Eight other women are already assembled.
“Good, good.” Vivian counts heads. “We’re waiting for—“
“I’m here. Sorry! I couldn’t get my hair curled fast enough.” Belle skids to a stop next to me, hopping on one foot to put her shoe on. She’s wearing a long, sleeveless, white bodycon dress, and she has a denim jacket tucked in her elbow joint. Next to her, I look completely underdressed in my wide-legged jeans and plain black t-shirt. At least I put earrings in, I guess.
One of the other women—Zelda, maybe?—mumbles, “Someone’s trying too hard.”
Someone else snorts in response. I try not to outwardly frown. I was hoping we’d avoid the petty drama these reality shows are known for, but the claws are coming out, I see.
Belle tips her chin up in defiance, and as the mic pack gets attached to her waist, she declares, “I’m giving this my all, and if I’m going to be on TV, you better believe I’m going to look good.”
Honestly, good for her. She may be borderline over the top, but she owns it, and I have to give her credit for that.
“Alright, ladies.” Chad steps out from an alcove, and I see that Vivian has stepped out of the camera frame, and is motioning that we’re rolling. “I hope you’re all settling in nicely.”
Chad waits for us to agree, and several women verbally do, while the rest of us nod and smile.
“Keeping with the theme of home and family,” Chad goes on, “we’re starting this journey with a special one-on-one date.”
There’s a collective intake of breath when he produces an envelope from behind his back and wiggles it in front of his face.
“Liz.” He nods at the woman standing closest to him. “Why don’t you do the honors?”
She steps forward, and Vivian calls, “Cut!”
She goes on to explain to Liz how she’s supposed to open the envelope, pause in certain places for dramatic effect, and read slowly enough.
When the cameras start rolling again, Liz opens the envelope as directed. I pretend to pay attention even though I’ve mostly tuned this out. I’m dreaming of the comfy chair in my room, and reading my book, and—
“Mallory.” Liz glances up, and my gaze snaps to hers.
“What?”
“Um, that’s the first line of the note,” she says, a hint of condescension in her tone. Her face is awash with annoyance, but she clears her throat and reads the rest. “Welcome to Cashmere Cove. Nothing says home like Sunday Family Dinner. Join me? Tee Time – 4:00 p.m. Holland.”
The girls cheer as Vivian instructed us to do, and Liz hands the card to me. I look down at it, confused as to why Holland picked me for the one-on-one date and mildly miffed that he ruinedmy plans for a quiet night at the inn, curled up with my book. I’m one hundred percent certain he did not write this note. He’s left-handed like me, and his handwriting is crap. Also, this was written with an ink pen that would have for sure smudged if he would have had anything to do with it. Maybe he doesn’t know that production chose me? Maybe he didn’t have anything to do with it? I’m not sure if that would make me feel better or worse.
“Are you excited?” Mindy Sue asks.
“Um, yeah. It should be…great.”
“I’d be so nervous to meet the family today,” Jennah admits.
“I don’t think it’s fair.”
The circle of us turns to Liz, who is glowering at me.
“Pardon?”
“You have a clear advantage here.” Liz looks around like anyone who isn’t seeing it is stupid. Several of the other women are nodding their heads in agreement. An uneasy feeling makes my stomach twist. I hate unwanted attention, and right now, I’m at the center of this conversation. What would these women think if they knew I’m being paid to be here? Then again, maybe some of them are also being compensated.
“What do you mean?” Mindy Sue steps up next to me, and I appreciate her show of solidarity.
“Mallory has a history with Holland,” Liz says. “She’s hiscoach. They already know each other, and she’s getting one-on-one time with him off camera at their practices, and now this time? It’s unfair.”
The entire circle is looking at me, and the cameras keep on rolling. Beyond the one pointed directly at me, I see Cece motioning for me to say something. What I wouldn’t give to tell these women they have nothing to worry about from me. I don’twantto fall in love with Holland.
Instead, I settle on another truth. “Actually, outside of golf, I don’t really know Holland at all.”
