The F List - Alessandra Torre Page 0,78

still there. I fixed them benedicts and kept my mouth shut, but I was watching and listening.

You know, I've heard a lot of stuff about her. Crazy stuff. And maybe it's all true, but what I can go off is what I see and experience. And she was really sweet, but with these sharp moments of humor which kept me on my toes. And Cash was happy. I'd never seen him like that. Constantly reaching over and touching her, like he was reassuring himself that she was there.

It was…umm. I don't know. It was cool to see. I was happy for him. And from that morning on, Emma was there. She likes her eggs over easy, with hot sauce on them."

Paul Ricardo, Personal Chef

78

#Casma

EMMA

As soon as the first episode aired, we got the call about the reunion. Michelle predicted it, then crowed like a rooster with ten hens when her phone rang mid-Ceaser salad.

Five months had passed since the final episode wrapped, and a reunion was a bit ridiculous since the six of us had communicated with each other on a weekly basis since moving out of the mansion. Even Marissa. I swear to God, through IMs I might grow to actually like Marissa.

Yes. I was also shocked. You couldn’t tell, because I had enough botox injected in this forehead to freeze a penis in place, but I was positively aghast at the idea.

The network didn’t seem to hold any grudges over the lawsuits that Cash and I had both filed, suits that had eventually given us final cut approval—a staggering accomplishment that Michelle was still bragging about. We weren’t able to nix the ‘Emma had a sleepover’ comment but we did film a new confessional with Wesley and Cash where Wesley explained it.

Dana, bless her demonic little heart, was rumored to be in love, and I was curious to see if she had filed down her fangs or planned to gut us on screen. Johno put up ten grand that one of us would cry, and no one would take the bet.

The mansion now housed a L.A. Lakers' player with multiple wives, so the reunion was happening at a sound stage in Burbank. I rode with Cash and waved to a trio of teenage girls who jogged beside his car, their phones out and recording.

In the backseat, Edwin filmed the exchange, then posted it. “Done,” he announced.

“Oh.” I tapped Cash’s arm. “This weekend, I told Wes we’d do a movie night. The Ranch said we could use the theatre.” It was amazing, with Cash at my side, how quickly the facility had dropped my volunteer suspension and welcomed me back with warm and open arms. I was now on a regular schedule there, and between my visits and Cash’s—Wesley never went more than three days without seeing one or both of us.

“Cool.” He nodded distractedly.

“You okay?” I threaded my fingers through his. “Nervous about the show?”

“Nah.” He flipped the air conditioner higher. “It’ll be easy.”

"Hey…" Edwin warned. "Don't jinx yourself. All it's going to take to blow this to garbage is having either of your parents on the guest list."

"Mine are safely tucked away in Arizona." My parents were settled into their new home in Tucson, a destination chosen for its flourishing urban gardening communities. The new location fit our relationship well. We now spoke on a monthly basis and were navigating a wobbly but warm path of rapport. Cash and I were going there for Christmas and it was all going surprisingly well. Maybe that was because my expectations were nil and their competition was weak. The more I interacted with the Mitchells, the lower my bar of parental expectations fell.

“And mine are in Egypt, according to Therma.” Cash slowed as the traffic ahead clogged to a complete stop.

“We should go to Egypt sometime,” I mused. “Bo’s family has a house there. He keeps telling me to use it.”

He nodded. “Net Jets has been bugging us for a post. We could take a comp jet and stop in London on the way.”

"I'd love that." I grinned at him, and he leaned over and gave me a kiss. From behind us, someone beeped their horn, and he took his foot off the brake and rolled forward, then stopped again in the gridlock.

“Okay, normal person in the backseat,” Edwin mewed. “Please stop pissing me off with how incredible your lives are. I had three layovers between here and Miami last time I went home.”

“Why don’t you come with us?” I