“Yeah.There are three Black girls in the cast.The producers will make sure at least one of them makes it past night one, so they can pretend they’re making an effort.”
Becca nods, like that’s not unexpected. I’m glad this conversation isn’t turning sour, but I’m also glad when she takes it down a different road. “So that’s really a thing, huh?The producers picking who stays?”
I don’t know how much of this I’m supposed to say to her. I would never tell a contestant that the producers picked them, and I wouldn’t say anything about this publicly. But I don’t feel the need to lie to her about the generalities—it’s a pretty open secret. “Yeah. Prince Charming will choose a few of the girls initially, and then the producers will choose another bunch—the ones they think will cause drama, a few to make the show look good, and anyone whose stories they think will appeal to the audience.”
Becca gives me a look, and I smile. She knows which of those groups she’s in if she turns out to be a producer pick.
“So clearly it’s the producers I need to bribe with my mashed potatoes if I want to stay on the show.”
I grin. “I certainly wouldn’t turn those down. But I don’t get to make those decisions, either.That’s up to the senior producers.”
“Tell me the truth. Am I going to be the oldest woman here?”
“Yeah.” I learned from the dossier on Becca that she’s thirtyone. “Prince Charming is twenty-nine, though, so you’re pretty close to his age. Much closer than the twenty-two-year-olds.”
She winces. “There are a lot of those, I’m guessing?”
“Yep. I think the youngest is twenty-one.”
“I’m going to be the cougar of the group.”
“You’re definitely going to getcalleda cougar,” I say.
Becca groans and sinks back on her bench. “How old are you?”
I’m not sure why that’s relevant, but maybe she’s just looking for solidarity. “Twenty-eight,” I say. “Too old to date twenty-one-year-olds, that’s for sure.”
The carriage rolls again, and the staff member who is leading all the horses forward walks by and waves at me. I lean out the window a little. We’re closer to the castle than I thought.Two more carriages in front of us.
I’ve been in this carriage this whole time, when I was probably supposed to just check on Becca and then move on to some of the other girls. But no one has come looking for me, so hopefully I’m not being missed.
Besides, my job for the night is to run interviews and get to know the women. I’m getting to know Becca, so I’m not exactly slacking.
Becca wets her lips, her gaze darting out the window. “I’m starting to get nervous again. What if I become the bitch of the season?”
“Do you think you’re capable of that?”
She pretends to be offended. “Do you think I’m not?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Go ahead. Be a bitch to me.”
She purses her lips, eyes narrowed for a moment, then squeezes them shut. “I can’t. I can’t do it. What am I doing here? What was I thinking?”
“Hey,” I say softly. “You were thinking you were looking for love, and you wanted to give this a chance, right? You were thinking it would be an adventure.”
“Maybe I’m not the adventurous type,” she says.
“I think you are. I think you’re brave and you’re going to rock this.”
I mean it, even if I hope she doesn’ttotallyrock it, because I want her to be available when the show is over.
Even if it means I have to hear her let me down gently.
“Was I crazy to sign up for this?” she asks. “Would you ever do a show like this?”
I laugh before I really think about it. “They would never let me be Prince Charming.”
Becca looks worried, like she’s already offended me when she just said she doesn’t want to. I’m not offended, though. I was just stating a fact.
