Page 23 of Heart to Heart
I pulled my cell phone from my small carry-on bag, noticing that I had a missed call, most likely from my mom making sure I’d landed safely and…My heart seized and then jumpstarted itself, beating erratically in my chest as though I’d seen a ghost—which, given who the missed call was from, wasn’t too far from the truth.
Guy. Guy had called me. He’d also left a voicemail.
I stared at his name on my screen, my body frozen. My brain worked overtime trying to figure out what to do before finally deciding that hanging up anOut of Ordersign and altogether abandoning me was the right option.
Thanks, brain. Dick.
“Are you okay, Ainsley?” Brittney L. asked, completely confident she’d gotten my name spot-on. “You look like you’re going to throw up or something.”
“Not in the van, please,” Jay called from where he stood in the driveway. A lit cigarette was pinched between his fingers, mirroring the internet meme of Ben Affleck; eyes closed, his free hand tucked inside his pocket, looking very much like he was over everything there was to be over.
“I’m fine,” I answered. And I was fine. Everything was going to be fine. No doubt Guy had heard about my appearance on the show by now. Perhaps he’d decided he’d had enough of beinga twat and was taking the high road by wishing me well. Or, maybe, he and Ms. Liz Bennet had hit the skids and were no longer Pride and Prejudicing it, and he was calling to talk me out of going on the show, to get back together, and…
Nope. I wasn’t going to entertain that notion or his voicemail.
Without further thought and before any other thoughts could return again, I hurriedly typed out messages to my mom and Kiki. I sent them off, shutting my phone down and dropping it inside the plastic baggie before I ventured outside and handed the baggie to Jay.
Once outside, I looked up at the steps, unable to resist thinking that they reminded me of the movieRocky, ifRockyhad been filmed in medieval times. Unlike Rocky Balboa, however, I had no intentions of running up those stone steps as I didn’t want to makeHeart to Hearthistory by dropping dead from a heart attack in my yoga pants and taco shirt with the guacamole stain on the sleeve I only just realized was there.Wonderful.
By the time I reached the top of the stairs, Sasha and Brittney Q. had joined me and, after a shared glance between the three of us, we timidly ventured to the door, which was thrown open with a flourish before we could reach it by none other than Kamila Lewis, stopping the three of us dead in our tracks. Kamila was a vision in a form-fitting, but tailored, robin’s egg blue shift dress with matching manicure. The blue was especially complementary to their dark complexion. They were the first celebrity I’d ever encountered—if you didn’t count Chuck from the used car dealership commercials back home. It felt like the wind had been knocked from me, which didn’t bode well for me when it came time to meet Tristan.
“Hello, Sasha, Avery, Brittney Q., and the rest of you stragglers,” Kamila called down to Brittney L., Hadley, and Jennifer. “Congratulations on being selected forHeart to Heart.You are our last contestants to arrive at the mansion. Even your luggage arrived before you did. Your bags have been placed in each of your assigned rooms. Now, if you’ll follow me, we’ll join the other contestants in the parlor.” The way they turned to head to the parlor was poetry, smooth and fluid. One couldn’t be taught that kind of grace; they were born with it.
Meanwhile, I was doing well not to trip over my own two feet just walking over the threshold.
With absolutely no shock whatsoever, the inside of the mansion was just as breathtaking as the outside and so much more glamorous than it looked on television. As soon as we stepped inside the foyer, we were greeted by a dual staircase leading up to a catwalk. Our bedrooms would be up there. Five total, meaning each contestant would be sharing a room with four other people. Like the outside, the interior kept the same stone façade theme throughout, with just enough modern touches to remind you that you were in the twenty-first century.
Kamila’s heels clacked across the marble floor while we all struggled to keep up with them, taking in the sensory overload dealt to us by the opulence before us. Well, all of us but Brittney L. She almost seemed bored, like she walked through mansions for a living.
