 
December

Frankenmuth, Michigan

It was the night before Christmas, and a snowstorm battered the small tourist town of Frankenmuth, Michigan. Elise Apple worked the cash register, checking out last-minute customers.

"Merry Christmas!" Elise said as she rang up a gift basket. "Frohe Weihnachten!"

Elise didn't really speak German. However, she'd picked up just enough living here to wish shoppers a Merry Christmas in Frankenmuth's native tongue.

This German bier shop on Main Street belonged to Elise's grandparents once, and her great-grandparents before that. She lifted her eyes to look out the window. Frankenmuth looked like the North Pole, as if someone had tipped the town over and shook it inside a snow globe. Shoppers meandered down Main Street to Bronner's, the world's largest Christmas store. It was big enough, in fact, that supposedly there were billboards for Bronner's in other states, counting down the miles on I-75.

But Elise didn't visit other states very often, and she was skeptical anyone cared that much about her little world here in Little Bavaria.

"Elise, your phone's ringing," her brother, Eric, called from the stockroom. He emerged carrying a six-pack of Christmas Ale.

Elise wiped her hands on her bier maid dress, a leftover from Oktoberfest. "I'll make it quick," she said.

It was Carson Vana, her sorority sister from Michigan University.

"Guess what I got for Christmas," Carson said.

"Something fabulous?" Elise guessed. Everyone on the Michigan University campus knew two things about Carson Vana: one, her dad bought her a Land Rover for her twenty-first birthday. Two, she carried a huge Louis Vuitton purse that probably weighed more than she did.

"You know how the Right Now Network does that Spring Break show every year?" Carson asked.

"Oh, yeah," Elise said. "I've been watching it since we were in junior high."

"I haven't," Carson replied. "They used to film it in Panama City or somewhere lame and trashy like that, right?"

"Um, right," Elise said, twirling her hair nervously and eyeing the cash register. Where was Carson going with this? It wasn't like her to call out of the blue during break.

"Well, that's changed. Right Now bought an entire island off the coast of Florida," Carson said.

"That's awesome," Elise replied. Eric gestured for her to get off the phone.

"Yes. Yes, it is. Think of Vegas, Rodeo Drive, and Miami rolled into one."

"Wow," Elise said, not mentioning she'd never been to any of those places.

"And guess what?" Carson continued. "My dad got me tickets. He wants me to bond with my new stepsister."

Carson's dad was a flashy lawyer who plastered his face on billboards across four counties in Michigan. And in the grand tradition of flashy lawyers, he'd married for the fourth time last summer. Elise surmised Carson wasn't happy about competing for attention—and cash—with a new stepsister who was a college student, too.

"I agreed to go under one condition: I get to bring along someone fun," she said. "You're invited."

"Oh my God!" Elise gasped. Then her spirits sank as she remembered the balance of her bank account. "How much will it cost?"

"The hotel room is free, but you'll want to splurge on hot new outfits," Carson replied. "It's your chance to meet everyone at Right Now, so dress to impress."

"Wow, Carson, I don't know what to say," Elise said, glowing with excitement. "Thanks for picking me!"

"Oh, no sweat. But don't post anything about it on Facebook until winter break is over," Carson said. "I can't wait to tell the girls at the sorority house. They'll be so jealous."

Elise and her brother Eric left the bier shop after dark, as carolers emerged and the Christmas lights burned bright on Main Street.

Frankenmuth was like a trip back in time. The shopkeepers wore braids and Hausfrau dresses, and their style hadn't changed much since the nineteenth century, back when there were no tourists and Frankenmuth was just a town of humble German immigrants. Those immigrants had built the Bavarian Inn and the Glockenspiel at the center of downtown, which chimed on the hour. Elise loved Frankenmuth.

But every time the Glockenspiel chimed, it reminded Elise what little time she had left here. She was twenty-one, and in three weeks, she was starting her last semester at Michigan University. After graduation, she hoped to take her journalism degree and modest portfolio to a big city. Beyond the bier shop, there were no jobs for her in Frankenmuth, a town with less than five thousand residents.

"What was that phone call about?" Eric asked as they walked toward Mom and Dad's house, their childhood home.

"Oh, nothing," Elise said, kicking at the snow. "Carson Vana invited me to go on Spring Break with her, that's all."

Carson was the Queen Bee of Beta Xi, their sorority. Her title was Social Chair, but she lorded over the entire sorority house with an air of royal authority. Carson landed on the front page of MU Live, an anonymous campus gossip blog, on a near-daily basis. The whole school knew which happy hours Carson went to and who she hooked up with during Greek Week. And instead of feeling overexposed, Carson loved the limelight.

"Wow, she is gorgeous," Elise thought as she browsed pictures of Carson at a frat late-night. Carson always had perfect loose waves and "smoky eyes" that never looked smoky. Even at three in the morning after several cups of jungle juice.

"I wish I could be that perfect," Elise added as she closed the tab on MU Live.

Most days, Elise went around the MU campus in a Beta Xi sweatshirt and a ponytail. She didn't get fancy cars or pricey French purses as birthday gifts. She'd never forget the day her mom showed up for Parents Weekend wearing a baseball hat and NOW sweatshirt.

"God, whose mom is that?" Carson sneered as Elise's mom bounded up the front steps of the sorority house. "I didn't know we had long-lost relatives of Honey Boo-Boo in this house."

The other girls giggled.

"Elise!" Mom cried out. "Come give me a hug!"

Carson arched her brow and said, "Oh."

That was sophomore year. By the end of Elise's junior year, things were different. At Beta Xi's final meeting last year, Carson arrived wearing a tiara and carrying a cup of vodka and purple juice.

The color of royalty.

"Attention, my loyal subjects," she announced to the dozens of Beta Xi sisters gathered on the lawn. "As you know, I am Carson, Queen of Socials."

The girls gathered on the lawn laughed and cheered, although they knew she wasn't kidding.

"Okay, shut up now," Carson barked, and they obeyed. "Although I am retiring from my Social Chair throne, I'm appointing a successor today. She shall be your new queen."

Everyone held their breath for a moment, watching Carson's tiara sparkle in the sun. Social Chair was the most important position in the sorority. The President did paperwork; the Social Chair organized parties with the fraternities.

Elise sipped her drink. She expected the honor to go to Liv Lyons, MU Live's favorite up-and-coming campus celebrity. Or Allie Eisenberg, a Jewish princess from West Bloomfield whose dad owned a law firm and a yacht.

Instead, she heard her own name.

"Elise Apple, come on up, my little princess!" Carson shouted. Elise gasped.

The other B Xis cheered. Carson beamed a glossy smile and placed the tiara on Elise's head. It felt like the Miss Michigan pageant, in which Carson had placed second runner-up last year.

"Congratulations!" she said as she handed Elise the purple punch. "By the way, Elise, you've come a long way since you were a peasant pledge. I'm very impressed. It's time for you to party with the Queen."

***

Around the Christmas Eve dinner table, Elise told her family about her Spring Break plans between bites of Bundt cake and roasted duck.

"Are you sure you don't want to come home for spring break?" Mom asked. "There's a Bavarian Easter fest." Her eyebrows furrowed with concern.

Mom was the type of woman who subscribed to Ms. Magazine and belonged to NOW. She joined activist groups to elect more women to Congress. She dropped terms like "rape culture" and "male privilege" in casual conversation. And she detested the Right Now Network.

In junior high, Elise snuck down to the basement to watch the reality shows and music videos. Scantily clad, vacant-eyed women writhing around male singers.

"Mom, there's always a Bavarian fest at home," Elise replied. "Besides, Carson would kill me if I cancel."

"Well, be careful," Mom said. "Right Now is notorious for objectifying women."

"Ugh, you would say that," Elise said, exasperated. Then they both laughed.

Despite being a blonde, tan sorority girl with a hard-earned gym body, Elise loved Mom. She even loved her earth woman, feminist ways.

Elise shoved her plate away as she rose from the table. "I'm really thinking about going," she said emphatically.

She went to bed that night feeling warm with Christmas cheer, loving the smell of oatmeal cookies radiating from the kitchen downstairs. As she drifted off to sleep on Christmas Eve, Elise had no idea what the Right Now Network was plotting for that year's Spring Break in their Manhattan office, hundreds of miles from the little town of Frankenmuth.

January

Right Now Network headquarters, New York City

"We need to step up our game," said Lanny McNulty, an executive producer at the Right Now Network.

Those seven words weighed heavily on the seven producers gathered around the boardroom table. Lanny had called an emergency meeting to brainstorm ways to promote Spring Break.

"Ten years ago, it was cutting-edge to broadcast a bunch of drunk college girls grinding in bikinis," Lanny said. "But now we're competing in the same time slot as Who Wants to Marry an Heiress? and Celebrity Rides: Bentley Edition."

Chandler, a blonde producer with a penchant for designer labels, raised her hand.

"I'm a hundred percent confident that our new resort alone will boost ratings," she announced. "I'm so glad Esmeralda Island turned out to be the perfect location."

It was shameless self-promotion, since Chandler headed the scouting committee to find Right Now's new resort. She was the office suck-up, the cutthroat co-worker determined to be CEO one day. But the rest of the team had to concede that she was right: it was perfect.

A few years ago, Esmeralda Island was home to nothing but a paper mill and a small, blue-collar town. Layoffs at the paper mill had hit the local economy hard, making the buy-out easy. The network swooped into town, cleaned up the desolate miles of beach, and transformed Esmeralda Island into an adult playground dotted with luxury hotels.

"Tell me how else you'll make this Spring Break unforgettable," Lanny said. "Something bolder, fresher...hotter."

"Like that Kanye West song," Chandler said. "Harder, better, faster, stronger..." Her voice was awful, a nasally vocal fry that might as well be fingernails on a chalkboard.

Lanny shot her the evil eye, and Chandler's impromptu performance came to a screeching halt. He was in no mood for jokes today.

Lanny stared at Jay Mack, a rookie producer only one year on the job.

"Jay, do you care to add your two cents?" Lanny asked. "You're never short on ideas, even though you spent your own Spring Break at a strip mall in Minnesota."

"Once again, I'm not from Minnesota, sir," Jay shot back. He was new, but talking back to Lanny didn't faze him. The other producers straightened their backs, looking nervous.

"Why don't we get some of our reality stars to host events?" Jay suggested. "You know--judge bikini dance contests, interview drunk people, et cetera. They get publicity; we get publicity. Everyone wins."

Lanny thought for a second.

"That's an excellent idea," he said. "Chandler, give Kandi Kardeza a call right away to see if she's available the second week in March."

Lanny, looking recharged by Jay's suggestion, ended the meeting. "Good work, team," he said. "Now get to work making this Spring Break legendary."

As Jay sank into the chair at his desk, he wished he'd never made his suggestion. The last thing the world needed was another show starring Kandi Kardeza and her four daughters: Karmen, Kallista, Kiki, and Kadence. Every gossip rag plastered their faces on the cover, and their reality show, Kardeza Family Values, was a national obsession. No one recalled exactly how or why they got famous, but most people remembered it was around the time Kallista Kardeza made a sex tape. Jay imagined the entire family gathered around the breakfast table in the morning, sipping lattes and kicking around ideas about how they could become the trending story of the day. Nothing was off-limits.

Last week, after Kallista's nude photo shoot went viral and "broke the Internet," Jay finally asked his colleagues, "Is anyone else sick of these people?" He was answered with blank stares and clucks of disapproval. In this office, he truly was the only one.

"Man, I hate this job," Jay sighed. Then he picked up the phone to make a furtive call, looking around the corner to make sure no one was listening.

The phone rang three times before going to voicemail.

"Hey," Jay said after the familiar greeting ended. "The producers are turning Spring Break into another Kardeza spin-off. I'm starting to think a little sabotage would serve this network right."

He heard a pair of stilettos clanging against the floor. He didn't have to look to know it was Kandi Kardeza, sauntering into Network headquarters like she owned the place.

"So you want to make this Spring Break legendary, do you?" she purred to Lanny and Chandler. "Honey, you called the right person."

She pulled out a file folder and set it on the conference room desk.

"What is that?" Lanny asked, sounding leery.

"Don't worry," Kandi said with a tight, Botoxed smile. "This is going to be the wildest Spring Break ever."

1

"Attention passengers, we're beginning our descent into Jacksonville, where the local temperature is seventy-eight degrees..."

"Whooo!" hollered the frat boys in the back row of the plane, a rowdy gang marinated with Miller Lite. "Spring Break!"

Others joined in, repeating the two words until it became a drunken chant.

Elise wasn't drunk, but she was nervous. She was also late. It was mid-March, and the snow in Michigan had caused a three-hour backup at the airport. She tapped her fingernails on her tray until a snooty stewardess swept by and said, "Miss, we told you to put your tray table up."

A red-faced frat boy poked his head over the seat. "Hey, blondie," he said to her, smelling of beer. "Where are you going for Spring Break?"

"Esmeralda Island," she replied. "My friend Carson invited me."

"Nice! So will I see you on Right Now dancing in your bikini?" he asked.

Elise laughed. "Man, I don't know..." she said as the plane dipped lower over Jacksonville, her voice trailing off.

And it was the truth: she had no idea what she was in for this week.

***

Outside baggage claim, she took a deep breath of Florida air, which smelled like saltwater and summer rain. For a moment, she swore she could smell the ocean. She loved the breeze in her hair and the freedom that came with shedding a winter coat.

Now, she just needed to figure out how to get to Esmeralda Island. She pulled out her phone and called Carson.

"Hey, what's up?" Elise said.

"Oh, just partying with some sunglasses on!" Carson shouted over thumping music.

Elise laughed. "Can you take a break for a second and tell me how to get to the hotel?" she yelled into the phone.

"I can't hear you. Take an Uber," Carson said. "It's only, like, a hundred bucks!" Then she hung up.

Elise stared at the phone for a second, disheartened. "Yeah, like I have an extra hundred dollars lying around," she mumbled to herself, aware that she had no other choice.

"Do you need a ride?" asked a deep voice behind her.

Startled, Elise turned around to find a man standing there. He appeared her age, but she hesitated to call him a "guy," let alone a "boy." He was much taller than her, with a scruffy three-day beard and wavy hair peeking out from under a baseball hat.

"Um, sure," she replied. "Can you take me to Esmeralda Island?"

"That's where I'm headed," he said. "I just dropped off my co-worker for a flight. Need help with your luggage?"

He grabbed her heavy bags and tossed them into the trunk with ease.

"Thanks," she said, getting a good look at him before she climbed into the passenger seat of the dusty old SUV. He had the body of an athlete, like the guys who played quarterback in high school.

"No problem," he said. "How many drinks did you have on the flight?"

His voice sounded familiar. His accent was deep and earthy, but it wasn't Southern. Instead, it flooded Elise with memories of summers in Northern Michigan: the smell of pine, the sound of fireworks on the Fourth of July.

"None," she replied, snapping out of her daydream. "I was nervous."

"Are you twenty-one?"

"I'm about to turn twenty-two."

He reached behind him and pulled out a bottle of Leinenkugel's. She laughed with surprise as he cracked it open for her.

"Is this legal?" Elise asked as she accepted it.

"Don't worry," he said, smiling at her. "I won't tell anyone."

He has nice teeth, she thought, and then scolded herself in silence.

She took a sip of the Leinenkugel's, the spiced witbier taste returning her to the shop in Frankenmuth. "I love this stuff," she told him.

"You do?" he replied. "I wouldn't take you for much of a beer girl."

"Why? I probably drink more beer than you," she replied defensively. "My parents own a German beer shop, and I work there in the summer. I mean...worked." Now that she was graduating, her summer breaks in Frankenmuth were over. She paused, feeling a twinge of sadness.

"Well, I'm always up for a nice surprise," he said. "Enjoy it. It's all watermelon martinis and overpriced Bacardi shots from here."

The bitterness in his voice surprised her, but she couldn't disagree with the sentiment. "Gross," Elise said. "I hate martinis."

"Wow, you are my kind of girl!" he said, reaching for the radio. "Next, you're going to tell me you like country music."

"I do, actually," Elise said.

He reached over to shake her hand. "I'm Paul," he said to her. "What's your name?"

"Elise Apple." Then, out of habit, she added, "Like Fiona Apple."

He laughed, so much that Elise took a little offense. "What's so funny?" she asked. "It was a Dutch name, spelled A-P-P-E-L. Western Michigan has a huge Dutch population. Holland, Michigan, hosts a tulip festival every year like they do in the real Holland..."

She let her voice trail off, feeling like a massive dork. "My mom's family was German, though."

"So you know your history. It's always good to meet a girl on Spring Break whose interests aren't limited to tanning," he said. "Anyway, that's not what I'm laughing about. It's the third thing we have in common so far. I have the same last name as a 90's female pop singer, too."

"Which one?" she asked.

"Does it matter?" he replied. "I'm Paul, that's all you need to know."

Paul. Elise hadn't met a Paul in years. Pauls were nonexistent at MU, where Tylers, Aidans, and Brodys filled the fraternity rosters. Bible names were unfashionable, especially with celebrities who named their kids Jett and Jupiter. But at least they were easy to remember.

"90s pop singers?" she repeated. "Should I guess?"

"I'll give you three chances to get it right," he said. "But I have to warn you, it's a tough one."

He lifted his baseball cap enough to expose waves of his hair. It was dark brown, almost black.

"Jann Arden?" she guessed.

"Damn, that's a good guess," he said. "But no."

"Just tell me," she said.

"We'll see if you can guess by the end of this week."

The car halted as they approached the bridge to Esmeralda Island. Overstuffed SUVs overwhelmed the narrow country road. Most sported college decals or fraternity symbols on bumper stickers. Some overflowed with four or five rowdy passengers.

"What do you mean, this week?" she asked him. "You're going to be here?"

Paul turned to face her as he parked. "You didn't think I was an Uber driver or something, did you?" he asked.

"Well, no..." Yes. She felt the blood vessels in her face expand, making her hot and red with embarrassment.

"Don't worry, you don't owe me any money. I'm just some guy giving you a ride," he said, his eyes meeting hers. "And by the way, I work for Right Now."

2

Fifteen minutes later Elise was in the check-in line at the hotel, taking in the scene.

It made sense that this hotel's name was The Palace. It had an ancient Roman theme, with soaring white pillars and marble floors. The lobby looked like Pompeii in all its glory and decadence. A huge statue of a mostly-naked Roman emperor was suspended over the staircase to the first floor, which was home to a luxury casino.

Elise scanned the crowd for Carson, waiting for her to sashay in wearing four-inch heels. She felt tempted to tell her about Paul, the Right Now employee she'd somehow mistaken for an Uber driver. She was mortified all over again, wondering if she'd insulted him.

"Elise!" a familiar voice shouted.

Carson looked so perfect, with a sleek chestnut ponytail, deep tan, and fresh manicure.

She could easily pass as the fifth Kardeza sister.

"Wow, you look awesome!" Elise said, leaning in to give her a hug.

"Ah-ah!" Carson snapped. "Watch the body bronzer."

Carson scanned Elise up and down, wrinkling her nose at her jeans and Victoria's Secret tee.

"You're skinny," she said, and Elise breathed a sigh of relief. It was the ultimate compliment coming from Carson.

The check-in clerk handed her the room keys. "You ladies have fun this week," he said, winking. "Behave yourselves."

"Oh, we won't," Carson replied with a saucy look, and Elise knew she meant it.

Elise and Carson passed an open door on their way to the elevator, allowing a glimpse into the hotel room. She'd been to Florida only once, when her parents spent a year's savings on a wholesome week at Disney.

This was a definite upgrade.

"Wow," Elise said, eyeballing the huge flat-screen TV and king-sized bed with cloudlike white pillows.

"Our room is better," Carson said to her as they stepped inside the glass elevator.

"Here we are," Carson said, inserting the key to a luxury suite.

"This place is really nice," Elise said. "I've never stayed at a hotel this fancy."

"It's middlebrow for me," Carson said with a yawn. "There's a casino on the first floor, so I hope you brought some cash for gambling."

There were two bedrooms in the suite, and Carson had already taken one for herself. "You're in here," Carson said, pointing her toward the second bedroom. An overnight bag and a pink floral dress were lying on a chair.

"Whose stuff is that?" Elise asked.

Carson rolled her eyes. "The stepsister's," she said. "My dad wants us to 'bond.' I didn't bond with his last two wives' kids, so I don't know why he thinks I'll start now."

"What's her name?" Elise asked.

"Gretchen or something," Carson said. "I don't even know why she's here. But she keeps to herself and doesn't get lippy with me, so I can live with it."

Carson raided the mini-fridge with the zeal of a drunken pirate, pulling out assorted liquors with unpronounceable names and flashy labels.

"Isn't that stuff expensive?" Elise asked, cringing. Her dad always forbade her from eating candy out of the mini-bar when she was a kid. She couldn't imagine how much that booze cost.

"Your point?" Carson replied, handing her a shot glass. "Don't worry, my dad is paying for everything."

"That's generous of him."

"Well, after forcing me to go on vacation with his wife's kid, it's the least he could do," Carson said. "In fact, let's leave before she comes back. Want to pre-game at the Tiki bar?"

"Aren't we pre-gaming right now?" Elise asked.

"You think too much," Carson said, and poured her another shot. "But let me pull myself together first. I don't want to show up on the Right Now Network looking like Lindsay Lohan during her lesbian crackhead phase."

Carson pulled an orange prescription bottle out of her makeup bag that had someone else's name on it. "You want an Addy?" she asked, holding out a bubblegum pink pill.

"No thanks," Elise said, pursing her lips and trying to look nonchalant. "I heard it's illegal to take someone else's Adderall."

"God, you're such a goody two-shoes," Carson said. "You're going to last about two seconds on this trip."

3

"So, where is your stepsister, anyway?" Elise asked as they approached the Tiki bar. It was near the pool, where a cool wind whipped through her hair.

"Beats me," Carson scoffed. "Probably praying the rosary or something. And just a heads-up: I have no interest in spending time with her this week. That's why you're here."

Carson and Elise snaked through the crowd of bodies gathered around the bar. "Everyone's staring at us," Carson said to Elise.

Elise wasn't accustomed to being the type of girl that made men stare. She had to remind herself that she wasn't in high school anymore.

"Damn," a man standing at the bar said as she brushed by, giving her the nod of approval. She smiled politely and grabbed Carson's wrist as she elbowed her way up to the bar.

Carson pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and thrust it at the bartender. "Two pineapple upside-down shots," she yelled over the noise.

The bartender, a dark-skinned Latino man, put his hand up, signaling her to wait as he took someone else's order.

"Excuse me, do you not speak English?" Carson shouted. "I'm trying to order drinks."

She turned to Elise. "I can't stand it when these places hire Mexicans," she said a little too loudly. "What's the point if they can't understand you?"

"How do you know he's Mexican?" Elise challenged. "Most Latinos in Florida are Cuban, or Dominican..."

The bartender returned and slid the shots across the bar to Carson. "Ten dollars," he said in perfect English.

Carson grabbed Elise's elbow and pointed into the crowd. "Whoa, check out that hot guy headed straight for us!"

A tan blonde in his mid-twenties was approaching, looking like he was on a mission. An equally bronzed and blonde woman with expensive clothes and a toothy, refrigerator-white smile accompanied him.

"Hey, ladies," he said to them. "I'm Jay Mack, Right Now producer, and this is my co-worker, Chandler Brett."

"Hey, I'm Carson," Carson smiled. She turned to Elise and whispered, "He's mine."

"We're having an exclusive Right Now party in the Star Lounge tonight," Jay said. "It's a VIP thing. Only the best-looking, coolest people on this island can come. We're scouting for new reality stars. Are you two interested?"

"Oh my God, is that even a question?" Carson replied. "Of course we're interested!"

Jay reached out to shake Elise's hand. "You're invited, too," he said. "Your name is?"

"Elise Apple," she said.

"Ah, got it," he said with a nod. "Like Fiona Apple."

He handed Carson a business card. Then he winked at them and turned to walk away, eyeing Elise's body up and down as he left. "See you at the Star Lounge tonight," he said.

"Oh. My. God. He's totally hot. And he totally thinks we're hot," Carson said. "I call dibs on the producer guy. But don't worry—we'll find you a playmate too. I know you're still on the rebound from Brent."

"Can you please avoid saying that name this week?" Elise said, feeling a painful throb in her chest.

Brent was the social chair of Zeta Chi, the most popular fraternity at MU. Elise had admired him from afar at parties since freshman year. When she became B Xi's social chair, she worked up the nerve to call him about teaming up with his frat for homecoming.

She was surprised when he invited her over the next night.

"I looked at your Facebook pictures and decided we should talk about it in person," he said.

"Well, thanks," Elise replied, trying to sound casual and cool.

"I'm kidding," he said, with a suggestive look in his eyes that made it clear that he wasn't. As they brainstormed a theme for the homecoming float, he started stroking her thigh.

The night ended with Elise's clothes crumpled in the corner of his room. He called her at two in the morning on his way home from the bars a few days later, asking her to come over again.

"Do you want to hang out a little earlier sometime?" Elise asked him a few weeks later. What she really wanted was for him to take her out to dinner, or go to a party with only her. So far, she only saw him when she was sneaking into his bedroom at Zeta Chi in the middle of the night.

"I'm not looking for anything serious right now," he told her. "I'm cool with how things are." He smiled at her, which she clung onto as reassurance.

A few days later, a sophomore from the sorority house next door passed Elise on the sidewalk, talking loudly into her cell phone. Her hair looked rumpled, and she was stumbling in her heels at nine in the morning.

"Guess who I hooked up with last night?" she said to the person on the other line. "Brent!"

Elise went back to the house and cried in secret.

"Sorry," Carson said. "Why is that whole Brent thing was such a big deal to you?"

"Because we had sex?" Elise replied.

"So? He does that with everyone," Carson said. "It was a friends-with-benefits thing, right?"

Elise sucked in her breath, feeling like she was about to explode. "I don't want to talk about it," she said.

"Good," Carson said. "Anyway, if you're looking for a hot and rich guy, this party is going to be the opportunity of a lifetime!"

Elise smiled, still thinking about the Right Now employee named Paul with the familiar voice.

4

The Star Lounge was on the top floor of the hotel. It was pitch black but for the multi-colored lights that lined the walkways and bar stools. Elise struggled to see Carson through the neon glow.

"Look!" Carson yelled to her over the music. She pointed to a section behind a velvet rope, where a professional photographer was snapping pictures of the guests.

Above it was a sign that read, "Looking for the next generation of reality stars."

"Let's get a picture!" Carson exclaimed, giddy with excitement.

Carson and Elise joined a long parade of girls finger-combing their hair and applying new coats of lip gloss. A Right Now employee gestured for them to come forward.

"You two can cut the line," he said.

"Thought so," Carson said, bounding up to the cameraman. "See, Elise? That producer isn't the only one who thinks we're hot."

Elise braided her arms around Carson, struggling to drop her shoulders and put on a natural-looking smile. She was so tense she was sure her face looked screwed into an awkward half-grimace.

"Smile, ladies!" the photographer said as the flash lit up the dark Star Lounge.

"Love it," the producer said as he studied their faces on his camera's review window. "I'm Lanny, executive producer."

"I'm Carson Vana," Carson said.

Lanny glanced up at her. "Do people tell you that you look like a young Kallista Kardeza?"

"I get that a lot," she said, flipping her long dark hair.

Then Lanny looked at Elise. "And what's your name? You're pretty in a California girl way," he said, examining her like a piece of fruit in a supermarket. She imagined Lanny holding a ripe apple, inspecting it for bruises and blemishes.

"My name's Elise Apple," Elise said.

He reached out and touched her hair. "Is that real?" he asked.

"What?"

"You don't have extensions?"

"No," Elise said.

"Is it naturally blonde?"

"Yes," she said. "I mean, I highlight it now, but when I was a kid..."

He ignored her as he reached out and touched her chest. "Those are real too?" he asked.

Elise flinched. "Don't worry, he's gay," Carson whispered to her.

"Yes, they're real," Elise said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Fabulous," Lanny said. "You two have potential. I'll see you around this week."

"Holy shit," Carson said. "He loves us. We just became mini-celebrities."

"I hope they don't post those pictures online," Elise said. "Do you read celebrity gossip blogs? They're MU Live times one thousand!"

