“You’re right.” Beck grins. “Because I only eat little children’s BRAAAAAAAAAINS!” She gives her best zombie growl, and Mary and Gus both squeal with delight while Jack curls into Erica’s lap.
Erica sighs. “We don’t really have the time to vet any new contestants. Not fully, but…” She taps her index finger against her closed lips as she loses herself deep in thought.
All of us—even the twins—are completely silent so as to not interrupt any possible genius idea she might be sprouting.
“I’ve got it,” she finally says. “Drew and Anna.”
“What?” they both say in unison.
Beck gasps. “Twins.”
“We’re not twins,” they both say.
“According to who?” asks Beck. “This is perfect. Twins? Twins! Our viewership will lose their minds!”
Erica turns to Anna and Drew, and I can’t help but notice how absolutely perfect they are, even with their messy ponytails and workout clothes. “What do you think, girls? Are you up for it? You’ve both been begging me for years. Besides, I think you’d both have fun…and now that you’re a little older, I think you’ve got a better grasp on how to handle something like this.”
I think what she means is that sending her eighteen-year-old daughters on the show just a month after high school graduation would have been a disaster, but now that they’re older and have had some real-life heartbreaks at the ripe old age of twenty-three, they might not be so surprised to learn that the suitor didn’t fall for them at first sight.
“Wait,” says Anna, trying her best to temper her excitement. “Is this for real–for real?”
Drew gasps. “Who’s the suitor?”
Erica clicks her tongue. “I can’t even divulge that information to my daughters. But listen, if you do this, we need to keep our family connection on the down low.”
“And hell!” says Beck. “We might as well throw in Cindy while we’re at it!”
Anna and Drew both go wide-eyed and shriek. “Yes! The trio back together!”
They both wiggle and dance in their seats, and I can’t help but smile at the thought of being included with them.
“Oh, we’re only down two girls. Let’s not mess with our numbers,” Erica says in a no-nonsense tone that not even Beck crosses.
I’m so used to recusing myself. To pulling back before I can be pushed out, that my response comes naturally. “Yeah,” I say. “I don’t think I’m the right fit for something like that.”
The idea of me joining the cast of contestants is quickly forgotten as my stepsisters obsess over every detail, like what they’ll pack and who will dog-sit their Morkie, Gigi. While they talk logistics with Erica and Beck, I sneak off with the triplets and help them get ready for bed, including a bedtime story about how to save your mom from getting her brains eaten by her junior producer.
After the kids are in bed, I find Erica at the kitchen table having another drink.
I search the fridge and find a spiked pomegranate seltzer. “Do you mind?” I ask.
“Oh, honey,” she says, “this is your house. Is the guesthouse to your liking?”
“It’s gorgeous,” I say. “In fact, I think I might just sit outside by the pool and enjoy this before bed if you don’t mind.”
“How about some company?” Erica offers.
“Sure.”
I walk out through the massive sliding glass doors that Erica seems to leave open for the most part, and settle onto a teak lounger with black-and-white-striped cushions.
“Here. Bundle up. It’s chilly.” Erica sets her drink down and hands me a blush chenille blanket before she wraps a matching one around her shoulders and leans back on the lounger beside me.
We sit there in silence for a moment, searching for stars we know are there if we could only see past the light pollution. After growing up in LA and spending the last four years in NYC, stars are some kind of elusive thing to me. I’m so used to not seeing them that when I finally do, they’re breathtaking. Alas, no stars for me. At least not tonight.
“Thanks for putting the kids down,” Erica says. “I meant to read to them tonight, but time just got away from me. Happens more often than I would like to admit.”
“They were exhausted anyway. Besides, it sounds like you’re really trying with this coach.”
