I reached and grabbed the paper he tossed, my attention bouncing between him and the wrinkled paper in my hand. Slowly, I unwrapped the letter and read its content. I knew this would happen. I fucking knew it. “Makes sense,” I said, tossing the note back at him. “I wouldn’t fuck that up either.”
“So, you understand my problem?” he asked, finally turning and looking at me. “What am I supposed to do?”
It pained me that he had to ask. I could do this. This would be over soon. “Take the money,” I said. “I would.” That was a lie. I knew there was no amount of money I’d ever take for a real chance at love. I’d also known that when the show was over we’d be done. There wasn’t a shot in hell that the two of us would make it in the real world. Pairs like us didn’t fit.
“You’d take the money then?” he asked, seeking my approval.
“Yes.” I’d give him what he needed so he could get off easier. I choked back the tears after finding out I’d been spot on about our chances. “Is that what you wanted to hear?” I asked. “No hard feelings either,” I added.
“We can still be friends then?” he asked, sounding relieved.
“Sure. Of course. Yeah,” I stumbled, quickly turning away before he could see the heartbreak ripping across my face.
“Maybe,” he began. “You know, maybe…” Drew cleared his throat before continuing. “Well, after some time…you know.”
“Yeah, maybe. After some time,” I agreed, scratching at the ground with a finger, etching my pain into the dirt.
“Thank you, Erik.”
* * *
We waited for the arrival of the boat and crew. I sat by the river with the foil survival blanket wrapped around my emaciated body. Of course he didn’t want me. Neither of us had anything to pack that mattered. I’d neatly stored my feelings away where no one could reach them. That was what I did. I didn’t wear my scars. I buried them and I was good at it.
We sat on opposite ends of the boat as we made our way out of the river and into the bay, both of us wrapped in blankets and stocking caps. The camera crew caught our last moments on tape for broadcast the next night. Neither of us offered any evidence that our bromance or whatever the fuck it was, still existed. I assumed the audience would think that the disappointment of a tie had both of us down. Even Drew, a seasoned reality TV veteran, didn’t bother with the camera, avoiding any classic Drew Montana soundbites.
At the crew’s campsite, where they had also lived for more than forty days in tents, transportation awaited the cast and crew. Drew and a washed-up action-movie star from the late nineties, named Scotty Thatcher, were treated like celebrities and helicoptered away. The other non-celebrity participant was a woman in serious decline—just like me. A medical team from Victoria were medically evacuating her from the water’s edge. I would return to Victoria with the crew and then be taken to Seattle for a complete medical workup. If I was released to travel, I’d catch a plane to Portland for rest and recovery before the reunion taping scheduled for three weeks away. The show was postponed an additional week to allow me and the other contestant time to recover. One week? Three weeks? Time didn’t matter. There’d never be enough time to heal my heartache.
Drew didn’t have the decency to even look at me or say goodbye before he ducked into the copter and lifted away to wherever stars went after reality shows like ours. The sudden end to our time together was a shock to my senses. I realized that I didn’t exist anymore as soon as the cameras were turned off and the stars were flown out of the filming area. The whirring sounds of him drifting away was more than I could bear.
This conclusion was exactly how my life’s script usually went. I’d miss him. I hated to admit that I had fallen in love with Drew Montana. Somehow I’d managed not to listen to my head, instead listening to my heart when it came to the time we’d shared. The Drew I knew was a TV star, able to charm the entire world. This Drew was reality. Period.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: DREW
Three Weeks Later
“Don’t fucking do it, Drew,” Pete hollered, throwing his hands in the air and pacing back and forth in my dressing room. “Your career will be over,” he added. This wasn’t the first time he’d warned me about the potential consequence of coming out, but this would be the last. I’d had enough. The lying and the deceit would end today. I would no longer be chained to money and fame. It wasn’t fucking worth it.
I wanted love. I needed Erik.
“So be it,” I murmured. “My life is over anyway, Pete. I’m miserable. I’m a goddamned fraud.”
“You’ll get past this, buddy. This is just another roadblock. That’s all,” he said, doing his darndest to sell me on his goal. “Going on live TV and begging some dude you met on a reality television show to love you is career suicide.”
“Erik is not just some dude and—”
A knock on the dressing room door interrupted what I had to say. “Taping starts in one minute,” the production person on the other side announced.
I stood and approached Pete before heading out. “You don’t give a shit about me,” I snarled through gritted teeth. He began to speak but I held my hand up. “Don’t. We’re done. You simply hate the idea of losing your ten-percent cut of a fifty-million-dollar payday.”
“That’s not true,” he argued. “I’m helping you make the right decision. For your image.”
“Fuck my image!” I yelled, balling my fists. “I’m done.”
Pete staggered back. “I am telling you. Don’t do it, Drew,” he pleaded, his final attempt to derail my happiness.
I stood by the curtain and watched as the contestants sat in a large circle in cushioned chairs, matching versions sat empty beside them as they awaited their celebrity counterparts.
Erik nervously wrung his hands on his lap as he waited for me to join the group. We hadn’t spoken or seen each other in three weeks. He appeared a lot healthier, polished in a suit. He was beautiful with a kind heart to match. God, I missed him.
