Before she could respond Jack called the meeting to order. “Today is just a rundown of the rules in case anyone forgot. Before we start, are there any questions?”
Poppy raised her hand like she was in middle school.
“Poppy?” Jack encouraged.
“Where exactly ishesleeping?”
“In the office. We’ve set up a rollaway for him.”
He might as well be sleeping in her bed. The office was not only next door, but it was separated by a single-paned-glass French door.
“I’ve heard it’s a queen. Plenty of room if you change your mind,” Decker said for her ears only.
“Shh. I’m missing what Jack is saying.”
“Kiki will sleep in the pool house. None of the three of you can leave the property for the next six weeks.”
“The rest of the crew gets to go home, but I have to stay here with the odd couple? That’s bullshit,” Kiki said and pulled out a pocketknife.
Poppy confiscated it while Kiki glared at her. “No knives wasn’t in the rules.”
Poppy put the knife away. “It is now.” She looked at Jack. “Why just us three?”
“This is a closed set, so the stars need to stay here so that the press doesn’t reveal things before we do.”
“We’ll be sleeping,” Poppy argued, wondering why she agreed to the around-the-clock access into her life. Right, for her aunt’s retirement—which Opal absolutely deserved. The press it would bring her YouTube channel was only a bonus.
“No one knows what can happen in the wee hours of the morning,” Decker said, and she rolled her eyes.
“Exactly.” Jack grinned. “And just likeLove Island, we can’t have you influenced by social media or the press, which brings me to the no phones or computers policy. Hand them over.”
“First you are cockblocking me from my sex life and now you’re going to keep me from sexting with guys on Tinder? Screw off,” Kiki said.
“Contractually those two are bound to stay or we sue. You can leave anytime you want. But once you step off this set you can’t get back on. Your call,” Jack said calmly.
Kiki looked at Poppy who was looking at her with desperation in her eyes. “Fine.” Kiki slid her phone across the table. And crossed her arms with aDone talkingattitude.
“As for the Diary Room, which is set up in the trailer in the driveway, every twenty-four hours you both need to make a confession,” Jack said, looking at Poppy and Decker. “Something personal or something about what’s going on between the two of you.”
Again, the bead of uncertainty in her belly burned to get answers. Only she didn’t know what questions to ask, other than why her internal warning bells were ringing.
“Nope. Not happening,” Decker said in a tone that only an idiot would argue with. “I came here as a contractor, not to be some device used for the media. My private life is off-limits.”
Everyone looked at her for Poppy’s reaction and instead of giving them one, she pasted a smile on her face and said, “Absolutely, of course.”
“You’re okay with this?” he said, shocked.
“Of course. It’s in the contract. Right before the stipulation that there is a gag order until the end of the season airs and after the promo we both have to do for the show.”
He snorted. “Suck up.”
“Just doing what I agreed to.”
He stared at her as if a lightbulb went off. “You hate not being everyone’s best friend.”
“I do not,” she lied. She was a total people-pleaser. Well, except when it came to her co-host, Thor. “Whatever you need from me, Jack.”
“How about cameras in your bedroom?—”
