Date With A Rockstar (23 page)

“Shit, that sucks.” I feel awkward asking, but… “What were you in for?”

She flops onto her back and blows her bangs out of her face. Then she pulls up her sleeve, holding her arm straight out for me. The long scar running from wrist to elbow is easy to make out. “I tried to kill myself over a boy.” She drops the arm. “That, and I'm bi-polar, and I have an eating disorder.”

I don't know what to say. I shift my legs underneath me. “It would be shitty of the producers to bring up any of that stuff.”

She shrugs. “Who do you think was trying to spend extra time with Jeremy?”

Me.
I'm sick to my stomach. I already feel bad for Praline, and I do not want to admit to secretly kissing Jeremy. She'll probably find out sooner or later. “I think they were referring to me. I, uh, Jeremy ran into me at the bar and he likes my drawings. Nothing big. He thinks one of them might work for a T-shirt design, so we were talking about that and then Jasmine showed up. You know how she can be.”

“Oh, so you guys have stuff in common.” She's not crying now, and I don't know if that's a good or bad sign.

“I guess.”

“That's nice.” Her voice cracks.

“Look, I'm really sorry.” Sorry about this whole contest. “I'm so sick of being manipulated by this TV show.” I just want to be with Jeremy. I pace to the window and back to the door. I try staring out the peephole into the hall. I haven't seen Jeremy all day. Not that we made any plans after last night, but I kind
of thought he'd be around, or that we'd run into each other. Something. Anything.

“Are you going to the viewing room to watch the date?”

I almost want to tell her Jeremy doesn't appreciate us all watching his every move. But I don't. “I'm going to see if the hotel has a gym instead.” I dip into the bathroom to splash water on my face before I go. Praline repetitively straightens her shirt at the door. I suddenly can't stand the curiosity. “Do you know what Jeremy's doing today?”

“Touring the coconut liquor plant this afternoon, and in the evening I think he's going on a gambling cruise.”

I wish I hadn't asked. I want to do those things with him. I feel like a fist has slammed me in the chest, crunching my ribs in so that they press sharply on my heart. “Have a good day,” I tell her.

She forces a smile and closes the door softly behind her. I'm not sure if I'm brave enough to go for another walk outside of the hotel. I scan in at the elevator and then grab a grilled veggie wrap to go. I eat in the hotel lobby, gazing out at the street. What are the chances that I'd get attacked twice? Slim, right?

“Monet.”

“Oh, hey, Derek.”

He shakes his head and laughs at me. “I hope you're not going out. These streets are apparently dangerous.”

“I was just looking. I thought I might see if the hotel had a gym.”

“They do. I can show you where, or if you still want to go out, I can tag along.”

“I'd definitely rather be outside. Suck in all the clean air I can get before the show ends.”

I finish my last bite of sandwich and place a hand on the wall to steady me while I stretch my quads.
“Running has got to be better than watching Jeremy make out with other girls.”

Derek shrugs. “I'm sure he's not making out with them all.”
Very comforting, thanks.

“Do you run?”

He narrows his eyes and grins wide. “What do you have in mind?”

“A race. Flat out. We jog for one hour and then we race back.”

His face gets serious. “That's a lot of running.”

“Not up for it?”

He comes over to the wall and starts his own stretching exercises. “I take winning very seriously.”

“So do I.”

He sets his watch for one hour and we set off down the sidewalk, dodging pedestrians until the tourists thin out. Pounding my feet to the ground and focusing helps block out the idea of Jeremy drinking coconut liquor with another girl. I keep my head up, pulling the clean air deep into my lungs. We pass blank offices and apartments all towering in the clean air dome. I can't stop watching for the four guys who attacked me, wondering if they're waiting down another street corner. Derek would kick their asses. He has military numbers stamped on his arm, and even though he can't be much older than Jeremy, I bet he's frighteningly lethal.

“What branch of the military?” I pant out.

“Army, reserves right now.” His voice shakes less than mine.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead. “Specialty?”

“Shooting things, ordering people around, kicking ass.” He pauses between words as his feet hit the ground.

