Skinnydipping (44 page)

But now, for the rest of the contest, it would be cutthroat. Shari, Andy, and me. And I was ready to go balls to the wall to win it. I was focused and driven and winning was my priority, even if a small part of me was still thinking about Harris.

Every so often, I’d see him in the hall or he’d show up to help judge a challenge, but the security on the show was so tight, and we were so closely monitored, that we never got a chance to really speak beyond the casual. Still, our conversations were fraught with double meanings and the looks we gave each other went from shy and suspicious to increasingly steamy. It was like we were having a whole relationship without ever touching or saying anything directly. I wondered what would happen when it was all over. Would we go our separate ways? Would he marry Christine, after all? I didn’t think so. But would I ever see him again? Of that, I wasn’t sure.

We had just completed the latest challenge producing a makeover segment on a new mom, filming “before” pictures, buying her new clothes, getting her hair and makeup done, and filming the “after” segment. We wouldn’t get the results until the next morning. There was no clear winner, no clear loser. We were all good at what we did.

The three of us sat together in the now mostly empty Loft. Nobody said it, but we were all thinking the same thing: one of us was about to go home, and Sybil was going to start asking us who should stay and who should go.

“May the best one win,” I said, raising my glass.

“To the one with the biggest balls,” Andy said.

“You don’t want to put your balls up against mine,” I said.

“Our last night as a threesome,” Andy said. “Maybe we should
have
one.”

“One what?” Shari said.

“A threesome!” he said, hopefully.

I threw a plastic cup at his head.

“Hey, you can’t blame a guy for asking.”

“Sure we can,” said Shari.

“I can’t believe we get to go home next week,” I said. “God, I miss my dog and even my shitty apartment.”

“I miss my kids,” Shari said.

“I’m going to miss this,” said Andy. “It’s been a rush.”

We all nodded silently. If nothing else, it had certainly been a rush. Tomorrow, we’d find out the final two, and then, one more challenge before everyone went home for six months, to our real lives, or what was left of them. And then we’d be back, for the results and the finale. Whatever happened after that would surely be different than anything I’d ever known before.

chapter twenty-eight

W
e sat along one side of the conference table: Shari, Andy, and I. Sybil sat facing us, between Ian and Alice. Rasputin sat on the floor under my feet. Ever since I’d given him that Kobe beef hot dog, he always came over to me when we were all in the room. I patted his giant, fluffy head under the table—his head alone was bigger than my whole dog. His big tail thumped against the carpet.

Sybil surveyed us and we all looked back at her with confidence, with hope, and with desperate ambition. Each one of us
knew
we would win, felt we absolutely
had to win.
Nobody was giving up or backing down.

“This final challenge revealed many things about each of you,” Sybil said. “Although you were not informed, during this last challenge, some of the most influential people here at Sybil Hunter Enterprises were behind the scenes, watching you and evaluating your performance. I trust and highly value my colleagues’ opinions, and I’ve brought three of them here today to ask you a few questions.”

This was unexpected, but I’d been so involved in the New Mom Makeover challenge that it probably wouldn’t have mattered even if I’d known. Shari looked startled but confident. Andy had a confrontational look on his face, like he dared anyone to question his methods.
I knew he’d been uncomfortable with the final task. Makeovers weren’t exactly his thing, but he’d barreled right through in his usual over-the-top way and his new mom had actually looked pretty good at the end of the challenge. I guessed he’d probably tried to sleep with her, or at least flirted enough to give her the radiant glow of sexual flattery.

The door opened and in walked an older bald man with little wire glasses and two older women, one with a brunette wedge haircut and tortoiseshell reading glasses, the other with gray-blonde bangs and blunt-cut, shoulder-length hair. “Let me introduce you to Phillip Wagner, Marcelle Eklund, and Ruth Richardson,” she said. She turned to her colleagues. “Please sit down. I’m so happy to have you here, as I truly value your opinions.”

The three sat on Sybil’s side of the table. Now we were outnumbered, and it was intimidating. To compensate, I sat up straighter.

“Let’s begin with Shari,” said Sybil. She turned to her colleagues. “What did all of you think about her, and what you witnessed as you observed her during this last challenge?”

“I was impressed with Shari,” said the brunette, Marcelle. “She was polished and professional, and she knew how to put people at ease by drawing them into the conversation. My only concern was a sense I had that she wasn’t always sincere, that her friendly manner was put on. But on the surface, she seemed approachable and warm.”

“Shari, I was surprised to learn you are a housewife. You exude the ambition and competitiveness of a businesswoman,” said Phillip. “Tell me, what would you bring to Sybil Hunter Enterprises?”

“I believe I can bring the stay-at-home mom’s perspective, combined with my interest in all the things Sybil Hunter does,” Shari said. “I’ve always been a great admirer of Sybil’s brand, and with my social connections and my aesthetic sense, I believe I would be a great asset to the company.”

“You do strike me as a woman who can get things done and I have a good mental picture of how your show would look on our network,”
said Phillip. “But I agree with Marcelle that you seem to be a very calculated person and we may not be seeing the true Shari yet.”

Shari looked startled. “I have to disagree,” she said. “What you see is exactly what you get. I’m a good friend, a hard worker, a devoted homemaker, but I’m ready to enter the working world. I’m perfectly poised for it.”

“I disagree about Shari being a good fit on the network,” said the gray-blonde woman, Ruth. “To me, Shari wasn’t surprising. She’s a cliché, really. The rich housewife with the successful husband. She says what people want to hear, but who
is
she? To me, she seemed grabby and braggy and a little bit pushy. She’s also a bit of a know-it-all. We need someone with a unique personality, not someone who will rub viewers the wrong way. The only one in this group that I could imagine carrying a television show is this young woman, Faith. To me she has the kind of passion and creativity we associate with our network.”

