started, and even then, I had a feeling that they’d put me right to work. So I saved my mermaid fantasies for later and focused on finding the mansion.

In the end, it wasn’t that difficult to spot. Pretty soon, the empty roadways began to fill up with production vans and trucks. I just followed all the snaking lines of equipment cords and pulled into a makeshift lot just outside the house. The mansion. The biggest mansion I’d seen so far.

I turned off the engine and did a quick sniff test. I didn’t smell great, but I didn’t smell unbearable, either. Next I checked my hair in my rearview mirror. Again, it wasn’t my best look, but I quickly twisted my curls into a knot at the top of my head and gave my pale cheeks a hard pinch. Adding a swipe of lip gloss and some mascara made me look nearly human.

Taking a deep breath, I stared at myself in the mirror.

“You’ve got this,” I said. “You can do it.”

Then I got out of the car and promptly tripped over an enormous bundle of cords that was piled there.

“Watch it!” A guy in black shouted at me.

“Sorry!” I scrambled to my feet, but still managed to get tangled in the cords twice more before extracting myself. Not exactly the best start to my new job, but I squared my shoulders and walked towards the mansion, hoping someone could direct me towards Lorna, or someone else who might know where the hell I was supposed to be.

Unfortunately, it seemed that every other step I took put me in the way of someone who had somewhere very important they needed to be. All around me were people glaring at me, or shouting for me to get out of the way.

“Excuse me—”

“Could you—”

I finally managed to get in front of the mansion after almost knocking down two light stands, practically colliding with someone carrying an enormous tray of cheese and fruit, and hitting my head on some low hanging, heavy cords that were draped over a tree branch. Finally a bearded dude planted himself in front of me. “What?” he demanded.

“I’m looking for Lorna,” I said, relieved. “Tiny, loud, makeup department?”

“Over there.”

I followed his directions until I spotted her. It wasn’t easy. She was maybe five-foot-three on a good day, and right now she seemed to be surrounded by statuesque model-types all wearing beautiful, sparkly evening gowns. She was flitting between them all, powdering noses and fixing wayward curls. I carefully made my way towards her, feeling more and more like Cinderella’s ugly stepsister as I approached the cadre of contestants.

“Paige!” Lorna spotted me and waved.

“Hey.” I weaved my way through the crowd and gave her a hug.

“You made it!” she said, hugging me back.

“By the skin of my teeth,” I told her.

“You’re here now,” she assured me. “That’s all that matters.” She linked arms with me and began leading me off towards one of the trailers. “Let me introduce you to your supervisor and they’ll get you all suited up. It’s all hands on deck.”

We headed into one of the trucks and Lorna waved down one of the many women dressed all in black. Thankfully, I had been around enough theatre productions to know that if you worked behind the scenes, you wore black. My entire suitcase was mostly black clothes, with the exception of two or three items that had been handmade by my best friend, Emmy. I was currently wearing a pair of black jeans and a black tank top.

“Andrea, this is Paige.” Lorna was making introductions.

Andrea had a short pixie cut that accentuated her incredible cheek bones, and was wearing a tight black shirt that showed off a set of amazing tattoos going down both of her arms. She shook my hand firmly.

“Good to meet you,” she said. “Lorna told us you’re a hard worker who can think fast on her feet. And that you’re good with people.”

“I try to be,” I told her, giving her my most people-pleasing smile.

She nodded. “Great. For the next three weeks, you’re going to be my right-hand woman, a glorified runner.”

“Fantastic,” I told her eagerly. Any exhaustion I had felt from the long drive faded away. I loved a challenge—I thrived on them. And I knew this was going to be exactly the kind of challenge I needed after a summer of pouring tea at Wimbledon.

I got my headset, strapped the battery pack to my hip, and followed Andrea to a golf cart outside the trailer. I climbed in, and as we set off down the driveway, Andrea briefed me quickly on everything that was happening.

“We’re filming the princess arrivals,” she told me. “The girls will be getting into the limo just beyond the driveway, and then we’ll have them get out one at a time.” She shot me a sideways glance. “You’ve seen the show?”

I nodded.

“Good. So you know the routine. Everyone gets a moment with the suitor—they say their name, give him a fun fact, and head into the mansion. You’ll be helping me keep tabs on the princesses: getting their one-on-one interviews, making sure they’re where they’re supposed to be when we need them, and doing your best to get them to do things that will look good on camera..”

I was absorbing all of this, and not really paying attention to where we were going. When I looked up, I realized that we hadn’t traveled very far. The limo was parked literally 200 feet from the driveway of the mansion, and the driveway itself wasn’t much longer.