She remembered the hundreds of anonymous comments people left below posts about Carson: some admiring, some scathing. It all seemed to roll right off her.

"Did they have to post that picture of me?" Carson said after a shot of her at a fraternity formal surfaced on MU Live. "I'm so sick of girls in the lame sororities copying my hairstyles and buying cheap knockoff versions of my formal dresses." Then she sauntered out of the room, off to the campus rec center to work on her impeccable gym body.

"Learn to ignore the haters, Elise," Carson said with another confident toss of her hair. "They're just jealous. They hate us because they ain't us."

"Alright, I'll try," Elise said, feeling doubtful.

"Hey, there's that Jay Mack guy!" Carson said, pointing across the room. But her excitement faded when she laid eyes on his companion for the night. "Oh, and he's with that skanky girl from Eligible Bachelor."

Elise didn't follow Eligible Bachelor last season thanks to a Monday evening class. It was a Right Now reality show where twenty girls competed for the affections of one man. The reward for the last woman standing was a massive engagement ring, although the relationship was far more likely to end with a blowout breakup than a wedding. Eligible Bachelor had a few predictable roles to fill each season. There was the conniving bitch, the drama queen, and the free spirit. There was the wholesome girl next door who was always favored to win, but didn't.

And, of course, there was the slut.

"That's the skank?" Elise asked. "She's wearing jeans."

At Jay's side was a tall girl, blonde and tan, who looked like a model for a cheesy swimsuit catalog. But instead of a skintight dress, she wore clothes that downplayed her bombshell body. She hid behind Jay, looking at the floor and fiddling with her phone.

"Whatever. She got kicked off the show after someone leaked her nudes on the Internet, so she's a skank in my book," Carson snapped.

"And I don't think he's dating her," Carson added. "I read on Richie Perez' site that she was sleeping with one of those trashy guido guys from Jersey Boardwalk. So let's go talk to him."

Carson fluffed her hair and sauntered up to the bar, pretending she was only ordering a drink.

"Hey," she said to Jay, flashing a seductive smile and touching his arm. "How are you?"

Elise couldn't stand the way Carson made her voice sound ditzy and high around guys she liked. She spends too much time watching the Kardezas, she thought. She even talks like them now.

"Hey!" Jay said, then furrowed his eyebrows. "You're...Carly? Right?"

"Carson," she said, still smiling. Then she turned to Elise.

"He forgot my name?" Carson huffed, with more dramatic flair than a bad soap actress.

"This is Jackie," he said, nodding toward the blonde girl who looked like a swimsuit model.

"I loved you on Eligible Bachelor," Carson said with a sneer. "You provided quality entertainment, that's all I can say."

"Well, at least someone enjoyed it," Jackie said with a shrug.

Before Carson could double down, determined to get under Jackie's skin, a huge commotion erupted across the room.

"Hey, you have to pay for that!" the bartender shouted. The crowd gawked as he wrestled a bottle of top-shelf vodka away from a gorgeous guest. Even piss-ass drunk, he looked like he stepped out of an old-school Abercrombie & Fitch catalog. A glaring white light swept over the bar. Right Now cameramen were circling around like hawks, filming the scuffle.

"Don't you get it, retard? I said bill it to my room!" the Abercrombie model shouted, slurring his words. He jabbed his finger in the bartender's face. "I'm the customer, you're the help. Don't you know who I am?"

"Oh my God," Carson gasped. "Is that Chase Rinehart?"

"No way," Elise said, holding her breath.

"It's totally him!" Carson squealed. "Can you believe we're in the same room as him?"

Chase was an alum of another hit Right Now reality show, Newport Beach. The girls of Beta Xi followed it with near-religious devotion. The show documented the fabulous lives of filthy-rich teenagers in Orange County. The seniors who lived off campus had a ritual of tuning in from the sorority house every Tuesday night.

Chase was popular with the girls. Season three climaxed when two female rivals clawed each other's eyes out in a catfight over who he'd bring to the prom.

"He's so hot," Carson said.

Elise watched as Chase pushed aside the bartender and stumbled toward a VIP booth. "He's so...drunk."

As the words escaped her lips, Chase locked eyes with her in the semi-darkness.

"Hey, cutie," he said to her. "Have we met?"

"Me?" Elise said, in disbelief that he was talking to her. "I don't think so."

"You're not from Orange County?" he asked.

"I'm from Michigan," she replied, turning red.

"Nooo. You are way too hot for flyover country," he said. "Where are you sleeping tonight?"

"Uh, my hotel room."

He laughed. "I'll add you to my list," he said with a glassy-eyed smirk. He turned to a producer and said, "What's her name?"

"The pretty one," a familiar voice behind her said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Hi, Elise."

"And you," Paul said to Chase, snatching the vodka bottle from his hands, "You can get the fuck out."

"Hey, why don't you mind your own business, asshole?" Chase snapped.

Paul was wearing a black shirt and worn-out jeans. The ensemble made him stand out in a sea of people eager to impress each other.

"It's my job to throw you out," Paul said. "Now go, before I drag you out by the hair."

A nervous-looking Right Now employee put his arms out, trying to fend him off. "That won't be necessary, Paul," he said. "He's paying for a VIP booth."

"So?" Paul said. "That doesn't give him a right to steal from the bar."

"Who is that?" Carson sneered, watching Paul argue with the other employee. "Like some random guy has the power to throw the Chase Rinehart out of a VIP party? Who does he think he is?"

"Someone I met earlier today," Elise replied.

"Seriously? Where?"

Elise was hoping she wouldn't ask. "The airport," she replied after an awkward pause.

"Tell me more."

"He drove me here," Elise said.

"A random guy gave you a ride?"

"Well, he's not a random guy," Elise started to say.

"Don't even tell me he drives a cab," Carson said, looking disgusted.

"No, he works for Right Now," Elise said. "That's what he told me in the car."

"Erroneous. There's no way that's true," Carson replied. "Look at what he's wearing."

"I think he does security for them," Elise said, watching as Paul forced Chase out of the Star Lounge.

"Ew!" Carson shrieked. "Chase Rinehart wants to bone you, and you're more interested in flirting with some bouncer?"

"I was not flirting with him!" Elise exclaimed, even though Carson shot her a dubious glare.

"You want to," Carson said. "You should see the look in your eyes."

Carson wrinkled her nose. "He has facial hair," she pointed out. "And what is he wearing? We're spending this week working on your taste in men."

Elise felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around to find Lanny, the producer, standing there.

"Chase Rinehart wants to talk to you," he told her.

Elise's heart dropped into her stomach. "Okay," she said. "Come with me, Carson."

"No, no," Lanny said. "Chase wants to talk to you in private. Out on the balcony."

Elise froze.

"Are you kidding me?" Carson hissed at her. "Go!"

"Alright," Elise said, following Lanny onto the hotel balcony. Chase Rinehart appeared and whisked her away to a darkened corner. A few Right Now crewmen trailed with cameras and lights.

"They're not filming us, are they?" Elise asked.

Chase laughed. "Learn to embrace the camera, babe," he said, reeking of vodka.

"So, Lisa," Chase said.

"Elise," she corrected him.

"Hey, speak up!" the cameraman hollered. "I don't want to use captions."

"So, Elise, are you a farm girl or some shit?" Chase continued, sounding amused.

She didn't know how to respond to that, knowing he was too drunk to listen to a spiel about Little Bavaria. But it turned out she didn't need to talk.

"You're hot," Chase said, staring at her breasts. "You remind me of my high school girlfriend before she went cokehead skank."

Elise felt her cheeks burning. "Thank you," she said.

Then he grabbed her by the cheeks, forcing her mouth against his.

"Whoa! Wait a second," she tried to gasp. He didn't listen.

The commotion from inside the Star Lounge suddenly spilled onto the balcony. Elise felt the whoosh of someone walking up behind her.

"Sorry to interrupt the show, guys, but I told him to get out," Paul's voice said. Elise's spine stiffened as she tried to push Chase away.

"What the fuck, man?" the cameraman said to him. "You ruined my shot."

"Sorry," Paul said, without an ounce of remorse in his voice. "You needed a retake anyway. One of your stars is belligerent and can't stand."

Then Paul looked at her. "Be careful tonight, Elise," he said as he walked away.

"Great," Elise breathed to herself, wondering if Paul would ever speak to her again.

She arrived back at her hotel room feeling drunk and apprehensive. She thought of Chase grabbing the back of her hair, and her stomach turned.

"I don't care how cute he is," she mumbled to herself. "He reeks of creep." She'd had enough bad nights with Brent to last her a while.

As Elise finger-combed her hair, country music blared in the next room.

"Our song is the slamming screen door, sneaking out late, tapping on your window. When we're on the phone and you talk real slow, 'cause it's late and your mama don't know..."

"Hey, I love that song!" she said out loud. It was one of Taylor Swift's first songs, back when she was an unknown teen country artist. For a moment, it took Elise back to dancing in her living room in Frankenmuth, when she was only in middle school and had her first crush on a boy.

A freckled strawberry blonde poked her head out of the bedroom. "Is my music too loud?" she asked.

Her face was sweet and doll-like, with round blue eyes and a shy smile.

"Oh no," Elise replied. "I love that song, that's all."

"Me too," the strawberry blonde said.

"You must be Carson's new stepsister," Elise said.

"That's me," she replied. "My name's Grace."

"I'm Elise," she said. "So are you a singer?"

"And a guitarist," Grace said. "I sing Christian music mostly, but I'm trying to expand my horizons. People tell me I could be the next Taylor Swift."

"Boy, do I miss her as a country artist!" Elise said. "Her first album was the first CD I ever bought. I remember carrying my allowance down to the music shop, when those still existed."

"That's why I'm here. I'm hoping to meet music producers," Grace said. "And get to know Carson, of course..."

She changed the subject.

"But get this," she said. "There's an open mic competition in two nights. If I practice enough, I might get a record contract!"

"That's pretty cool," Elise said. "I can't wait to watch. Where do you go to college?"

"Lake Michigan College," Grace replied, looking a little embarrassed. "I know it's no MU, but it was a better fit for me."

Lake Michigan College was a small school in Northern Michigan. It was more famous for its debate team than its spot in Playboy's annual party school ranking. And it was definitely a school where Carson Vana wouldn't be caught dead. But Elise secretly loved the campus—it was only an hour away from her family cottage.

"I love it up there," Elise said, with an intense rush of nostalgia. Tonight, nothing sounded better than home.

Grace smiled, looking surprised. "So do I," she said.

The door banged open. "There's that annoying music again," Carson said from the next room. She imitated the lyrics with a fake Southern twang.

"I hate Taylor Swift," she added snottily, loud enough for her stepsister to hear it.

Elise turned to Grace. "I like it," she whispered.

"I love it," Grace whispered back, smiling as if it were a secret between them.

Elise fell asleep that first night with the song stuck in her head, wishing she was a kid again.

5

Elise awoke with a mild hangover and sun streaming in through her curtains. She turned on her phone. There was a text from Carson: "Mimosas at the Tiki Bar. Come."

"Sooo. Wild night?" Carson said, greeting her with a drink.

"What?"

"Don't play innocent," Carson said. "Everyone knows about you and Chase. How was it? I heard you got sloppy."

Elise frowned. "It was just kissing," she said, unable to mask the irritation in her voice. "And how did you hear that? Word must travel fast around here."

"God, what is your problem?" Carson shot back. "You made out with Chase Rinehart last night, and for some insane reason, you're moping around as if you did the walk of shame from the Phi Beta house. If I were you, I'd brag about it."

Elise smiled. "I guess I will have a crazy Spring Break story to tell the B Xi house..." she said. "Maybe word will get back to Brent."

"I don't think he cares," Carson said.

"Do you really have to remind me?"

"If it makes you feel better, my night ended up sucking," Carson said. "Guess who was all over me?"

"Who?" Elise asked.

"Connor Kardeza," she replied, disgust dripping from her lips.

Connor Kardeza was the wayward son of the family. He refused to appear on Kardeza Family Values, and his Twitter feuds with other celebrities had gone down in Internet infamy. He also landed on the covers of gossip magazines for gaining fifty pounds after a stint in rehab. Even people who worshipped the Kardezas forgot Connor existed.

Or wished he didn't.

"Did you talk to him?" Elise asked.

"I tried to avoid him, but he would not take a hint," Carson replied. "He's even fatter in person. And get this: he invited me to go to the dessert bar. As if he needs more cake and ice cream."

She snorted in amusement.

"That's sweet," Elise said.

"Sweet? I thought it was creepy," Carson said. "I hope no one saw me talking to him."

At least he didn't take you back to his room for some random sex after just meeting you, Elise thought.

"Anyway, I have two surprises for you," Carson said. "First, Right Now is filming an episode of Socialites: Florida Edition today. There's a twenty-first birthday party at a private beach house for some e-famous girl named Madison. We're going."

"Oh my God!" Elise gasped. "Carson, how did you get us invited?!"

Elise watched Socialites at the sorority house every Thursday night. It showcased hotel heiresses, trust fund babies, and run-of-the-mill rich kids prone to shocking diva antics.

"This is disgusting!" Mom had exclaimed when Elise watched it from home. "What a bunch of spoiled brats."

"I have friends in high places," Carson replied. "That producer, Chandler, invited me. And she tipped me off to the second surprise: there's a Lingerie Or Less party tonight."

"What's that?"

"What does it sound like?"

"I'm leery of the 'or less' part, but okay," Elise said. "Who's going?"

Carson shrugged. "Whoever wants to show up in sexy underwear," she replied. "So if you don't have anything sexy to wear, we'll go shopping for something unforgettable."

"Yeah, I forgot to pack my garter belt and fishnets," Elise said sarcastically. "There won't be a bunch of cameras there, right?"

"Of course there will be a bunch of cameras, Elise. Duh," Carson replied. "You need to lose those inhibitions. It's your last spring break ever, and you're on Esmeralda Island."

She clanked her glass against Elise's. "Thanks to me, of course," she added with a wink.

Elise forced a smile and sucked down the rest of her drink. "I hope this helps me loosen up."

Elise and Carson hit the main boulevard a short while later. The island's mom-and-pop stores were selling out to flashy, overpriced boutiques.

"Let's go to Lola's," Carson suggested. "We'll get you something to wear to the lingerie party."

A man holding tourist pamphlets stepped into their path.

"Historical tours at the old Spanish fort," he said, handing Elise a brochure.

"Thanks!" Elise exclaimed, taking it from him with unconscious exuberance.

"Do you think we have time for historical sightseeing?" Carson scoffed. "What's next, a ghost walk? I forgot you were into that weird stuff."

"I loved these things as a kid," Elise said, flipping through the pamphlet as they walked.

"You're weird," Carson replied.

"I wanted to major in history freshman year," Elise said. She chose journalism instead. She moved from photojournalism to broadcast after her hair got blonder and her teeth got whiter.

"You're too pretty to be a photographer," people told her. "You should be in front of the camera, not behind it."

She gave in eventually, figuring a career as a news anchor or morning show host would be more lucrative than working as a photographer or a history teacher.

"Here we go," Carson said as she spotted the lingerie store. "Lola's Lingerie. It's like a Victoria's Secret for high-priced hookers."

Elise scanned the racks of leopard-print push-up bras, leather bustiers, and see-through nighties. She ran her hands over her breasts and belly, wondering how much she really wanted to display them for hundreds of people.

Elise bypassed the see-through teddy section and meandered toward a white lace dress buried in the corner. Elise couldn't fathom why it was stuffed away back here—in her humble opinion, it was the most beautiful item in the store.

"I love this," she said, pulling it off the rack to show Carson.

"You're in the bridal section," Carson replied without looking.

"Oh. But it's..."

"Honey, no," Carson said. "You cannot shop in that section unless you want to look creepy and marriage-desperate. No one wears bridal getups to lingerie parties, okay? They just don't."

"I'm not marriage-desperate," Elise shot back, sounding defensive. "What does that even mean?"

Carson slipped her arm around Elise's shoulder. "Honey, you can't wear anything that suggests weddings are on your mind. It's a great way to send guys running for the hills."

"So nothing white, period?" Elise asked.

"Right," Carson replied. "Remember that basic rule. You know how it's tacky to wear white to a wedding? You cannot wear bridal lingerie to a lingerie party, period."

"Okay, fine," Elise said.

"This has been an ongoing problem that we need to remedy ASAP," Carson said. "Didn't Brent get weirded out when you tried to get too serious?"

"I guess, if wanting to go out in public before midnight counts as 'getting serious,'" Elise replied. Carson pulled a sheer black nightie with fuschia trim off the rack.

"Now this is what I'm talking about," she said. "Do you have black shoes?"

"Yeah, I brought a pair of black heels," Elise replied. They left blisters on her ankles and she couldn't walk in them, but least she could show off her hard work at the gym.

"Perfect!" Carson said. "Pick a pair of sexy black panties and your ensemble is complete."

Elise complied, but looked back at the white dress as the cashier rang up the black nightie, longing to wear it.

6

"So, who's the socialite?" Elise asked as they walked toward the beach house where Right Now was filming the episode.

"Madison Banks," Carson replied. "She's internet famous. Her parents have six houses, and her dad part-owns an NFL team, so she's a good person to befriend."

They arrived at a gated driveway hidden by tall trees. Limos and luxury SUVs congested the street as guests arrived, plugging up the thoroughfare that led to the old part of Esmeralda Island where the locals lived. The hospital and neighborhood elementary school were just up the road, but they might as well be a world apart from Madison Banks and her opulent, vaguely obnoxious mansion.

"This is the biggest house I've ever seen," Elise said.

"Wait until you see the inside," Carson replied. "It's not even a house. More like a hacienda. Her parents built a huge addition onto the back so Madison could have her birthday party on the show. It cost them six figures."

"Wow," Elise said. "They must be loaded."

"I know, right?" Carson said as she buzzed the bell. "I'd kill to be this classy."

***

"Come over here and fight me, bitch!"

Carson and Elise heard shrieking before they even stepped inside the house. In a kitchen fit for a European castle, two drunk girls tore at each other's hair. "Ooh, cat fight!" Carson said. "I love it when they get drunk and fight with each other."

Right Now cameramen swooped down on the fight, circling around them like vultures. One girl picked up a glass of red wine and tossed it at the other.

"How dare you ruin my party, you cheap whore!" she screamed.

Elise figured this must be the socialite. "Real classy," she said, and Carson gave her a dirty look.

A third woman jumped in, grabbing the target of the wine-throwing by the hair.

"Get your tacky homewrecking ass out of my house before you ruin my daughter's special day," she screeched. It was only then that Elise realized she must be Madison's mother. Her painted-on tan, clingy dress, and obvious breast implants made her look the same age as her daughter.

"Hey, break it up, ladies!" someone shouted as he pulled them apart. It took a moment for Elise to recognize him as Jay Mack, the producer they met last night. When no one was looking, Elise overheard him talking to the cameraman.

"I hope you got that on camera," Jay said. "These bitches are white trash broads pretending to be jetsetters."

Then he spotted Elise and Carson standing there. "Hey, ladies," he said with a broad grin, his demeanor shifting in an instant.

"What a buzzkill," Carson said as the fight died. "Let's go outside before I end up with red wine all over this new dress."

The backyard surrounded a magnificent pool with sparkling fountains and tiered waterfalls. Madison Banks had picked a jungle theme for her birthday party. The yard was a slice of paradise, where a simulated rainforest mist cloaked giant orchids and a canopy of green leaves. Elise gasped as an enormous snake swooped down at her.

"Don't worry," Carson said. "They're de-fanged."

"Wow," Elise said. "I had a plastic tiara and a giant wine glass as decorations on my twenty-first birthday."

"Jungle juice, ladies?" someone purred.

Elise turned around to find a half-naked black woman in a tiger costume. She wore elaborate face paint and a headdress, but not much else. Elise glanced around the party to see who else was painted up like an African beast.

"All these servers are black women," she said. "Dressed like exotic animals."

"Yeah. So?" Carson replied.

"Isn't that sort of racist?"

"Who cares?" Carson said.

"I care," Elise replied. "In Women's Studies class we watched this documentary about sexist advertising, Killing Us Softly. Jean Kilbourne says—"

"Once again, who cares?" Carson interrupted. "It's not like white people, like, live in the rainforest or anything. Who else would they get to dress up like jungle animals?"

"That's not the point," Elise said, getting annoyed. "The point is that advertisers dehumanize women of color—"

"Oh my God, shut up already," Carson said. "Why would you take Women's Studies anyway? That entire department is a swarm of dykes."

"Don't use that word," Elise said quietly.

Then she did shut up, but not without burning with shame. She knew what her mom would have to say about this. She scanned the party for photographers, hoping to avoid the cameras, praying that her presence here wouldn't be blasted all over the Internet.

Suddenly, the crowd parted like the Red Sea. A bevy of dark-skinned men in loincloths paraded in, carrying the socialite on a canopy. She looked like Jane from Tarzan in her loincloth skirt.

Right Now had erected a full-sized stage in the backyard. Madison seized the spotlight, writhing and grinding on various members of her entourage. "Oooh yeah...oh," she panted.

"God, this bitch is nauseating," someone said. "What a narcissist."

"Ugh, there's Connor Kardeza," Carson said, shielding her face with her hand to avoid eye contact. "Let's move before he hits on me again."

Another party guest whipped around and started screeching at Connor. "Hey, get out of here, you has-been!" she shouted.

"Honey, you mean never-been," the girl beside her sneered. "He's mad because Madison's popular and he's a loser cashing in on the family name."

"Keep telling yourselves that, you dumb sluts," Connor yelled back. "I'm leaving. This whole thing is stupid."

"What did you say?"

"It's fucking stupid," Connor repeated, waving his hand at the animal costumes and men in loincloths. His face conveyed nothing but pure disgust as he pushed his way to the door.

"I second that," a dark-skinned girl said. "For a show called Socialites, this party is appallingly tacky."

Elise looked at her. She was black, or biracial maybe, and gorgeous. She struck Elise with her green eyes, curly hair, and cinnamon-colored skin.

Chandler, the producer, came bounding up to Carson. "Hey girl!" she said, ignoring Elise. "Did the fat kid humiliate himself again?"

"His sisters must be so embarrassed," Carson said, gawking at the scene. "And who's that angry black bitch?"

"Oh, just our latest affirmative action hire," Chandler spat.

"Excuse me?" the girl with the cinnamon complexion said. "I graduated summa cum laude from USC."

"Yep, Sienna's getting uppity again," Chandler sneered under her breath.

"Uppity, nice. Way to drop a racially loaded word to prove my point," Sienna said, and followed Connor Kardeza to the door. "Since I have an ounce of class, I'm outta here."

"Hey, you're on the clock!" a producer shouted after her.

"Go ahead and dock my pay," Sienna said.

"Bye, honey," Chandler called after her. "God, what a bitch. I hope she gets an attitude with the Kardezas and loses her 'token black girl' slot at Right Now."

Elise took a step away from Chandler and Carson. Her subconscious mind was telling her to distance herself from their conversation. They kept chatting as if Elise wasn't there.

"Speaking of the Kardezas, did you hear they're coming to the island?" Chandler said to Carson. "They're planning to film an episode of Kardeza Family Values here. Nobody's supposed to know."

"You told me," Carson replied. "I'm so pumped."

Chandler glanced sideways at Elise. "And speaking of pumped, should we let your friend in on our little secret from last night?" she asked.

"Oh, yes," Carson said. "Elise, do you want to know where we get our party stamina?"

Elise didn't really want or need to know, but she tagged along as they locked themselves in the bathroom. It was bigger than Elise's bedroom in Frankenmuth.

"Don't tell anyone about this," Carson said. "We don't like to share."

She put her Louis Vuitton purse on the counter and pulled out a bag of white powder and her Land Rover keys. She dipped the key into the bag, then sucked the powder up her nostril.

"Want a hit?" she asked Elise as she passed the key to Chandler.

"Nah, I'm good. Maybe later," Elise said. She didn't tell them that she'd never done cocaine and was too scared to try it. She remembered what Carson said yesterday in the hotel room: You're such a goody two-shoes.

"Suit yourself. You don't know what you're missing," Carson replied.

Elise looked away as they snorted more of the white powder. As soon as the high hit them, Carson and Chandler tousled their hair and stomped back into the foyer.

Outside, a crowd gathered around two girls ripping at each other's hair again, shrieking obscenities.

"Hey!" a burly guy yelled, forcing himself between them. "Not this shit again!"

"Watch it!" a Right Now cameraman shouted. "I had the perfect camera angle for this scene."

Elise felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Do you want to get out of here?" Paul asked her.

Elise looked at Carson, who was watching the drama unfold for the cameras. "I have to stay," Elise said, her shoulders slumping.

"Why? So you can listen to more shitty music?" Paul said.

He poured a glass of jungle juice onto the grass. "These drinks suck."

Elise's eyes flitted back and forth between the out-of-control crowd in Madison's backyard and the beach beyond—calm, quiet, and mostly empty.

"Let's leave before my friend catches me," Elise said, and they stole away toward the beach.

***

"Where are we going?" Elise asked as they cut through swaying sea oats that reached her waist.

"Wherever you want," Paul said, as the two of them began an aimless walk down the beach. "There's a lot to see on this island that isn't part of the resort."

"How do you know?" Elise asked. "Have you been here before?"

"I live here," Paul replied. "Temporarily, at least. I took the job with Right Now, I rented a house in town, on the beach."

He held up the tourist pamphlet for the Spanish fort. "You dropped this."

"Oh," Elise said, stuffing it back in her purse and feeling like a massive dork again.

"Do you want to see it?" he asked. "It's open for another hour."

I'd rather be anywhere than that awful party, Elise thought to herself. After the ugliness of the afternoon, Elise was eager to roam the grounds of something beautiful.

"Alright, let's go there," Elise said.

***

The ruins of the old Spanish fort were on the outer edge of Esmeralda Island, and it was known among locals as El Castillo. Its highest peaks jutted over the ocean. Elise took in the beauty of the grassy courtyard and the moss-covered stone walls. She shut her eyes and envisioned Esmeralda Island back when the biggest threat was pirate attacks, instead of marauding bands of Spring Breakers.

"It dates from the 1600s," Elise said, reading the pamphlet. "This fort was built shortly after the Spanish first arrived in Florida. They were searching for the Fountain of Youth."

Paul helped her climb atop the fort's outer stone wall, where they could look at the ocean.

"So you like history?" he asked her.

"Yeah, enough that I almost majored in it," Elise replied. "Is that weird?"

"Not at all," Paul said. "I'm just glad we left that party before Chase Rinehart showed up."

There was an awkward silence until Elise said, "I'm sorry about last night."

"You don't owe me an apology," Paul replied. "But I just have to ask: did you want to kiss him?"

"No. God, no," Elise said, shuddering at the memory. "He sprung it on me out of nowhere. I think it was the producers' idea."

"Everything they show on the network is the producers' idea," Paul replied. "If Right Now aired a reality show that they didn't stage, that would be a story."

He pulled a camera out of his pocket. "But if it makes you feel any better, I have a highlight reel of Chase's classy night," he said.

Elise laughed out loud as she scrolled through the pictures: there was Chase, fighting with the bartender. Chase drinking vodka straight from the bottle. Chase giving someone the finger with his eyes half-open.

"These are priceless!" she laughed. "So you took paparazzi shots the whole night? Why?"

"I don't know," he said. "Maybe just for proof that money can't buy class."

He turned to Elise and looked into her eyes.

"I was hoping you didn't really want him," he said.

They both stayed quiet for a second, sprawled in the sun outside the fort's walls. Paul leaned back on the grass and watched the waves far below them.

"Besides, you didn't seem like that kind of girl when I picked you up yesterday," he added.

"What kind of girl am I?" she asked.

Paul shrugged. "Not a girl easily won over by some classless idiot because he was on TV once and sits in a VIP booth," he said. "I can't say the same for your friend, though. Who is she? Childhood friend?"

"No. Carson and I go to school together at Michigan University," Elise replied. "But I'm from Frankenmuth, and Carson is from Birmingham."

Birmingham was one of the wealthiest suburbs in the state, a place where girls like Carson Vana got Lexuses and trips to Europe for their sixteenth birthdays.

"Wait a second. Frankenmuth, Michigan?" Paul repeated. "That's where you're from?"

