“There they are.” Shannon Pierce, whom I remember from my video call with Missy, walks toward our small group with purpose, her arms open and a catered smile plastered on her face. “There’s my dream team.”
My brows rise. I’m almost positive the team she’s referring to is Legend and Silver, but when she reaches the group, her hands come up to clasp my shoulder and Missy’s.
Oh, she’s referring to us. Dream Team? Huh. Not the words I would have chosen.
Missy smiles cordially, but the slight lift of her brow tells me she’s just as curious as I am.
“Shannon, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person,” Missy says.
Capitalizing on the moment, Silver inserts herself, stepping into Shannon’s view. She sticks her hand out for the showrunner to shake. “Shannon, we’ve been looking forwa—”
Shannon’s cold eyes and sharp nod sever the words from Silver’s mouth, leaving Silver’s jaw open and hand empty.
Looking confused, Silver steps to the side, and Shannon flicks her gaze back to me and Missy. Her eyes reignite with a forced brightness. “And it’s wonderful to meet you in person, too, Missy.”
In my peripheral, I catch a glimpse of Silver and Legend, who look about as docile as two sharks in a feeding frenzy. Apparently, they’re not so happy to see Shannon’s attention focused on us. And as nice as it is to see the pompous influencers knocked down a peg, my muscles tighten, uneasy with the vastly different responses our two teams receive from Shannon.
Shannon steps back, waving a finger between me and Missy. “I just have to let you guys know that you two were our number one choices for casting. We’re just thrilled to have you on the show. I have no doubt your team will be a great success.”
With that, Shannon claps her hands, finally turning to acknowledge Team Fuchsia, who are as bright in the face as their team name. “Now, time to get you all familiar with the makeup-and-hair hangar before tonight’s opening interviews. Follow me.”
Shannon turns and starts walking to a door at the opposite side of the hangar, leaving us all scrambling to unhook the tech from our shirts and follow after her.
Legend and Silver quickly wrench off their cameras and hurry after Shannon, but I don’t miss the way they look back at us like they’re two mountain lions who’ve decided we’re their next meal.
Missy carefully unclips her lapel camera and hands it to a grateful Benji who places it in a foam insert. “Is it just me, or did Shannon just put a target on our backs?” Missy asks him.
Benji shoots us an apologetic look. “Welcome to Season Twenty-Three.”
Chapter 5
MISSY
I step out of the makeup-and-hair hangar and make my way down a pathway lined with thick jungle vegetation and lighted torches that culminate down at the beach where the opening interviews will take place. As per the style team’s suggestion, I walk barefoot through the powdered sand, watching the sequins of my baby-pink dress glitter in the flickering firelight.
Not even in my pageant days did I wear a dress as stunning and expensive as this one. When crowned Miss Tennessee State, I’d worn a gown I’d sewn myself, made from three other dresses I’d carefully thrifted, cut, and restyled. But this—this shimmering beauty I’m wearing was hand selected by the show’sstyle team just for me. I feel like Cinderella going to a ball, my chest bursting with a thousand rays of sparkling sunlight.
Knowing I’m alone on my sojourn to the beach, I take this moment to twirl in my dress, flinging my arms wide and tilting my head toward the starry sky. I feel the skirts of the A-line dress float around my legs as I do. Just then, I step on something cool and round. I look down and pluck the tiny offender from the sand, only to find the most gorgeous seashell, complete with orange and pink stripes that fan out from its center, reminding me of a sunset.
“It’s perfect,” I breathe aloud, raising the shell to eye level. “You, my friend, are my newest lucky object.” I take that moment to dust off some of the sand stuck to the outside of the seashell and admire its shiny exterior.
“Enjoying yourself, Precious? Did Gollum find a ring?”
My internal ball of light is instantly snuffed out by the wet blanket that is Colton Downing’s voice. Elation gone, I pocket the tiny shell and turn toward the direction of the makeup-and-hair hangar, where Colton must have exited shortly after I did.
“If you must know, Iwasenjoying myself.” I smile confidently at him as his shadowy form passes between the light of the torches. “Are you ready to present our team to Ameri…”
The words die on my lips the moment Colton steps in front of me, his whole body now illuminated by the torch fire. I’ve seen Colton Downing in a lot of suits over the years. They are practically his family’s formally issued uniform, but now … His suit is a dark navy, perfectly tailored, with a light-blue button-up beneath, and he’s got a patterned tie in bright blue tied and tucked beneath his suit coat. I’ve never seen that bright of a color on Colton before, but it transforms his eyes into shimmering sapphires. I feel pulled in by him—his gaze, his confidence, the way his lips tilt …
What am I thinking?
Where is Hairy?
I scramble to locate my comfort mole just above his left eyebrow and imagine it as furry as its name.
Because yes, Colton has a mole, and it does have a name. You see, Colton is one of the more handsome men I know. But long ago, I discovered a way to filter out his attractiveness. It’s simple, really. In high school, I focused on the hairs that made up his unibrow, but then his mother must have shown him the power of the pluckers and the uni disappeared. Since then, I’ve made the little mole above his left eyebrow my point of contact when addressing him. I call it Hairy. Not that it’s a hairy mole, but wouldn’t it be so much better if there were two spindly hairs poking from it?
I will my heartbeat to simmer down. It’s just Colton. He’s the human equivalent of biting into your favorite Halloween candy only to find a razor blade inside. Attractive until it’s not.
