Page 48 of Fan Favorite

“What? This is the best idea I’ve had in weeks!” Peter paced around, all the possibilities rushing through his body. “We’ll just walk away. You go back to Colorado or Chicago or wherever the hell you came from, and I’ll go to—I don’t know, who cares? And you can tell me how to do it, how to become a whole other person.” He stopped pacing and peered at Bennett. “For real, how does one become”—he made exaggerated air quotes—“‘Bennett Charles’?”

“You think this is some sort of joke?” Bennett’s entire body was turning red except for his white knuckles, which were clenching the top of his blanket.

“I’m serious,” Peter implored. “Listen, I never cared about the whole Bennett Charles thing. Who cares if you invented a douchebag, because it works for you, right? Honestly, I’ll probably invent some sad asshole writing shitty poetry by a shitty lake and spend the rest of my life alone.”

“Give. Me. My. Fucking. Phone,” Bennett seethed.

“I don’t have your fucking phone!” Peter yelled.

They stared at each other.

“I don’t even havemyphone,” Peter said with a shrug. He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. He sighed. “Look, Carole Steele brought Edie here, not me. I’ve always been on your side.”

“On my side?” Bennett yelled. “Onmyside?” And perhaps because he was so used to cameras documenting his every move, Bennett Charles did something only seen on TV—he started ripping the various hospital accoutrements from hisbody. Except the splint across his nose was really taped on there good, so it was more like he was picking at a stubborn price tag rather than dramatically flinging it off. “Fuck you, Pete. You don’t give a shit about anyone other than yourself.”

Peter put a hand to his heart, as if he’d been greatly wounded. But really, he was sort of wounded. Had they finally arrived at the crux of it? Was Peter Kennedy a selfish asshole who used people and did not give a fuck about Bennett Charles? (If anything, he actively disliked him.) Was that it? Was that the root of Peter’s unsettling? Or was it something worse? Like somewhere along the line, had he developed something akin to a conscience, and it was ruining his ability to carpe diem every single opportunity that was being shoved in his face?

The splint refused to budge, and eventually Bennett stopped flailing and collapsed back onto the bed. “Show’s over. I’m hurt. I won’t film anymore.” His face sagged in an exhaustion so comical, Peter couldn’t help but start laughing all over again.

“You’re not that hurt.” He choked with laughter. “You fell off a lifeguard chair, not El Capitan.”

“I am in pain!”Bennett roared as the door opened and Jessa stepped in. She held out Peter’s phone.

“It won’t stop. Carole. I think you’d better answer it.”

Instantly Peter stopped laughing and his heart began to race. There was no escaping Carole Steele. He could throw his iPhone into the ocean and change his name to something stupid like Conner or Cooper or Colton, and still, one day she’d find him, most likely sitting on an Adirondack chair with a fishing pole in one hand and a faded Tolstoy in the other (who was he kidding; he wasn’t going to write), and though he’d be aware of the death knell of her stilettos clacking against the old wooden dock as she approached for his final humiliation, he’d still find himself surprised when she placed a manicured hand on his shoulder and leaned down to whisperI’m so glad I fired youbefore she heavedhim into the lake—Adirondack, Tolstoy, and all. And as he sunk into the murky depths, the very last thing he would see would be theUs WeeklyCarole held above her head like John Cusack’s boombox inSay Anything, with the extravagant Italian wedding of his ex-wife Julie and the new Batman across a two-page spread.

Except maybe this was finally it, he thought as his heart continued to beatthunka-thunka-thunkaagainst his chest. If he collapsed right now, it would all be over. What was it Jessa had said? Why does it matter? It mattered because, actually, he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life growing a beard and staring at waterfowl while he rolled his failures over in his mind like some sad sack character in a Franzen novel. He had more agency than that. He had dreams about who he was going to be—ideally a series creator of a prestige drama with a wife who made him a better person, plus probably some kids and a dog—but he kept failing and failing again until here he was, about to have a heart attack on the set of a tanking reality show, and when his obituary ran in theHollywood Reporter, it would say that even though he was just thirty-nine years old and an avid runner/intermittent vegan, the stress of this job had killed him.

How could he accept that?

Peter held out his hand. If he couldn’t escape and he couldn’t keel over and die, then he’d just have to take this fucking call.

“Put it on speaker, Pete, I’ve got some things to say to Carole,” Bennett called from the bed, flexing his biceps with a renewed sense of authority.

Peter looked at him, his face smirking under that silver splint, and instantly Peter was prepared to feed Bennett Charles into a meat grinder and turn the crank himself if it meant getting what he wanted—skyrocketing ratings, an Emmy, a shot at developing his own show based on his own ideas. But then, just for a moment, an image of Edie Pepper in that saggy floral swimsuit crossed his mind and he felt something strange.Guilt? Shame? Or, God forbid,attraction? Peter had been in LA for so long, he’d forgotten what it was like to be around someone so guileless. When Jessa put Edie in that ridiculous swimsuit, he’d been shocked to find himself not only hot with temptation, but also protective, like he didn’t want to edit her into some laughingstock. And when Edie’d thrown herself all over that volleyball court, he’d been surprised to find himself amused, but in a warm way, like she’d unlocked some secret place inside of him that remembered how to laugh and have fun. And when they’d stood together on the sand, surveying theKeyworld before them, he’d been astonished to find himself meaning what he said. Shewassmart and funny and irreverent. And—what the fuck—hedidsort of like her. Not enough to throw away his career. But enough to know that whatever he did to Bennett right now, he was also doing to her.

But then the phone hit his palm and Edie was gone.

“This is Peter,” he said, voice confident, heart rate already falling as he seized back control and hit the Speaker button.

“I have Carole for you. Please hold.”

Silence. Peter, Jessa, and Bennett stared at the phone, watching the seconds tick by until finally at 7:52—

“Peter, you stupid, arrogant prick.”

“Hi, Carole,” Peter said. “Great to hear from you. I’ve got Bennett with me.”

“Fantastic. Go ahead and kick each other in the balls. I’ll wait.”

“I’m not sure what you’ve heard, but I can assure you—”

“Cut the shit, Peter. I already know Humpty Dumpty fell off the wall. Tegan’s been putting out this PR nightmare for you for over an hour. What the hell’s wrong with you? This isn’t rocket science. All you need to do is put Bennett Charles on a mountain top, set up the cameras, and get him engaged to Edie Pepper. That’s it! But instead—”

“Engaged to Edie Pepper?”Bennett surged up like Frankenstein’s monster. He jumped out of bed and tore off his gown and flung it at Peter, who found himself momentarily shrouded in the strong scent of laundry detergent and Bennett’s particular musk. “Are you people insane?” Bennett yelled, flailing around the room in just his tight blue swim trunks. “Look at this shit,” he yelled, scratching wildly at his inflamed Adam’s apple. “I’mfucking allergicto Edie Pepper!”

“We’re prepared to resume,” Peter said, removing the hospital gown from his head. “However, as you may have noticed, Bennett’s experiencing some hesitation—”

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