Page 87 of Alice Chen's Reality Check

Daniel says, “Bet they’re doing this so they can flashIn Memoriamat the end of this episode.”

Some of the crew are wearing black uniforms, but that’s the closest to funeral attire that we get. All of us couples are dressed for the beach. After all, that’s what we packed, though some people have made an attempt to don something appropriate. Chase is wearing his dark-blueshark shorts instead of something in a brighter color, and Selena has changed into a black sports bra and leggings. Jaxon is holding his cowboy hat in his hands.

“Any reason there’s trash on the ground?” Noah asks, and Ava shushes him.

Seth is the one who answers, “That’s Anton’s stuff. It’s for inspiration. To help you with your eulogies.”

We have to give eulogies? I shoot a look at Daniel, who grimaces. Bringing out Anton’s belongings feels macabre, but I guess it makes sense. The only thing the cast knew about him was that he was the PA most likely to ignore orders and get caught hiding behind a palm tree while scrolling through Instagram—not exactly the kind of reputation that lends itself to a heartfelt speech. And from what people said last night while we were huddled around the space heater, there was no love lost here.

But would any of us kill him?

“This is just so sad. I—” Mikayla is openly sobbing now. Trevor wraps her into a hug, but that only makes her cry harder. “I can’t believe this happened!”

“Oh, honey,” Brittany says sympathetically. “He’s in a better place now.”

“Doubt it, unless he’s got Wi-Fi,” Noah cracks, and Ava subtly steps on his foot. “Ow! What was that for? We all know he was an asshole. The guy didn’t do his job. Dying didn’t magically make him a good person.”

“Seriously?” Brittany shoots a glare at Noah. “I mean, okay, I didn’t like the guy either. I found him following me around—twice! And right after that, some of my stuff wentmysteriouslymissing.”

“Britt, maybe now’s not the time?” Jaxon mutters.

“I know, Jaxon, I’m not a child!” Brittany shrugs Jaxon’s arm off her shoulder. “What I’m saying is, he may have been a creep and an asshole who used a gallon of hair gel, but that doesn’t mean that he deserved to die—”

“All right! Let’s get started,” Dawn Taylor calls. We fall quiet as she walks over to join us, resplendent in a skintight black dress with a silver statement necklace draped around her neck. “As some of you may have heard already, we’ve had a tragic accident on set. Anton, one of our production assistants, fell to his death from a section of scaffolding that was damaged during the storm, and our medical staff was not able to revive him,” Dawn Taylor says, like she’s reading off a script. Then she claps her hands. “Now! Who wants to go first?”

No one wants to go first.

“DT, go easy on them. Why don’t you kick us off?” Peter Dixon says.

A flash of anger crosses her face, but it quickly smooths into a solemn look. She looks squarely at the camera and says, “We’re gathered here today to say farewell to Anton Brophy, a valued member of our hardworking crew. He was taken from us in a tragic accident, but his memory will remain in our hearts forever.”

Dawn Taylor bows her head, and a single tear tracks down her face. For a moment, we all listen to the crackle of the fire and the roar of the ocean behind us.

“Great, are we done here?” she says briskly. “Do we need another shot of me crying?”

“I think we’re good in the crying department, DT. But could you share a memory you have of Anton real quick?” Peter Dixon asks.

“What do you want from me, Pete? All I know is he never got my coffee order right,” she snaps.

Peter Dixon shakes his head. “We can do better than that for him. This’ll mean a lot to his parents.”

Dawn Taylor turns back to the cameras. She’s quiet for a moment. “He…he always showed up,” she says victoriously, like she’s one of my students announcing what they think is the right answer to a tough math problem—only to get it completely wrong. “Pete, you should reach out to Chris and see if he’ll give us a soundbite for this.”

“I don’t think that’s going to fly, given the circumstances,” Petersays somberly.

“Hold up,” Noah interrupts. “Who are we talking about?”

“Anton’s related to one of the good Chrises,” Dawn Taylor explains. I’m not sure which one she’s even talking about, but everyone else seems to be in the know and takes this in stride.

“Ohmygod,” Mikayla breathes. “He was anepo baby!”

“Sweetie, we talked about this,” Trevor mutters to her. “You can’t be using slurs. It’s bad for the brand.”

Dawn Taylor insists on doing another crying take for the camera, and then points at Ava and Noah. “Go on, your turn. Let’s hear it.”

“Gimme a sec.” Ava clears her throat, putting on an appropriately mournful look. “We’re devastated. We didn’t have much of a chance to get to know Anton, but it was clear that he was a valuable team player.”

Noah is nodding along, like he wasn’t talking shit about Anton a mere fifteen minutes ago. He says, “Anton’s death really shook me to my core. It reminded me that we only have this one life to live. That’s why I always start my day at five in the morning, to make the most of the time that I have. Thank you, Anton, for that reminder.”

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