I nod, impressed. I wonder if Jeremy sent him down to the lobby to check on me.

“That's an hour.” Derek grabs his knees, gasping for breath. “I think you're trying to kill me.”

“Nope. I'm hoping you'll say nice things to Jeremy about me.”

He chuckles in between pants. “Like you need it. He's obviously into you.”

Joy skitters through my limbs and my exhaustion melts away. I could run forever—high on the confirmation that Jeremy likes me. I sprint back toward the hotel.

“Hey!” Derek's feet pound the pavement behind me, but he doesn't have enough breath to argue. I touch the hotel wall a good five seconds before he does, and, amazingly, don't throw up.

We stumble into the hotel bar, breathless. Fifteen minutes pass before my heart rate slows to normal again.

“I can't believe I won.” A hostess ushers a well-dressed couple past us. The girl narrows her eyes at my sweaty appearance, but I take a seat at the bar.

Derek wipes his forehead on his arm. The attendant brings us water. “Nice, rub it in some more, why don't you?”

“I won. Woo-hoo!” I wiggle back and forth on the barstool.

Derek spits water around a startled laugh. “You're an easy person to like. I hope Jeremy picks you.”

“What about the other girls, who do you think is doing the best?”
Ooh. Insider information.

“I liked the one with the levitating boobs.” He pushes a few buttons on the menu screen. “After you, Jeremy probably likes one of the brunette lookalikes. That's his usual type. Oh, but not that one that leaped into the elevator with him the other night. She's a bitch with a capital B.”
He must mean Jasmine.
“He said something about the girl he's going out with tonight.
Saw her interview and wants to see how lucky she is at cards.”

“Oh, does Jeremy play?”

“Eh, you know how it is. What rich guy doesn't like to gamble? It's like saying f-you to the money gods.”

Huh. I can't imagine ever wasting money. So that's one bad thing about Jeremy. Not the having money, but the taking it for granted. So this other girl is rich, too, and they have shared interests. They'll have a great time at the floating casino. I nod casually. Not like I'm fuming with jealousy. Three brunette clones and me, guess that's what he likes, but finding Jeremy has a type and that I fit the mold isn't as reassuring as I thought it would be. Having a type means he's dated a lot. Hopefully I'm special enough to stand out.

“It must be hard watching Jeremy get all the girls.”

Derek raises his eyebrows high. “I actually don't do too bad myself.”

“I bet the two of you are trouble.”

“Nah, Jeremy's a softie.”

I take another drink. As the adrenaline from our run fades, I start to worry more and more about Praline. “I should probably go comfort my roomie before the show starts tonight. Thanks for the run.”

“I can
almost
say it was a pleasure.”

I shake my head and smile as I walk away. How much fun will Jeremy have at the casino tonight? Only a few more days to go and then the final three will be selected.

I find Praline camped out on one of the big couches. Her eyes and face are a puffy red and she's gripping a bag of gummy candy in her fist.

“Want company?” I ask. She sniffles and I take a seat next to her. “It'll be okay. Jeremy's a good guy, he's not going to care about whatever they dredge up.”

“What about the audience? They're the ones voting on us.”

“I'm sure Jeremy has a way to influence the votes.”

She nods, but looks doubtful. My logic's not crazy, right? I'll ask Jeremy when I see him again, just to be safe. The other girls show up a few minutes before the show starts. The atmosphere has all the joy of an open casket funeral, with Praline starring as the soon-to-be corpse.

Her expectations are not wrong. Midway through the show an image of her is blown up. She's thirty pounds heavier, her hair dry and tangled, but the biggest shocker is the crazed look in her eyes. I saw a show once with a horse and a burning barn. Praline's eyes have that desperate, white-edged appearance. She squeezes my arm as the image stays on. I count silently in my head, willing them to move on. Thirty seconds pass before they start talking about her time in the institution. It's an awkward amount of time for the picture to be seared into our heads.

When they show an interview with the guy Praline tried to kill herself over, I begin to think my episode wasn't so bad. The old love, Aaron, starts talking about whichever girl he's with now and the tears pour out of Praline so fast a wet patch forms down the entire front of her shirt.