"Don't tell me you know where Frankenmuth is," she said. Out-of-staters never did. Tourists who flocked to German cheese shops and antique stores tended to be retirees and families of six.

"Yeah, I've been to Frankenmuth," Paul said. "It's one of the most beautiful little towns I've ever seen."

"You're the first person I've met in a while who doesn't think it's dorky and weird," Elise replied.

She looked Paul in his eyes, and for the first time, she noticed their color. She'd thought they were dark, the same as his hair. But now, in the dim lights of the casino, she could see they were bluish-grey. The exact color of a Michigan sky in March.

"Where are you from?" she asked.

Paul stared at his shoes, picking at a few blades of grass. For a moment, Elise wondered if he'd heard the question.

"Florida," he finally said, avoiding Elise's gaze.

"You grew up here?"

"...I've moved around," he said, looking away from her.

"Oh," she said. It didn't answer her question, but she decided not to press him. For all she knew, he was an army brat, or the child of a painful divorce.

"I have to warn you though, I went to college in Ohio," he said. "So we're star-crossed."

"Nice, a Romeo and Juliet reference. You must have been an English major," Elise replied. "Where did you go to school?"

He responded with an unfamiliar name, something that sounded like "Hawking."

"I've never heard of it," she said.

"It's down south in the Appalachian foothills," he replied. "I drove a truck for a while to pay for school. That's how I ended up in Frankenmuth."

Elise gritted her teeth. Carson had a problem with Paul already, but knowing "truck driver" was on his resume would make matters worse.

"Do you want to see the town?" he asked her, hopping up from the stone wall.

"I'd love to," Elise said, and meant it.

She paused, wondering how long it would be before Carson noticed her absence. She turned her ringer off, hoping her limited time with Paul wouldn't get cut short by a hissy phone call or text.

They wandered into the old blue-collar town as dinnertime approached. High fences and trees draped in Spanish moss shielded the charming old cottages uptown. Elise watched the wooden docks where fishing boats swayed in the rolling waves.

This was the kind of place where she'd always wanted to go for Spring Break.

An old-fashioned bar and grill that smelled of shellfish and grease was playing music on the patio. "I love this song!" Elise said, singing along with Stevie Nicks. "Because when the loving starts and the lights go down, and there's not another living soul around, then you woo me until the sun comes up, and you say that you love me."

"That's what I like about you," Paul said. "You have good taste in music."

He pointed to a little outdoor bar with plastic patio furniture. "Want another Leinie's, Miss Apple?"

"Sure," she said. "By the way, you weren't kidding about those overpriced Bacardi shots."

They sat down and ordered drinks. "There's something called a Lingerie or Less party tonight," Elise told him.

"So I get to break up fights between people in their underwear tonight?" Paul replied. "Nice. Glad I'm off early."

"Do you like working for Right Now?" Elise asked.

"The security staff is cool," Paul said. "We're all friends. It's hard not to bond when you have to team up to toss belligerent drunks out of parties. But the producers...they're assholes. Even some of their own co-workers can't stand them."

"Like Jay Mack?" Elise asked.

Paul's eyes widened a little. "You met Jay?" he asked.

"He's the one who invited us last night," she said.

"Jay's alright," he said with a shrug, as if he was avoiding the topic. "But be careful around them. Some of them love nothing more than preying on drunk girls, especially if they're in their underwear."

His phone started ringing.

"You've got to be kidding me," he said, fishing it from of his pocket. "Who the hell is calling me right now?"

Elise shrugged. "Maybe the socialites are out of control again and you have to go break it up," she said, just guessing.

She heard a woman's voice. "Paul?" the voice said. "Paul, is this your phone number?"

"Who is this?" he asked.

The voice sounded frantic, yet far away. A wave of static crackled as she said his name again. Elise shivered in the afternoon sun.

"You have the wrong number," Paul said as the connection cut in and out.

He stared at his phone with a dark look in his eyes, and Elise's instincts told her it wasn't the bad reception.

"Who was that?" Elise asked.

"I don't know," he said. "Someone with the wrong number, I think."

But that didn't explain how the woman on the other line knew his name.

7

Elise arrived back at The Palace feeling queasy. She let herself into the suite, eyes downcast to avoid talking to anyone in the hallway. Grace walked into the room wearing her bathing suit.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"My eyeliner is running," Elise said, wiping away black from under her eyes.

"Are you sure?" Grace pressed her. "Why didn't you stay with Carson? Did something happen today?"

"Well, yes," Elise admitted. "Before I even got here, I met this guy, and..."

Suddenly they heard Carson's voice in the hallway, jabbering loudly on her phone. She opened the door with one swift, rough motion.

"Who were you with today?" Carson demanded as she stomped into the room. "You disappeared with some guy."

Elise jumped. "Me?" she stammered, trying to play innocent.

"Yes, you," Carson replied. "I'm looking at you."

"I wasn't with some guy," Elise fibbed.

"Liar," Carson said. "Someone—and I won't say who—saw you walking out of Madison's yard with a random guy. As random as that bouncer."

"I forgot the directions to the hotel," Elise said.

"That's not the point," Carson said. "It was that bouncer, wasn't it? You left a once-in-a-lifetime party with a bouncer."

"Why does it matter? I don't think I'll be talking to him again," Elise said. "He got this weird phone call from this girl. I don't know why, but it creeped me out. She knew his name, and it sounded like she was calling from somewhere with terrible cell phone service. He said it was a stranger with a wrong number, but it sure didn't sound like it."

"What's his name again? I'll stalk him on Facebook and see if he has a secret girlfriend," Carson said, pulling out her phone.

"He refuses to tell me his last name," Elise replied. "All he'll tell me is that it's the same last name as a 90's pop star."

Carson laughed. "What a creep," she said. "Who listens to 90's pop?"

"Maybe he's famous," Grace said from the room she shared with Elise.

Carson glared at her. "How would you know?" she snapped. "You weren't invited last night."

"That's the thing," Grace replied, immune to Carson's insults. "He was at the VIP party, right?"

"Let's recap: he's a bouncer," Carson scoffed. "I don't consider that 'invited.' It's basically getting paid minimum wage to be a buzzkill. How much do bouncers make, twelve dollars an hour?"

"But he has the same name as a famous person," Grace persisted. "Maybe he's got loads of money. He could be one of those rich people who likes to fly under the radar. Maybe he's not even a bouncer."

Carson mulled it over for a minute.

"You know, he has that incognito celebrity look going on, with the facial hair and everything," she said. "It's an intriguing possibility."

Elise's spirits lifted. "So am I allowed to talk to him now?" she asked.

"No. Not until we do a little intelligence gathering," Carson said. She fiddled with the browser on her phone. "Until then, you better not blow your chance with Chase."

Around sunset, they primped for the Lingerie or Less party. Elise curled her hair and slicked on shimmery black eyeliner. Then, sucking in her stomach first, she shimmied into the black nightie.

"I'm not drunk enough for this," she said as she looked in the mirror.

Carson emerged from the bathroom in a corset and fishnets. "Trust me, I am!" she announced.

"I'm also thinking about having an 'accidental' wardrobe malfunction tonight," she said. She used her fingers to make air quotes.

"I might have a real one in these heels," Elise said. "I can't walk in them."

"I hope tonight ends better than this afternoon," Carson said. "You missed it, but they ended up breaking up the party for the lamest reason. Some ambulance driver called the cops to complain that cars were blocking the street, so everyone had to leave because of one stupid ambulance. Have they ever heard of a detour?"

Elise and Grace exchanged bewildered glances.

"Let's go," Carson said, doing a final mirror check.

"Wait," Grace called from the bedroom. "Do you mind if I come, too? I found a sexy outfit to wear."

"Sure," Elise said without thinking.

"Great! Let me grab my lip gloss."

Carson gave Elise the evil eye. "I'm sorry, but no," she said. "We cannot show up with her. Our stock will go way down."

"Be nice," Elise admonished her.

"Why?" Carson retorted. "With my dad's track record, she'll be my ex-stepsister soon enough."

Grace emerged wearing a demure tank top and boy shorts.

"That's not lingerie," Carson sniffed.

"I thought it was more flattering," Grace said.

"Whatever. At least she looks somewhat presentable tonight," Carson muttered.

***

"It's a Playboy theme!" Carson exclaimed as they entered the party. A huge screen flashed a slideshow of pictures from the night before.

Like at MU frat parties, the dress code applied only to girls. The male guests showed up in their regular clothes, while the girls pranced into the party wearing nighties, corsets, and bras. Elise's getup looked tame in comparison.

"Whoa, it looks like the skank is getting a little chubby," Carson said. She pointed across the room at Jackie, the contestant from Eligible Bachelor. She was standing next to Jay, looking miserable and crossing her arms over her chest.

Jackie caught Carson pointing at her. "Excuse me, did you know pointing is rude?" Jackie demanded.

"Have you ever heard the term 'point and laugh'?" Carson replied with a sarcastic smile.

"I'd rather be a little chubby than a cheap Kardeza knockoff," Jackie said.

"Oh wow, I'm cheap?" Carson retorted. "Girls who get naked for trashy men's magazines shouldn't judge."

"That's not what happened," Jackie said.

"Sure it's not," Carson jeered. "But since your fifteen minutes are up, why don't you go work at Hooters or something?"

Jackie rolled her eyes. "Can you have Paul throw her out?" she asked Jay. "She's ruining the atmosphere."

"Hey, how does she know Paul...?" Elise started to say.

Chandler bounded up behind Carson, cutting into the conversation. "Did you get in a fight with Jackie Hunt?" she asked Carson, looking gleeful.

"No wine-throwing or anything, but yes," Carson replied.

"God, I hate her," Chandler said. "We nicknamed her Jackie Cunt around the office while we were filming Eligible Bachelor. Can you believe the bachelor wanted to pick her before we dug up her nudie photos? He said she was 'down-to-earth,' which is apparently a synonym for 'white trash.'"

They both snickered.

"Unfortunately, my hottest co-worker has a thing for her," Chandler said. She watched Jackie with Jay, shooting her hateful looks. "He could do so much better."

"I know. Like me." Carson replied. "He ignored me last night because he was too distracted by her silicone tits."

"Don't worry. I know how to get rid of her," Chandler said. "Give me, like, twenty minutes."

Carson looked around the room. "Out of curiosity, where's my stepsister?" she asked.

They looked around, until Elise heard Carson gasp. "Oh my God, she's talking to Connor Kardeza."

Grace and Connor were sitting at a table, deep in conversation. Instead of looking shy and nervous, Grace looked happy and relaxed. Even Connor's miserable-looking face was brighter than usual.

"Why is he talking to her?" Carson asked. "He wanted me last night!"

She sauntered over to the table.

"Hi, Connor," she said with a flirtatious smile, thrusting her cleavage in his face.

"Hi," Connor said, looking unimpressed. He turned back to his conversation with Grace.

"He plays guitar!" Grace said. "We've been talking music. We're thinking about teaming up for the open mic contest."

Rage overcame Carson's face. "Does he know you do Christian music?" she asked.

"That's okay," Connor said. "I've been hoping to meet people who are more... spiritual. Religious. Or whatever you call it."

"Ew, why?" Carson said to Elise. Then she tried interrupting the conversation one more time.

"This party is, shall we say, out-of-character for her." She pointed to Grace's tank top and boy shorts. "She doesn't dress like that."

"Good," Connor said. "I'm not keen on sleazy chicks." Then he turned to Grace as if Carson wasn't there.

"Do you want to go somewhere quieter?" he asked Grace. "We could hit the dessert bar or something."

"Sure!" Grace replied.

Connor Kardeza shot Carson a piercing look as they got up to leave.

"Wow," Carson said, for once at a loss for words. "Did he imply that I'm sleazy? It must be true that he fried his brain with drugs."

"You complained about him hitting on you this morning," Elise said. "So because he likes Grace, you're going to flirt with him now?"

"Bitch, please. I wasn't flirting with him," Carson replied. "Connor Kardeza is downright embarrassing. As you can see, my stepsister is the only person at this party willing to chat with him."

"Grace is nice," Elise replied. "And she's pretty. Why don't you give her a chance?"

"She's not as pretty as me," Carson snapped. "I bet she doesn't even know who he is, because she sure as hell doesn't watch the Kardeza's show. So irritating."

She watched Grace smiling and laughing. "Wait until my stepmom finds out," she gloated. "Her little church girl will be in big trouble. At least I won't have to do this again anytime soon."

Chandler sidled up to Carson again.

"I added a few pictures to the slideshow," she said, pointing up at the big screen.

Elise heard gasps from the crowd, followed by laughter. The big screen was flashing photos of Jackie topless.

"Look, it's that slutty girl from Eligible Bachelor," someone behind Elise said. "And she's naked."

"Hey, turn that off!" Jay said, diving for the laptop. When he couldn't stop the slideshow, he ripped the power cord out of the wall. The screen went black.

He glared at Chandler. "I want to know who did that," he said, fuming.

"Hey, don't look at me," she lied. "I'm not a big fan of nudie photo sites."

Jackie stormed past them, headed straight for the door.

"I am done here," Jackie said with her strong Southern twang. "I can't believe you talked me into coming on this trip."

Jay grabbed her arm. "Jackie, calm down," he said, grabbing both her shoulders and staring in her eyes. "You know the plan."

Instead, Jackie doubled over and vomited.

"Sorry," Jackie said. "Sun poisoning." Then she ran away.

Carson and Chandler giggled and high-fived each other.

"Did she vomit in shame or something? That was awesome," Chandler said.

"The air quality improved now that the trash is gone," Carson replied.

Elise felt a surge of disgust she couldn't suppress. "You know, that was really unnecessary," she blurted out, emboldened by a few too many tropical drinks.

Carson whipped her head in Elise's direction. "Excuse me?"

"Why did you do that?" Elise asked. "We're standing here in skimpy lingerie, calling someone a skank. You said you planned to have a 'wardrobe malfunction' tonight. Isn't that hypocritical?"

"Oh, there you go again with that feminazi crap your mom tells you," Carson said, leaning in aggressively. "Why don't you go home and take a supplementary Women's Studies course? There's a lot of other girls I could have invited on this trip, you know."

She gave Elise an intense stare that made her look at the floor.

"Unless you want to rent your own suite for the rest of the trip, I suggest an attitude adjustment," Carson added. "And judging by that truck your mom drives, I don't think you have that much money."

Elise's stomach churned. She couldn't take any chances on Carson following through on her threat.

"Okay, I'm sorry," Elise said. "And you're right, she looks skanky."

"No more attitude," Carson replied. "Or else I'll have to throw you in the pool."

Someone grabbed Elise hard. She turned around and saw Chase Rinehart standing there, looking blitzed again and double-fisting mixed drinks.

"I've been looking for you," he said. He was wearing a silk robe and had a cigar in his mouth like Hugh Hefner. "I'm disappointed I couldn't take you back to my place last night."

Other guests at the party were staring at them. Every girl in the room looked pea-green with envy that Chase Rinehart was talking to her.

"Want to go back to my hotel?" he asked. "This party sucks, so we're moving a select group of cool people to the pool at The Diamond. It's an upgrade from this mediocre joint."

"Let's go!" Carson said.

"Okay," Elise replied. "Are there cameras this time?"

"I hope so," Chase said. "No guarantees, though."

Elise glanced at Carson and realized saying no wasn't an option.

"Carson and I will be right over after we get our bathing suits," Elise said.

Chase laughed, a sleazy laugh that made Elise's skin crawl. "No bathing suits required," he replied. "In fact, no bathing suits allowed. See you in a few minutes."

Elise and Carson detoured to the bathroom to regain their composure. "No bathing suits allowed? I don't think I can do this," Elise said. "Lingerie or Less is one thing. Butt naked is quite another."

"Have another drink," Carson said, handing her a fruity pink concoction from the bar.

"It's not enough," Elise said. "I'm nervous. My heart is racing."

Carson opened her purse. "I know exactly what you need," she said, dropping a small white pill into Elise's hand. "Take a Xanax."

"What is that?"

"A little something to calm your nerves," Carson replied. "It works like a charm, trust me."

"Is it safe?"

"Have you been living under a rock?" Carson said. "Girls in the B Xi house borrow it from me all the time, especially before parties with the top frats. But those guys don't make me nervous, so I don't need it."

"I wish I had your confidence," Elise replied. She took a deep breath and swallowed the pill.

Carson took the prescription bottle back. "Good call," she said. "If you'd borrowed it earlier, you wouldn't have weirded out Brent."

Thirty minutes later she felt blissful. "I'm ready for the pool," she said, her anxiety about the cameras—and about Chase—erased. Her muscles felt loose and warm, her thoughts slow and calm. She couldn't remember the last time she felt this relaxed.

"Whatever that pill was, it's like magic," she said to Carson.

"Told you so," Carson said. "If you want another one, ask me. I'm like a walking pharmacy."

Chase's party was in the outdoor pool, which had closed for the night—but not for him. A few drunk girls in lingerie had already jumped in the water and were splashing each other and giggling.

"I invited them to provide this evening's entertainment," Chase said to his friend. "But they're third-tier chicks, so don't invite them to drink with us."

The hot tub was full of Chase's glamorous friends. The girls looked like they had stepped off the cover of Vogue. They looked sideways at Elise, asking, "Who is that?"

"Get in the hot tub with me," Chase demanded as he rubbed up against her.

"In my clothes?" Elise asked.

"You can take that off," Chase said, sneaking his hand under her lingerie.

"I have an idea," she said. She ripped the chiffon fabric from the bra top of her dress, leaving behind a black bra and panties. "I guess this could double as a bathing suit."

She stumbled into the hot tub, trying to look sober in front of Chase's friends.

Chase pulled her onto his lap. "You wanna suck my dick tonight?" he said, sounding as if he were offering her a favor. He thrust his hand between her legs.

Elise glanced across the pool at Carson, who gave her an excited smile and a thumbs-up. "Do it," she mouthed.

"We'll see," Elise said, trying to come across as coy so she could keep him at bay. Inside, she wanted to run away.

"But you have to do me a favor first, before you have the privilege of going back to my room," he said. "Find out who that security guard is and any dirty little secrets he has. I want him fired."

"How would I do that?" Elise asked. She felt a tingle in her toes, excited that she had an excuse to spend time with Paul. One that Carson wouldn't veto.

"Work him over with your feminine wiles," Chase said. He grabbed one of her breasts, pinching her nipple.

"I'll be right back," she told him. When no one was looking, she grabbed Carson's purse and fished out another pill. She washed it down with another drink, losing count of how many she'd had tonight.

For a second, she wondered where Paul was and if he was working at the Lingerie or Less party. She hoped they wouldn't cross paths tonight.

That was the last thing she remembered as the night faded to a fuzzy black haze.

8

Elise awoke at dawn with a pounding heart and a screaming hangover. The surface beneath her was hard, and the air was heavy and damp. Her hair stuck to her neck.

"Carson?" she gasped, looking around in the semi-darkness. Her voice echoed, and Elise knew she'd never gone back to her hotel room. She had fallen asleep by the pool, splayed out on a deck chair in her torn lingerie. The lights were out, and all she could hear was a light patter of rain hitting the water.

"Oh, my God," she cried, hopping to her feet. "Oh, my God."

She saw her phone sitting next to her and scrolled through it, hoping to find a picture or text to refresh her memory. There was nothing. All she saw was Carson's half-empty Xanax bottle on the ground next to her.

"How much of that did I take?" she said aloud, turning the bottle over in her hands as if it would give her an answer.

There was only one other person outside in the drizzling rain. He appeared out of nowhere, peering down at her with a drawn, dark face.

"Shhh," he said to her. "Don't make too much noise. I'm going to get you out of here."

"Paul!" she cried, instinctively leaping for him.

"What happened to you last night?" he asked. "Hotel security was about to call the cops on you when they saw you sleeping out here. I saw you and told them I'd deal with it."

"I passed out," Elise said miserably.

"I can tell," Paul replied. "Why are your clothes ripped and why are you all wet?"

"We had a pool party last night after Lingerie or Less," she said.

He shook his head. "Do you want my sweatshirt? I'll walk you back to your room." He wouldn't look at her from the neck down, refusing to get an eyeful of her while she was half-naked and wet.

Her face turned red as she took the sweatshirt from him. The warm fabric felt comforting against her cold, damp skin.

"Why are you out here?" she asked him.

"I worked all night," he replied. "I broke up my last fistfight around four in the morning. By the way, you're lucky you woke up, because we're getting a storm. Come on, I'll drive you back to your hotel."

Elise grimaced at the thought of seeing Carson or Chase. For all she knew, they had taken the party back to the suite.

"Is there any way we could go somewhere else?" she said, feeling too ridiculous to look him in the eye.

"Like where?" Paul asked. "You don't want to see my house. Trust me, it's nothing nice." He looked at The Diamond, which was looming over his shoulder. "It's sure not this place."

"I don't care," she said, and meant it.

Somewhere far in the distance, Elise heard thunder.

"Come on," he said, touching her shoulder. "Let's beat the storm."

Paul drove down a country road to a small house nestled among trees and brush. It looked shuttered and dark from the outside.

"Let me get my keys," Paul said.

He turned on the lights. Elise's eyes lit up when she saw what was inside: a seaside cottage that smelled like pine needles and the sea. A loud clap of thunder rattled the roof, making Elise jump.

"Are you afraid of storms?" Paul asked.

"No, I love them," Elise replied. "I spent my summers at a cottage in the woods. Everything was black at night, and when it stormed, the lightning just lit up the woods and turned the trees white..."

She held her breath for a second, then laughed.

"It was freaky," she said. "This reminds me of watching storms blow over the lake."

"Where was your cottage?" Paul asked.

"Oh, you've never heard of it," Elise replied. "Missaukee County, Michigan. Nothing to see there." At least not to anyone else. To her, it was magical. "...Unless you're interested in visiting the Christmas tree capital of the world."

Paul said nothing, looking pale and weary. He opened the door to a small bedroom as rain pounded on the roof.

"You can lay down," he said.

Elise rested her throbbing head on the pillow. He sat next to her.

"So where was your friend Carson when you passed out?" Paul asked with a sigh.

"Who knows."

"Some friend she is," Paul replied. "Did she pick that outfit for you?"

"Yes," Elise replied. She stared at her ripped lingerie, which now looked tattered and trashy. "I didn't want to wear this outfit. I picked out a white lace dress, the only one that wasn't see-through. Carson told me I'd look desperate in it."

"Desperate for what?"

"Marriage."

"So jumping into a pool in your lingerie for some asshole's amusement isn't desperate?" he said. He got up to leave.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"I'm not tired," he said.

"How could you not be?" she replied. "I didn't mean to kick you out of your own bed."

"It's a little soon to be sharing a bed," he said with an amused smile. Then he got up and shut the door behind him.

As Elise drifted back to sleep, Elise heard Paul talking on his phone in the other room. His voice was tense and tentative as he spoke to someone who interrupted him frequently: "Yeah, I know that wasn't part of the plan...no, I'm not backing out, why?"

Elise shivered as she thought about the call he answered yesterday, the frantic female voice asking the same question over and over... "Paul, is that you?"

She opened the door to the living room, dying to know who was on the phone—until her own phone started ringing. "Who's calling me this early?" Elise said, accepting the call.

"Hey slut," Carson said.

The volume was high enough for Paul to hear everything.

"What's going on?" Elise stammered.

"Don't play innocent. I went to find an Advil for my horrific hangover and you're not here," Carson replied. "Please tell me you went home with Chase."

"I'll be back in a few," Elise said, cringing.

"You were with Chase again?" Paul asked her, putting a hand on his hip.

She felt too ashamed to even look at him. "Don't worry, I'll walk myself home," she said, feeling like she might cry.

"Not like that, you won't," he said. "You can take my sweatshirt. I'm driving you back to the hotel."

When he pulled up to the curb, Paul parked and turned to her. "You didn't think I'd let you walk back here alone, did you?" he asked.

"No," she said, and meant it.

"Good," he said. "And the next time someone tries to get you drunk and take you home, you know where to find me."

9

The rain stopped by mid-morning. The sun shone over the beach, and the temperature spiked to the mid-80s. Elise and Carson went to the outdoor pool at The Palace.

"God, last night was sloppy," Carson said, sucking down a Bloody Mary. "So, what happened with Chase last night? I want all the dirty details."

"I can't remember any," Elise said. "This is embarrassing, but I woke up in the pool after everyone left."

Carson burst out laughing. "That's hilarious!" she exclaimed. "Did you and Chase bone on a deck chair or something?"

"I still had my underwear on when I woke up, so I doubt it," Elise said.

"Bor-ing," Carson said. "Why are you dragging your feet on hooking up with him? He'll lose interest if he has to wait around for sex much longer."

"I've known him for two days," Elise replied.

"In spring break time, that's two months," Carson explained. "Do you remember meeting Chase's rich friend from California last night? The one whose mom is on Millionaire Wives of Orange County?"

"Kind of..." Elise said. "Not really."

"Chandler and I had a threesome with him last night," Carson said with an ecstatic grin.

Elise tried to hide her shock, which quickly turned to revulsion. "Wow," she said, trying to force out a positive response. "That's scandalous."

"It was semi-epic," Carson replied. "Anyway, Chandler and I bonded last night. We have big news for you. Are you ready?"

Elise's heart dropped into her stomach. "What is it?"

"You won't believe this," Carson said, "But she showed the other producers our pictures. Right Now loves us and thinks we're reality show material."

"You must be joking."

"I am dead serious," Carson replied. "Chandler said the Right Now producers want to meet with us this afternoon."

"Think about it, Elise," Carson said. "You won't need a job after graduation. You'll become rich and famous...for being famous. It's the opportunity of a lifetime."

"Carson, I owe you big time!" Elise exclaimed, jumping up to hug her. It wasn't because she relished the idea of being a reality star. Thinking about her her striving parents in Frankenmuth, she wanted to cry.

"You better make sure your game face is on for our meeting with Chandler," Carson said. She reached into her beach bag and pulled out a bottle of Adderall.

For the first time, Elise took it.

By late afternoon it was time to meet the producers. Elise couldn't remember the last time she had spent so much time grooming herself for an event. Not her senior prom, not even for sorority rush. For this meeting, she wanted to look flawless.

Carson pulled out her iPhone. "Let's get an Instragram shot," she suggested. "Maybe we'll see it in a magazine someday soon." She snapped a few selfies.

"We look perfect," Carson declared. "So hot, it's annoying." With her stamp of approval, they left to meet Chandler in the producer's suite.

Chandler was sitting with the head producer, Lanny.

"Hi, ladies," Chandler said with a harsh nasal voice. "Have a seat."

"So, as you know, we have a new reality show in the works," Lanny said. "We know it'll be a hit. It's a Kardeza spin-off starring Kadence."

Kadence was Kandi Kardeza's youngest daughter. She was infamous for pole-dancing on Kardeza Family Values at the ripe old age of twelve. She'd since blossomed into a party girl who dated rappers and Tweeted pictures of herself two-thirds naked.

"Kadence wants a media career independent of the rest of the family," Chandler said. "So she proposed a reality show about her internship at the Right Now Network. We want two girls to star as her roommates and co-workers, and you two are the perfect fit for it."

Carson and Elise listened.

"We'd put the three of you in an apartment in L.A.," Chandler said. "It's prime real estate. It'd blow Hollywood Hills out of the water."

"What is the show about?" Elise asked.

"So glad you asked," Chandler replied. "You'll be working as interns during the day. At night, the cameras will follow your glamorous and sexy lifestyle. Hence the name of the show..."

She paused for maximum drama. "...Skinterns."

It sounded like a soft-core porn movie, or a smutty series on the Playboy Channel. It also sounded like it required the removal of clothes.

"What's the matter, Elise?" Lanny asked.

"Oh, nothing," she lied. "It's just that...is it going to be, um, risqué?"

Lanny laughed. "Sounds like we have our token 'good girl' for Skinterns," he said to Chandler. "I love it."

"Sweet, innocent Michigan native learns to shed her uptight ways," Chandler added. She looked over her notes. "It says here that your parents own a beer shop in a Bavarian resort town. Is that true?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Even better," Chandler said. "We could dress you up in a bier maid costume, put braids in your hair. That'd make a great segment."

"We don't have to pose for anything, do we?" Elise asked, alarmed.

