I don’t think too hard. I don’t allow for a dramatic pause that Hazel told me is customary. I look directly at my coach and say her name without hesitation.
“Mallory.”
Her lips part on a gasp, and she stands still for a moment before she strides forward.
“Mallory, will you accept this azalea bouquet as my invite to Cashmere Cove?”
Her eyebrows are arched, and her gaze searches mine. I can tell what she’s thinking.What the heck are you doing? I’m already coming with you to coach you. Why do you need to keep me around as a contestant?
I don’t have a good response for her, other than I feel fragile for the first time since I was in seventh grade and someone made fun of my stutter and completely ruined my self-confidence. I want Mallory by my side to coach me through this. I need her on the inside of this thing as a talisman of normalcy and a reminder that I can and will be successful. A small part of me feels bad for putting her through it, for using her for my own ends. Because unlike the closet crush I have on her, I’m certain she has no romantic feelings for me.
But she is being paid well, and it won’t be so bad.
“I—“
She cuts herself off, and for a split second, I think she might turn me down. I hold my breath, hoping the money is enough to sway her to stay. She’ll make more each day she sticks around.
“I guess?”
She says it like a question, and I let loose a short laugh. Somehow, with her, my worries fall away, and I can default to my usual brand of banter. I don’t even think twice about speaking.
“I’ll do my best to convince you that you’ve made the right choice in Cashmere Cove.” I wink, and her eyes flare. I hand over the bouquet, and she presses her lips together again before nodding and turning back to take her position in line.
There’s a flurry of activity as we round out the night—er, morning—with tearful goodbyes (the women, not me) and canned footage of the remaining contestants and myself clinking champagne classes.
“Mallory.” Vivian snaps her fingers in between takes, and Mallory straightens her spine.
I’ve never seen her look soexhausted.
“Yeah?”
“Why don’t you make the toast?”
Mallory scrunches up her nose like she can’t imagine doing anything worse, but at Vivian’s arched eyebrow, she clears her throat.
“Right. Uh, can I go whenever?”
“Wait a second, andddd rolling.” Vivian motions for Mallory to go ahead.
“Here’s to Holland and champagne and Cashmere Cove. Cheers, everyone.”
The ladies squeal, and we tap our champagne flutes together.
“And cut. Perfect, Mallory. Thank you.” Vivian shoots her a thumbs up.
“Anything to get us out of here,” Mallory mutters.
Mindy Sue chuckles. “Cheers tothat.”
6
Claws
Mallory
For all of the annoying things Holland brings to the table—and as we’ve established, there are many…at least in my eyes—I’ll give him one thing: he’s got an amazing home town.
The drive into Cashmere Cove from the Green Bay airport was stunning. The other nine women and I, all traveling in a large coach bus, with our reaction to where we’ll be spending the next few weeks being filmed for the show, took it all in. I tried to keep my expression mostly neutral. I’ve gotten pretty good at masking my true emotions so that I remain in control of whatever situation I’m in and so that other people take me seriously. But the ladies were squealing and pointing out different sights. Highways turned into long winding country roads, and we saw a farmer on a tractor in the middle of a wheat field. Wildflowers carpeting the earth. Lighthouses along the shoreline.