Up ahead, a cluster of laughter told me we were approaching the parlor and the other women with whom I would be getting to know over the course of my stay here. As relaxed as I’d been in the van, my nerves began overtaking me again. I’d been in shock since I was whisked away from the airport by Jay and smuggled here in a sketchy van. That shock was slowly beginning to wear off, with panic and uncertainty taking hold. Instead of dipping a toe into the production waters, it felt as though we were being thrown in without a life jacket. Being from Michigan, I could swim, but I had a feeling the undertow here was preparing to drag me down beneath the waves at any second.
“Okay, ladies, it’s showtime.” Just the mere presence of Kamila was enough to quiet the room.
Behind Kamila, the rest of us trickled into the parlor and met with the eyes of the others on us. At least Brittney Q. was wearing jeans, which kept my yoga pants from standing out as much. But that didn’t stop the judgmental stares, the head-to-toe looks, and the hushed giggles and whispers from a select few of the women in the room. Which one of us was their main competition? Certainly not the girl with the messy bun and stained taco shirt.
“To our newcomers, there are nametags over there on the table. Please find yours, slap it on, and help yourselves to some snacks.” Kamila announced, gesturing to the table.
We filed over to the table, finding our respective nametags. A strange sense of relief washed over me when I confirmed that I was the only Avery in the group. At least, that may help me stand out when it comes to Tristan. Jennifer, on the other hand, had clearly been dismayed to see her nametag denoting her as Jennifer D., meaning she’d either missed the announcement of the other Jennifer on the show or hoped it had been made in error. She picked up the tag and peeled the backing off, slapping it on her chest almost mournfully.
Next to the table with the nametags was another table decorated with various heart-shaped foods and red and pink-themed desserts, most of which remained untouched. Not one to turn down a free meal, I picked up the tongs and grabbed pieces of cheddar and Swiss cheese from the charcuterie board, along with some grapes and a heart-shaped finger sandwich, eyeing the desserts in such a way that told them that, like the Terminator, I would be back.
Sasha sidled up next to me, the only other person from our small group willing to show that she eats food, apparently. “I don’t know how they’re going to get through the next fewweeks pretending like they aren’t hungry.” She looked up at me with a smirk. “At least I know someone else here likes a good charcuterie board.”
“You were thinking the girl with a giant smiling taco on her shirt wouldn’t be down for free food?”
She chuckled as she finished loading up her plate. I said a silent prayer that the two of us would be sharing a room together so at least I wouldn’t go totally insane during my time here. “Well, when the rest of them don’t want to eat, that leaves more for us.”
“Second breakfast, here we come.”
Sasha snort-laughed, and I followed her back to the group of women, taking a seat next to her on what had to be one of the most comfortable sofas my backside had ever had the privilege of sitting on. This very parlor was the hub for all the catty schemes and devious alliances that transpired on this show. It was where Abby dumped a drink on Melanie E., where Holly confessed her undying love to Rebecca in a twist that no one saw coming, where…
Oh…Dear…God. Seemingly, I’d been subconsciously listening to Kiki, after all.
“Okay,” Kamila clapped their manicured hands together. “Are we all excited to be here?” A chorus ofwhoosrang out across the room, and I thanked Jesus, Mary, and Joseph that my mouth was stuffed full of cheese, effectively eliminating my obligation towhoo. “Well, you’ll be pleased to know that I’ve personally spoken to Tristan”—insert morewhoos—" and he’s looking forward to meeting you all tomorrow night!”
“Why wait until tomorrow night? Let’s bring him in now.” I squinted my eyes to read the nametag of the woman who’d had the audacity to interrupt Kamila. Amelia was written on her nametag, with a heart dotting the “i”. How Amelia of her.
Kamila laughed. “As much as I would love to reveal that Tristan has been hiding behind the drapes this entire time, we have some last-minute business to go over before filming. So, gather around, have a seat, and get comfortable. There’s a lot to discuss.