"It's not in the contract," Lanny said. "Why, do you want to pose nude? Because that can be arranged."

"No thank you," Elise replied.

Carson beamed a big smile at the producers. "It sounds amazing," she said. "I'm all in."

"Fabulous," Lanny said. "Before you sign your contracts, you will have an audition of sorts, so Kadence can be sure she likes you. We're planning to have you meet up with her tomorrow for a day of shopping and self-care, all expenses paid. Charge it to these cards." He handed them each a platinum credit card.

Elise's jaw dropped.

"If Kadence approves, you can sign your contracts tomorrow," Chandler said. She looked at Elise. "But don't wait too long. There are other girls dying to get the part."

Carson burst with excitement. "This. Is. Awesome!" she shrieked as they left the meeting. "I cannot believe this is happening."

She pulled out her phone and admired herself on camera.

"Actually, yes I can," she said haughtily. "Everyone tells me I could be a celebrity. I mean, I keep MU Live in business."

Chandler came walking out of the producer's suite after them. "Hey Carson," she said, "Can I let you in on a little secret?"

"Oh, but of course," Carson replied.

"Come back to the suite with me."

Elise tagged along, uninvited. She felt awkward standing there waiting for Carson, and Chandler didn't seem to care.

"We had to take drug tests today," Chandler said. "As you can imagine, that was a teeny bit of a problem for me. So, can you be my alibi if anyone questions this result?" she said. She led them into a closet where Right Now had placed rows of urine samples, labeled with employees' names.

She peeled off the label that said Chandler. Looking behind her shoulder, she pulled out the specimen cup labeled Sienna.

"Of course, our bosses will figure the black chick does coke," Chandler said.

"God, you are so bad," Carson replied, and they both laughed wickedly.

10

That night, the Right Now Network unveiled the open mic contest in The Palace's giant auditorium.

"Who's ready to decide the fate of the next It Girl or Guy?" the MC shouted. The audience went wild with applause.

"Stars from Socialites and Eligible Bachelor are judging," Carson said. "So at least you know they have good taste."

Elise nodded, barely paying attention. She only snapped back to reality when she saw Grace walking up to the stage.

"Contestant number five, please take the stage!"

Grace was wearing a sundress, looking nervous yet placid in the face of the drunken crowd.

"What should the audience know about you?" a judge asked.

Grace exhaled and smiled. "Well, I guess the most important thing is that I'm a Christian..."

The judges made sour faces and glanced sideways at each other. Elise saw Lanny, the producer, waving his arms, mouthing the word "no" at the judge's panel.

"Better question," the judge interrupted. "Doggie style or reverse cowgirl?"

Grace narrowed her eyes. "Wait, what?" she asked with thinly concealed disgust.

"What's your favorite—"

"I know what it means," Grace interrupted.

The audience tittered at the awkward exchange. Carson buried her face in her hands. "I can't watch," she said. She lifted her head and looked at Elise. "Can you believe she just mouthed off to the judges?"

"She has serious balls," Elise remarked.

"I didn't mean it as a good thing," Carson snapped. "She is so weird."

Grace launched into a gorgeous version of LeAnn Rimes' "How Do I Live." Elise closed her eyes for a moment and hummed the lyrics. The audience looked disinterested. People started rustling in their seats and getting up for more drinks.

"This is boring," one spring breaker said to another as she stumbled up the aisle. "We can't even dance to this."

Sure you can, Elise thought. She imagined slow-dancing to it, although college students didn't do much of that.

"Is this over yet?" Carson said, playing with her phone.

"Why do you hate Grace so much?" Elise asked Carson.

"You don't get it," Carson replied. "My dad only married her mom because he's reached his middle-aged 'spiritual longing' phase. It sucks he had to pick a bunch of Jesus freaks. They can't even pick a cool religion, like Buddhism or something."

"How does your mom feel about it?"

"How does my mom feel?" Carson replied. "My mom doesn't have feelings." She narrowed her eyes. "I hate her."

Elise had met Carson's mom twice at MU. She rolled up to the Beta Xi house in her black Escalade, talking on her iPhone. She was an attorney too, like Carson's dad.

"Tell her I'll sue her fucking ass if she smears my reputation online," she said as she stomped upstairs to the house. She saw Carson sitting on the front porch.

"Carson, honey, did you get that professor who gave you a D fired?" she said, her face tight from Botox injections. "If not, I'll make a few phone calls."

The judges had stopped paying attention by the time Grace finished her song. Grace slumped off the stage, looking as if she might cry. She ran up to Connor Kardeza and wrapped her arms around him.

"You did great, babe," he said, cradling her hand and glaring at the judge's table.

Carson gawked at them. "Wait, is Grace getting into a whirlwind romance with Connor?" she said, with a half-laugh, half-scoff. "What an idiot. I hope she's ready to land in the tabloids the next time he gets in some pathetic Twitter fight."

As Grace made her way back to Elise and Carson, Carson went back to playing with her phone, taking Snaps of herself and refusing to talk.

"Okay, contestant number six, you're up!" a judge announced. And at that moment Paul took the stage.

"Tell us where you learned to play music," one of the judges said.

"I learned it from my dad," he replied. "Growing up on a farm, I went to see his band play every Friday night. There wasn't much else to do in my hometown."

"A farm?" Elise said to Grace. "He never said anything to me about growing up on a farm. He said he was from Florida."

Grace shrugged. "It could be an orange grove. Maybe he didn't want you to judge him," she said, eyes downcast. "You know, like everyone else on this island."

"What are you singing?" the judge asked Paul.

"Do you know the song 'I Wanna Dance with Somebody' by Whitney Houston?" he asked.

"Yes!" Elise exclaimed. "I love that song. It's a classic!"

"Calm down," Carson said, exasperated. "You're like an over-excited puppy, and it's making me sick."

"It's a countrified version," Paul added. "It was originally written as a country song, you know."

The judges raised their eyebrows and looked at each other.

"It's weird, but we'll allow it," the head judge said. Elise held her breath, hoping his performance wouldn't be as disastrous as Grace's.

Paul looked like he was holding his breath, too, as he started to strum the chords. Then, the words came.

"Clock strikes upon the hour, and the sun begins to fade. Still enough time to figure out how to chase my blues away."

"Wow, it is a countrified version of Whitney Houston," Carson said. "How the hell does anyone pull that off?"

"I've done alright up to now, it's the light of day that shows me how. And when the night falls, loneliness calls."

"He has the hottest voice," a girl two rows up said.

It was Madison Banks, the socialite who hosted the six-figure birthday party yesterday. She wasn't the only girl in the audience who started to sing along to the refrain.

"Oh, I wanna dance with somebody. I wanna feel the heat with somebody. Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody, with somebody who loves me."

At the end of the song, the audience burst into applause. Girls leapt out of their chairs, cheering.

"So they're just going to start liking him now?" Elise said, catching herself off guard with how defensive she sounded.

"Very good, Paul. Thank you," one of the judges said, sounding bored. But it didn't matter. When Paul left the stage, a middle-aged man with a ponytail stepped in his path.

"Excuse me, son," he said. "I watched your performance. You've got a unique style and a great voice."

"Well, thank you," Paul said, looking discomforted. "I learned from my dad."

"Have you ever heard of my company?" he asked, handing Paul a business card.

For the first time, Carson perked up and listened to Paul's conversation.

"Oh my God," she said to Elise. "That's Ace Galentino! He's talking to a big-time record company exec!"

"No kidding," Elise said, recognizing the famous name.

"I never knew Galentino looked like an ageing hippie," Carson said. "But regardless, that's a big deal. A huge deal. If he's not an undercover celebrity who's loaded now, he will be if Ace Galentino signs him."

Carson twirled her hair and stared at Paul.

"You know, he is hot in a rough sort of way," she said.

Elise's jaw dropped. "You must be joking," she said.

"Why?" Carson said. "He has a sexy voice."

"Because he's talking to a record company executive, you're into him now?" Elise said, flabbergasted. "You wouldn't even let me talk to him yesterday!"

"Well, I hadn't seen this side of him," Carson said. "Do you think he'd be up for the hot tub tonight?"

They were interrupted by a girl, three-fourths naked, prancing onto the stage. She looked like a cross between Lady Gaga and Miley Cyrus at the VMAs. She donned huge sunglasses, a wig, and what looked like red beer pong cups tied together with yarn.

"I love being onstage in front of hundreds of strangers," the contestant said, her sultriness so exaggerated it sounded preposterous. "I love when people watch. It's my fetish."

"Oooh, how original," Connor Kardeza said.

The music started. Elise expected the contestant to start singing. And what a stupid mistake that was: instead, contestant number seven writhed around the stage, making guttural moaning sounds.

"What is this?" Connor shouted. "This isn't a song!"

"Oooh, oh yeah," the contestant moaned. She twisted and turned her body as if she was working an invisible stripper pole. Then she reached into one of the red cups and produced her surprise: a tube of chocolate sauce. For a few seconds she turned around. Then she faced the crowd again, revealing that she'd smeared her bare breasts with the sauce.

"It's edible," she purred into the microphone. "Now, which one of you lucky lads—or ladies—wants to come up here and taste me?"

"Wait," Elise said. "Is she inviting people to lick chocolate sauce off her boobs? Please tell me she's not really inviting people to lick chocolate sauce off her boobs."

And then one by one audience members in the front row did it. The judges laughed and clapped as the cameras captured every X-rated moment.

"I love it!" one of the judges said. "Talk about a viral video!"

Connor Kardeza's head was about to explode.

"Are you fucking kidding me? This sucks!" he bellowed to no one in particular. He raised his hands in the air with a thumbs-down sign. "Booo!"

Grace, who was still looking heartbroken, stifled a laugh. Madison Banks and her friends glared at them. "What's his fucking problem?" they asked each other.

The contestant finished by spraying a dollop of whipped cream on each nipple and then licking it off. "Can I have a record deal?" she asked cloyingly. "Pretty please with a cherry on top?"

She pulled a maraschino cherry out of her makeshift thong. Pausing for dramatic effect, she dangled it in the air above her mouth before biting it.

"Gross!" Connor shouted.

The audience—and the judges—burst into applause. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!" the head judge roared.

"Congratulations," the female judge said. "You're exactly what Right Now wants."

"Let's go," Connor said to Grace as the audience broke up. "This has to be one of those candid-camera things, or some stupid ass publicity stunt. I wouldn't be surprised if my mom came up with it."

"Oh my God," Carson said as she watched Connor and Grace. "Let's move and pretend we don't know those two."

Carson pointed across the auditorium to the bar. "Hey, is that Madison Banks from Socialites talking to your bouncer friend?" she asked.

Elise watched as Madison walked up to Paul, smiling and running her fingers through her hair.

"Hold my drink," Carson said to Elise, shoving her margarita at her. "I'm going to interrupt them."

Elise stood at the bar, fuming, thinking hard about what to say to her when she came back. But she was even angrier at Paul.

"What a waste of time," Elise mumbled to herself, discarding her drink. As she made her way through the auditorium, she locked eyes with Paul. He was still indulging Madison, smiling back at her as she giggled and touched him.

"Have fun tonight," Elise said as she brushed by, then stormed off as Paul watched.

11

Elise was peeling off her tight clothes when the phone in her hotel room rang.

"I forgot this thing existed," Elise said as she answered. She assumed it was the front desk—anyone else would call her cell phone.

"Don't worry, I saw right through that," Paul said.

"Where are you?" Elise asked.

"I'm downstairs in the casino," he said, "But I'm going to the Town Pump soon."

"That does not sound like a nightclub in The Palace," Elise replied.

"It's a bar," Paul said. "It's popular with the real islanders, before Right Now bought it."

"I have to fix my hair," Elise said, still bitter about Madison.

"No you don't," Paul replied. "Are you coming?"

"I guess."

"Bring your bathing suit," he said, then paused. "...Don't worry, you won't wake up passed out on a deck chair."

Elise responded with a wry laugh. "I'll be there in ten minutes," she said.

Elise was the only girl wearing casual clothes as she rode the glass elevator to the lobby. In the casino, she stopped to admire the Roman statue suspended in the air.

"It's not a bad replica," she said to no one in particular, recalling her art history classes at MU. She'd only been here a few days, and she was starting to get homesick. She was getting tired of smiling and prancing around half-naked.

But she did love the sights, smells, and sounds of casinos. The oxygen pumped into casinos to keep gamblers awake all night gave her a head rush. The tinny music of the slot machines sounded like a Nintendo game, and it brought back happy memories. She used to play those games for hours with her brother Eric.

Paul was at a poker table.

"Pull up a seat. Or sit on my lap, if you want," he said, winking at her. "Just kidding."

She considered it for a moment, feeling butterflies in her stomach.

"I'm blowing off some steam after my small victory tonight," Paul said to her. "I had some stiff competition in the chocolate-sauce chick, but at least I got Ace Galentino's attention."

Elise slid into the chair next to him. "Madison and Carson are fans of yours now," she said.

"Don't worry. I'm not interested in a girl who didn't even recognize me as the guy who broke up her catfight yesterday. As for Carson, she's not my type," Paul said. "If you're not convinced of that already, wait until you see my favorite bar."

The Town Pump was full of local residents from the island. Taxidermied animal heads dotted the wall, and the bar stools were covered in camoflage fabric. Country music was playing.

"So, can I ask you how you tolerate Carson all day long?" Paul asked. "I've met some bitchy girls on this trip, but damn."

"I'm getting fed up with her," she admitted. "I mean, I knew she wasn't the nicest person. But now she's really letting the true colors fly."

"I had a friend like that in high school," Paul said. "The captain of the football team, the big man on campus. I was afraid to stand up to him, no matter how wrong he was. When I watch you with Carson, I always think about how I was back then ..."

"What do you mean?" Elise asked.

"When I first saw you at the airport, walking by with your long blonde hair as every guy checked you out, I assumed you were a snob," he said. "But you were actually really sweet. I was shocked to see you at that party with Chandler and Carson."

"I'm the third wheel with those two, that's for sure," she said. "I'm not rich. I usually dress like this..."

She looked down at her jeans and cotton shirt.

"When I went to college, I went through sorority rush," she said. "It was just on a whim. But then I got a bid from Beta Xi, one of the 'top tier' sororities. Some of the girls are nice. A lot of them aren't. There are so many rules to follow, like buying certain brands and going to these parties that are sort of stupid. They have themes like Slutty Secretaries and CEOs, or Anything But Clothes."

"Long story short, that's how I met Carson. I still can't believe she invited me here," Elise said. "But at least I can make some money. Right Now wants to put us on a reality show with Kadence. It's called Skinterns."

Paul straightened his back, alarmed. "Us?" he repeated. "What do you mean, us?"

"Carson and me," Elise said.

"They asked you to be on a Kardeza spin-off show?" Paul said, incredulous.

"Yes."

"Don't tell me you'd ever do that," Paul said.

"I don't really want to," Elise replied. "My family would hate the idea, especially my mom. But at least I could pay off my student loans."

"Paying off student loans and getting a real job is better than being owned by the network," he replied. "Remember what I said about the producers."

"Can I ask you one question?" Elise asked him, eager to change the subject.

"Sure."

"Who called you yesterday?" she asked.

"I told you it was a wrong number," Paul said, averting his eyes from her for the first time tonight.

"Then how did she know your name?" Elise persisted. "If you have a girlfriend, you can tell me."

"No, that's definitely not it," he said. "It was someone claiming to be my sister."

"Why would someone do that?" Elise asked.

"I don't know," Paul said. "There are a lot of sick people in this world."

He spun his beer glass on the table, revealing how uncomfortable he was with the conversation. "There's no way my sister has my number," he said.

A country song started playing. The cheery and upbeat tune that disguised the sweet, sad lyrics. "If you really wanna know, she comes here a lot. She just loves to hear the music and dance."

"Is this 'Straight Tequila Night' by John Anderson?" Elise asked. "I love this song."

"Don't ask her on a straight tequila night, she'll start thinking about him, and she's ready to fight. Blames her broken heart on every man in sight, on a straight tequila night."

"This song brings back memories," Elise said.

"No kidding," Paul said. He stopped talking and looked into her eyes, studying her face as if he was trying to pique his memory.

"You're sure you grew up in Frankenmuth?" he asked her.

"Do you think I'd lie about growing up in a dorky resort town that no one has heard of?" Elise replied.

"No," he said. "Never mind."

He paused again, looking around the bar. It was a regular weeknight on this part of the island, and the bar had emptied out. "Want to play some pool?" he asked. "The tables are free."

They went into the next room, where he picked her up and hoisted her onto a pool table.

"Don't do that show," Paul said. "It's one thing for Carson to sell her soul to the Kardezas. You're a different story."

Saying nothing else, pulled her onto his lap on the pool table. He gathered her in his arms and kissed her on the neck. A shiver ran down her spine.

She reached for the zipper of his pants as his breathing deepened.

"Want to go to my house?" he asked.

"Yes," she whispered.

They left the Town Pump and walked down the quiet streets of Esmeralda Island. Nothing was open except a few small bars. She could tell it was the sort of place where everyone knew everyone.

The walk to Paul's cottage was dark, and the dirt road leading there was empty. As he went to turn the lights on, Elise saw his digital camera sitting on the nightstand next to his bed. Without asking, she turned it on and browsed his pictures.

"Hey!" she shouted. "You took a bunch of pictures of girls in their lingerie?"

"Put that down," Paul ordered.

She complied, but scowled at him. "So that's what you did at work last night? You took pictures of other girls in sexy outfits?"

"I told you, I'm trying to document the fact that money can't buy class." He turned the screen toward her and showed her a picture of two drunk girls making out while a frat-boy type cheered.

When Paul turned his back, Elise picked up the camera again. She leaned back on the couch and aimed the camera at herself, letting her hair drape over her breasts.

"What are you doing?" he asked as the flash went off.

"Since you have so many pictures of other girls, I thought you might want one of me," she said.

"You look better in that t-shirt than those girls do in their bras," Paul replied. Then he looked sideways at her.

"And what do you mean, other girls?" he said. "What does that make you, my girl?"

Elise flushed with embarrassment. She remembered Carson admonishing her about getting too serious about guys.

"You're wearing your bathing suit under your clothes," he noted. "Should we find out what the beach is like at night?"

"Let's do it," Elise said, stripping off her shirt and jeans and draping them over the back of the couch. The stars were twinkling in the cloudless night sky. They looked especially bright now that they were away from the lights of the resort.

"It's dark out here," Paul said as they waded into the ocean together, listening to the waves crash against the wet sand. "Don't let go of my hand."

"The water feels rougher at night," Elise said, the wind whipping her hair away from her face. She felt the seaweed between her toes as she navigated the sand, trying to avoid the rocks.

An aggressive wave came at them, causing Elise to lose her footing.

"Whoa," Paul said, grabbing her around the waist to keep her from falling. "You're a lightweight, aren't you?" He stroked his hands up and down her back.

Without thinking, she gave in to her instincts and wrapped her arms around his neck. He grabbed the back of her thighs and held her legs around his waist. "You're so beautiful," he said before he kissed her.

All of a sudden, a bright white light lit up the beach. Elise screamed.

"Is someone taking pictures?" she cried, shoving Paul away from her. She got up and started to run.

"Don't take a picture of me, man," Paul said, throwing his palm in front of the camera.

The voyeur ran away, laughing. Elise realized he wasn't alone—there were at least two other men with him, crouched in the sea oats.

She began to shake, feeling an icy sensation in her stomach. "Take me home," she said.

"Elise, don't panic," Paul said. "I scared them off. Everything is alright."

"I don't care," Elise said. "Take me home. They were taking pictures of me."

She kept repeating it over and over as she rubbed the sand off her wet skin. She trembled as she wondered where those photos would end up.

As she composed herself, his words to the voyeurs replayed in her head. Don't take a picture of me, man.

"Paul," Elise said, backing away from him, "did you know those guys?"

He stared at her. "What?"

"It sounded like you knew them."

"No, Elise," he said as he reached out to grab her hand. "Please, calm down."

She yanked her hand away from his. "No."

12

Elise slept little that night. When she dozed off, she had a dream about seeing her own picture in the gossip pages. She dreamt of getting a phone call from her mom and her brother Eric, who didn't know her as Chase Rinehart's latest fling. She dreamt of Mom saying, "This isn't like you. What's gotten into you?"

She woke up around eight and tried to forget.

Carson was up early, primping in the bathroom. "I'm going to get breakfast," Elise said to her.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Why?"

"We're meeting Kadence at ten, and you don't want to look bloated," Carson said in a very "duh" way.

"Will it really make that big of a difference?" Elise said, annoyed. "I mean, really."

"I wouldn't take the risk."

"Alright, black coffee it is," Elise said with a resigned shrug.

Grace sat up in bed.

"Be careful what you tell the Kardezas about yourself," she said to Elise. "Connor said they tip off the tabloids themselves to get attention."

"Connor doesn't know what the hell he's talking about," Carson snapped from the bathroom. "There's a reason he's the only Kardeza they won't even show on Kardeza Family Values. He's the family outcast, the black sheep they don't acknowledge. Why do you think he's the only child whose name doesn't start with K?"

"It did," Grace said. "He changed it in high school. He thought it was stupid and gimmicky."

"Why? I'm thinking about changing my name to Karson with a K," Carson said. "It would be more attention-grabbing in headlines."

Elise and Grace looked at each other. "Is that a joke?" Grace whispered. "I hope it's a joke."

"I don't think so," Elise replied.

Carson emerged from the bathroom looking nightclub-ready. She looked Elise up and down, sizing up her floral maxi dress. "Don't wear that," she said.

"What's wrong with this dress?" Elise asked. "I got tons of compliments on during at Greek Week last year."

"No offense, but looks like you got it at a department store," Carson replied. Elise's cheeks burned when she remembered that she'd bought it at Macy's last spring.

"And this isn't a sorority event in Michigan," Carson added. "You know the line from Wizard of Oz, 'We're not in Kansas anymore?' You're not in Frankenmuth anymore."

Carson pulled out a huge Louis Vuitton suitcase and scoured its depths. She produced a small, silky piece of black fabric.

"What is that?" Elise asked.

"Don't worry, you're tiny enough for it."

Barely, Elise thought as she looked in the mirror. It was a skin-tight black dress with deep cut-outs in the sides. She had to pull it down in the back to cover her cheeks.

"Oh, you can totally pull that off," Carson said. "I'm impressed."

Elise tried not to frown into the mirror. She felt overexposed—and considering it wasn't even noon yet, foolish.

Carson came up behind her with a brush and smoothed out her hair.

"You're doing a high bun today," she informed Elise. "Your hair is long enough for it."

"I wanted to wear it down," Elise replied. She hated those high donut buns that Kallista Kardeza had made all the rage.

"This isn't a wear-it-down kind of day," Carson said. "I promise it will look awesome on you."

Elise felt like she was balancing a weight on her scalp.

Carson pulled out her phone and took a Snap of herself. "I never go out without doing a test picture," Carson said. "It's one of my secrets to MU stardom."

"Here, you try it," she said, handing the camera to Elise.

Elise felt awkward tilting her head and angling her face to get a flattering shot.

"Let me do your eyes," Carson said after examining the picture.

"I already did them," Elise said.

Carson ignored her and approached Elise, wielding a black eyeliner stick. "They're so pretty and blue, but they disappear on camera."

She held still and let Carson apply an elaborate smoky eye.

"This shadow looks so good on you," Carson said. "I'm so glad I intervened in your makeup and wardrobe choices. Now all you need is a decent purse, like mine."

Carson picked up her Chanel handbag, which was worth more than Elise's used car back in Frankenmuth. She remembered the Right Now credit card in her purse. Skinterns was becoming harder and harder to reject.

"Wow," Grace said from her perch on her bed. "You're like a blonde Kardeza sister, Elise."

Then she slinked out of the room.

Elise looked in the mirror and didn't recognize herself.

13

At ten, Carson and Elise met Chandler on the main boulevard on Esmeralda Island. Chandler was standing with a harsh-looking woman wearing a headset.

"This is Kadence's publicist, Yolanda," Chandler said. "Kadence is running late. She went to do yoga on the beach with Kallista and Kiki."

"Is the whole family here?" Elise asked.

"Yep," Chandler replied. "And they're staying at The Luxe tonight. But don't tell anyone. Kandi hates it when someone ruins their entrance."

Kadence's assistant was yammering into the headset, looking like she was on a mission.

"Are the girls on their way back from yoga?" she was saying. "I'll tip off the photogs."

Elise turned to Carson. "Photogs?"

"Paparazzi," Carson whispered.

Elise spotted three dark-haired women walking towards them. They wore head-to-toe couture workout clothes. Their flawless hair didn't frizz in eighty-degree humidity.

"That's how they look after working out?" Elise said. "There must be a new exercise craze that doesn't involve sweating."

The Kardeza sisters raised their voices as they walked past the throng of paparazzi. The photographers mobbed them, elbowing each other for the best camera angles.

"God, that was so hot," Kadence purred, shooting a seductive glance at the paparazzi. "I love doing tantric yoga."

Kallista tossed her hair and laughed as if they were sharing an inside joke. "I like naked yoga even better," she said, batting her eyelashes.

The photographers shouted questions at them: "Kadence, can you explain tantric yoga?"

"Is that a real thing?" Elise asked.

Carson shrugged. "It is now," she said.

Elise cringed. "I hope they don't make us do it." She wondered if they were making it up to titillate the paparazzi. Then again, did they need more attention?

Kallista screeched to a halt. "Shit, my eyelashes are falling off!" she shrieked. "Yolanda! Where's my makeup artist?"

A woman came running out of the crowd, toting a makeup bag. She whipped out a set of fake lashes and glue. Kadence's publicist turned to the paparazzi and put her hand up in a "halt" sign.

"Hold on a sec," she barked. "We will need a retake."

Kallista peeled off the faulty eyelashes and tossed them at her assistant.

"Where did you buy these?" she sneered. "They suck."

"Uh, MAC?" the bewildered makeup artist replied nervously. "I thought they were your style."

"Well, you thought wrong!" Kallista huffed. She turned away and added, "I should fire her."

"Kadence, do you need a touch-up?" the assistant asked. She applied bronzing powder to her nose and cheeks.

"Okay, we're good!" the assistant yelled, and the picture-taking resumed.

"So that's how it works?" Elise asked. "I thought paparazzi shots were candid."

"Not for the smart celebrities," Yolanda replied. "While we're waiting, I'll fill you in on the plan for today: you girls will go shopping on Main Street. It has the usual luxury stores—Fendi, Gucci, Louis Vuitton..."

She rattled them off like a bored housewife reading a grocery list. "As you know, Kadence is very fashion-conscious," she said. "She expects any future co-stars to have impeccable taste."

"See, I told you to let me pick your outfit," Carson said to Elise.

"Then, when that's over, you're going backstage at Spring Fling," Yolanda said.

"Oh, wow!" Elise exclaimed. Spring Fling was Right Now's huge annual concert, which coincided with Spring Break.

"How do you feel about getting a few photos with Lindsey Shears?" the assistant asked.

Lindsey Shears had been the biggest teen idol of the decade. When Elise was in junior high, the local radio station hosted a "Body Like Lindsey" contest. Her biggest fan with plastic surgery. Every guy wanted to date her, and every girl wanted to be her.

But things had changed after her back-to-back pregnancies and divorce. The gossip headlines now screamed, "Lindsey's a crackhead!" and "Flabby Lindsey won't stop eating!" One cover story asked, "Lindsey's Body: What Happened?" with her "trouble zones" circled in red.

Carson wrinkled her nose. "Is that good for our image?" she asked.

"Well, she is the hot topic of the moment," the assistant reminded her. "Photographers will swarm her. Kadence got major press when she hit the town with Lindsey last month. Although the fact that Lindsey was drunk and sans panties didn't hurt."

She cackled.

"But first, you will get mani-pedis with the Kardeza girls," she said. She looked at Elise's hands. "It looks like you're due for one."

Elise folded her hands against her sides. She didn't mention that her last manicure was before her high school prom.

"While the girls finish their photo shoot, I'll walk you to the salon," Yolanda said. "It's right up the street. Follow me."

Elise pictured the nail salon looking like the cheesy place she passed at the strip mall in Michigan. But this one looked a French chateau.