“Then let’s talk about Faith,” said Sybil. “What did you all think of her?”

“I thought she was a bit manic,” said Marcelle, “and I got a sense that she is the kind of person who will bite off more than she can chew, but that she’ll do her very best to chew it anyway.” They all laughed. I blushed but I had to agree with them.

“You’re right, I do that a lot,” I admitted. “But I would kill or die for this job. I’m Sybil’s biggest fan. I can cook, I can bake, I’m very creative with decorating, I love beautiful clothes, I love dogs, and I’ve got that entrepreneurial spirit.” I reached down to pat Rasputin’s massive head, partly to help calm me and partly to dry my sweaty hands.

“My impression of Faith is that she seems to want to have very high standards—but perhaps hasn’t quite managed to achieve this the way you yourself have, Sybil,” said Phillip. “With time, perhaps, she will. She certainly has the energy, and I like her scrappiness.”

“I also get a sense that she is all over the place, like maybe she’s experimenting with a lot of different approaches or styles, and she hasn’t quite discovered her own yet,” said Marcelle.

“Like you yourself did, Sybil,” said Ruth. “I see a lot of similarities between you and Faith. You’re both entrepreneurs at heart, and I see a similar outside-the-box creativity that I think our viewers would respond to. I am worried, though, about Faith’s inability to self-edit. She can sometimes come across as perhaps too honest.”

“And what about Andy?” Sybil said.

They were all silent for a moment. Finally, Phillip spoke: “Andy is… well, let’s just say I get the impression that he is a strategist.”

“What do you think about that, Andy?” Sybil asked.

“Well, sure I am,” he said. “This is a contest, and I want to win. It’s all a game. Life is a game.”

“I was concerned when I heard him talking to his makeover client about ‘playing the game,’ and how it would benefit him most if one or the other of these young ladies,” Phillip said, gesturing to Shari and me, “were eliminated. I found this unprofessional and highly inappropriate, not to mention indicative of a character I don’t think we necessarily want associated with our network.”

“I agree,” said Ruth. “I hardly think you can call Faith manic next to Andy, who makes her look like a Zen master.” They all laughed again. She turned to Shari and me. “How did you both work with Andy?”

“I liked working with Andy,” I said. “And I figure if I can work with Andy, I can work with anybody. I know it’s important to be able to work with all kinds of creative types, even the ones with difficult personalities.”

“I liked working with Andy, too!” Shari echoed, looking annoyed that she hadn’t spoken first.

“I often couldn’t even understand what he was saying—and I’m not sure I would have wanted to,” said Marcelle. “Wait, I wrote this down.” She looked at a pad of paper in front of her. “He said, ‘I represent the paragon of the coming millennium for personal development in domestic marketing.’ What does that mean? I don’t even know what that means.”

“He talks quite a lot, so we got quite a lot of information about him, but when he said things like, ‘Someday, I’m going to be running
this company,’ well frankly, Sybil, I have to say I don’t think I would trust him to be a team player,” said Ruth. “And I certainly wouldn’t want to give him any power.”

“Can I just say something in my defense,” Andy said, frantically. “I’m completely trustworthy. I don’t know what you heard, but you must have misunderstood. I wasn’t plotting against anyone.” Shari made a little snorting sound. Andy turned on her. “If anybody is a plotter, it’s Shari,” Andy said. “She’s the one you can’t trust. She’s nice to your face, but she’ll cause major friction on a team because as soon as your back is turned, she’ll exploit all your vulnerabilities for her own gain. She’s been doing it throughout this entire experience—especially to Faith, her supposed best friend. She’s been telling people not to speak to her, to try to get her eliminated. At the very beginning, she told Nadine never to get on a team with Faith because Faith would screw her over. She told Katie that Faith was spreading rumors about her party-girl past. She told Jodi Sue that Faith thought she was a moron, and maybe Faith did think Jodi Sue was a moron, I know I certainly did, but this is all while Faith’s thinking Shari is her BFF.”

I stared at Shari. Could it be true?

“I think you’re projecting,” said Shari calmly, not looking at me. “Because you’re describing yourself, not me.” But she looked rattled, like she’d been caught off guard and had lost control of the situation. Shari hated to lose control of any situation. If it was all true, she’d certainly been a master at hiding it. But not from Mikki. I remembered Mikki’s whispered warning before she left:
Watch out for Shari.

“At least I’m not a liar,” Andy said.

“I’m not a liar,” Shari said. “I’m a good friend.”

“Yeah, if by good friend you mean backstabber,” Andy said.

“Andy, who do you think should be sent home?” Sybil asked.

“Obviously Shari,” he said without hesitation. “Faith has integrity. Shari just wants this for the power and the social prestige. She has no real interest in your company, or anyone but herself. And you can’t trust her.”

“Look who’s talking,” Shari said. “You’re the power-hungriest of us
all. You’ll throw anybody under the bus to keep yourself safe. And you have no message.”

“I work hard,” he said. “That’s my message.”

“Faith, what about you?” Sybil asked. “Who do you think should be sent home?”

I was feeling a little stunned and conflicted. Could what Andy was saying really be true? I felt loyal to them both, even though it wasn’t in my best interest at this moment. I had to be objective! The only thing I could do was speak the truth, as far as I knew it. What Andy said was hearsay. Shari was good. She’d never fallen down on a challenge. She was consistent and competent. I had no personal proof that she’d been backstabbing me all along.