“Wow, two in a row!” She grins wolfishly at me. “Okay, handsome. Get on over here and get your welcome packet. Welcome to round one. All the information you need is in this folder.”
I pump my fist. “Fuck yeah.”
“You’ll have to tone down your language for television.”
I pump my fist again. “Then, hell yeah. Better?”
“Good enough.” She introduces herself as Eloise something, her hand lingering in mine, and tells me she’s the executive producer of the show. I wink at her. If this shit is rigged, I have a pretty solid in with the executive producer in my pocket.
Then she introduces the two men, but I forget their names. “Please call us with any questions. I look forward to seeing you next season for the start of a great adventure.”
I shake their hands. “Yeah. Fuck yeah. Looking forward to . . .” I realize I have no fucking clue what I’m in for. But I don’t care. I’m up for anything. I’ve made it through the hard part. That money is already mine. “Whatever the fuck you’re going to make us do.”
She smiles at me. “You’ll see. I’m sure you’ll do well, Luke.”
I know I will. Everyone else who got a black folder might as well line up and kiss my ass. Because that cool million is all mine.
I’m led outside, and I find Jimmy out there waiting for me. He scans the folder under my arm. “Well, shit. What did I tell you? You’re gonna be a star.”
“Fuck yeah,” I tell him, since I’m not on television yet. “Let’s go celebrate. I can taste that million already. I’m buying.”
PANIC
Nell
What is my ideal mate? I don’t know. Yes, I do want to get married, ideally before I’m thirty. I like classical music and art and the finer things in life, so I guess that’s what I’d love. Someone cultured, classy, refined. A doctor, maybe . . .
—Nell’s Confessional, Day 1
Four months after the audition, early in the morning, I’m sitting in the front seat of Courtney’s car, pointing all the air vents right at my face because I think I might throw up.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I can’t believe I’m . . .”
She snaps her fingers at me. “Nell? You’re doing this.”
I nod. As I do, my teeth chatter.
She pulls on her seatbelt and gives me a look from the driver’s side. “Come on, girl. You’re a doctor now. Dr. Badass. You can do anything. And this is your moment. You were chosen from over ten thousand applicants. You’re going to do something great.”
I try to let the pep talk sink in and hope the nausea will go away. “Yes. Right.”
The past month has been, in a word, insane. I read the paperwork over again and again. Most of it was legal junk, papers that needed to be signed. I had to have a physical and get a waiver from my physician. I also had to take a drug test, fill out a personality test of about two thousand more questions, and get a psychiatric evaluation. Two weeks ago, a photographer and stylist came to my house and took portraits of me that gave me flashbacks to my elementary school photos.
And now it’s the first day of filming. It’s a closed set, being filmed at the rec center at Georgia Tech. Since I don’t have a car, Courtney volunteered to drive me, but she’s bummed because she can’t come watch. No, this first episode, where the fifty contestants are introduced and find out what the show is really about, is very hush-hush. When filming is done today, we’ll be whisked off to an undisclosed location where the race will resume. It’s all very secretive.
I guess it’s good that it’s private. I can wait until later to embarrass myself in front of millions.
As we drive, Courtney’s spouting off random tips. “You can act smart. But don’t be a know-it-all. And for god’s sake, don’t lecture people or roll your eyes.”
“I never do that.”
“You always do that.”
I shrug. “I can’t help it if I find people tiresome.”
“Okay, okay. Do your best not to, Nell. Really. If this is anything like Survivor, before you can win, you’ve got to get people to like you. Bond with you.”
I cringe. People don’t do that with me. They avoid me.
“So even if you hate someone, pretend they’re your favorite thing in this world.” She thinks for a moment. “Like, pretend they’re all the Sunday New York