Harper continued, as if talking to herself. “But, I’m sure I totally blew it anyway. I was the one who tried to ditch everyone in the jungle, and I don’t think Ky’s going to overlook that one. He kept asking me how I was holding up and if I thought I could make it another few days in these conditions.”
Harper stretched out her legs in front of her. “So, I told him the truth. I fucking hate it here, and if we don’t get back to the resort soon, I’m going to figure out some other way to get home. Breast implants, or no breast implants.”
Breast implants? Morgan had no clue what Harper was talking about. “Did you say that to him verbatim?”
“Yes, I just told you that, obvy. I told him that even if I didn’t win the competition and get my breast implants, I wasn’t willing to spend another night at this shitty campsite without a hot shower, or at least some decent champagne. He didn’t seem too happy about it, but I have to be honest, right?”
Harper ran her fingers through her short, stringy hair.
“Oh, and I need to get home and get my extensions fixed like yesterday. Avondre is going to kick my ass if I ruin $1200 actual human hair extensions that he custom dyed caramel honey brown to match my natural hair color.”
Morgan doubted it was natural, but she wasn’t going to argue. “So, you’re planning on getting breast implants after you win the competition?”
“God, Morgan, aren’t you listening? That’s what I just said. When I win the competition, I’m going to use all the money that I make from the publicity and commercials and sponsorships and get a new rack. Then I’ll finally get called back on casting calls because I’ll look like a legit starlet and not like a prepubescent boy. I know it’s probably hard to tell, but that’s really my only flaw. My chest is a little . . . smaller than it should be.”
“Yes . . .” Morgan said slowly. She wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, especially given the fact that Harper was convinced that her small chest was her only major issue.
Harper looked back at her anxiously. She tugged at her low-cut top and adjusted her push-up bra to make her cleavage more visible. “So you noticed? You think I need implants? I tried to ask Ky about it because his dad is a plastic surgeon in LA, but he said that he didn’t want to mix business with pleasure.” She rolled her eyes. “Whatever that means.”
Now it all made sense. Morgan had suspected Harper had some shady ulterior motives, but winning the competition to get breast implants took the cake. It made even more sense when she connected the dots and remembered that Ky’s father was a famous plastic surgeon.
Harper had probably assumed that they would fall in love, she’d be skyrocketed into instant fame, and she’d get a free set of boobs as an engagement gift from her new father-in-law. Once she understood the inner workings of the mind of Harper, she actually felt sorry for her.
At least she was there for a reason. She wanted to give it a shot to see if there was any compatibility between her and Ky, and she was willing to almost die in the wilderness to do it. But Harper had been stranded without any food and water for the past week, just to go up a cup size. It was almost comical.
Morgan smiled to herself.
Harper snapped back, “God, Morgan, you don’t have to be such a bitch about it. So what if I wasn’t born well endowed? Hardly anyone in Hollywood has real tits, you know that, right? I just need a little cosmetic enhancement, and my career will be on track. That’s what God invented plastic surgery for.”
Harper flipped a greasy strand of hair over her shoulder with a smug smile on her face.
Ky and Brinkley approached the campfire. Ky had his arm around Brinkley, and she looked like she’d been crying. Great. They’d probably had a beautiful heart-to-heart that had brought Brinkley to tears and had solidified her top spot in the competition.
Oh well, here goes nothing. Morgan stood on shaky legs and wiped the sweat from her palms onto her cut-off shorts. That was a mistake. Her shorts were covered in layers of dirt from two days spent in the jungle. The sweat from her palms mixed with the dirt so that her hands were streaked with mud.
She sighed. What else could go wrong? She gave Ky a weak smile and placed her muddy palm in his outstretched hand. Ky escorted her several yards away to a small clearing behind the barn.
They sat down together on a large, flat rock. They were out of view of the campfire, giving them some much-needed privacy at last. Not counting the cameramen crouched on the grass a few feet away, documenting their entire conversation.
She smiled bravely. “So, where do we begin?”
She always tried to take charge whenever she was nervous. She knew it was an annoying habit, but she couldn’t seem to break it. It made her sound more like a study hall teacher than a potential mate.
She took a deep breath. Calm down, calm down, calm down, she told herself. It wasn’t that big of a deal. Just a normal conversation with someone she’d known for a few weeks. She tried not to think about the fact that anything she said could and would have the potential to send her home this late in the game.
Ky grinned as he turned his profile to face the cameras. He put his arm around her and said, “I just wanted to find out more about how you’re feeling out here. I know it’s not the most conventional of circumstances, but I hope your heart is still in the competition. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, and I’m still taking this very seriously to find-”
She recited the familiar lines in her head along with him.
“My best friend and my soul mate.”
You had to hand it to him. At least Ky knew how to stick to his script or prepared speech or whatever mantra it was he kept reciting again and again every time they had a one-on-one date.
“You know,” she began, her voice shaking. Why was she so nervous? Just spit it out.