"Champagne, ladies?" the hostess asked as Elise and Carson settled into their seats.

"Thanks!" Elise said, dazzled by the offer. Carson frowned.

"I'd prefer a Cosmo," she said.

The hostess nodded.

"Be nice," Elise hissed at Carson.

"Why?" Carson asked Elise. "We need to get used to getting what we want."

A few minutes later, the four Kardeza sisters sauntered in as if they owned the place. They sunk into the seats and chatted amongst themselves. They barely acknowledged the staff, let alone Elise and Carson.

Kallista snapped her fingers at the staff. "Someone bring me my air-meal," she demanded. "Yolanda!"

"It's coming right up," the assistant assured her. "I'm so sorry it's a half-hour late. We had trouble locating fresh, wild-caught Alaska salmon on the island. We had to drive into Jacksonville."

"You're so disorganized," Kallista spat at her.

One employee emerged with a tray of delicious-looking salmon and vegetables. She wondered what they meant by "air meal." Maybe the ingredients were so special, they flew it in on a private airplane.

Elise watched as Kallista cut into the salmon, lifted it to her mouth, and pretended to chew.

"She's on the air diet," Kiki Kardeza explained. "Her diet guru said she can get the benefits of food by inhaling the aromas and going through the motions of eating."

Elise watched in horror as Kallista dumped the entire plate into the trash, uneaten. "I've had better," she announced, taking a sip of expensive sparkling water.

Kallista's lips were so puffy that she didn't notice the water droplets clinging to them. Kallista denied plastic surgery, claiming she had naturally shapely lips. But up close, her mouth looked freakishly large, like a duck's bill.

"I am so annoyed by this fucking incompetent staff," Kallista muttered.

"You don't look annoyed," Kiki remarked.

"It's the Botox," Kallista replied. "Do I have any drool on my lip?"

"Not right now."

"Good," Kallista replied. "I'm getting another round of filler next week. My lips are deflating."

"Speaking of food, I need my tree bark smoothie," Karmen said.

"What's that?" Carson asked, smiling and attempting to strike up a conversation.

"It's a new cleanse," Karmen said. "Kind of like a juice cleanse, but much lower-cal. They take bark from trees in the Sequoia National Forest and mix it into a green smoothie. It smells so weird, but it works so great."

"Yeah," Kiki said with a snort. "She has to sit on the toilet, like, eight times a day."

"I'd love to try it," Carson said.

"Yeah, unfortunately, a bunch of dirty hippies are upset about these dumb trees," Karmen said. "Get this: they staged a demonstration to save the Sequoias. One protester accused me of hurting the environment by doing the Tree Bark Cleanse. I had my lawyers threaten to sue her for slander. Since then we haven't heard a peep."

Kallista and Kadence cackled. Kiki tuned out and scrolled through her phone. "I'm stepping outside to call Leroy," she said.

Leroy Henderson was an NBA star who married Kiki last summer. The gossip rags reported that Kandi Kardeza was no fan of LeRoy's, and tried to stop the wedding. They watched Kiki talk with a genuine smile, not the fake movie-star grin she wore for the paparazzi.

"Her stock has gone way down since she married him," Karmen said.

"I know. Why haven't we gotten rid of him yet?" Kadence asked. "He's so boring on the show. All he cares about is basketball and trying to get Kiki pregnant."

"Don't worry," Kallista said. "Mom has a plan in place for getting him off the show by next season. If he doesn't go back to Detroit or whatever ghetto he came from, his little drug habit will take a turn for the worse."

"He's from Michigan?" Elise asked. "Carson and I are from Michigan."

"Really?" Kadence said. "How did they find you for the show? Isn't that, like, a local-yocal place on a river?"
"That's Mississippi," Elise replied.

"What do your parents do?" Kadence asked.

It was an odd question, one Elise only saw in the movies...or on shows like Socialites.

"Mine own a shop in a tourist town," Elise said, eliciting unimpressed stares.

"My dad's a lawyer," Carson said. "Like, a high-powered one."

"Our dad was a lawyer," Kallista said.

Richard Kardeza defended CJ Sampson, an NFL player accused of killing his wife.

"Very high-powered," Karmen added. "I mean, he got CJ Sampson off the hook!"

The girls giggled in unison.

"So he was guilty after all?" Elise asked.

"Duh," Kallista said. "He came to our house that night with blood all over his clothes. But my dad knew how to play it: he got a bunch of dumb blacks on the jury and told them it was a civil rights issue. And those gloves that didn't fit CJ? They were my dad's. He went to his wife's house to help him clean up the mess."

"Oh," Elise said, speechless. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"His ex-wife was the biggest drama queen," Kallista said. "She was always giving people these sob stories about how CJ came over to her house and hit her. Well, maybe if she weren't such a gold-digging whore..."

Kiki Kardeza walked back into the room. "Kallista!" she snapped. "Don't tell them that!"

"Why? It's true," Kallista said, flipping her hair. "And besides, we can't get in trouble now that dad is dead. Mom had her lawyers cover the bases. The only person who still cares is Connor. He won't shut up about how dad made him sit in the car while they cleaned up the blood. That's his excuse for getting fat and being such a fuck-up."

Yolanda walked back into the room. "Ready to shop?" she asked.

"Aren't we always?" Karmen said.

The Kardeza sisters emitted canned laughter, the type that sounded rehearsed.

"Do you have your credit card?" Carson asked Elise. "We'll turn you into reality star material."

"Let's go in Louis Vuitton first," Kadence's assistant said.

"You read my mind," Kadence replied. "I've been meaning to get the latest limited edition."

Elise's jaw dropped when she saw the price tag: five thousand dollars.

"Do you want one?" Carson asked her.

Elise sucked in her breath and offered an honest opinion. "No," she said. "It's ugly."

"Are you kidding me? This is the bag of the season," Carson replied. "Come on. We'll get matching purses."

"This is half of a semester's tuition," Elise reminded Carson.

"I know, right?" Carson said. "I feel so fabulous right now."

"I need new shoes for tonight," Kadence said.

Kandi Kardeza was infamous for her two-story closet, which housed over a thousand pairs of shoes. Kadence must be starting her own collection.

"You could use a pair of Christian Louboutins," Carson said to Elise.

They stepped into the boutique. "Why are there no price tags?" Elise asked.

"Because it's tacky to worry about the cost," Carson replied. "Your number-one priority is finding a fabulous pair of shoes, not bargain-hunting." She eyed a pair of white open-toed stilettos.

"I'll show you how it's done. What's your shoe size?"

"Seven," Elise replied.

Carson snapped her finger at the salesgirl. "We'll take this pair in a size seven," she said curtly.

The salesgirl retrieved the shoes and rang them up for Elise. "One thousand ninety-nine dollars," she said.

Elise clenched her jaw as she handed over the Right Now credit card, disgusted with herself. She wondered what her family would think of her thousand-dollar shoes. Moreover, they'd get trashed after one night of spilled drinks and drunken stumbles.

"You should put them on before you go backstage with Lindsey Shears," Kadence's assistant said. "Speaking of that, it's time for Spring Fling."

Elise slipped into the shoes, which felt heavy on her feet, even heavier than the bun on top of her head.

"Wow," Carson said. "I never thought I'd say this, but you look like a movie star, Elise. I thought you'd never shed your frumpy small-town tendencies."

"Thanks," Elise said, although she struggled to smile this time.

"Can you believe this?" Carson asked as they headed to Right Now's beachfront concert pavilion. "I'm holding backstage passes to Spring Fling. My life keeps getting more awesome by the minute."

"I'm surprised Lindsey Shears is performing," Elise said. "She's been such a mess lately."

"Of course she's performing," Kadence Kardeza said. "It's great entertainment. That's why we call them train wrecks: you can't look away."

She and Carson giggled, dazzled by their own wit. Elise wondered if they thought they were the first people in the world to come up with that joke.

When they made it backstage, Lindsey Shears had tears in her eyes.

"I want to cancel the show," she wept. "I miss my boys."

"Calm down, Lindsey," her manager said. "Do you want to take your multivitamin?"

He turned and winked at another of Lindsey's managers, who produced a white tablet. He glanced over his shoulder before handing it to her.

"Oh, thank God," Lindsey mumbled. "You're a lifesaver."

"No sweat," the manager said with a crooked grin.

"That wasn't a multivitamin," Kadence whispered to Carson, sounding amused.

When Lindsey saw her, Kadence's demeanor changed in an instant.

"Linds!" she yelled, running up to hug her as if they were lifelong friends. "I haven't seen you since that afterparty in Santa Monica!"

They posed for several photographs. Kadence kept contorting herself into different positions and asking for retakes. When the camera flashes faded, she dropped the smile.

"God, she's so annoying," Kadence said to Carson. "But I guess she's not so fat."

It was true: Lindsey had a petite, yet athletic build, with toned legs and slender arms. There was the slightest bit of pudge around her middle, left over from her pregnancies.

"No kidding," Elise said, grabbing her own waist. "If that's fat, we're all screwed."

"That's what Adderall is for," Carson said, fishing a pill out of her purse. "Or on special occasions, coke."

Elise offered her hand to Lindsey, who greeted her with a genuine warm smile.

"Hi there," she said with a Southern twang. She eyed Elise's backstage pass, looking anxious. "Are you from the media?"

"No," Elise said. "We're fans. I've been listening to you since junior high."

She shook Lindsey's hand, which was clammy and trembling.

"I really admire you, Lindsey," Elise said.

"Thanks," Lindsey said, looking as if she might cry again. "It means a lot to me."

From the tone of her voice, Elise knew she meant it.

Before Elise could respond, Lindsey's manager barged in. "Right Now wants a wardrobe change," she barked.

"Why?" Lindsey asked, wide-eyed. "I thought we agreed this outfit took attention away from my post-baby belly."

"It's boring," the manager replied. "This concert is vital for the new resort. You need something edgier."

Lindsey took a deep breath and sucked in her stomach. "Okay...I guess."

A few minutes later, she reappeared in a costume that was two sizes too small and cut her at all the wrong angles. Lindsey grabbed a roll of flab on her stomach that escaped from the too-tight fabric. "Do I have to wear this? I haven't got my body back."

"Do you want to make a comeback or not?" the manager snapped.

Lindsey was getting a glazed-over look in her eyes.

"It's showtime," her manager said. "Lindsey, here's your Red Bull."

But it wasn't only Red Bull: even from several feet away, Elise picked up the biting scent of Jaegermeister.

Elise wondered why are they were getting her drunk right before she went onstage. She thought of Lindsey's impeccably coordinated music videos. "I couldn't dance like that sober," Elise said under her breath.

Then Elise overheard the manager whisper to another, "Tip off the paparazzi. She's about to make an ass of herself."

When Lindsey came onstage, the crowd held its collective breath. Even the applause had a dark undertone of aggression. Elise wondered if the audience wanted to see her blow the performance.

Maybe that's why headlines like "Lindsey's a Whale!" sold so many magazines. Elise felt tempted to sneak out of the pavilion so she wouldn't have to watch.

The music started. Lindsey swayed. Her muscles looked loose and limp, and her face was devoid of expression.

"Boo!" someone shouted, and as if on cue, others followed.

Lindsey was lip-synching out of step with the music. The jeering grew louder and angrier. The audience looked smug, making amused faces at each other.

Lindsey tripped. The crowd kept yelling as she turned white and writhed in pain. She grabbed her left knee, revealing that she wasn't wearing underwear.

The crowd roared with laughter and titillated gasps as Lindsey limped off the stage.

The Jumbotron next to the stage flashed: "How low can she go? Chubby drug addict Lindsey blows Spring Break performance!"

"That's bullshit," Elise protested, as if someone with power could hear her. "The managers were loading her up with Jagermeister and pills. And do you think those headlines weren't planned ahead of time? How'd they go up on the Jumbotron so fast?"

Carson gasped. "Shhhh!" she hissed. "Do you want people to hear you talking shit about the network? You could blow our Skinterns contracts!"

"Aren't you worried about what Right Now will do to us?" Elise asked her.

"No," Carson replied, tossing her hair. "We're not idiots."

14

A few hours later, Carson and Elise met with Lanny and Chandler, who wanted an answer about Skinterns.

"Good news," Chandler said. "You won over Kadence."

"Yes!" Carson squealed. "What's next?"

"We want to film a pilot episode tomorrow to see how you do on camera," Chandler replied, then winked. "Carson, I know the camera will love you. Elise, the same goes for you, if you can loosen up a little."

"Don't blow your opportunity," Chandler added, with a sharp look aimed at Elise. "Oh, and bring a bathing suit tomorrow, along with a casual outfit that you can take off easily."

Elise didn't bother to speculate about what absurd stunts Right Now had planned for the pilot episode. Instead, she decided to take a walk on the beach, away from the crowds. It was easier to appreciate the sand and waves when she was alone.

Away from the resort, little bungalows dotted the landscape. Thick patches of rugged forest abutted the beach. Deep down, she knew who she was looking for. But she didn't expect him to find her first. Paul was sitting on a boat ramp, feet in the water.

"Are you still mad at me?" he asked.

"No," she said as he put his arms around her waist. "I don't know what got into me. Maybe it was the stress of auditioning for Skinterns."

"Say no," he said again. "Unless you want to take me to L.A. as your personal bodyguard."

She dipped her toes in the water, running her foot over the smooth pebbles. "It's quiet out here," she said. "Is this your boat?"

"Yeah, I bought it from a regular at the Town Pump," Paul said. "I don't take it out much, but it's my retreat. I like to lay in it and feel the waves."

She sat next to him, watching foamy saltwater lap at the sand, carrying seaweed and jellyfish.

"Do you want to come inside with me?" he asked. "It might be our only shot at being alone together."

She knew from the look in his eyes what he meant.

She followed him up the stone path to his house, her heart pounding hard with anticipation.

"I'm sweaty and dirty from working outside all day," he said to her, grabbing a towel. "I hope you don't mind if I take a quick shower."

She shook her head and sank into the couch, picking up a book sitting on the coffee table. But he pulled her back up to her feet.

"Want to join me?" he asked her, putting his hands behind her head and twisting her hair in his fingers.

"Yes," she whispered as he turned on the water.

He kissed her on the neck and shoulders under the water. After he shut the water off, he laid her on his bed.

Neither of them anticipated the bang-bang-bang on the bedroom door. Elise screamed and grabbed the bed sheet, wrapping it around her naked body.

"Paul, why aren't you answering your phone?" a voice on the other side shouted.

"Not now, man," Paul said, using the same word he'd chosen for the voyeurs on the beach.

"Who is that?" Elise asked, petrified.

Before Paul could answer, the door flung open.

It was Jay, who looked even more shocked to see Elise lying there in Paul's bed.

"Sorry," he said, slamming the door and looking mortified.

"What is he doing here?" Elise asked, her voice trembling.

"He's my roommate for the week," Paul said.

"What? Why didn't you tell me that?" Elise demanded, rolling over and jumping to her feet. "Why didn't you tell me you were friends with him?"

"Paul, get to work," Jay called out, sounding shaken. "The security staff needs you at The Palace." Then the screen door slammed behind him.

"I'll explain later," Paul said, throwing on his clothes. "I promise."

He leaned in to kiss her again, reassuring her that he'd keep his word.

Elise walked back to The Palace on the beach, making footprints in the surf. She had her head down when she heard her own name.

"Hey, is that Elise Apple?"

She looked up to find a group of frat guys from MU standing there, in the midst of a sand volleyball court. In the middle of the pack was Brent.

"Is that the clingy girl?" one of the frat brothers said to Brent. "At least she's hot."

Elise rolled her eyes and ignored him.

Brent greeted her with a cocky smile beneath her sunglasses. He was drunk, holding a can of Natty Light in both hands. "Hey Elise, are you still, like, in love with him?" his friend called after her.

"Nah," she said, nonchalant as she kept walking. "I moved on to someone better."

It was her turn to smile now. They watched her walk away with looks on their faces like she had turned their world on its head.

15

The next morning, Elise donned her powder blue bikini for the filming of the pilot episode. She didn't bother picking her own easy-to-remove outfit. Carson had already shopped for her the day before.

"I used the Right Now credit card to get you the perfect outfit," Carson told her that morning as they primped. She thrust a shopping bag at Elise. "You're welcome."

"Thanks, Carson," Elise replied. "That was nice of you."

"It was worth it to make sure you didn't show up in an outfit that screams 'Flyover Country,'" Carson said. "It could cost both of us our contracts."

Elise and Carson put on their cover-ups and went to meet Yolanda.

"We're going to the beach," Yolanda said, looking as if she were trying to suppress an amused smile. "You know the girls do daily yoga, right? Today, you're going to participate...in Kama Sutra yoga."

Elise couldn't stop herself from laughing.

"What's so funny?" Yolanda asked, stone-faced.

"I'm sorry. I thought you were kidding," Elise said.

Yolanda raised her eyebrows and hammered out a text message on her iPhone. Elise had a feeling she was updating Kadence and her staff about every little move she and Carson made.

"Go along with whatever they tell us to do," Carson said. "So we have to twist ourselves into weird sex positions called The Pretzel or The Flying Squirrel or something. So what? Is that too much to ask to become rich and famous?"

Elise distracted herself, breathing in the smell of coconut sunscreen. It turned out she needed it. Standing in front of the four Kardeza sisters was a naked man. He somewhat resembled Richard Simmons, slicked in body oil and sitting Indian style.

Elise rarely swore, but in this moment the words rolled out. "What. The. Fuck."

The Kardeza girls were giggling. "If this were a real episode, his junk would be blurred out," Kadence explained.

"Really? I hope mine isn't," Kallista said, and shimmied out of her bathing suit.

"What does this have to do with internships?" Elise asked.

The cameramen swept in, and Elise had no time to object before showtime.

"We have another surprise for you, ladies," Chandler announced. "Meet your partners for Kama Sutra yoga!"

A gaggle of oiled-up men with obnoxious gym bodies arrived on the scene. Elise's breath stopped when she saw Chase.

"Hey, Elise, guess who your partner is?" Chandler asked. "We want to see you film a steamy scene together before we put you in that penthouse in L.A."

"Okay, everyone, let's start with the Portuguese man-of-war," the instructor said. "If you do it right, you'll look like a multi-limbed lust creature."

Elise watched the instructor demonstrate the position with Kadence. Elise realized she'd have to straddle Chase's lap and put her ankles up on her shoulders, with her arms behind her.

"Here goes," Elise said, trying not to show any revulsion. Chase grabbed her hips and pulled them against his crotch. She didn't feel safe the way she did with Paul. Instead, she shuddered and winced in pain.

She felt relief when the instructor said, "Okay, now let's try the electric eel." He hopped to his feet, displaying his private parts for the camera. "As you can see, we have a sultry sea creature theme today."

"He sounds like one of those bad writers giving freaky sex advice in Cosmo," Elise said to Carson.

"Nice work, Elise and Chase!" Chandler said with a thumbs-up.

"Yeah, you like that?" Chase asked. Then he snuck his fingers inside her bikini and forced them inside her.

"Ow!" she cried out.

"What's the matter?" the instructor asked.

"Nothing," Elise said. "This hurts my elbows a little."

"You're tight," Chase said, trying to jam his fingers inside her again.

"Stop it," she snapped, suppressing the urge to kick him. She didn't want him to touch her, as if it would taint her magical few minutes with Paul yesterday. And it made her feel something else, something she didn't have the word to describe.

"Whoa, what's with the attitude?" Kadence snapped, giving Elise the evil eye. She turned to Kallista. "She's looking less and less like Right Now material."

Kallista glared at Elise and nodded in quiet agreement.

16

So what's next on the day's ridiculous agenda? Elise wondered as they headed to a lavishly expensive room at The Luxe. The Kardezas had rented out the spa for the filming of the pilot episode.

The spa was dim, and exotic music hummed in the background. A woman in a silk kimono with bad plastic surgery emerged from the back room.

"So, ladies, are you ready to learn the skills that will drive your man crazy?" the woman asked as the cameramen zeroed in on her.

"It's a blow job class!" Kadence announced, looking ecstatic.

"A what?" Elise exclaimed in horror. She looked sideways at Carson, whose mouth was hanging open.

"Don't worry, honey," the blow job instructor said. "You'll be practicing on these."

She unveiled a row of dildos, some of them neon-colored, some flesh-toned, all huge.

"Can you film me close-up for this scene?" Kadence asked the cameramen. "In fact, I want to save this segment for Kardeza Family Values."

The instructor knelt down on her knees and took the dildo into her mouth.

"I'm sorry," Elise said. "I can't do this."

"I can," Kadence said, hopping out of her seat. "Do you have any secrets?" she asked the instructor.

"Do you have lip injections?" the instructor asked. "That should help you stretch your mouth."

"What an amazing added benefit!" Kadence said. She took out her iPhone and held it in the air above her head, filming herself.

"A 'private' video to 'accidentally' leak on YouTube," she explained with a giggle.

Elise turned to Carson. "So is this what they do all day?" she asked.

"Shut up," Carson said. "Seriously. I don't want to hear one more criticism of the Kardezas out of your mouth."

She made an aggressive gesture like she was zipping her lips.

Elise obeyed, but only for now. She had a few days left to find a way out of the contract, without setting Carson off.

17

After the pilot filming was over, Chandler herded them into the producer's suite.

"Jay will be here in a minute with the contracts," Chandler said.

Jay walked in and dropped a thick stack of papers in front of Carson, but held Elise's contract against his chest.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, looking her in the eye long enough to make her uncomfortable. Neither of them dared mention last night.

"I think so," Elise said.

"Really?" he asked again. "You're positive?"

She looked over at Carson, who tapped her manicured nails to remind Elise she was getting impatient. "Say yes before he tries to put his girlfriend on the show!" she hissed.

"I'm ninety percent sure," Elise answered.

"Alright," Jay said with a shrug.

Carson flipped to the back page. "So do I have to read this, or should I sign right now?" she asked.

Lanny gave her a big, fake smile that made Elise uneasy. "You don't have to read all that," he said. "I mean, you can go over that boring legalese if you choose. But why bother?"

Carson scrawled her signature on the page.

"I want to read it over first," Elise said.

Chandler got up to walk out, heels clanging on the floor. "If you must," she said. "But don't wait too long. There are tons of other girls who would love to take your place."

Carson crossed her arms and ignored Elise as they took the elevator back to their room. "I'm going to sit on the balcony and read this document," Elise said, grabbing the contract.

She sat outside, lifting her face to the sunshine. Then she paged through the contract.

"Lanny was right," she mumbled to herself. "It's a bunch of legalese."

She skimmed over the contract. Deep into the legal mumbo-jumbo, she found something disturbing.

"Producers may make misrepresentations about cast members," she read out loud. "I understand that my appearance, depiction, and portrayal in connection to the show may be defamatory, disparaging, or embarrassing, and may expose me to public ridicule, humiliation, and condemnation, and may portray me in a false light. Producers may delete, edit, fictionalize, and dub the presentation."

Elise read a few more lines before she threw the contract onto her chair and sliding open the door into the suite.

"Carson," she said. "Did you read this contract before you signed it?"

"No," Carson replied in an airy voice. "My dad's a lawyer. He'll take care of any problems."

"No, Carson. This needs our attention now. Is this a reality show or a sick joke?" Elise asked. "It says the producers can portray us in a false light. It says they can edit it in whatever they want for 'dramatic effect.' Even if they know it's disparaging."

"English, please," Carson replied. "I don't know what 'disparaging' means."

"They can make us say things we never said and create a bunch of fake scenarios to embarrass us," Elise said.

"Right, because Kadence Kardeza is so embarrassed all the time," Carson said, rolling her eyes. "The producers aren't retarded. They want the audience to love us."

"Did they want the audience to love Jackie?" Elise challenged.

"She's a whore."

"They have the right to make anyone look like a whore."

Carson crossed her arms and leaned in to Elise, the way she did when she was about to get aggressive. Elise had a flashback to Carson hazing the Beta Xi pledges last fall during initiation week. She liked to scream in the freshmen's faces for failing at ridiculous tasks she concocted. It was hard enough to watch as a bystander, but on the receiving end, it was intolerable.

"I cannot believe you're even thinking twice about this," Carson said. "What are you going to do instead, sell cheese at a gift shop in Frankenmuth?"

"That's not my only career path," Elise said.

"How many job leads do you have?" Carson challenged her. "How many interviews have you done?"

"I don't want to fight about it," Elise said. "Let's enjoy the rest of Spring Break, okay? Then I'll sign it. I promise."

Satisfied with Elise's response, Carson pulled out her iPhone. "Let's hang out with the Kardezas in their penthouse at the Luxe," she said. "It's the fanciest hotel on the island."

She turned to Grace before they left. "Do not show up there with Connor," she said.

Grace looked up with a somber face. "I would never do that," she said.

"Good. He's not invited," Carson said.

"Don't assume he cares," Grace replied, unfazed.

Carson snickered. "Keep telling yourself that," she sneered before slamming the door behind her.

18

"This is the most expensive room on the island," Carson reminded Elise as they rode the elevator to the top floor of The Luxe, where the Kardezas were waiting for them.

They introduced themselves to a bodyguard standing outside the door. "We're the new Skinterns," Carson said, batting her eyelashes. "You know, the new reality show?"

"Yeah, I've heard about Kadence's new co-stars," he said. "Come right in, ladies."

Karmen and Kallista were in makeup chairs, having their hair and faces re-done. Elise wondered if most of her life as a Skintern would revolve around getting ready for the cameras.

"The girls have two makeup artists each," the publicist, Yolanda, said. "One for day, and one to create their evening looks."

"Where's Kadence?" Elise asked.

There was a series of mini-crashes in the next room. Elise heard an awful-sounding, guttural moan, like a donkey hee-hawing. Then a woman squealed, "Oh, yes...yes!" in a cheesy, breathy porn star voice.

Kallista gave the other girls a naughty glance. "Oh, Kadence is rehearsing," she said. "I'm so glad she decided to emulate me."

Elise heard Kadence's voice on the other side of the wall. "Can you tilt the camera lower?" she was asking. "I want to showcase my new tits in this scene."

"She's filming a sex tape...right now?" Elise replied.

"Don't worry, it's just a rehearsal," Kallista replied. "So it's not sex-sex. You know."

Kallista picked up a magazine and browsed it with a smug expression. "I'm so happy with my new spread in Hedonist magazine," she said. "As predicted, the churchy people are calling for a boycott of the show over it. Can you believe it?"

Hedonist was a bona fide porn magazine. Elise snuck a peak at the copy in Kallista's hands. She was spread-eagle and naked in the photos, looking supremely satisfied with herself.

Kallista looked up from the magazine. "Where did Kiki go?" she asked.

"Where do you think?" Karmen replied. "She's next door, arguing with the junkie."

"Ugh," Kallista said. "Why is he still here?"

Elise could hear a heated conversation going on in the next room.

"Kiki, c'mon, you know I would never do that to you. Your mom got Mesick to take me to that place. I would never go on my own."

Tyler Mesick was Karmen Kardeza's douchebag boyfriend. He gladly played the villain of the show, although Karmen didn't seem to mind one bit. She had two children with him, and she delivered the oldest in full view of Right Now cameras. A week later, the headlines gushed, "Mommy Joy: Karmen At Home with Baby Bomber!"

"Bomber?" Elise's brother Eric said when he saw the magazine sitting on the coffee table at her sorority house. "What kind of stupid ass name is that?"

"A cute one," Carson snapped at him.

"No, really," Elise's brother persisted. "What kind of moron parades around 'Baby Bomber'? It sounds like the Underwear Bomber, or the Unibomber."

"Your brother's a hillbilly," Elise said when Eric left. They watched him pull away in his mud-splattered Jeep wearing a plaid jacket.

Now, Carson looked intrigued by Tyler's latest act of douchebaggery. "What happened?" she mouthed to Kallista and Karmen.

"He got caught at a strip club again," Karmen said, taking a sip of her drink and looking bored. "You know Kiki hates him hanging out in strip clubs."

"So why did he do it?" Kallista asked.

Karmen pressed her finger to her lips and shushed her. "We arranged the whole thing," she whispered.

"What?!" Kallista replied.

"Yeah," Karmen confirmed. "We arranged for the paparazzi to follow them. Tyler got Leroy high first so he'd be game. Could you blame us? He's ruining Kiki's image. I mean, she's a Kardeza, and he's so ghetto and so..."