“Not a very long ride,” I noted, thinking that it always seemed longer in the show.

“The magic of television,” Andrea told me. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to your girls.”

I followed her to where the princesses had been relocated, just outside the parked limo.

“Paige.” Andrea gestured towards a group. “These are your girls, Jasmine, Kimmie, and Savannah.”

All three of them turned to me, nearly blinding me with their perfect white smiles. They were all gorgeous. Intimidatingly so. I tugged self-consciously at my black shirt, wishing that I had at least worn a bra so I wouldn’t feel so flat-chested around three girls with their perfect, perky boobs on display. They were all wearing sparkling gowns, which glittered in the lights that seemed to be shining just on them.

“Now remember,” Andrea was telling them, “you only have a few minutes to make your first impression with the bachelor, but keep it classy. If you grope him, flash him, or try to molest him in any way, you will be eliminated in the first round. No one wants a crass princess.”

My eyes widened as I listened to Andrea. From the way she was imparting this information, it was clear that this was a talk she’d given multiple times.

“They’re all yours.” Andrea turned to me and clapped me on the shoulder. “Good luck,” she said, before walking away.

I focused my attention on my contestants.

“It is so nice to meet you,” one of the girls—Savannah—stepped forward and gave me a great big hug. “We were just wondering when y’all would be heading over.”

The other two girls gave me hugs as well, though neither were as excited as Savannah was. She peered up at me.

“Gracious,” Savannah said, her Southern accent thick. “You’re tall.”

“And you’re not even wearing heels,” Jasmine noted. “Lucky,” she said with a smile.

“I’d kill for your hair,” Kimmie said, tossing her raven-black hair over one shoulder. “It’s so unique.”

All three of the girls were gorgeous, but each in their own way. Savannah, blonde, curvy and with that killer accent would be the sweetheart from the South. Jasmine was a petite, gorgeous, African-American young woman with a beauty queen feel to her. The third girl, Kimmie, was keeping a close eye on everything that was going on around her. She was a dark-haired beauty with a party-girl style to her, from her glittery eye makeup to her big, wide smile. It was obvious that she was excited to be here, and when I heard someone calling my name in my earpiece, I had to step away from the group, but heard her pumping the other girls for information about themselves.

“Andrea to Paige,” the crackly voice said in my ear.

“This is Paige,” I responded, weirded out .

“We need someone to stand in for the girls while we block for lighting. Come around to the limo immediately.”

“Sure!” I turned to leave, but Kimmie grabbed my arm. “I know you’re not supposed to tell us anything about the bachelor, but maybe you could give us a little hint? Pretty please?” She practically batted her eyes at me. “It would help us prepare.”

It was then that I realized I had no idea who the bachelor was this season.

“Even if I could, I don’t know myself,” I told Kimmie.

She pouted, but recovered quickly.

“I heard the other girls saying he’s famous,” Jasmine said. “That they need better ratings this season so they’re pulling out all the stops.”

“Oh! Do you think it’s Brad Pitt now that he’s single again?” asked Savannah.

Both of the other girls stared at her.

“No, honey,” Jasmine said gently. “I don’t think it’s Brad Pitt.”

Savannah shrugged. “A girl can dream, can’t she?”

I laughed and headed over to the limo where Andrea was waiting. She threw open the limo door and shoved me inside.

“When it stops, get out and stand by the fountain so everyone can set up. We have to see if the lighting works before we start sending the girls to meet the prince.”

She closed the door and I heard her hit the top of the car. It moved forward and I sat there, Andrea’s voice in my ear—and in the ears of the entire crew, no doubt.

“OK, the limo will be heading up the driveway—let’s make sure we have enough lighting to see it pull around the corner. Good, good. Let’s put a gel on the first two lights, they’re a little harsh right now, we need that soft, romantic Ever After lighting.”

I never realized so much work went into a single moment on the show! It was overwhelming, but also really cool to be behind the scenes, and I found myself peering out of the limo as it came to a stop beside the grand fountain.

“Is our bachelor standing by?” Andrea asked, waiting for someone to confirm that he was. “OK, Paige?”

“I’m here,” I told her.

“Step out of the limo and approach the bachelor as if you were one of the girls. And go slow, so we can block for lights.”

“Got it!”

The door opened and I stepped out. I took a few steps and froze. Standing in front of me was the bachelor for the latest season of Ever After.

None other than 4C. My motel hookup.

Dash.