She swallowed and continued. “These last few days were really rough. I would be lying if I said I didn’t consider going home. But now that we’ve come this far, I really want to stick it out. I know our individual date was a few weeks ago, but I thought we really connected. I think I at least owe it to myself and to you to stay in the competition and see where this could go.”
She wished she had a better answer. Something more along the lines of what Brinkley must have said in their private conversation to bring herself to tears. Something like, “Ever since the moment I saw you, I knew you were the one.” Blah blah blah.
But she wasn’t going to lie to herself or to Ky. That was something she’d had a little too much practice with in her past relationship, and look where it had gotten her. Dumped, lonely, and desperately seeking love on national TV.
Ky looked taken aback. “You wanted to go home?”
Fuck. She probably shouldn’t have said that. She didn’t want Ky thinking she had any doubts or second thoughts about getting to know him, but it was the truth. Anyone who’d been stuck out in the wilderness for two days without food or water would go at least a little crazy. They’d start to question what they were doing there, and if it was all worth it.
That is, unless their name was Brinkley, and they were born with the annoying ability to always see the silver lining in any shitty situation.
Her heart raced. “I’m just being honest.”
The rest of the conversation was brief. Ky shared how he felt that the trek in the jungle had helped him to get in touch with his spiritual side since he’d never been camping before in his life. According to Ky, spending the night in the wilderness on the hard jungle floor had been “exhilarating” and had helped him to channel his inner survivalist.
That was just great. Besides Harper, she appeared to be the only person willing to admit that the whole setup was bullshit. Ky was enjoying himself, Brinkley was in awe at the beauty of nature, and she was the wet blanket that somehow couldn’t find enjoyment in being stranded in the middl
e of nowhere without a shower, let alone a refrigerator full of food.
Ky rubbed her shoulder in a friendly gesture. “Thanks for taking the time to talk with me. I think I’m ready to make my decision. Why don’t we head back to the campfire to talk to the girls?”
A knot began to form in the pit of her stomach. She had no idea what to make of their conversation. Ky had seemed disappointed that she had wanted to leave, but at least now she wanted to stick it out to the end, right? That had to count for something. Didn’t it?
Morgan couldn’t help thinking that she had blown something good at the last minute. If this was her only chance to tell Ky that she might have feelings for him, she’d screwed it up royally.
The only “bright side” she could find to the whole situation was that Harper was much more of a pain in the ass than she was. Her only hope was if Ky, too, had gotten sick enough of Harper’s constant complaining to send her home ASAP.
Ky stood in front of the three women seated on logs around the fire pit. He opened his arms with gusto, like a bad motivational speaker.
Morgan had to stifle a laugh. By now, she was convinced that Ky had taken some kind of dramatic acting class before he started the show. Everything he did was overstated, theatrical, and a little too late-night-infomercial to take seriously.
Ky was a sweet guy, but he had to know that his excessive gesturing and lengthy monologues fit better into the world of Ginsu knives and the Bump It than reality television.
“Ladies, thank you so much for taking the time to talk with me privately. The conversations we had were so special to me, and they helped me to make my final decision about who’s going to go home tonight.” Ky paused and raised an eyebrow for emphasis.
“Again, I have to say that I hope there are no hard feelings. I care for each of you very deeply, and you all have something special to offer. But, I’m here to meet my best friend and my soul mate. So, tonight I’m going to have to send home . . . Harper.”
The group remained silent. Harper blinked back at Ky with wide eyes, as if she hadn’t heard a word he had said.
Morgan nudged her and whispered, “Harper, I think you’re supposed to get up and say goodbye now. Harper?”
Harper rose like a zombie. She walked stiffly over to Ky and let him hug her goodbye. She turned to the girls behind her and gave a sad, halfhearted wave.
Finally, she spoke. “I can’t believe it.”
Ky took Harper’s shock as devastation at being kicked out of the competition. He gave her another long hug and then said, “I know it’s hard, Harper. But it’s meant so much to me to get to know you and-”
“No. Fuck this place. Fuck you. And fuck you! And fuck you!” Harper pointed each of them in turn as she spoke.
Morgan cupped her hand over her mouth to hide her smile at Ky’s stunned expression, his mouth hanging open in shock. Brinkley covered her eyes.
Harper continued. “I already tried to leave this place once, and now you’re kicking me out? I hope everyone knows that this wasn’t worth it, not even for breast implants. This show was a total crock of shit, and I hope you all starve to death!”
With that, Harper spun on her heel and stormed off toward her cabin. No one spoke for several seconds.
Then Ky cleared his throat and said, “I’m so sorry you ladies had to hear that. But what was she talking about? Breast implants?”
Ky was once again interrupted by a screech coming from the cabin behind them. Harper flung her four oversized Louis Vuitton suitcases at the flimsy screen door of the cabin one by one.
Wham! Wham! Wham! Wham! They landed on their sides on the muddy ground in front of the cabin. Harper was right behind them. She jumped through the doorway and almost collided with her largest suitcase.