"Black," Kadence finished for her. She stepped into the room wearing a sheer tank top that showed her nipples. "Mom told us no more black guys. It's bad for our image. The interracial thing was trendy for a while, but Star Watch magazine did a poll, and it's 'out.' People think it's trashy."

She looked at Carson and Elise. "You're not into that, are you?"

"Into what?" Elise asked.

"Black guys? Oh God, no," Carson replied. "My mom would disown me. We belong to a country club with an unofficial 'whites only' policy. As for Elise, she's got her hopes set on Chase Rinehart."

For once, the Kardezas looked impressed. "Wow!" she said. "He's so hot. Ohmigod, you should have Chase on Skinterns. He'd be fabulous for our ratings."

There was a thud in the next room. Kiki came bursting in a minute later.

"Call 911!" she screamed. "LeRoy collapsed!"

"Wait, what?" Karmen said. "That wasn't on our agenda for the week."

"Seriously, guys!" Kiki screamed. "This isn't staged!"

"Someone call an ambulance!" she screamed as she ran down the hallway, sounding desperate.

"Is that an order? I am so sick of them and their stupid drama," Karmen said.

As Kiki's screams reached more frenzied heights, Elise searched for her cell phone in the depths of her new purse. Without another word, she dashed into the hallway and dialed 911.

Kandi Kardeza stomped toward her, waving her arms. "Put that down!" she said. "We have a strict confidentiality agreement!"

"It's an emergency," Elise replied.

"Honey, do you want to get sued for breaking the agreement?" Kandi said coldly. "We have this handled. Now put that phone away before I have you escorted out."

Kandi looked calm and composed as she pulled out her own cell phone. She scrolled through her contacts as precious minutes ticked away.

"Hello, is this the producer's suite?" she asked. "...It's Kandi. We've got a little situation in the penthouse with LeRoy. He might need a doctor. But first, I have a few ideas for how to spin it to the press."

Elise realized she was sweating and shaking. She looked down and saw red blotches forming on her chest.

"Don't worry. I'll escort myself out," she said to Kandi.

Kandi ignored her and addressed the whole penthouse instead. "Everyone clear out of here," Kandi demanded, shooing Elise and Carson away. Then she turned to Yolanda, the assistant, and whispered, "Get rid of the drugs and call the paparazzi. We're using this to our advantage."

19

Elise felt numb as she watched as a helicopter hover over The Luxe. Swimsuit-clad, sand-crusted spring breakers packed the beach. Most of them were good and drunk after an afternoon of beer bongs and tequila shots. The crowd pointed at the sky, wondering if it was a camera crew or a celebrity's private helicopter.

"It's a life flight, you idiots," a familiar Southern voice said. "Looks like Spring Break finally caught up with someone, and nobody cares."

It was Jackie from Eligible Bachelor. She looked drained despite her glowing tan and bright blonde hair. Still, there was a surprising fierceness in her voice. "Or is it fake drama staged by Right Now?"

"It's Kiki Kardeza's boyfriend, Leroy," Elise said to her. "Except it's not staged."

"Trust me, it's staged," Jackie said. "They'd leave you for dead if they thought it was good for ratings."

Jackie was holding a big plate of quesadillas and an orange-colored drink in her hand.

"It's orange juice," Jackie said. "I'd never drink while I'm pregnant."

Elise's jaw dropped. No wonder Carson noticed she was getting chubby.

"Congratulations," Elise stammered, unsure of what else to say. Jackie sure hadn't looked happy all week, so Elise surmised that the pregnancy wasn't planned.

"Thanks," Jackie said. "You're the only person I'm gonna hear that from on this island."

Jackie stared off into the distance. "If my mom were here, she'd say it," she added.

"You mean if she were on Esmeralda Island?"

"No, I mean here on Earth," Jackie said. "She wouldn't be proud of Eligible Bachelor, or the nude pictures. But she'd be proud of me for keeping my baby."

"What happened to her?" Elise asked.

"When I was twelve, her boyfriend touched me," Jackie continued. "My friends told me she wouldn't believe me. But when I told her, she packed us up, and we left that night. She said I would never have to see his face again."

Jackie took a bite of her quesadilla, as if this story weren't a big deal.

"And I didn't see him again," she said. "Until the night he showed up at our trailer looking for her. She tried to fight back."

"What happened?"

"He shot her."

Jackie's eyes looked greener and more intense now, sitting in the sunset and staring out at the ocean.

"I wanted to join the military after high school so I could support myself," Jackie went on, taking a deep breath. "Then my boyfriend talked me into modeling. Or maybe I should say 'modeling.'" She made air quotes around the word, shaking her head at the memory.

"I didn't want to do it at first, but I figured posing nude was less scary than getting blown up by IEDs in Iraq," Jackie said. "He ended up getting me into porn."

Elise stared at the ground, again wondering what to say to that.

"I'm sorry. Too much information, I know," Jackie said. "I talk to anyone who will listen these days. When I tried to tell the story on Eligible Bachelor, the producers stopped me. Said it was too dark. I think it was because they wanted the audience to hate me."

"That's horrible," Elise said. "I'm starting to think these people are evil."

"You don't know the half of it," Jackie said. "Leroy is their latest victim. They did it to Lindsey Shears." She looked at Elise with a piercing stare. "They'll do it to you, too."

"Jackie?" a voice called out. "Where have you been?"

It was Jay.

"What do you want?" she shot back. "I told you I don't want to see your face."

"Pack your bags for the airport. I'm sending you home," Jay said, looking pale and solemn. "This place is starting to suck."

The emergency helicopter was swooping lower over the beach. "No kidding," Jackie said. "What did your co-workers pull off this time? An actual murder?"

"I don't know, but they're starting to scare me," Jay said.

"If you cared about me that much, you'd leave with me," Jackie said. "And leave the job behind while you're at it."

Jay tried to grab the drink and the plate from her hand. "We need to talk," he said.

"No, Jay," Jackie snapped. She pointed at the helicopter. "How can you stand by and watch them get away with this? Because you get to go to cool parties and it looks good on your resume?"

Elise watched as Jay ran after her, trying to grab her arm.

She went inside to avoid the beach. In the lobby of The Palace, she saw Sienna, the black producer, dragging her suitcases behind her.

"Hello, Elise Apple," Sienna said to her. "Before you start your glamorous new life in Los Angeles, I figured I'd introduce myself. I'm Sienna, former producer for Right Now." She reached out to shake her hand.

"Sienna, I know what happened," Elise said. "I saw it. I'll tell the other producers what happened, and help you get your job back if I can. It's Chandler who should be fired."

"I know," Sienna replied, "But I'm quitting. Let me give you my contact information and a piece of advice." She handed Elise a business card.

"Run," Sienna said to her. "Just run away. Go home to Michigan and forget about Right Now before they ruin your life for ratings. They can and they will."

Then she dashed out to an airport taxi, refusing to look behind her as she went.

A mob was forming around The Luxe as police cars rolled up to the entrance.

"Ooh, someone's busted!" someone said, wielding an iPhone to record the unfolding scene.

"I heard they found Connor Kardeza's drug stash," said another. "Like, a crazy amount of weed and coke."

People elbowed each other out of the way, fighting for the best cell phone camera angle.

"Everyone off the beach!" a police officer bellowed through a bullhorn. "The beach is closed until further notice."

The crowd grew angry, heckling the police and refusing to budge. "They can't close the beach during spring break!" someone yelled. "This is bullshit. I want a refund!"

"We paid a lot of money for this!"

Elise watched emergency workers rushing around, trying to control the mob. "This is unbelievable," an EMT said. "We're trying to land an emergency helicopter on the beach, and instead these kids say they have a right to drink beer and work on their tans."

"We'll arrest them," a police officer told him. "We'll deal with Mommy and Daddy filing lawsuits later. Right now, we have a medical emergency."

As police swooped down on the crowd, people jeered and hurling beer bottles. "Fuck cops!"

Elise heard Sienna's voice in her head: Run away.

20

So she did, hoping she could still find the cottage on the winding path near the beach.

The wind was picking up when Elise knocked on the back door of Paul's rental cottage.

An eerie silence greeted her. "That's strange," she said. She stood on her toes and could see the glow from a lamp behind the faded curtains.

She went around to the front of the house and saw his car on the dirt driveway.

"Elise? What are you doing?"

Paul opened the screen door and stepped onto the driveway.

"You won't believe what the Kardezas did now," she said.

"What's it to me? I'm leaving tomorrow," he said.

Elise felt stunned by how brusque he was, as if he was a different person than the man she had seen here yesterday. "What? Why?"

"I found out who was calling me," he said. "And it wasn't a sick joke. I have to go home."

"Now?" Elise replied. "You can't wait til the end of the week?"

"No," he said.

"It can't be more than a few hours, right?" she asked. "I'll go with you."

He turned to her with a confused look. "What?"

"Doesn't your family live in Florida?" Elise asked.

Paul had beads of sweat forming around his hairline. He struggled to look her in the eye.

"No," he said. "Look, Elise, I can't do this anymore. You don't know me. And now I'm afraid you don't want to know me."

Elise's heart dropped into a black pit somewhere in her stomach.

"What does that mean?" she asked him. "What can't you do anymore?"

Paul refused to answer and hung his head, avoiding her eyes.

"You can't come with me," he said, looking up at her at last. "You should be having fun. Getting drunk. Running up and down the beach in your bikini. You're a college girl on your last spring break."

"Fuck spring break!" Elise shouted, shocking both of them with her outburst. "I want to go with you."

"What about the show?"

"You mean Skinterns?" Elise asked. "I've been making up every excuse I can think of for not signing the contract yet."

"Yet?" Paul repeated. "So you're thinking about it. I don't understand how you could pass that up for me."

Elise felt an angry defensiveness rising in her chest. "How could I pass it up?" she shot back. "Why are you pushing this? Two days ago, you told me not to do it." She yelled now, trying not to cry. "You held my hand and you told me not to do it."

Paul's phone rang.

"Not now," he said to the person on the other line.

"Where are you?" a male voice on the other end demanded, sounding urgent. "Get down here right now and bring your camera."

Paul looked back at Elise. "One minute," he whispered to her as he stepped out onto the porch, where she couldn't hear the phone call.

"No," she said, following him. "I'm not going away."

She saw his camera sitting on the coffee table. As he huddled in the corner with his cell phone, she grabbed it and scrolled through the pictures.

The third image was a topless Madison Banks, the socialite.

"What are you doing?" he yelled.

"You rarely hook up with random girls, huh?" she asked. "You're a fucking liar."

She threw the camera at him. "Don't ever talk to me again," she said, and left him standing there, ignoring his pleas to come back.

Later that night

Some families had family meetings. The Kardezas had cast meetings.

"If Connor knocks, tell him we're not here," Kandi said to the bodyguard.

"I think he got the message that he's not wanted here," Karmen said. "What about Kiki? She's still at the hospital with Leroy?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Kandi said, tromping over to the boardroom table in her chunky heels.

"Cast, we had a close call tonight," Kandi said, looking around at the whole clan. "We need to reevaluate who we can trust."

Everyone held their breath for a second or two.

"Carson Vana is solid Kardeza material," Kandi said. "But that Apple girl raised red flags calling 911. We cannot have that."

"I agree," Kadence said, twirling her hair. "We can't trust her. She could have ruined everything for us."

Kandi nodded. "We need to salvage this trip," she said. "I have a plan. Let's do something that will soar to the top of Twitter and Facebook topics. In fact, we might get round-the-clock cable coverage."

The clan looked both nervous and intrigued. "What is it?" Kadence asked.

Kandi grinned. "Don't worry," she said. "I know exactly how to divert America's attention away from Leroy's little overdose."

21

Carson awoke Elise the next morning holding her cell phone.

"Kiki Kardeza's boyfriend is in a coma," Carson said.

"You mean the one who collapsed while we were in the next room?" she asked. "At least the fact that I tried to call for help makes me feel a little less guilty."

"What do we have to feel guilty about?" Carson asked.

"We overheard Kandi Kardeza telling the assistants to get rid of the drugs," Elise said. "And call the paparazzi instead of 911,

"There you go again," Carson replied. "Go sell cheese in Frankenmuth, okay? I'm off to shop with Kadence."

"There's a black-and-white party tonight," Carson said on her way out. "Find something to wear, because this is your last chance with the network. And remember what I said about white dresses."

After Carson left, Grace poked her head into the room.

"I couldn't help but overhear," Grace said. "Do you believe Connor now? Those people are evil."

"I know," Elise said with a somber, resigned shrug. "But what can we do? They have too much power. It seems like this whole country worships them, to the point they can get away with murder. Literally."

"Connor is well on his way to being banned from Right Now events," Grace said. "If I have to, I'll be banned with him."

Grace fingered her cross necklace. "I guess I didn't want to believe it. All my life, I've wanted to be a musician. But now..."

"Everything is different now," Elise finished for her.

"I want to go home," Grace said with a deep sigh. "I should've known I'd never make it in this industry."

"Do you want to go to the pool?" Grace asked. "I need a drink."

"You drink?" Elise asked.

"I do now."

Elise smiled, feeling the same defiant spirit that had overtaken Grace. "We shouldn't let Carson ruin our day," she said. "Let's go to the resort pool and get mixed drinks."

"Good idea," Grace replied. "I've earned my right to have fun for a change."

Around the pool, the music was booming. Legions of girls crowded around it, grinding in their swimsuits.

"Hey, ladies," said an over-groomed guy with spiky gelled hair and white teeth. "Want to get up front? You'll be right near the cameras."

"Sure," they said in unison.

Elise found something liberating about dancing almost naked. She held onto her bikini top to keep it from falling down. As exposed as she was, she felt freer than she had in that skintight black dress, or the lingerie and heels. Someone came around offering drinks, and she and Grace downed them without blinking.

"Yikes! That was a strong one," Elise said as a shot burned her throat. "I hate to say it, but I'm having more fun without Carson."

She felt someone grab her around the waist.

"I've been looking for you."

It was Chase.

"Mind if I join?" he asked as he positioned himself behind her. As the next song played, he ground his hips against her back.

"Let's take a detour to my room," Chase said.

"Right now?" Elise said. "I don't want to leave my friend here."

"Don't worry," Chase said. "I only need ten minutes."

She waivered for a minute before relenting. "Alright."

He pushed her onto his bed in his room. "Here," he said, yanking out his penis.

Without another word, he yanked down her bikini bottoms.

"I'm not sure I want to do this," Elise said. "Can we wait?"

He climbed on top of her, pinning her arm beneath his elbow. "Less talking," he ordered. Elise bit her lip to keep from screaming.

Then he paused. "Shit. I have whiskey dick," he said. He fumbled around for the TV remote and flipped on graphic porn. Elise wanted to gag as she caught a glimpse of the sickening scene on the screen.

"Give me five minutes," he said, shooing her.

Elise wandered back to the pool, too drunk to care.

When Elise made her way back to the pool, she could hear a ruckus emanating from where she'd been dancing with Grace.

"Come on baby, just a little lower," said the same smarmy-looking guy with the spiky hair. Grace was drunk and inching her bikini bottoms past her hip bones. She looked like she wanted to run, despite the photographer's commands to smile.

"No more," Grace said, pulling up her bottoms.

"Grace," Elise said, running to her, "What are you doing?"

"Showing some titties," Grace said with a sarcastic hip wiggle, mocking the hoots and hollers of the men. "Isn't that what you have to do to get a recording contract around here? It's too bad I don't have chocolate sauce on hand."

The cameraman grabbed the triangle of her bikini and yanked it aside, exposing Grace's pale nipples. Grace screamed.

"I said no more...hey!"

"Hey guys, how about this instead?" Elise asked, feeling woozy. She grabbed her bikini top and snapped it off.

The entire pool gasped, then a cacophony of male voices shrieked in delight.

"Nice!" the cameraman said, snapping a picture.

Elise grabbed her top. She had meant to distract them from Grace, not to pose.

"Hey!" a familiar voice barked as he came running toward them. Paul grabbed the cameraman's arm and tried to wrestle the camera from his hand.

"Give it to me," Paul demanded.

The cameraman pushed him away. The crowd chanted, "One more time!"

Elise locked eyes with Paul.

"How do you like this?" she asked the cameraman, and grabbed her own breasts.

"Get rid of that picture or give me the camera," Paul demanded. He towered over the photographer. He looked like a college football player smacking around an eighty-pound peewee leaguer.

"Fuck off," the cameraman said. "She asked for it."

Paul twisted his arms behind his back and dragged him away.

"That's it," he said. "Leave the pool and leave these girls alone. No one wants you here."

A crowd was surrounding the scene now. Jackie Hunt stepped forward, eyes transfixed on the photographer. She gave him an icy glare.

"I didn't know you were here," she said.

"Oh hey, Jackie," he replied. "You should thank me for making you famous."

Instead, she barreled forward and kneed him in the crotch.

"Give me that," Jackie said to Paul, gesturing for the camera. "There's one picture I'd like to take for him."

With Paul holding him in a headlock, Jackie yanked off the photographer's swim trunks. Then she snapped a picture.

"That's going online," she said triumphantly. "Instead of circulating pictures of topless drunk girls, the gossip blogs can circulate pictures of his tiny package."

The crowd gasped and laughed—except, unlike at the lingerie party, they weren't laughing at Jackie.

Two security guards appeared and hauled the photographer away. Grace slumped against a deck chair and cried. Connor Kardeza came rushing over and put his arm around her.

Paul turned to Elise and grabbed her by the shoulders. "What was that?"

Chase appeared, coming at Elise looking angry.

"Hey, where did you go?" he said to her. Then he looked at Paul. "Hey, don't touch her, you piece of shit."

Paul looked at Elise. "Did you sleep with him?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied. "I'd take him over you any day."

Elise went back to her room, eager to get in the shower and rinse off the scent of chlorine and Chase's awful cologne. She heard strange noises coming from Carson's room. It took her a few moments to realize it was the sound of her having sex. Her moans were loud and fake.

Elise wrinkled her nose in disgust and turned on Grace's playlist. The song didn't matter. She only hoped to drown out the sounds coming from the bedroom.

"That was great," Carson said when they finished. "I'm gonna go ahead and pass out now. God, I am so drunk."

A few minutes later, Elise heard the man get up and tiptoe out of Carson's room. Then there was a knock on the door.

Elise opened it to find Brent standing there, still a bit sweaty from his romp with Carson.

"I'm thinking of heading back to my hotel room," he said, eyeing her up and down and standing a little too close. "What do you think?"

"I think you're disgusting," Elise said, and slammed the door in his face.

She crawled into her bed feeling liberated.

22

An hour later, Carson got up to leave again. Another hour after that, someone knocked three times on the main door to the suite.

"Go away," she yelled. If it was Grace or Carson, they could enter with a key. She didn't want to see anyone else.

"Come on, Elise. Please?"

She snatched a towel from the rack and wrapped it around her. "Is two minutes of privacy too much to ask?" she wondered with deep bitterness.

She felt her temperature rise when she found Paul standing in the doorway. He was wearing all black, looking formal and more groomed than usual. Even though he insisted he had to leave the island in a hurry, he looked ready for the black-and-white party. It drove Elise even madder.

"What do you want?" she demanded. "You have so much nerve. Since day one you've been lying about who you are. And then you announce you're leaving and want nothing to do with me anymore?

He stared at her with sad, dark eyes, but didn't talk.

"I have something for you," he said. "Can I come in?"

She let him in to the room she shared with Grace and locked the door behind her. "Make it quick," she said.

"First, I want to tell you the truth," Paul said. "About the pictures, for starters. I didn't hook up with Madison."

"I don't believe you," she said.

"I knew you wouldn't," he replied. "But it's true. My friends and I had a plan for Spring Break that no one was supposed to know about. When we found out it was one big audition for ridiculous new reality shows, we decided to take pictures all week. We knew some of the people in the photos would end up in those celebrity gossip magazines. And if we had pictures, well..."

"Well what?"

"We knew we could make a lot of money," Paul sighed. "As soon as I met you I tried to back out of the plan. I hoped I could win the open mic contest instead. But after this week, I'm done with this place. It's killing me."

"I want to believe you," Elise said, wiping tears away from her eyes.

"I do have to go home," he said. "But I wasn't going to leave without saying goodbye."

Then he pulled out a box wrapped in tissue. "I bought something for you," he said.

Elise grabbed the box and unwrapped it. Under layers of tissue was a lacy white dress.

It looked like the dress Carson wouldn't let her buy, except delicate and handmade.

"It's beautiful!" she cried, running her fingers over the bodice, beaded with white pearls.

"I know it's what you wanted," he said.

"Do you want me to try it on for you?" she asked. "I'm in a towel anyway."

"Yes."

She stepped around the corner to shed the towel and pull the pristine white lace over her body.

"How do I look?" she asked him when she reappeared.

"You look incredibly beautiful."

The song playing on Grace's stereo prickled Elise's ears. "My hands, small I know, but they're not yours, they are my own."

"Jewel," Elise said. "Is that the 90's pop singer? I don't know her last name."

Paul didn't answer. "Shhh," he said, pulling her closer.

"I want you all to myself," he said, his breathing becoming deeper. He grabbed one strap of her dress and pulled it down her shoulder.

"You said you didn't do this," she said, but continued kissing him. "That you don't hook up with girls."

"That's true," Paul replied. "But I'll make an exception for one girl."

He pulled the dress over her head and let it fall on the floor beside them. Elise felt light-headed with excitement now as she unzipped his pants.

"I'll make an exception, too," she said before straddling him.

They both fell asleep afterward, with Paul's arm around her waist. She fell into a dream about her first kiss, when she was fourteen years old, with a perfect stranger. He was faceless to her now--she had never seen him in the daylight--but she would never forget his voice.

He had asked for her phone number, but after one call, he disappeared as fast as he'd arrived in her life. For the next two years, she waited for him to call again. But over time she gave up on silly fantasies still lingering in the back of her mind about her first kiss.

She had been wearing a white lace dress that night.

23

"Are you ready for the black-and-white party?" Paul asked her when he shook her awake a few hours later. "I heard you're Chase's date, but I was hoping you'd be mine instead."

"I will," Elise said. "And I don't care what anyone thinks about it. I'm done with Chase, and I'm done with Carson."

They walked into the lobby of The Palace holding hands, Elise in her white dress, Paul in black.

"I hope you're okay with my outfit," Paul said. "I wouldn't be caught dead in a white suit."

"Good," Elise said with a laugh. "White suits are so douchey."

Chase appeared at the top of the stairs in a white suit.

"Speaking of douchebags..." Paul said.

"What the fuck is this?" Chase demanded.

"Leave me alone, Chase," Elise mumbled, refusing to make eye contact with him.

"Nice outfits!" Chase snapped. "What is she wearing, a wedding dress? These two are beyond desperate."

Carson emerged too, wearing a black bandage dress that clung to every inch of her skin. She glared at Elise. "Did you fuck him?"

"It's none of your business," Elise said. "It's not anyone's business."

"Clearly, you did," Chase replied. "What do you think we are, complete retards?"

Smack.

The room fell silent and recoiled in collective horror. One side of Chase's face was bright red, and it wasn't from a sunburn.

Chase ran into the hallway. "He hit me!" he screamed, causing several doors to open in response. "Someone kick him out! I want him out of this hotel right now!"

Then Paul punched him again, even harder this time. He pummeled Chase until two security guards came running over to pull him away.

"Hey, big guy," one employee yelled. "Get away from Chase Rinehart! He's one of our most important guests!"

Paul was big enough to resist, but he sat down in a lobby chair immediately, staying calm and setting his jaw.

"He used the word 'retard,' sir," he said.

"Okay, that's enough. We're calling the cops."

"No," Elise hyperventilated, turning to run away.

"Hold your horses, miss," one of the employees said. "You need to talk to the police before he goes anywhere." He motioned for Carson and Chase to sit. "No one is going anywhere."

Elise sat on the sofa in the lobby, quivering and trying not to cry. It felt like an eternity before the Esmeralda Island police arrived.

"Miss Apple, what do you know about this guy?" one of the security guards asked. He flipped open a notebook to transcribe what few details she could offer.

"Nothing," she said, feeling foolish in her white dress. "Almost nothing at all."

She took a deep breath. "He claims he's moved around a lot but has spent some time living in Florida," she said. "Although he went to college in Ohio...someplace called 'Hawking,' or something like that. He won't tell me his last name, only that it's the same name as a 90's singer. I have a feeling it's Jewel."

She looked up at the security guard. "That's it," she said.

Jay Mack walked into the lobby. "Paul," he said, looking panicked. "What's going on?"

Chase rose from his seat with a sinister smile on his face. "The name tidbit is interesting," he said, turning to the Palace employees. "I'll be right back. I'll find out who this guy is."

Chase barged back into the room ten minutes later, holding an iPad.

"I have to hand it you, Elise. You found a real keeper," he sneered.

Elise refused to look at him.

Chase came back brandishing an iPad, holding it up like a prize trophy for everyone to see.

"You were right, Elise. Paul's last name is Kilcher," he said. "The same as Jewel, although nobody realizes she even has a last name. So he's sneaky, I'll give him that."

Elise felt her heart pounding in her temples.

"When he told you he had the same name as a famous singer, you thought he was someone important," Chase said. "So, does it matter to you he's a nobody?"

"No," she whispered. It was the truth.

"Good. Because he's nobody. Nobody at all. But he is famous for one thing," Chase said, pausing for dramatic effect. "Look at this."

"I don't want to," she said, staring at her feet.

"Does Pine City sound familiar to you?" Chase asked.

"Pine City?" Elise repeated. "As in Pine City, Michigan?"

It was two hours away from where she grew up.

She no longer had to wonder where to find his family farm. She immediately knew must be a Christmas tree farm in Missaukee County.

"He's from Michigan," Elise said, her shoulders sinking. "Why would he lie about that?"

"I have a theory," Chase said. "Come look at this."

"What?" she gasped, reading the headline on the screen aloud. "Police Hoping to Question High School Football Star in Brother's Death."

"Yeah, that's your little boyfriend," Chase said, as the security guards stared in horror. "He went missing from Michigan eight years ago. After his brother died in a, shall we say, suspicious accident. He doesn't want anyone to recognize him. Why do you think he has that stupid beard?"

He pointed to a picture of a smooth-faced teenager with lighter hair and narrower shoulders. She never would have recognized him—except for the eyes. They hadn't changed at all.

"Oh my God, that is him," she said.

One of the security guards turned to his colleague. "I want this guy off the island," he said. "Right Now owns it, and he's banned."

"No!" Elise shouted.

"Don't you get it?" Chase said. "Every word out of this guy's mouth is a lie. He's been on the run for eight years."

"How old does that make him, twenty-five?" Carson frothed from across the room.

"Twenty-six," Chase said. "Also, I tried to look up that college he claims as his alma mater--Hawking or whatever. I'm pretty sure it doesn't exist."

Elise felt tears well up in her eyes.

"You don't know the first thing about this guy," Chase continued. "Do you ever wonder why he kept pursuing you despite your being totally out of his league? This might explain a few things."

Up came RichiePerez.com, a notorious celebrity-watching blog that trafficked in vicious gossip.

"Does this picture look familiar?" Chase asked. Whatever it was, she knew she didn't want to look.

Elise found herself staring at the photograph of herself in her black lingerie.

Without thinking, Elise grabbed the iPad and threw it at Paul. He and Chase both watched as it clattered to the ground, its screen shattered.

"So this is what you wanted from me?" she shouted. "Some almost-naked pictures to plaster all over the Internet. You never mentioned I was a victim of your little scheme."

"No one was supposed to see that one," he said, looking as if he might vomit. He turned to Jay Mack, looking as if he might hit him. "I told you that one was private."

"You are unbelievable," she said, glaring at him. "How could you do this to me?"

Paul looked at her for a moment, his lips parted as if he might answer. But then he stared at the ground.

"How could he do this to you?" Jay repeated. "I'll tell you how. When you got to this island, you were one of thousands of snotty, self-centered, unbelievably spoiled brats here to get drunk and take your clothes off for attention. Think about it: you, and hundreds of others, even posed for headshots on the first day to audition for a reality show. Not any particular show, mind you. You people will do anything to get the whole world looking at you, talking about you. Most of you don't give two shits about anyone but you. It's you, you, you, all the time. Hell, you'll even leave each other for dead, like Carson did that night you passed out by the pool."

