***
The set is grim. Most of the girls are fine—only half of them needed to stay in England for more than the first episode, and the staying half were safely at their hotel today, with the exception of Annette, who crushes a plastic bag into my hands and then bolts back into the portable toilet between trailers.
I make the mistake of glancing into the plastic bag and immediately recoil with a cry of alarm and disgust.
There’s diarrhea all over this dress.
Shit.
I hunt down Candace at the front of the Berringer mansion, being led across the threshold by Miles. Miles apologizes for Candace’s sickness while she sifts through painkillers and anti-nausea and anxiety medications, ignoring him. She pops them all in a row like a boss, and I gallop the front steps and catch up to the couple.
“Annette has food poisoning, too. Now will we cancel?”
Both Candace and Miles lower glares down to me. Why do neither of them like me right now?
“We can’t, Roxy,” Candace answers plainly, nodding to Miles to continue walking. She speaks angrily with her hands as they go. “We’re already several days behind, which puts us over-budget. We can’t afford to move everyone on a new schedule. This episode must be done tonight. We’re leaving for America literally tomorrow. There’s a formula: four exotic, indulgent dates, and then four downhome middle-class fun. That’s the whole point of the show. Regular people being rich, rich people being regular. If we don’t do this episode, we’re going to be short one billionaire date. And these bitches may not care much about the individual women–you know, no one is voting or anything–but they damn sure want to see all their juicy billionaire dates. They want to see the opera and the five-star restaurant and the private jet. We’re talking about a tour of the most beautiful waterfalls in the world. Do you think it’s easy for me to walk in heels right now? Do you think all I need to look healthy is a little bit of makeup? No. But I don’t have a choice. I have a boss, too, Roxy. I’m filming this date even if she needs to carry a bucket everywhere they go.”
“We can’t do that to Annette,” I say, following. “She’s going to be on national television with food poisoning? We can’t do that. The show would be a laughingstock. Can you imagine the world of memes? Is that the kind of ratings bonanza you want to see?”
“We’ll send Jenny,” Candace suddenly pipes, like she’s a genius. “We’ll send Jenny, and no one will remember or care that she’s not Annette. They’re both blondes, right?”
“Annette has dark brown hair.”
“Oh.”
“And I thought you fired Jenny.”
“I did, but she’s still here. I could rehire her for the evening.”
We reach a closed door, and I grasp Candace’s arm. She goes still. Miles pauses like a perfect Englishman, politely staring at the wall and pretending he doesn’t hear any of this.
“You fired Jenny?” I whisper to her.
“No, no. Not officially. Why?”
“Because half the season is still left, and I’m supposed to be the senior makeup artist on this set,” I remind her. “I’m not an errand girl. How much longer are you going to do this? Am I ever going to really work on one of your sets again?”
Candace nods, her eyes glassy, and she says, “You will, Roxy. You’ll be my makeup artist again when we get to America, where I can keep a closer eye on the entire set.”
She pushes open the next door and we enter a large, barren room with hardwood floors. Blake is shirtless in a loose pair of royal blue pants, slicing his hands delicately through the air, practicing what appears to be some martial art. He bends impossibly low on one powerful thigh, then springs into a roundhouse kick.
His landing is graceful and low, almost as low as the beginning stance of the kick. When he sees me, he freezes completely, still so low on one foot, his other leg fully extended. I stare back at him. His chest rises and falls from the exertion of his exercise and my eyes slide over his entire powerful body.
When they lift back to his, his eyes are still locked on mine.
A grin spreads across his mouth, and I can’t help but offer a tiny smile in return.
“Are you ready for the waterfalls of Edessa tonight, Blake?” Candace wonders in a hard, loud voice.
Blake glances at her and rises back to two feet and a full stand. He stretches his flawless torso, slick with sweat.
I lick my lower lip and swallow. This is the first time I’ve stood within ten feet of him since he went down on me in the gardens last week…and we ended on the note of frantically scouring for a condom and ten minutes we didn’t have.
“Are you ready?” he pants back to her. “You look like shit, Candace.”
“Bad shrimp,” she explains, limp and dogged. “But it’s not a problem. I’m the only person on the traveling crew that ate it.”
“You and Annette,” I correct her. “Your date for tonight,” I inform Blake.
His mouth moves, but no sound comes out. His eyes dart to Candace. “You can’t be serious,” he says. “You can’t make a sick girl go on a TV date with me. That’s just cruel.”
“Well, do you want to take me to the waterfalls of Edessa, then?” Candace snaps at him. “Because those are our options. Fuck it. Roxy…grab a box of dark brown hair dye and go get Jenny from the trailer. She’s going on a date with a billionaire bachelor.”
“Mm, no,” Blake disagrees easily. “These women were all carefully screened. I don’t know Jenny at all. Who’s Jenny?”
“She’s my assistant. You’ll love her.”
“It looks like Roxanne is your assistant, actually. Maybe I could love her instead.”
Candace’s eyes swing to me, horrified. I don’t think she considered that Blake might demand a say in his substitute date.
But I’m still caught on the last thing he said.
“Because Roxanne…because I need Roxanne,” Candace lies starchily.
“I’m not even supposed to go to Greece,” I remind her. “You didn’t need me for anything.”
“She’s the right age,” Blake goes on. “She’s single. She’s beautiful. Witty. Strong. Sexy.” His eyes light over me as he lists my attributes, then tear away, fastening to Candace. “Most importantly, she’s dark-haired, of course,” he adds. “What more could you want in a dating show contestant?”
“Well…it’s not really that kind of show,” Candace says.
“I want to go,” I blurt. “I want to see the waterfalls.”
“What about Jared?” Candace spits, and my blood runs cold at his name. How dare she invoke him here, right in front of Blake?
“What do you mean?” I breathe, feeling instantly smaller.
“He might see you, Roxy. Would you feel safe?”
“Who is Jared?” Blake wonders.
I look at him, peering back at me, so strong and concerned.
“No one,” I answer firmly. I look back at Candace and nod, my gaze unwavering. “I want to go to Greece.”