She looked back at the group next to the campfire again and screamed, “Fuck youuuuuu!” with both middle fingers in the air.
Now Morgan couldn’t stop laughing. She laughed so hard she was crying. The best part of all was that every second of the madness/mental breakdown/Lindsay Lohan-inspired shitfest was captured on camera. It’d probably be aired on the finale of the show and would be previewed on every single commercial and teaser leading up to it. It was just too good.
Chapter 17
Brinkley
Brinkley’s Confessional: I’m sorry, I’m just having a really hard time gathering my thoughts. I’m so tired and so hungry that it’s hard to think straight. But, still, we couldn’t be in a more beautiful place to camp at in the jungle, could we? I just feel really blessed to be here. I can’t believe I’m in the final two. I hope that we only have a few more days before Ky makes his big decision because I could use a good meal and a decent night’s sleep. But other than that, I’m doing great!
Brinkley woke up with the sun. The same thing that she’d been doing every day for the past week and a half they’d been stranded at the jungle campsite. Back home, she absolutely loved waking up to see the sunrise. It was exhilarating. It made her feel like she was the only person in the world that got to see such a beautiful part of God’s creation.
But now, she squinted in frustration at the sun rising through the jungle treetops and beating down on her through the screened-in porch. She cupped her hands over her eyes. Her head was throbbing, mostly from dehydration.
The water pump was still out at the campsite. They were going to have to hike back into the jungle to get to the river if they wanted any fresh water for the day. But she hardly had the strength to get out of bed, let alone hike a good five miles back into the jungle. She was completely spent. She’d never felt so exhausted in her entire life.
And all of the drama with Harper’s departure had left her head spinning. Not only was Harper’s colorful language shocking, to say the least, but she still couldn’t figure out what she was talking about. Was the winner of the show going to get breast implants? And if so, could she turn them down, or was that considered rude or a violation of her contract?
She didn’t think it was legal to force someone to get breast implants just for winning a reality competition, but then again, Hollywood was a pretty strange place.
She saw Morgan stir in the hammock next to her. “Morgan?”
“Hmm?” Morgan’s eyes were still closed.
“Do you-do you think we have to get breast implants if we win the show?” she asked meekly.
Morgan groaned and flung an arm over her eyes. “Brinkley, what the hell are you talking about?”
She paused, unsure of whether or not she should continue. She probably sounded like a total idiot. She’d probably gotten it all mixed up somehow.
“Um, it was just that Harper said that thing about not getting her breast implants because she was getting kicked off the show. So I was just wondering if you saw that in your contract, and maybe I missed it? I was just wondering if we have to get breast implants if we win?”
That got Morgan to sit up in her hammock. She took one look at her and started to laugh. Hard.
Brinkley felt heat rise to her cheeks. She knew it. She knew she’d gotten it all wrong, and now she sounded like some kind of country bumpkin idiot.
Morgan’s laughter finally slowed down. “Oh, that is too good!” She wiped tears away from her eyes. “No, no, Brinkley, you have nothing to worry about. It wasn’t in our contract. Harper just had it in her crazy little head that she was going to win the show, get engaged to Ky, and get free breast implants from his celebrity plastic surgeon dad as a gift, or some shit like that.”
Morgan scanned her face and said, “Hey, don’t be embarrassed. It was an honest mistake. If anyone should be embarrassed, it’s Harper for being such a superficial, shallow bitch who entered a competition just to get cosmetic surgery.”
Brinkley nodded, making a mental note to keep her mouth shut from then on whenever she had a silly question like
that, especially since the cameras were always rolling.
The fewer people that there were at the camp, the harder it was to distract themselves from the reality of their situation. She stared at the campfire, which was nothing more than an empty fire pit with a few lumps of used charcoal inside.
The staff at the camp was responsible for starting the daily fires. At least they had been for the first few days of their arrival. But now that the staff was nowhere to be found, the fire had gone with them.
Ky had lit the last few fires with some dry wood that he’d gathered and a partially empty package of matches from the survival pack. But now those matches were long gone after cooking fish for dinner the night before. If the group wanted a fire, they were going to have to do it true Boy Scout style. Meaning, they were going to have to search for dry grass and rub two sticks together to get a fire going.
That was something that she had never done before in all her years as a Girl Scout. Her Girl Scout training more so consisted of selling cookies and going to summer camp with her friends. She’d learned a few so-called survival skills at camp, like how to tell the difference between a male and female cardinal. But that was where her survival knowledge ended, apart from fishing.
She assumed that Ky had never been a Boy Scout. He barely knew how to strike a match properly, causing him to waste at least five good matches before he got the fire lit the last time. When she thought back on it, frustration welled up in the pit of her stomach.
If Ky knew at least a little bit about lighting a fire, then they’d have more matches today. And if they had even one more match, then maybe they’d be able to use the rest of the dried wood to start a fire and eat something for breakfast.
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