Page 37 of Fan Favorite

“I already love it.”

“Good. Youshouldlove it.”

“Is this the sabotage? I don’t get it.”

“No, this is just a bonus. C’mon.” Jessa led Peter down a staircase to the beach. “I’m glad you’re finally letting Edie go on a date, by the way.”

“It’s been less than a week.” He trudged through the sand behind Jessa. Suddenly Peter wished he wasn’t the kind of guy who walked on the beach in a button-down, jeans, and Prada loafers. The grips and camera ops were all in T-shirts, shorts, baseball caps, sneakers, and flip-flops. He sighed. Sometimes being a person with very little chill was a real pain in the ass. Jessa, of course, was perfectly dressed in a tank top, cropped wide-leg jeans, and Birkenstocks, her ponytail swinging and lips bright pink.

“A week in that house is like a lifetime,” she said.

“It’s better this way. Builds tension.”

“Except you risk him getting caught up. He’s really into Bailey right now.”

“He’s into everyone. He’s a pig in shit. How’s she seem today?”

“You’re about to find out.”

“How ominous,” Peter said with a raised brow. “By the way, I read through the notes in the car. The storylines look weak. Carole’s pushing for fully developed plot lines—do we even have a real feud between the girls yet?”

“I knew you’d say that,” Jessa said, glancing over her shoulder with a smirk. “Which is why I spiced things up.”

They arrived at a row of thatched-roof changing huts. Jessa rapped on the door of the middle one.

“Edie?” she called.

“Yeah?” came a shaky voice from inside the hut.

“I brought Peter so we can get to the bottom of this. Can we see your suit?”

The door opened and a hand poked out, clutching a wad of fabric. Jessa took it and held it up for inspection. Shredded strips of Lycra blew in the breeze like miniature car wash ribbons.

“Jesus,” he said. “What the fuck happened?”

“From what we’ve pieced together, sometime between breakfast and when the girls started changing, someone got into her bag and Freddy Kruegered Edie’s tankini.”

Jessa winked, and Peter closed his eyes for a moment, reminding himself not to yell. Clearly, Jessa had no intention of clearing her hijinks with him this season.

“Hey, guys?” called the voice from inside the hut. “You know, I’m not really the kind of girl who runs around in a swimsuit on national television. Maybe this is a sign? Maybe I should just go on the next date instead? Is there, like, a spelling bee? Or a hot-wing-eating contest?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you’re that kind of girl!” Jessa yelled toward the hut. “And you cannot miss out on thistime with Bennett. Trust me—things move fast around here. Outta sight, outta mind.”

“Agreed!” Peter yelled toward the hut. He decided he might as well give Jessa exactly what she wanted, a no-nonsense showrunner investigating the case. “Do we know who did it?”

“Parker reported that Zo and Aspen missed breakfast. So right now, they’re our prime suspects.”

“Who’s producing them? Have they been notified?” he said, pulling at his collar. It was hot already.

“Working on it.” Jessa lassoed the shredded tankini through the air. “I thought you might want to talk to them. The girls. We can’t have contestants damaging other people’s property.”

“Of course,” he agreed. “Edie,” he yelled at the hut, “I want you to know we take this sort of thing very seriously. Guerrilla warfare is against the ethos ofThe Key.”

Jessa gave him a thumbs-up. “Not to mention the code of conduct.”

“Not to mention to code of conduct,” he yelled toward the hut.

“I appreciate you saying that, Peter, but, you know, the girls really seem to hate me—”

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