Elise bit her lip and stayed quiet.

"You know firsthand what assholes the Kardezas are. But when we offered you a chance to live among them, you thought of taking it," Jay continued. "You wanted to sell your soul for a ridiculous show called Skinterns, for fuck's sake. Did you know I proposed that show as a joke? Chandler stole that fucking stupid idea."

The whole lobby was watching him now.

"And you wonder why Paul thought he might be doing you a favor by capturing shots for the gossip magazines," he said. "Headlines like that sell big. That's what we thought you wanted. And now that Paul's dad is dying, God forbid he take the money for himself and go home to Michigan."

Jay stared at them both.

"But it turned out we were wrong about you, Elise," he said as he turned to walk away. "When you had Chase Rinehart wrapped around your finger, you chose him. That's not the way we thought it would go."

"Yeah, and I ruined it," Paul said.

He looked Elise in the eye one last time. "I'm sorry you met me," he said. "I hope you'll be able to forgive me one day."

The security guards grabbed him by the arms. "Off you go," one said as they hauled Paul away. "You'll never step foot in this resort again, you hear?"

He looked back at her, but Elise turned her head in disgust.

Elise ran back to her suite and flopped onto the bed. No one was there. She closed the blinds, blocking out the warm sunshine until the room was as dark and cold as she felt. At least her tears felt soothing on her sunburned cheeks.

She remembered the dream she had earlier. She was waking up alone to a soul-crushing reality. And this reality wasn't fit for TV.

24

Elise didn't sleep that night. At dawn, she got out of bed and pulled the curtains aside to watch the sunrise.

The morning sky was dark and overcast, and the ocean looked gray and uninviting.

Elise slipped into her jeans and a t-shirt. She was as quiet as possible as she left the suite, hoping to disappear before Carson awoke.

She didn't know where she was going. She took a right on the street outside the resort. It became a winding country road dotted with cottages.

Families owned those tiny houses before Right Now moved in. But now most of them looked shuttered and lonely.

They'll be gone by next year, Elise thought with powerful sadness. There will be a huge new resort and casino sitting on top of those houses where families used to live. Happy and humble families. Imagining them sitting on the porch or around the dinner table made her so miserable she wanted to cry.

"Why did I ever come here?" she whispered to herself as she wandered down the road. "Why?"

A black pickup truck pulled over to the curb.

"Elise," Paul called out. She kept walking, ignoring him.

"Elise, please talk to me," he said, stopping the truck.

"Give me one reason why I should," she replied.

"Well, if I never see you again, there's something I have to tell you."

She waivered for a moment, unsure of whether to keep walking. Finally, she opened the passenger door and slid into the seat.

"What is it?" Elise asked. "An excuse for why you're a complete creep?"

"No," Paul said. "I won't make up excuses. And I'm banned from the island already. But I would risk going to jail to talk to you."

"Why should I be here?" Elise asked again.

"Please, listen," Paul said. "I think we've met before. The night of the accident, I think you were there."

"You mean the suspicious accident that killed your brother?" Elise asked, feeling more panicked by the second.

"No, it wasn't suspicious," he said adamantly.

"It's really hard to believe anything out of your mouth," she replied. But from the look in his eyes, she couldn't imagine that he was lying.

"Let me tell you the story," he said.

She took a deep breath. "I'm listening."

Eight Years Earlier

"Hey PJ," a boisterous voice yelled. "Catch!"

It was autumn in Pine City, Michigan, and Paul was a senior at Pine City High School. He was also the quarterback of the football team.

Jimmy McGrath, one of his two best friends, came running up behind him. "You should see the team we're playing this weekend," he said. "They're total rednecks."

The older Paul Kilcher looked up at them from his team roster. "Hey, what did I tell you two about getting cocky?"

"We have this one in the bag," said Mike Womack, Paul and Jimmy's other best friend.

There were nice days and there were beautiful days in northern Michigan; this day was perfect. It was the fall color season. Tourists from downstate flocked north when the leaves turned brilliant shades of red, orange, and yellow.

Downstaters called the rugged, sparsely populated pine forest north of Route 10 "up north." Paul, Mike and Jimmy called it home. They were the football stars of Pine City High School, about to take the team to the State Championship.

The next hurdle in their quest to become state champions was a playoff game against Jonesboro, a tiny hamlet deep in the woods.

"You should see their team, dude," Mike said to Paul and Jimmy. "We're talking straight-up Deliverance Country boys. It should be an easy win."

Paul's dad, Coach Kilcher, didn't appreciate talk of easy wins. As the much-loved varsity football coach and a Gulf War veteran, he taught his players to never take victory for granted. Although Jonesboro was home to trailers, one convenience store, and two churches, they were good. Very good.

He also didn't tolerate his players mocking their opponents. In fact, he couldn't stand watching them be cruel to anyone. Why? Probably because Paul's fourteen-year-old brother, Wade, had Down's syndrome.

Wade went to Pine City High School, too. He was a freshman, and he was Paul's biggest fan. He worshiped his big brother even more than the rest of the school. He was the football team's official mascot.

Paul loved Wade. He loved stopping by the special needs classroom before the school pep rallies to grab Wade. He hoisted him onto his shoulders after the big wins. He loved to run off the field and into the late-summer sunset against the horizon of pine forests.

Jimmy and Mike loved Wade too. But since sophomore year, Mike had loved him for all the wrong reasons. One summer day, they were heading off to the tiny beach on Lake Missaukee. On one side of the lake were cottages owned by wealthy downstaters. On the other side was the Pine City beach, where the boys from Pine City High went to flirt with girls.

That afternoon, Wade followed them.

"Dude, we cannot bring him," Jimmy said.

He hesitated after seeing the pained look on Paul's face. "You know we can't give him our full attention at the beach."

Jimmy knew Paul was sensitive about Wade. When they were younger, the kids who hissed insults like "retard" might as well have stabbed Paul in the heart. As soon as he grew into a tall, muscled quarterback, he beat them up.

Mike was a big brute of an athlete who wasn't near as gentle toward Paul and Wade.

"Seriously?" he said. "PJ, this kid is like a girl repellent." He reached into his pocket and pulled out two one-dollar bills.

"Wade, do you like Kit-Kats?"

"Yeah," Wade said.

"Why don't you walk to Pine Mart and get one?" Mike said.

"Wow! Thanks, Mike!" Wade exclaimed.

"He can't..." Paul started to say. Pine Mart was the town grocery store where everyone in Pine City shopped on Saturdays. Paul knew his parents might get a phone call telling them that Wade had been there alone.

"Dude, really?" Mike said. "Stay home with him, then."

"Don't do that," Jimmy said. "Wade can handle walking to Pine Mart."

"Don't you get sick of babysitting?" Mike asked.

Paul said nothing, feeling the peer pressure eating away at him. He turned to Wade.

"Come right home, you hear?"

"I will."

"One more thing, Wade," Mike said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a mini bottle of Wild Turkey whiskey, his drink of choice.

"If you see one of these, put it in your pocket," Mike said in a condescending singsong tone. "Okay, Wade?"

"Are you serious, Mike?" Paul exclaimed.

"Jesus, Kilcher, I'm kidding," Mike said. "What's your problem?"

"Tell Wade you're kidding," Paul demanded. "Or else we're not going anywhere."

"You sound like my mom," Mike said. "Stop being such a pussy. I ought to put a frilly pink dress on you already."

"Shut up before I knock you out," Paul said.

And shut up he did. Mike was the loudmouth jerk of a jock who ruled the school and threw all the best parties, but Paul was the strongest.

"Wade, I'm just kidding," Mike said with a slight sneer as they walked out the door.

Paul, Mike and Jimmy were swimming with the junior cheerleaders when they heard Wade shouting. He ran down the hill toward the beach.

Mike turned to Paul. "Just so you know, I'm pretending not to know him." But Wade bounded up to Mike anyway.

"Big Mike," Wade said, calling him by his nickname, "I have a surprise for you!"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a mini bottle of whiskey.

"Holy shit, he actually did it!" Mike exclaimed. Jimmy laughed, too, until Paul shot him an enraged glare that shut him up in an instant.

"Give it to me," Paul said with an outstretched hand.

"No," Mike shot back, cracking the bottle open and taking a gulp of straight whiskey. "You heard him. It was a gift for me."

He back-slapped Wade, who basked in Mike's towering presence, feeling anointed.

"The little retard ain't so bad, PJ," Mike said.

Paul snatched the Wild Turkey out of his hand, shoving Mike backward with a forceful slam to the chest.

"Come on Wade, let's go," Paul said.

He tossed the bottle into the lake, feeling tears well up in his eyes.

Life in Pine City was more fun before they discovered drinking. Paul was in ninth grade when Mike presented him with a can of cheap beer and challenged him to drink it. They were in Mike's basement at the first party of the school year.

"I don't want to get in trouble," Paul said.

"Pussy," Mike retorted.

It was his favorite insult. Paul recoiled at the nasty words Mike hurled at anyone who challenged him: Pussy. Faggot. Cocksucker. He often had to fight back the urge to smack him. Then again, Paul knew he learned it at home. Mike's dad was a mean-faced ex-Marine. He got kicked out of football games for hurling obscenities and reeking of whiskey. At Mike's house, Paul saw Mr. Womack pour an amber-colored drink into a glass of coke, usually after an especially vicious tirade. The bottle had a picture of a turkey on it.

Being the star jocks of the school was fun, but in secret, Paul pined for his childhood. He grew up on a Christmas tree farm on the outskirts of Missaukee County, which had one claim to fame. It was the Christmas tree capital of the world. Paul loved that farm. He adored the smell of the pine needles, which he wished he could bottle and carry around forever. He loved Christmastime, when merry families arrived to cut down trees. Paul's dad would help them strap the tree to the roof of minivans or load them into the back of pickups. They always said "Merry Christmas" as they drove away.

One of Paul's earliest memories was standing against the wooden fence on the outer edge of the farm. He and peered through the posts at the little towhead boy on the other side. The little boy had a yellow toy truck and a red wagon.

"Do you want to be friends?" the little boy asked Paul.

A man's deep voice called him. "Hey, Buddy!" the man yelled. "Where'd you go, little buddy?"

The boy's name was James John McGrath, the youngest in a family of five boys. Mr. McGrath had called him Buddy, so that was what Paul called him.

"I'm PJ," Paul said before the little boy went inside.

His next memory was of the day his parents told him he would have a little brother. Paul already had two big sisters, Rachel and Emily. The day his parents told him he was getting a baby brother was the best day of his life. Mom's belly grew until the night she and Dad went to the hospital.

Two days later, they came home, empty-handed.

"Where's my brother?" Paul asked as he padded into the room.

Instead of cradling a newborn in a blue blanket, Mom was crying.

"Your brother is going to live with another family," Mom said.

Paul screamed "No" until his breath ran out. He dropped to the floor and flailed his legs, kicking and screaming. "No, no, no."

Mom tried to explain that his little brother had special needs, more than she and dad could provide. Paul ran out into the pines, tears streaming down his face. Through the fence, he told Buddy that his parents gave the baby away.

The next day, Buddy appeared in his driveway, pulling his red wagon. He'd loaded it with his favorite blanket, graham crackers, and a sippy cup of milk.

"I'll help you find your little brother," he said.

So they headed down the country road, pulling the red wagon behind them. It was dusk by the time Buddy's dad pulled over to the side of the road and scooped them into his truck.

That night, Paul heard his mom crying again, and his dad's voice sounded muffled as if he'd been crying too.

"We have to take the baby home," Dad said. "He won't be as lucky as me. He'll rot in a state institution."

Paul didn't know it then, but his father was adopted. A long time ago, a minister's wife found a baby on the front steps of the church. He had soft tendrils of black hair and big, brown eyes.

"He's from Indian country, no doubt," a parishoner said to the minister's wife. "Poor thing! No one will want to adopt him."

So the minister and his wife took the baby home and raised him as their own.

Mom continued to weep. "What will my family think?" she asked Dad. "You know how they are. And how will they treat him around town when he grows up? Will he even go to school?"

Dad said, "Paul loves him."

And the next day, Paul woke up to hear a baby crying in his bassinet. He had dark curls like Dad, and dark, almond-shaped eyes.

"A perfect little brother," Paul said, and kissed his forehead.

Now it was Paul's senior year, and Pine City was in the football playoffs.

The game was taking place an hour and a half south, next to the Michigan University campus.

The team was jubilant as they boarded the bus on Friday afternoon after lunch. They could leave school early even though the game wasn't til Saturday night. Mike's dad, the assistant coach, had requested it.

"So Mike can't get wasted the night before the game," one of the juniors muttered as they boarded the bus.

"What did you say, faggot?" Mike said, pushing him. Paul looked the other way.

During the ride, the seniors were both boisterous and anxious. College scholarships depended upon their victory. Paul was hoping for a scholarship to Michigan University.

Halfway through the trip, Jimmy nudged him. "Guess who's playing on the MU campus, within walking distance from our hotel?"

It was Hillbilly Delight, Paul's favorite country band.

"We have to go tonight," Jimmy said. "We just won't drink."

"How are we going to get there?" Paul asked.

"Easy. Mike's dad is taking his car," Jimmy said. "We'll bait Mike into going with promises of booze and women."

They both laughed. Both of them had enough of Mike lording over everyone with his Titanic-sized ego.

"We'll find some way to go, with or without Mike," Paul said.

Jimmy fist-bumped him. "Tell no one," he said.

An hour after he tossed his duffel bag onto the hotel bed, Paul heard music pounding down the hall.

"Who's partying at four in the afternoon?" Paul asked.

"Who do you think?" Jimmy asked.

"Mike," they both said in unison.

"He's lucky my dad isn't on this floor," Paul said.

"Regardless, this is a Holiday Inn," Jimmy said. "It's not some Ritz Carlton in Malibu they can trash, like they're rock stars or something. Someone oughta break it to Mike that outside of Pine City, no one cares who we are."

Paul clenched his jaw, reminded that high school wouldn't last forever. They were about to be cast out into the real world.

"I need this scholarship," Jimmy said. "I want to get the hell out of Pine City."

"I'm thinking about coming back," Paul said. "I'd love being a football coach, like my dad."

Jimmy cocked his head and gave him an impatient look. "Think bigger."

"Well, I want to go to MU first," Paul said. "You know that."

"First, let's win this game," Jimmy said.

Paul and Jimmy knocked on Mike's hotel room door.

"What do you want?" Mike's voice bellowed over the thumping music.

"It's Jimmy and Paul."

Mike opened the door a crack. Paul knew that meant there was booze flowing on the other side of the door. He pushed it open, greeted by the sight of his teammates drinking and partying as if they'd already won the game. Most of the guys were sipping beers. Mike was drinking from his usual bottle of whiskey.

"Welcome to the pre-party!" he hooted.

"How you gonna play tomorrow feeling like shit?" Jimmy asked, although he knew the answer. Mike played every game hung over.

"The enemy is at the gate," Mike said. "Come to the window and look."

They watched the Jonesboro boys unloading beat-up vans and trucks.

"Whoa," Jimmy said. "And people think we're rednecks?"

"This is why I'm not worried about this game at all," Mike said as he peered through the blinds.

"I am," Paul said. "They might be a bunch of Deliverance Country boys. But my dad warned me that they're pretty damn good at football."

Mike shrugged and blew him off. "I have some other good news for you, Jimmy," he said. "I met two hot girls in the lobby and gave them my number so we can meet up with them tonight."

"What about me?" Paul asked.

"C'mon, Kilcher, we know you have no game with girls," Mike said. Paul stiffened, in time for Mike to say, "Just kidding. Lighten up."

"We're sneaking out to see Hillbilly Delight tonight," Jimmy said. "They're playing at a bar on campus."

"Cool. I'm inviting those girls," Mike said. "I'll sneak them in through the back door."

Paul and Jimmy looked at each other. "Let's leave him behind," Paul said. "He'll get drunk and blow our cover."

"We need his car," Jimmy said. "Don't worry. He'll be too distracted hitting on those girls to bother us."

They both fell quiet, a sense of foreboding hanging in the air.

By sunset, Paul and Jimmy had a plan. They would wait until Coach Kilcher checked every room at ten to make sure the players were in for the night. Then they'd leave using the back staircase instead of the elevator. Paul would drive to the concert, but he wouldn't get drunk there. He had no intention of compromising the game with a hangover.

At ten, his dad knocked on the door.

"Goodnight, Paul," he said, gripping his shoulders. "Make me proud tomorrow."

"I will," Paul said, swallowing hard and ignoring the tight feeling in his chest.

By the time he and Jimmy tiptoed into Mike's room, he was sweating. He went into the bathroom, where Mike had hidden an ice bucket full of beer.

"I need one of these," Paul said. "But just one...or two."

"That's my boy," Mike said, slapping him on the back.

Jimmy tiptoed to the door and opened it, looking both ways.

"Now would be a good time," he whispered.

And with that, they dashed for the stairwell, trying their best to be silent. As they ran downstairs, they laughed, laughter that was both nervous and exhilarated.

"We're actually getting away with this," Jimmy said. He sounded shocked that his own plan had gone off without a hitch.

Mike's car keys jingled as they ran for the street, inhaling the cool fall air. It was damp and smelled of fallen leaves.

They weren't the only ones out. They were on the far edge of the MU campus, where roups of students huddled together as they walked uptown. Three male figures in sweatshirts began walking ahead of them. Voices called to them from the open window.

"Remember to come back with a case!"

The three guys gave them the thumbs-up sign, looking both nervous and excited. Paul wondered where they were going, this trio that resembled their own.

He heard Wade's voice behind them.

"Paul! Where are you going?"

"Oh no," Paul said as he froze. "Wade, what are you doing? Go back to the hotel!"

"Mom and Dad are asleep," Wade said. "I want to go with you." He looked up at Paul and blinked his almond-shaped eyes.

"Don't worry, I have an idea," Mike said.

He put his arm around Wade and led him to the car.

"Jimmy, drive to that convenience store on the corner," Mike said. "Paul, come in with me."

In the store, Mike wandered up and down the aisles before he spotted a bottle of Wild Turkey.

"Saves money on drinks tonight," he explained.

"How are you going to buy that?"

"I'm twenty-two," Mike said with a wink, flashing a fake New York license. "Where's the pharmacy section? I know what Wade needs tonight."

He reached down and grabbed a dark glass bottle from the bottom shelf.

"Cough syrup?"

"It'll knock him out for the rest of the night," Mike said. "Relax, Paul. I went to that bar where Hillbilly Delight is playing last summer. You'll be able to see the car from the windows."

When they got back to the car, Mike poured some of the cough syrup into the medicine cup.

"Here, Wade," he said. "This is your juice." Then he took a big swig from the whiskey bottle. "And this is my juice."

Paul stared straight ahead in the front seat, white-faced and grimacing.

"Thanks, Mike!" Wade said.

They pulled up to the bar and parked in the very last row under a wall of trees. Wade was sound asleep in the back seat, his head lolling to one side.

The warm, innocent country music helped Paul forget his dread about getting caught. He parked himself at a table near the window while Mike bellied up to the bar. He came back holding three beers.

"Here," he said to Paul. "Calm your nerves before the girls get here."

Paul drank, and so did Jimmy.

"I shouldn't be doing this," Paul cringed.

But the warm, worry-free feeling that overcame him was impossible to resist.

"Hey, there they are!" Mike said, pointing out the window. "I'm sneaking them in through the back door. By the way, I get the blonde one."

Paul watched as Mike approached the table with two girls. One was a cute brunette with deep green eyes. But Paul's sight set on the petite blonde girl beside her, who looked nervous and shy. She wore a white lace dress with tights underneath. It made her look strikingly sweet and girlish in this gritty country bar. She was wide-eyed, looking around the bar as if she had never been inside a place like this.

"These are my friends, Paul and Jimmy," Mike said. He positioned his body between the table and the blonde girl, making it clear that she was his for the night.

"Would you sweet young things like a drink?" Mike asked, as Jimmy made a face at Paul indicating he was trying not to gag.

"I'm going to the jukebox," Jimmy said. "Gimme a dollar."

He put on "Straight Tequila Night" by John Anderson.

The band was setting up on stage. "So, do you like country?" Mike asked the girls. "What are you in town for?"

"A school trip," the blonde said. "We're on the newspaper staff, and we're on a trip to learn about undercover reporting."

"What grade are you in?" Jimmy asked.

The girls looked at each other.

"We're sophomores," the brunette said after a few awkward seconds.

Jimmy leaned into Paul. "Five dollars says they're freshmen."

When Mike walked away, Paul caught the blonde girl out of the corner of his eye. She had been taking tiny sips of the beer, but now she was pouring it into a trash can next to the bar. He couldn't stop himself from laughing.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "Not much of a beer girl?"

The girl blushed. She looked up at him. He noticed her doll-like appearance, with rosy cheeks, wide eyes, and long, dark lashes.

"I have nothing against beer, I just don't drink," she said. Then she added, "don't tell anyone."

"Of course I won't tell anyone."

The girl broke into a smile. Mike reappeared and put his arm around her.

"What's up, doll face?" he said, and shot Paul a look that said "go away."

Paul felt tempted to pummel him. He picked up the beer Mike had bought and downed it, hoping to wash the feeling away.

Hillbilly Delight took the stage. Paul watched Mike inch closer to the blonde girl. She turned and gave Paul a "help me" look. He walked up to Mike and shoved a paper bill at him.

"Mike, can you order another round of drinks?" Paul asked. "Buy yourself one, on me."

Mike eagerly accepted the offer, as Paul knew he would. "You want one?" Mike asked him.

Paul looked out the window at the car. It was still sitting in the back row against the wall of trees, undisturbed.

He thought of all the nights they had practiced til the sun went down. How he had followed all the rules all these years. He thought of all the days he spent as Wade's guardian and protector. All the times he had shoved someone into the lockers for throwing around the word "retard." He thought of all the fun he didn't have on the nights he chose to make his father proud.

"Sure, I'll have another," he said.

Mike nodded, looking pleased with him for once.

Paul looked down at the girl as Mike went to order drinks. "So, do you like country music?" he asked her, struggling to make conversation. Mike was right, he wasn't very good at talking to girls. Especially the pretty ones.

"I love it," the girl said. "There's this new country singer who's only seventeen and writes her own songs. Her name is Taylor--"

"Swift," they both said at the same time.

Paul winced. He probably shouldn't admit to listening to a teen girl's overwrought breakup ballads.

But instead the girl searched his face with a starry-eyed look. "It's nice to meet a guy who listens to Taylor Swift," she said.

Suddenly, there was a commotion at the bar. Mike was arguing with an older man who was holding his fake ID in the air, refusing to hand it back.

"Oh no," Paul breathed, remembering Wade in the car. "Nice going, Mike."

He touched the girl's arm and nudging her toward the same door she had used to sneak in.

"Do you want to go outside for a few minutes?" he asked her. The last thing Paul wanted in front of her was a humiliating bust for underage drinking. Or to spend the night at the police station, ending all hope of winning tomorrow.

"Yeah, outside sounds great," the girl said, watching the scene at the bar. Paul didn't even try to find Jimmy before bolting out the door with her.

It was quiet on the bar's back porch. At least Paul could watch the car from here, and talk to the girl without the loud sounds of the band in the background.

"That was a close call with your friend," she said.

"Not for him," Paul said. "He's in trouble all the time."

But at home, where everyone knew who he was, he got away with it.

"I've never snuck out at night before," she replied.

"Never?"

"Never."

"And you don't drink," Paul said. It was nice to meet a good girl for a change.

Hillbilly Delight was beginning a new song. It was "Straight Tequila Night" again.

"I guess this is the theme of the night," Paul said.

"So are you going to..."

"What?"

"I thought you were bringing me outside to kiss me."

Paul laughed, more out of surprise than amusement. "First, I have to know your name."

He would forget it by the morning.

And then he kissed her--a slow, sweet kiss. It was the last thing he remembered before awakening hours later, face down on a picnic table outside the bar.

It was silent when Paul woke up. Silent, and black. The bright, merry sounds of Hillbilly Delight had faded. The only sound he could hear was the distant rumble of the interstate.

"Wade," he said as he stumbled to his feet. "I forgot about Wade." An eerie wind rustled the trees.

He got up and ran toward the wall of pines, disoriented in the dark. He could barely make out the shape of the red sedan. He felt dizzy, as if the world was about to dissolve under his feet and swallow him up.

He grabbed the door handle. The door was open a crack, and Wade was gone, missing somewhere in the blackness.

Paul jammed the keys into the ignition and raced back to the hotel, driving eighty miles an hour on the forested back roads. Had Mike and Jimmy brought Wade back to the hotel? Or were they hauled away to the city jail in handcuffs for underage drinking? And what had happened to the girl?

He didn't want to know.

He didn't realize how fast he was going as he pulled into the hotel parking lot, racing against time.

The front desk looked deserted. Paul raced up the back stairs and pounded on Mike's door.

"Oh, thank God," Paul said when Mike answered the door. "Where's Wade?"

"Hell if I know," Mike said. "Where were you all night?"

"It doesn't matter. I went back to the car and Wade was gone."

"He couldn't have gone far," Mike reminded him. And it was true--a disabled kid walking alone rarely went unnoticed.

Paul went back to the room he shared with Jimmy.

"Jim, wake up," he said, shaking him. "I can't find Wade."

"What?" Jimmy said, rolling over.

"I need you to help me find him," Paul said.

"I can't sneak out again," Jimmy said. "I almost got busted at the bar."

"Are you kidding me, Jim?" Paul replied. "Wade is missing. Now get up."

Jimmy stared at him in the semi-darkness, pleading with his eyes. "Paul, I can't."

"Some friend you are," Paul said as he slammed the door behind him.

He spent the night racing around, trying to lift his foot from the gas pedal once in a while. "Please, God, let me find him," he said out loud to himself. "If you let me find him, I'll do anything. Anything you want me to."

He went into a gas station, the only place still open as the clock ticked away toward morning.

"Excuse me," Paul said, frantic and stammering. "Excuse me. Did you see a boy come in here, fourteen years old, almond-shaped eyes..."

The cashier stared at him. "A kid out at four in the morning? No," he said, looking half-awake, with dark half-moons under his eyes.

"Nevermind," Paul said, bolting out the door and back to the car.

He drove until his forehead was wet with sweat and his breathing was rapid and shallow. He flashed his brights on the dark road ahead. Suddenly, he saw a moving figure, glowing white like a ghost in the darkness.

"Wade!" he cried, slamming on the breaks.

He felt like a pile of bricks had landed on his stomach when he realized it was a deer, a big buck with mangy antlers.

The sun was coming up when he pulled back into the hotel parking lot. He pulled out his cell phone and turned it over and over in his hands, wondering whether to call the police. He wanted to, but he couldn't...not without turning himself in, along with Jimmy and Mike.

All of a sudden, his door flew open.

"Get out," his dad said, grabbing him by the collar. Paul got out of the car, and his dad shoved him against it.

"Where's Wade?" he shouted in Paul's face.

"I don't know," Paul said, clenching his fists in terror.

Coach Kilcher slapped him hard across the face.

"Don't lie to me," he said. "The whole team is up and waiting in the lobby. You need to tell me what happened before we give up the game."

His dad dragged him into the lobby where they usually served continental breakfasts. The entire football team was sitting there, scattered around with drawn, ashen faces.

"My son needs to turn himself in," Coach Kilcher said to his assistant coaches. "But first, I want to know who was with him last night, because I don't believe for a second that he went on his own. I have two guesses."

Paul looked at Mike and Jimmy. Jimmy stared at the floor. Mike clenched his jaw and stared back at him. The other players began whispering among themselves, shooting Paul hateful looks. "He ruined everything," one said aloud.

Paul's dad turned to him. "You left Wade somewhere while you went out drinking, didn't you?"

"No, Dad. "

"Yes you did. I can smell it," Coach Kilcher replied. "You abandoned your brother to impress your cool friends. And to meet a girl. I found this in your room."

He held up a slip of paper with the girl's number on it.

"Hey, I want that!" Paul said, trying to grab it. His dad hit him again, a hard smack across the face.

Mike's dad stormed in.

