2015
SEASON 20, EPISODE 5:
“Im-ferno”
Our first morning in Shanghai, we had free time to wander the hotel’s tony neighborhood while Troy and Zara supervised a production meeting. Bikes swirled around the lush planters and bronze statues of the Jing’an District, the sunlight ardently warring against the smog as I accompanied Melange, Erika, Shawn, and PB on this rare unchaperoned foray.
Imogen advised we divide and conquer, allowing her to reassure theMedalsboys of our loyalty… and me to keep an eye on PB. I felt awful, and Imogen’s suspicions of PB were getting harder to accept. That morning I’d seen him slipping a tightly folded note underneath Jiamin’s pillow when I passed her empty room. He clearly had more of a heart than even he wanted to acknowledge, and here I was about to screw him over.
Armed with directions from the concierge, Melange marched us toward the high-end Chinese designers, ready to alter her testimonial wardrobe to “imperial couture.”
Erika shook her head. “This seems like a great way to get accused of appropriation.”
“It’s only appropriation if you do it badly. Otherwise, it’s anhomage.”
“Until you end up looking like Lucy and Ethel in the geisha house,” Erika chuckled.
PB openly wondered when we’d leave before we even arrived at Melange’s boutiques, so she banished us both, retaining Shawn and Erika for consultation. Shawn hugged me though before we left, arms visibly lingering around my waist.
“So when did you and Wonder Boy graduate to playing grab-ass in public?” PB joked.
“Stop,” I groaned, following him into an incongruously manicured public garden, winding our way through its prim hedges and clear ponds.
“Come on, there’s an extended cut of your husband blowing his load on Old Glory. I think you can chastely hold hands with a sweet little porn star.”
“Tell that to a judge,” I muttered. “I’m just… trying to be careful right now.”
“Sorry for being flippant,” he said after a beat. “I just know that in our fairly eclectic profession, it’s not easy to meet decent people. Shawn won’t be winning a Nobel any time soon—hell, he won’t be winningthis show—but I do like him. Plus, having him around is convenient. Anytime I need to know where you are, I just track where he’s looking.” It was all too real, like we were friends out for coffee, and I couldn’t keep myself from grunting in frustration. “Jesus, Luke, stop overthinking it. You look absolutely tortured.”
“It’s not that,” I finally admitted. “TheMedalsguys want to take you out.”
He blinked, a bemused laugh escaping. “You say that like I wasn’t already aware. Isthatwhy you’ve been on the verge of an ulcer all morning? And here I just assumed boy trouble.”
“You know they’re coming for you?”
“Who else would they come for? No one’s taking the first swipe at Fortune.”
“PB, Imogen is making me vote for you, and I tried—”
“Vote how she tells you to. You’ll win no points defending me to Imogen.”
“Did you screw her over before too?” I asked, nauseated by the whole situation.
“Not specifically, but we’ve never seen eye to eye. She plays the game; I play the show.” He shrugged. “Seriously though, don’t stress over me, as much as I appreciate the gesture.”
I sighed, wearily staring across the garden. “We should head back before we’re late.”
“Please, they have no show without you. You’re the Hartt-breaker of Season 20.”
“How long have you been waiting to drop that one?”
“Already said it in a confessional.” He smirked before abruptly halting.
Jiamin stood on the opposite sidewalk with an older Chinese couple, the man in a linen summer suit, the woman’s silver hair in a bouffant. Jiamin was speaking intently, the woman’s hand in hers. Before her gaze could drift across the taxis, PB reeled to the iron fence behind us. In solidarity, I joined him, though now it seemed we were peeing together on the Nanjing Road.
“I didn’t realize Jiamin’s family lived in Shanghai…”
“They don’t,” he replied, tight. “They’re in Beijing, but she probably called them yesterday. I mean, they have a private jet.” His humiliation radiated next to me, and I recognized the scene. PB O’Connell hiding on a Shanghai street from the Yingzhi parents wasn’t too different from the Bhaduris dismissing Luke Griffin on a Los Angeles backlot.
