Page 53 of Fan Favorite

… the HAIRSTYLIST and MAKEUP ARTIST put the finishing touches on EDIE’s hair and face. She’s never looked this beautiful.

… EDIE back in the ring, twirling in a variety of fairy-tale ball gowns.

… LAST SHOT: brand-new, super gorgeous EDIE steps in front of a mirror. A promotional photo of the CONTESTANTS is stuck in the corner. EDIE picks it up, crumples it, throws it over her shoulder.

She smiles.

Her teeth are blinding.

19

Edie Pepper could not fucking breathe, her Spanx were so tight. And she was so hot, sweat had begun to pool between her boobs and threatened to overwhelm the armpits of the one-size-too-small, floor-length, strapless Victoria Beckham gown that had taken two sets of hands to zip. Yesterday, when she’d tried it on, Edie had been very intimidated by the slit that went all the way up her thigh like Angelina Jolie’s dress at the Oscars. But now, as she flapped the hem through the air like a deranged flamenco dancer, she was beyond grateful for the breeze circulating around her boiler room of a crotch.

“Give me a hint?” Edie pleaded. “You know I hate surprises.”

“Can’t, won’t, sorry,” Jessa said with a devilish smile. She motioned for Edie to lift her arms and patted her armpits dry with a towel. “Now get in the limo. You don’t want to be late for the biggest night of your life.”

A chauffeur opened the limo door, and after one last hug from Jessa, Edie attempted to follow her cameraman, Ted, into the back seat. But her gown was so tight she couldn’t bend. Assoon as her butt hit the seat, the gown’s seams contracted and hissed. Afraid everything was about to snap, Edie slid down the leather until she was horizontal, with her shoulders propped on the seat and her legs jutting akimbo into the limo’s expanse.

“And, Edie”—Jessa leaned in through the open door—“I mean it. You look stunning.Stunning.” And with that the door snapped shut and Jessa was gone.

“Wait, are you not coming?” Edie asked. But the limo was already moving slowly down theKeymansion’s long driveway. This was fine. Wasn’t this how Lady Gaga traveled to the Grammys? No problem. Edie strained to peek out the window at the sister wives that production had gathered on the lawn to wave her off. Who knew all Edie needed was a dedicated team of celebrity stylists, makeup artists, estheticians, dermatologists, colorists, nutritionists, and personal trainers to look like she belonged with the beautiful people of reality TV? When Edie saw her gorgeous self for the first time, she suddenly understood why all these women felt innately entitled to Bennett Charles.This must be what it feels like to have never had a pimple, she’d thought.Bulletproof.

“Just the two of us?” Edie asked Ted. It was weird. Typically Jessa or another producer accompanied Edie everywhere she went.

Ted shrugged. Edie sighed. No matter how many times she’d tried to work her charms on Ted, he’d never spoken to her again—just that one time, the first night on the patio. She wasn’t sure if she could even picture his face. Ted was the camera, and the camera was Ted. Edie glanced around the limo. Black leather seats; a little bar with an ice bucket and crystal decanters of booze; a tinted panel concealing the driver. It all felt very retro. And also poignant, like Edie was harkening back to a simpler time, before she knew the pursuit of love included things like dick pics and the Marvel Universe.

The limo slowed and the door across from her opened. An out-of-breath Peter Kennedy slid in. For a millisecond she felt electric. Thrilled to see him, and thrilled for him to see just how beautiful she was now.

But then Edie Pepper remembered she hated Peter Kennedy.

The last time she’d seen Peter, he’d been cradling Charlie’s head in his lap. Then, through her tears, she’d watched his departing back as he got into the ambulance behind the stretcher. And that was it. Days passed. She’d been poked and prodded and cinched and squeezed, and every time a door opened, she’d expected to see him there. But he never came. She’d thought they were friends! Or somethinglikefriends! But he never checked on her, not even once. And every day he didn’t come, the grudge Edie nursed became deeper and more complicated.

“Hey,” he said, lightly panting like he’d run to catch up. He noticed Edie starfished across the floor and raised a brow. “How’s it going?”

“I can’t sit in this dress,” she said, staring straight ahead as the limo started moving again. “It’s too tight.”

“Ah.” Peter nodded. “Well. Sorry about that. I can let Wardrobe know if it’s a problem.”

Edie slit her eyes. “If you want to be concerned about something, perhaps you could’ve popped by when they were waxing my asshole, because let me tell you,thatwas a treat.” She looked out the window. “At this point, I think I can handle the dress.”

“Waxed your asshole?” Peter sounded impressed. “That definitely wasn’t in the production notes.”

He grinned. She glared.

Hating Peter felt exactly right, even if Edie didn’t totally understand why. There were the surface reasons, of course. He’d gotten her to wear that stupid swimsuit. He’d made her play volleyball. He’d told her she was smart and funny and irreverentand that all she needed to do was show Charlie and he’d want to marry her. He’d hyped her up—and then she’d hit the ball that ricocheted off Zo’s tits and into Charlie’s face. And, of course, there were also Zo’s accusations about the contracts and the final two. Maybe Peter hadn’t given out contracts, as Bailey had said, but now Edie knew Petercouldgive out contracts. The possibilities of what Petercoulddo to ensure whatever outcome he wanted suddenly seemed endless.

Still, there was something else. Something more. Something harder to put her finger on, something that nagged and hurt like rejection.

“Are you producing this date?” she asked.

“Nah,” he said, fanning himself with the fabric of his shirt. “I just thought it’d be nice for us to catch up on the way over.”

Edie stared out the window.

Peter gestured to Ted. “Hey, man, you can relax. We don’t need this on camera.”

Ted put the camera on the seat next to him. He had a nice face. Like somebody’s dad.

---