Henry looks up to where my statuesque stepsister in her beautiful lavender silk gown stands, her expression hollow. I knew this would happen and that one of us would have to be the first to go home, but I was absolutely certain it would be me and that I wouldn’t have to watch one of my sisters go.
Drew glances to Anna and then me, and shakes her head, trying to smile through her disappointment.
The rejected girls make their way down the steps to say goodbye to Henry, and Drew bypasses him altogether, heading straight for Anna.
“One less girl in your way,” she says to Anna with a wink as she pulls her in for a hug.
My chest tightens, and I can feel tears brimming for the second time tonight.
A cameraman pulls in tight on the two of them, and I have to remind myself that we’re technically not supposed to be sisters. “We’ll miss you,” I say quietly, my voice cracking.
Drew pulls me into their hug. “Watch out for her,” she whispers into my ear.
“Hug Mom for us,” Anna begs her just quietly enough for only us to hear. “And Gus, Jack, and Mary.”
Our tearful goodbye triggers more tears from the other women, like it’s contagious. I guess we’re all tired and a little bit drunk.
After the cars with the eliminated women pull away, Beck emerges from the cluster of crew members and yanks me aside as all the other women trickle back into the house.
“Follow me,” she grunts. “Stay quiet.”
I follow Beck around the side of the house. “Where are you going?” I whisper.
She doesn’t turn around but just waves me up a metal ramp into an eighteen-wheeler full of sound equipment.
She peers out the trailer once more before grinning maniacally and shaking me by the shoulders. “Cindy! They freaking love you!”
“They? Who’s they?”
“The audience! The American people! You’re a hit! And what you said tonight to Henry about your love for fashion—pure gold!”
Slowly, it dawns on me. It’s impossible to forget the cameras, but being so secluded, all the way up here, it is somehow possible to forget about the rest of the world. “I—I—How?” is all I can manage to stutter.
“And thank goodness you weaseled in on some Henry time tonight. You were on the maybe list, and we pull most of the strings here, but Henry has the final say on eliminations. Sort of.”
My heart sinks. “What? The maybe list?”
She waves her hand. “Forget that. He kept you! That’s all that matters. Well, that and the fact that you’re a damn American sweetheart!”
“But there’s a list? And I wasn’t on the right one?”
She sighs loudly before rattling off a response. “Before each elimination, the suitor starts making a list—sometimes even before the group date—and the production staff has a girl or two they’re really championing, and we might have a teensy bit of sway. But really, it’s his choice, so all we can do is control the things that might help him decide.”
I lean back against the inside of the trailer, remembering the conversation I heard between her and Wes about “wifey.” I want to ask her, but I also don’t want to lose my walkie-talkie privileges. “And that’s why you were asking me those questions during my interview?”
She nods. “Exactly. After seeing the response to you online, I couldn’t risk you going home so soon.”
“Online? What response? Wait. Go back. You called me an American sweetheart?” Thanks to the no-phone rule, my brain is receiving a higher influx of information than it has in days, and I’m already feeling a little overwhelmed.
She grits her teeth, thinking for a moment. “Oh, screw it.” She pulls her phone out of her back pocket. “Erica would actually kill me if she knew I was doing this.”
It’s been barely a week since I last held a cell phone, and when she hands it to me, I almost don’t know what to do with it, so she reaches over and starts scrolling through screenshots for me.
@melodydiaz648
Yes, honey! Finally, a plus-size queen on this show! #BeforeMidnight
@notyourgirlfriend202
