them?”
“Jack and Hannah are friends of Eric’s,” she said.
“Both of them?”
She raised a brow. “Yes, both of them. But I don’t know much else.”
Vlad hoped his disappointment didn’t show. At the same time, her familiarity with the producer piqued his attention. “Are you and Eric friends?”
The bemused smile returned. “I don’t know if we’re friends, exactly. It might be more accurate to say we have an understanding.”
“You’re going to be the one Chris chooses?” Was the fix already in? If that was the case, Vlad wondered where he stood.
“I didn’t say that. But when I agreed to come on this show, I made it clear that it wasn’t because I wanted to be a reality TV star. I have people depending on me and a business to save. If this is how I have to do it?” She raised her pineapple smoothie in a salute. “A girl’s gotta do, what a girl’s gotta do.”
Her comment sounded like a line spoken by the jaded character she seemed to be portraying, yet there was a note of sadness in her knowing little smile. Once again, Vlad found himself wondering what here was real, and what wasn’t.
* * *
In her room, Hannah’s thoughts kept returning to the same question.
Why had Jack chosen Robynne?
His happiness at seeing her seemed sincere. Disturbingly so. Though Eric insisted she shouldn’t jump to conclusions, it was difficult not to. She twisted the ring on her finger, the sparkling, precious symbol of Jack’s love. She should talk to him first. Eric had said there was a reasonable explanation for this. Hannah hoped he was right.
She rose and went to the mini-fridge, stocked with beverages courtesy of one of the show’s sponsors. Diet soda. Lime-flavored light beer. Nutra-Water in plain and Fruitilicious flavors. She opened a bottle of Mango-Blueberry Bliss and took a sip.
Ick.
Some flavors weren’t meant to go together. She set it aside and took a Pomegranate Splash instead.
She kicked off her Birkenstocks and sat in the overstuffed chair, her feet propped on the ottoman. At least the pedi made her happy, though she noticed a bit of dark stubble around her ankles. How long since she’d last shaved? No idea. In New York, it was twenty degrees and Jack didn’t mind if she went au naturel in the winter. At least she didn’t think he did. Robynne probably never let herself go. Hannah hurried to the shower and shaved, managing to nick herself twice.
Afterward, she wrapped herself in a white spa robe and went out onto her balcony, shaded by a stubby palm. From here, she could see the beach, sparkling waves and, just offshore, a small island, which must be Isla Cara, site of the zip line course Jack had mentioned. She let the ocean’s hypnotic roll soothe her frazzled emotions and breathed in the clean salty air. The sound of laughter floated on the breeze, and she saw people playing volleyball at the south end of the beach. She was too far away to see the players, but there was a camera crew on the sideline.
Could they be the flings? Laughing and high-fiving one another, they seemed harmless. Almost playful. Yet they’d come here with one goal—to win a small fortune by enticing someone to cheat on the person they love.
Who
did
that, and for money no less?
A knock sounded at Hannah’s door. Hopeful, she went to answer, but instead of Jack she found three women—a fortyish blonde, a woman about Hannah’s age whose blue-black hair was styled in a Bettie Page bob and a short, stocky Latina. The blonde waltzed in, clutching a carryall loaded with hairstyling implements. “Hi, we’re your vanity team. I’m Deena.”
“Rox,” said the Bettie Page-lookalike, following behind.
“Lupe.” The Latina pushed a wardrobe rack through the door. Behind her, a white-shirted hotel worker wheeled a room service cart into the corner. Hannah was surprised to find herself disappointed that it wasn’t the sexy bellhop.
Deena and Rox set their cases in front of the mirrored vanity, and
“Jack and Hannah are friends of Eric’s,” she said.
“Both of them?”
She raised a brow. “Yes, both of them. But I don’t know much else.”
Vlad hoped his disappointment didn’t show. At the same time, her familiarity with the producer piqued his attention. “Are you and Eric friends?”
The bemused smile returned. “I don’t know if we’re friends, exactly. It might be more accurate to say we have an understanding.”
“You’re going to be the one Chris chooses?” Was the fix already in? If that was the case, Vlad wondered where he stood.
“I didn’t say that. But when I agreed to come on this show, I made it clear that it wasn’t because I wanted to be a reality TV star. I have people depending on me and a business to save. If this is how I have to do it?” She raised her pineapple smoothie in a salute. “A girl’s gotta do, what a girl’s gotta do.”
Her comment sounded like a line spoken by the jaded character she seemed to be portraying, yet there was a note of sadness in her knowing little smile. Once again, Vlad found himself wondering what here was real, and what wasn’t.
* * *
In her room, Hannah’s thoughts kept returning to the same question.
Why had Jack chosen Robynne?
His happiness at seeing her seemed sincere. Disturbingly so. Though Eric insisted she shouldn’t jump to conclusions, it was difficult not to. She twisted the ring on her finger, the sparkling, precious symbol of Jack’s love. She should talk to him first. Eric had said there was a reasonable explanation for this. Hannah hoped he was right.
She rose and went to the mini-fridge, stocked with beverages courtesy of one of the show’s sponsors. Diet soda. Lime-flavored light beer. Nutra-Water in plain and Fruitilicious flavors. She opened a bottle of Mango-Blueberry Bliss and took a sip.
Ick.
Some flavors weren’t meant to go together. She set it aside and took a Pomegranate Splash instead.
She kicked off her Birkenstocks and sat in the overstuffed chair, her feet propped on the ottoman. At least the pedi made her happy, though she noticed a bit of dark stubble around her ankles. How long since she’d last shaved? No idea. In New York, it was twenty degrees and Jack didn’t mind if she went au naturel in the winter. At least she didn’t think he did. Robynne probably never let herself go. Hannah hurried to the shower and shaved, managing to nick herself twice.
Afterward, she wrapped herself in a white spa robe and went out onto her balcony, shaded by a stubby palm. From here, she could see the beach, sparkling waves and, just offshore, a small island, which must be Isla Cara, site of the zip line course Jack had mentioned. She let the ocean’s hypnotic roll soothe her frazzled emotions and breathed in the clean salty air. The sound of laughter floated on the breeze, and she saw people playing volleyball at the south end of the beach. She was too far away to see the players, but there was a camera crew on the sideline.
Could they be the flings? Laughing and high-fiving one another, they seemed harmless. Almost playful. Yet they’d come here with one goal—to win a small fortune by enticing someone to cheat on the person they love.
Who
did
that, and for money no less?
A knock sounded at Hannah’s door. Hopeful, she went to answer, but instead of Jack she found three women—a fortyish blonde, a woman about Hannah’s age whose blue-black hair was styled in a Bettie Page bob and a short, stocky Latina. The blonde waltzed in, clutching a carryall loaded with hairstyling implements. “Hi, we’re your vanity team. I’m Deena.”
“Rox,” said the Bettie Page-lookalike, following behind.
“Lupe.” The Latina pushed a wardrobe rack through the door. Behind her, a white-shirted hotel worker wheeled a room service cart into the corner. Hannah was surprised to find herself disappointed that it wasn’t the sexy bellhop.
Deena and Rox set their cases in front of the mirrored vanity, and
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