"We ain't forfeiting this game because your little retard wandered off," he shouted in Coach Kilcher's face. "That little shit ruins everything."

Coach Kilcher looked up at him. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me," Mike's dad replied. "My son isn't going to miss out on a state championship because of your little retard."

Paul's dad punched him, and Paul ran, grabbing his dad's car keys off the table.

"Fuck you, Mike!" he yelled over his shoulder. "And fuck you, Jimmy."

Jimmy came running out after him. "Paul, wait," he called after him. "I'll make it up to you, I promise. Maybe not now, but after the game..."

"The game's over," Paul said. He jumped into his dad's car and tore off, already determined to never see Pine City again.

He drove and drove, feeling numb and dreamlike as I-75 led him south and out of Michigan. For many hours--and who knows how many--he had to pull over, praying that none of this was real. He sat in the car until it grew cold and started to get dark outside. A truck stop attendant knocked on his door and asked him, "What the hell are you doing?"

He rolled up the window without answering and drove away.

Before he crossed over the Ohio border, he turned the radio on just in time to hear Pine City lose. Jimmy McGrath, once considered a promising college athlete, played his worst game ever. Mike Womack was jumpy and fumbled a lot. But worst of all, Pine City missing its head coach. He'd spent all day looking for his disabled son, whose mangled body was found on the side of the road around dusk. It appeared he was hit by a car, but local authorities considered the death suspicious. They were trying to figure out how Wade ended up there, miles from his hotel, all alone on the dark interstate.

The last time anyone had seen him, he was walking with an older boy, who put his arm around him as he led him away.

***

Paul didn't speak to anyone for the blur of time that passed as he traveled through Ohio. He spent the few hundred dollars left in his bank account on cheap motels, where he checked in but never slept.

His family never came looking for him, and his dad never even tried to track his stolen car. Over time, Paul lost hope that they still wanted anything to do with him. They thought he killed Wade, one way or another, even though it was Mike and not Paul who was last seen with him.

At least he'd had enough credits to be a high school graduate. With no job and no school to attend, he began drinking at lonely little bars on Route 33 in Ohio. No one cared that he was only eighteen. It was the poorest part of the state, where the flat farmland of central Ohio became the rolling hills of Appalachia. At least the motels--and the beer--were cheap.

He spent Christmas alone in a motel, and that winter, he lost his virginity. He met the woman in a bar one night. She told him she was twenty and suggested they return to his room. As he tried to wrap his arms around her afterward, she shoved him off.

"One hundred," she said.

"What?"

He hadn't realized she was a prostitute. That night, he cried himself to sleep and dreamt about the girl in the white dress.

When his money was running out, he met an older man, sixty-something, in a diner on Route 33. After four beers, he told the man his story. He didn't hold back: he told him about the playoff game, the fateful night in the bar, and Wade's death.

His name was Jack, and he offered Paul a job as a trucker. For the next few years, he wandered like a ghost along the lonely highways in the Midwest.

But when he returned to Ohio, at least he had something that resembled a family. He spent the holidays with Jack's family, sleeping there on his weeks away from the road. Jack's wife treated him like one of her own children, hugging him every time he left for another week on the road.

One night, he was driving into the Appalachian foothills when he pulled off Route 33 into a small town. It had brick streets and big, old brick buildings draped with ivy. As he drove down a side street, he watched three young men leave a dwelling that looked like a historic hotel. As the screen door slammed behind them, someone called to them from the window.

"Have fun tonight!" they hollered. "Bring me back a case of Miller Lite."

Paul had eerie flashbacks to the night Wade died.

Later that night, when he was driving through Appalachia, he turned on the radio. He heard the tinny, joyous sound of a high school football game. The narrator's cheerful voice send chills down his spine. It was dark and rainy, and he knew it was too late at night for a high school football game.

In the hills ahead, he thought he saw ghosts. They watched him from behind the pine trees with glaring eyes. "We know you killed Wade," they seemed to be whispering at him, more aggressively the faster he drove. Soon he was barreling down the highway, too fast to break for a white figure running across the highway.

He slammed on the breaks and called Jack.

"I'm seeing ghosts," he said, hyperventilating into the phone. "I heard a football game on the radio...I think I'm gonna die."

Jack drove three hours and knocked on the door of Paul's truck.

"Paul, you have to let go of your past," he said. "The town you stopped in. Were there a lot of young people out, and were there cobblestone streets and old brick buildings?"

"It was MU," Paul said, shaking and sweating. "But a ghost town. I'm freaking out, Jack."

"No, it was was Athens, home to Ohio University," Jack said. "I want you to go there. As for the football game, I'd like to introduce you to the joy of Monday Night Football."

And Paul did go to school, not at Ohio University, but Hocking College in the nearby town of Nelsonville. He spent a lot of time at the rec center at OU, trying to run and sweat out his memories. His hair got darker and he put on muscle. He did it until he looked in the mirror one day and saw his father.

Two years passed, and he finally had a semblance of a normal life. He went to to class and ate dinner with Jack and his family. He drank beer on the front porch with his friends every Friday night. He graduated and started looking for a day job that would get him off the road. Eventually, he worked up the nerve to get a Facebook account.

One day, he got a friend request from a blonde girl. The image haunted him. She asked for his number, and he responded, waiting all day with a pounding heart. When his phone rang, it was Jimmy's voice on the other line. All these years later, Paul recognized it immediately.

"Two things," Jimmy said. "One, don't give your number out to strangers. Two, I never forgot about you."

Jimmy kept his promise to make up for what happened to Wade. As soon as he got his first impressive job, he invited Paul to work there too, as a security for Right Now. Paul told Jimmy he had only one other wish: to find that girl.

25

"Have you lost your mind?"

Paul and Elise looked up to find Jay Mack standing there, climbing over the rocks.

Paul jumped at the sound of his voice. "Hey, get out of here, Jimmy," he shouted back.

Elise gasped. "What did you call him?" she asked. "Is he the same person you were telling me about?"

Jay and Paul stared at each other. "Yeah, he goes by Jay Mack now," he said angrily. "People think it sounds cooler. Your co-workers don't know it's the stupid nickname I gave him in high school. Now you go around calling yourself that in all seriousness, like you're the Great Gatsby or some shit."

Jay reached out and shook Elise's hand. "Allow me to re-introduce myself," he said. "I'm Jimmy McGrath, or J. Mac for short. And Paul, you're going to get arrested if you don't get out of here."

"I'm not," Paul said. "I'm walking away. My dad's dying. You can keep all the money. I'm taking my car and the cash I have left, and I'm going home."

He turned to Elise. "Elise, go with Jimmy," he said. "I was going to take you with me, but I can't do that to you. Your parents expect you home in a few days. Don't disappear on them, like I did to my family."

Elise complied, trying to hold her head high as they drove back to the resort she had never hoped to see again.

26

Jackie was standing in the lobby of The Palace, waiting for Jimmy.

"The jig is up," he said to her before she could talk. "Paul left. Chase wants him prosecuted for assault."

Elise stared at Jackie. "You were in on the photo scheme too?"

Jackie bit her lip. "It wasn't supposed to go this far," she said.

"So you helped them plaster pictures of me in my underwear on the Internet?" Elise said, folding her arms over her chest. "I want to know why you did that to me."

"I wanted revenge on the network for what they did to me," Jackie said. "They picked me as a contestant for Eligible Bachelor knowing about the pictures. It was all staged ahead of time. They were using me for ratings."

She looked at the ground. "So Jimmy said he would help me by getting scandalous pictures of other Right Now reality stars. Except without their permission. He would give half the money to Paul to repay him for what happened in high school, and half to me. I need it for the baby."

Jimmy snapped to attention. "For what?"

There was a short pause.

"Sorry, Jimmy," she said, finally calling him by his real name. "I'm pregnant."

"Is it mine?"

"Yes."

Chandler and Lanny came barging out of the elevator.

"When were you going to tell us you were working with that silicone-chested skank?" Lanny demanded.

"Give it up already. She's all natural," Jimmy replied. "But you know what isn't? Chandler's nose."

The bystanders in the lobby started to snicker. Chandler looked ready to throw something.

"Go pack your shit and call an airport taxi," Chandler screamed at him. "You're fired."

"You say that as if I care," he replied dismissively. "Nice knowing you guys."

The lights flickered, then died. The sound of silence was so grating that everyone in the lobby let out a collective gasp.

"Why is the power out?" someone asked. "Doesn't this resort have generators?"

"Great," Elise muttered. "How am I going to get back to my room in the pitch black?"

Someone ran into the lobby screaming, "Everyone get in the casino! We're under attack!"

"Oh my God," Elise said. She dove behind a chair to avoid the stampede of guests who were refusing to obey orders.

"I said the casino! Now!"

It was a hotel employee, making a futile to herd everyone inside.

"You have thirty seconds before we lock the doors."

Elise got up and dashed for the casino, tripping over a card table. A bartender was digging for flashlights and passing them out to the other employees. They scanned them over the crowd.

"What do you mean, under attack?" one of the guests asked. "From who? ISIS? Mexican drug lords?"

"We have no idea," the bartender said. "Nobody move until we tell you otherwise."

In the semi-darkness, Elise heard a familiar voice. It was Grace, and she was sobbing. Although the power was out, the light from her iPhone illuminated her face. She frantically tried to dial.

"I want to go home," she moaned. "I want to go home."

Elise ran up to her. "Grace!" she cried. "Where's Carson?"

"I don't know. I tried to call her, but I have no cell phone reception."

It was of no use. Whoever was attacking Esmeralda Island had interfered with cell service.

"Oh my God!" someone yelled. "Look out the window!"

Inside the casino, they could see speedboats circling the island like a bunch of sharks. The drivers were men in head-to-toe black outfits.

It looked straight out of a chase scene in an action movie.

"Everyone stay away from the windows!" someone said. "It's a terrorist attack."

The gasps and screams resumed as power generators whirred, and the lights revived.

"Turn those off!" the bar manager ordered. "We don't want them to see us in here."

"Why would they do this to us?" Elise said, dumbfounded by what a nightmare this week had been. She had anticipated diva antics from Carson, but she'd never expected this. "What do terrorists want from a bunch of college students on spring break?"

"Don't worry, Elise," Grace said, her voice shaking. "We can get through this."

She opened up her purse and pulled out her Bible. "There's a verse in here about this...I'm sure," she said. "I need to find it." She looked like she was about to faint.

"I know a few," Jackie said, coming over to sit next to her.

Grace looked pleasantly surprised. "Really?"

"I haven't been to church in years, but I've read the Bible," Jackie replied.

"Don't worry, Grace," a loud, confident voice announced. "It's staged."

It was Connor Kardeza. He stood over them with a half-smile that was one part infuriated, two parts amused.

"How do you know?" Grace asked.

"Think about it. Right Now owns this entire island, right? Every year they try to top what happened last year. It's all about the ratings. And who did they call to help them out? The biggest attention whores on the face of the planet: the Kardeza family."

He had the whole room's attention now.

"And they shouldn't get away with it any longer," he said.

"But what if it's real?" Elise asked him.

"Oh my God, they're coming ashore!" someone screamed. "The terrorists are going to attack the resort!"

"Oh, hell no," Jimmy McGrath said. "Don't tell me the Kardezas are staging a national emergency."

"Of course they are," Connor said. "You don't get it, man. You don't know how low they stoop. When CJ Sampson murdered his wife, my dad put me in his blood-spattered car and drove us around. You know, to use the kid for an alibi. I was ten at the time."

He shook his head as if to dislodge the memory. "Anyway, it's fake. They're pretending to be held hostage to distract from Leroy's overdose. Maybe even collect a ransom while they're at it."

"There's a one percent chance it's real," Jimmy said. "But I'm willing to risk it to stop these people once and for all."

"Me too," Connor said.

"Me too," Grace and Jackie added.

They all looked at Elise.

"I'm in," she said.

She drew a deep breath. "The only question is, what do we do?"

27

One of the hostage-takers had a bullhorn. "Everyone freeze and don't move an inch!" a terrifying voice commanded. "We're here for the Kardeza family!"

"Told you so," Connor said.

"Carson must be with them," Grace said. "I wonder if she was in on this."

"Of course she was," Connor replied. "The only thing worse than a Kardeza is a Kardeza wannabe."

"I have a flashlight," Jimmy said. "Let's go up to the producer's suite and see what we can find."

The five of them--Jimmy, Connor, Jackie, Grace, and Elise--went up a back staircase in the dark.

Chandler and Lanny's laptops were still running on battery power.

"Check the desks," Jimmy commanded the girls. He and Connor began rifling through the files on the laptops.

Jackie pulled out a file from the desk. It was the same one Jimmy had seen Kandi deliver to Right Now headquarters on that fateful day in January.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," she said. "Look at this."

They gathered around the table. In front of them were several dummy copies of Celebrity Life, with the Kardeza family on the cover.

"Kardezas kidnapped at sea!" blared one headline.

"Kardezas held hostage by drug lords!"

"Jesus," Jimmy said. "This was all staged ahead of time by the Kardezas and the Right Now Network. I could kick myself for suggesting that they get involved."

"Look at this one," Connor said, holding up the fake cover. "Kardezas missing: was it extraterrestrials?"

"I hope that one was a joke," Jimmy said.

"I wouldn't put it past them," Connor replied. "Let's go up to their suite and see what else they're hiding."

They could hear the hostage-takers' black boots pounding on the staircase.

"And let's confront these fakers, too," Connor added.

"Are we willing to risk this?" Grace said, cringing with fear. "I mean, what if it's real?"

"Let's find out right now," Connor said. He motioned for everyone to gather near the door as the men in black ran down the hallway.

Sure enough, there was a cameraman trailing them.

"Wait, which way do we go?" one of the men asked. "Left or right?"

"Cut!" the cameraman yelled. "Take two. That was a terrible shot."

Suddenly, they heard girlish screams.

"Don't kidnap me!" Kallista Kardeza was yelling. "Oh please, don't— "

She burst out laughing.

"Sorry, guys," Kallista said. "This is so cheesy."

"Wow," Elise said. "It is staged."

"As staged as Kallista's sex tape," Connor said. "My mom directed the whole thing."

"Ew!" Jackie and Grace said in unison.

"Alright, they're not getting away with this," Jimmy said. He swung the door wide open, hitting one of the hostage-takers.

"Hey," he said. "So where do you keep the costumes?"

He stopped dead in his tracks.

"Come on, man, we all know this isn't real," Jimmy said. "I thought it would be the perfect revenge, to take scandalous photos of reality stars and sell them. But after this week, I realized that nobody cares. They don't care if these are the sleaziest, most immoral people on the planet. In fact, it makes people idolize them more."

"So now I have a different plan," he said. "We're going to show everyone that it's fake."

The hostage-taker's shoulders sank, and he looked down sheepishly. "You caught me," he said. "How much trouble am I in?"

"If you tell us where you got those costumes, none at all," Jay replied.

"They're upstairs in the penthouse," he said.

Jimmy turned to the rest of the group. "Everyone grab a camera," he said.

He tossed a camera to Elise. "You can have Paul's," he said.

"Alright, everyone to the penthouse suite," Jimmy said. "Grab a ski mask and a black outfit. We're taking these people down."

28

"We're taking Paul's boat. Hurry!" Jimmy shouted. "The longer we take, the better chance they have of getting away with this stunt and convince everyone it's real."

He turned to Elise. "You said you're a journalist, right?"

"I wanted to be one," Elise said.

"Well, are you ready to be one today?" Jimmy asked. "I'll drive the boat; I'm trusting you to document everything."

Elise nodded as they ran down the beach, feeling a resolve she had never felt before. "You can trust me," she replied.

They jumped into the boat, trying to distribute their weight so it wouldn't tip. The wind was picking up, and raindrops started to hammer on the surface of the ocean. Big, gray waves started to churn in the ocean.

"Is this safe?" Grace asked, then fell quiet. They all agreed that they were going to do this even if their physical safety was at risk.

"We have lifejackets," Jimmy said with a shrug. "Jackie, I want you to stay behind." He tossed her his house keys as she opened her mouth to protest.

"For the baby," he added, staring into her eyes. Then he gathered her into a tight hug, then kissed her on the lips as she stepped out of the boat.

"You know," Jackie said. "Like Jay said, I thought the best revenge was taking humiliating pictures of these celebrity wannabes. But exposing the network is so much better."

She touched Elise on the shoulder. "Don't forget about me," she said.

"I won't," Elise said . "Good luck with everything, Jackie."

Jimmy put the keys into the boat's ignition. "I'll drive," Jimmy said. "Everyone, hold on tight."

The engine started with a loud whir, and the boat tore out across the ocean. They were tossed side to side by the waves.

Jimmy pointed ahead. The masked actors pretending to be terrorists were circling around on jetskis. Through the fog and waves, Elise could see a yacht tossing in the waves.

"That's the yacht where they're pretending to hold the Kardezas hostage," Jimmy said. "I'm going to pull up close to it. Elise, you man the camera. Grace, you do backup for her. Zoom in on these fakers and get as many pictures as you can."

"Won't they try to stop us?" Grace asked.

"In these outfits? We blend in with the rest of the cast and crew of this five-star production," Jimmy said. Even as they were being rollicked back and forth by the mighty, angry Atlantic, they all laughed. "This will be the first time America has ever watched a terrorist attack in HD."

"Okay, we're getting closer," Jimmy said. "Get ready. And don't worry, those cameras are water-resistant."

Jimmy pulled the boat up alongside the yacht. Sure enough, a camera crew was on the deck, directing the Kardeza family's every move.

"I'm so, so scared," they heard Kandi wailing.

"Take two," the cameraman said. "Can you say it a little louder? I can't hear you over the wind."

"She definitely won't be getting an Academy Award for that performance," Connor said.

"And people wonder why you want nothing to do with this sorry bunch," Jimmy said. "I'd rather be part of the Manson family."

Elise grasped the side of the boat, trying to see onto the deck of the yacht. She held the camera with one hand, alternating between snapping pictures and taking short videos.

She saw Carson sitting on the yacht with the Kardeza sisters. They were sipping bubbly drinks from champagne flutes.

"Cheers, bitches!" Carson toasted. "This is the start of my awesome new life with the most awesome family on the planet."

"Yeah, and without LeRoy or the tub o' lard," Kallista said, and they all laughed. "Or that goody two-shoes friend of yours, Lisa or whoever. God, Car, how did you get stuck dragging her along?"

There was a loud whirring noise on the horizon.

"Army helicopters!" Jimmy exclaimed. "They've convinced the U.S. military that this whole thing is real. You know, and not another publicity stunt to get more air time, money, and attention."

"Well, we're about to show the world the truth," Grace said.

One of the hostage-takers whipped around to face them. "Hey, who is that?" he asked, pointing to the boat. "That ugly-ass boat isn't part of the plan!"

Kandi Kardeza jumped up. "Hey, that's the pathetic girl who almost made it onto Kadence's new show. Look at the blonde hair underneath the mask!" She leaned over to holler at some of the men on jetskis. "Get them out of here at once!"

The rain and wind was picking up, and Elise lost her footing. She held the camera high into the air as waves sloshed over the side of the boat.

"Elise!" Grace screamed, trying to grab her hand.

But it was too late. The camera clanged into the bottom of the boat as Elise hurtled overboard into the cold water. It knocked the wind out of her as she crashed.

A jetski circled around her, and a faux-terrorist in a black ski mask swept her up from the freezing cold water. "Grab my hand!" he told her.

"Excuse me, what the fuck are you doing?" Kandi shrieked. "She's ruining everything for us."

The terrorist tore off his ski mask.

"Sorry, Kandi, but this is what happens when you roll with unbelievably greedy people," Paul said. "It's easy to bribe them into giving you their costumes and jet skis. By the way, those helicopters in the sky are here because I turned you in. The Kardeza family is under arrest."

29

Esmeralda Island was evacuated that night. The entire Right Now resort closed as a massive investigation got underway. They even tried to get the locals to leave, although most steadfastly refused to go.

"It's our island," a local told a cable news anchor. "Good riddance. That network can go, and take them Kardezas with them."

The guests were ferried to hotels in Jacksonville. Panicked relatives had flown in after hearing about the terrorist attack.

"Or should we say 'terrorist' attack?" Elise's brother, Eric, said as she ran up to hug him. Elise's parents were standing there with him.

"I'm so proud of you, Elise," Mom said as she gathered her in her arms. "I'm so glad you exposed those Kardezas and the horrific fraud they tried to pull on this country. It's despicable."

"I'm glad it's over," Elise said, feeling drained. Now that the mind-numbing horror of the day was over, all she wanted to do was sleep.

Regular news was cast aside for wall-to-wall coverage of the situation in Florida. Instead of a terrorist attack perpetrated by foreign terrorists, it was looking more like an inside job staged by the Right Now Network. Kandi Kardeza, her family and staff, and executives at the network were in police custody, being questioned. Two members of the family were already under arrest for cocaine possession, along with an acquaintance, Carson Vana.

"And now, we'd like to show our viewers some footage captured at the scene," the reporter on the TV said.

There were the shocking pictures of the Kardezas. Drinking, laughing, and filming multiple takes on their yacht.

As for who had caught them in the act? The reporter gave the credit to an aspiring journalist from Michigan University. Her name was Elise Apple.

October

It was the end of fall color season as Elise was driving north on I-75, into the pine forests of Northern Michigan.

A few months earlier, she got a letter in the mail, with a return address in Pine City. It was from Paul Kilcher, but not the one she knew--it was from the man known throughout Pine City as Coach Kilcher.

In the letter, he told Elise his story.

He was born on an Indian reservation, at least, as far as he knew. He was adopted by a Christian minister and his wife. At age eighteen, he joined the military. It was there that he learned to never take victory--or life itself--for granted.

And when he came home, God did just that. He also gave him two daughters and two sons--Allison, Beth, Paul, and Wade. He and his wife felt pressured to give Wade away. They almost did, until Paul reminded them they shouldn't give a shit what anyone thought.

He spent two years trying to find Paul after he ran away. The police told them that since he was over eighteen, there was nothing they could do to bring him home. But he always knew he would find him one day. Sure as he was that the wind would keep blowing and the sun would rise in the morning.

But when he got cancer, he knew it was a race against time. He had to track down his son before his time on Earth ran out.

In the meantime, he found out what happened to Wade. After a newspaper ran an article on the anniversary of his death, the Kilchers got a phone call. It was a man living in Northeast Michigan, in the desolate forest around Alpena.

"I'm one of those no-good bums who did time in Jackson prison for robbery and drugs," he said. "One night, a rainy fall night about ten years ago, I was on my motorcycle and came across a kid sitting on a park bench. I don't remember exactly where. There was a bar nearby, a short distance from a bar on the Michigan University campus. I stopped and asked him what he was doing, and he told me he was waiting for his big brother. I figured he was lost, and I could do a good deed by taking him to the police station. You know, just to make up for all the bad things I done. He hopped on the back of my bike. At one point, I pulled over to the side of the road to check on him and adjust his helmet. A twenty-dollar bill blew out of my pocket. I looked away for a second, and suddenly I heard a huge crash, the sound of bones breaking. He'd been slammed by a huge SUV doing ninety in the slow lane. It didn't even stop. There was no doubt he was dead. I chased the SUV up the highway, trying to get the license plate number, but it was going too fast. I figured no one would believe me, so I let it go. But I never forgot."

But Coach Kilcher believed him, and so did Elise. She knew because over the summer, she got a call from Carson.

"So, I'm in this twelve step program, and part of it is apologizing..."

"Making amends?" Elise asked.

"Yeah. So I wanted to apologize for how I treated you on Spring Break," she replied. "My problems started back when I was in seventh grade. My mom was driving us to our vacation home in Traverse City in her Escalade to see the fall colors. She hit something hard. At first we thought it was a piece of furniture in the road. But I knew it was—get this—a person. My mom wouldn't even stop. She pulled over at a gas station and called her lawyer. She said 'Don't worry, Carson. We'll take care of this little problem.'"

"Messed up, right?" Carson asked. "Maybe that's why I'm messed up."

"Carson, I understand," Elise said. "Are you going to Grace and Connor's wedding?"

After a whirlwind romance, Connor and Grace had gotten engaged in August.

"She's having me as a bridesmaid!" Carson said, sounding happy in a way that was genuine. "You know, I'm glad to have her as a sister. I hope we can all be friends."

Paul's dad had made it to the Fourth of July. By that time, Paul had moved home to spend his last weeks with him.

Now Pine City High School had two memorials in the grassy yard beyond the football stadium. One was to Wade Kilcher, the Pine City football team's most loyal fan. Next to it was a flower wreath and a dedication to a former head coach who knew there was more to life than winning.

In his final months, Coach Kilcher got a visit from a man limping on a set of crutches. It was Mike.

He told Coach Kilcher about how he had almost drank to death and gotten in an accident. After he had passed out in the bar again, he came home one night to find his wife and kids gone. A note on the table read, "I'm done."

He ran off in his car with a suicide note taped to the dashboard. As he sped down a country road, he saw a baby deer and swerved. He hit a tree and and passed out in a pool of blood. He wept alone in his car, thinking that as big of a failure as he was, at least he hadn't killed the baby deer. When he woke up, he saw a gentle figure standing over him.

"Are you ready to stop living like this, Mike?" he said.

In his delirious state, Mike thought he recognized him. "Wade?" he said. "You're all grown up now."

That was the last thing he remembered before waking up in a hospital. The doctor said, "Your wife is here, and she's ready to forgive you. But only if you get help."

No one had to wonder any more what Mike's problem was. At the scene of the accident, they'd found the source of his suffering for all these years: a smashed bottle of Wild Turkey.

"After that, I promised to stop being like my father," he said, looking at the ground.

"You can be whoever you want to be," Coach Kilcher replied. "Don't let anyone cast you in a role, Mike."

He died a few days later as Paul held his hand.

"Tell Wade I miss him when you get to heaven," Paul whispered to him.

Now it was late fall. After the expose on the Kardezas went public, Elise got a job as an investigative reporter at the Informed Citizens Network. It was a nonprofit network that covered politics and national news. Elise had even testified before Congress about the evils of reality TV. They talked about making it illegal to put reality stars in danger for their own purposes.

Jimmy quit his job at Right Now and was planning to pursue a career making documentaries. His first one would be an expose of reality TV—all the staged scenes, all the ruined lives. His and Jackie's baby girl was born that fall. They named her after Jackie's mother.

It was late fall now, and she was pulling off the state route and into the winding roads into Missaukee County. It was the end of football season in Pine City, and the downtown was decorated in the colors of Pine City High School. As she drove down the main drag, a young boy stepped into the crosswalk. She slammed on the breaks, just as an older boy grabbed him by the arm and pulled him backward.

"Wow, thank my guardian angel," Elise said. Then she thought of Wade Kilcher and smiled.

She pulled into the Christmas tree farm. Paul had taken his money from Right Now and bought it back. It was a beautiful, sprawling forest. It would soon be filled with happy families coming to chop down Christmas trees.

Paul came outside as Elise pulled in. He was wearing a flannel shirt and jeans, looking like the kind-hearted country boy that he was.

"I've been waiting months for this," he said, as they walked hand-in-hand up the winding path to his house. "Are you ready to meet the whole family?" It included his mom and sisters, as well as the aunts, uncles, and cousins he had left behind eight years ago. But who had welcomed him home as if he'd never been gone.

"Me too," she said. "Did you interview for the coaching job at the high school?"

"Yeah, but I've decided teaching is more up my alley," Paul said. "Either way, I need a day job. I'm not putting all my eggs in the celebrity basket."

When he came home, he'd started a country band with some of his high school friends called the Pine City Boys. Ace Galentino had signed them to his record label. They were in the middle of recording their first album.

"I'm lucky I can work from anywhere," Elise said. "I can't wait for Christmastime. Only four more weeks til we can go to Bronner's in Frankenmuth!"

"Just think, this is the week you were supposed to start filming Skinterns in L.A.," Paul said with a laugh. "Do you ever wish you could live that way, the way you did for that week on Esmeralda Island?"

"No," Elise said. "I'd rather be here with you."

And she meant it, in the very depths of her soul. She wouldn't trade the glittering lights of Los Angeles for being here, walking with Paul beneath the colorful leaves and soaring pines in the little town where he grew up.