I grab Praline's elbow and haul her up. “We're leaving.”

“But, but, the show isn't over yet.”

“You don't need to see this crap. You're over him, right? It's in the past?” She nods and I stand in front of the TV to block her view. “Good, then let's go.” Jasmine gives me a parting smirk and I notice Shelley on the other couch with one of the clones.

“If y'all are going, I'm not staying, either.” Erin smiles up at us in solidarity.

“All of us should leave,” I say.

Claire straightens up in her chair. “I, uh, I get what you're saying, but I still want to try to get to the end.”
Most of the others shift around, watching the TV and hoping I won't single them out.

“Whatever.” I head for the door. They're idiots if they think following the rules of the producers will endear them to Jeremy.

“I think we're required to watch,” Praline says as I yank her away.

“You had a date with Jeremy. You already won.” If I keep telling other people that, maybe I'll start to believe it myself.

Praline and I spend the rest of the night in our room listening to Jeremy's music. I wait and wait for Jeremy to show up at the door, but he never does.

THE NEXT MORNING when I arrive at the viewing room, a sign hangs from the door panel. CLOSED FOR CLEANING. I try scanning my card, but the knob doesn't turn. Eleanor arrives after me.

“I was just going to put up a sign for you girls. No more viewing room: the timeline has moved up because of a tropical cyclone off the coast of Haiti. So head on back to your room and pack your bags.”

“But what about Jasmine's date?”

“She's on it right now. Don't worry, you'll see the footage when the show airs.”

“They're not letting Jeremy snorkel in severe weather, are they?”

“The people running the underwater tour assured us that it's fine to swim in the rain. They'll pull him out if the lightning starts.”

Real comforting.
“When are we leaving?”

She shoos me away with her hand. “One hour. Hurry, hurry. Tell your roommate, too, and anyone else you see in the hall. We need to be on that plane and out of here.”

I trudge back to the room. What a letdown.

Praline is still in the bathroom when I get back and I tell her the situation through the door. She starts packing furiously. I've never seen a tropical cyclone before. I know they're dangerous and life threatening
and all of that, but the idea of truly severe weather fascinates me. No matter how much control I think I have over my life, a cyclone of wind and rain could rip it all away in seconds. I feel like if I looked into the center of a storm, I'd understand all the chaos of life. Boston doesn't get much for severe weather, and so far freezing my ass off in the snow hasn't led to any snippets of enlightenment.

I offer to help Praline with her stuff, but she waves me off, and I go sit in the hall with my tote bag. I hope Jeremy's safe. I take out my purple bikini and trace my finger over the words “Key West.” I savor the memory of Jeremy's face when he floated me on his hands in the water. Now that I know what his lips feel like, I add kissing to the memory, and try hard to forget the part where I slammed my butt into the ocean bottom.

The other girls trickle out in a frantic mess. Shelley has her luggage tied together, so that she can drag all the bags at once. Jaime whines about not having had enough time in the bathroom. One of her eyes is brown, so I assume the other purple lens is still in her contact lens solution. Claire's the most composed, except for the tiny tick in her jaw. I can only imagine how much worse it would be if they all still had their phones. At least this way they can only complain to each other. I hate having to listen to other people's calls, especially when as soon as they hang up they call someone else so that they can have the exact same conversation all over again. No matter how high schools change the rules to limit interruptions, technology advancements are always faster, and I'm so honestly sick of it all, I'll probably never make any close female friends. Or date.

I wait for Praline to emerge, and then we all scan in one final time at the elevator. The process moves quickly. There's a drop box for room keys, and as soon as I place my disc in the slot, Eleanor screams at us to
load onto the shuttle. I want to ask about Jasmine, but maybe if I keep my mouth shut, we'll leave her behind.

Outside, rain falls in heavy diagonal lines. Gray haze eats at the top of the storm clouds and the air is oddly stinky. Mildewed. “Ew,” Praline mumbles, “I hate when they take down the dome.”