Page 67 of Most Eligible
Even Addison rolls her eyes.
“I’d rather you tell me what’s going on,” Brooklyn says. “I don’t want to cause trouble, but I’m the only one who hasn’t had a one-on-one date yet. And I assumed that since I’m still here, you’d want to spend time with me before going on second dates with anyone else.”
Roland runs a hand down his face and nods. “You’re right.”
“I feel like maybe you kept me as a diversity pick,” Brooklyn says.
Roland shakes his head. “I’m so sorry you feel that way, Brook. I promise that’s not why I wanted to keep you around. I wouldn’t do that. But… I guess I’m feeling stronger connections with some of the other girls. I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have led you on like that.”
“Thanks,” she says. “I think it’s probably best if I go home. I appreciate your honesty.”
“Okay,” Roland says quietly, his jaw set tight. “I guess that’s it then.”
She nods. “One more thing?”
He looks at her expectantly.
Brooklyn flashes me a smile as she says, “We’re women, not girls.”
Brooklyn’s final line to Roland was a mic-drop moment, but her exit from the show isn’t nearly as dramatic. Since there aren’t anyflights to her home in Albuquerque until tomorrow, she sits with the producers until we’re done filming, then comes back to the accommodations with us.
Nestled on the outskirts of Nashville, the ivy-covered house is so massive that it could swallow the Malibu mansion whole. It’s ringed with a wide veranda and tall columns stretching right up to the roof. Hundreds of towering oaks shadow the property.
“Now this is a view!” Olie shouts as soon as we get inside. She’s standing in front of the three-story wall of windows behind me, looking out over the landscape. Beyond the windows, the veranda continues, set with white-and-green outdoor furniture that looks like it’s never been used. Farther out, we can see a long sloping lawn, manicured gardens, and of course, several pools and hot tubs.
“You think those are real?” Olie points up to the half dozen taxidermied animal heads lining the room. “Imagine if they put our heads on the wall when we got eliminated.”
I shudder. “I’m glad you’re not a producer.”
After a sparse dinner, Brooklyn and I head upstairs to our room. It feels like more than just a few weeks ago that I lived alone with Presley and spent most Friday nights curled up in bed watching Tiny Desk concerts on YouTube. Going back to that will be comforting, but it’ll also be lonely. My chest feels tight as I watch Brooklyn yawn like a cat, stretching her arms over her head and sighing.
“Just think,” she says. “You could’ve been with Sandra Haywood right now.”
I groan. “Don’t remind me.”
After Brooklyn’s conversation with Roland, the producers decided it would be a bad look to go ahead with the date. Even though I was a little disappointed, it was for the best.
We’re almost ready for bed when there’s a knock on our door.Brooklyn opens it to find Olie, Philippa, and Chloe standing in the hall.
“What’re you guys doing here?”
“Couldn’t let your last night go uncelebrated!” Olie grins and plops down onto the end of my bed, unzipping a large black duffel bag. “Plus, I have a plan to get back at Addison.” In the near darkness, the taxidermied moose head on the wall casts a shadow over her face. “She’s had it coming for a long time,” she says. “First, she tries to kill Georgia during tennis, then she canoodles with Rolie, then she tries to kill Georgia on a ladder—”
“Rolie?” Chloe giggles. “That’s what you call him?”
Pink in the face, Olie nods. “Rolie and Olie—it’s only fitting.”
“Naturally.” Chloe laughs, shaking her head.
Olie’s blush fades and she rubs her hands together. “To business.”
“What’s the plan?” Brooklyn asks.
Olie pulls something that looks like a glue gun from her bag and says with a flourish, “We tattoo Addison’s face.”
This pronouncement is greeted with silence.
“That’s a terrible idea,” Philippa says. “And why do you have a tattoo gun?”
