Page 90 of Hot Summer

It wasn’t right. Cas never said anything, never broke any terms of her contract. Production had arranged the deal with Robert and Friday, had negotiated the agreement for weeks. They’d done this—and, yes, she was part of it, but just as a chess piece, not the instigator. But to force her to leave was to act like she’d gotten into this on her own. Like she’d tricked them into thinking she was a regular contestant when, lo and behold, she’d been sneakily having marketing meetings the entire time.

She always knew in the back of her mind that the show could, and would, do whatever they liked. If the public had voted her off, or she hadn’t been selected for a couple, or anything like that, they would have sent her home no problem because, per her contract, there were absolutely no guarantees for her safety. But for them to remove her? For them to send her home, outside of an elimination, felt like a punishment, especially because she’d done nothing wrong.

“Unfortunately,” Chloe said, her tone detached and disinterested, “the public narrative has become that you’ve been planted on this show as a marketing ploy.”

“How could they even know that? I didn’t tell anyone.”

Chloe hummed noncommittally. “However the information got out there is not our concern. But I can—”

“So you’re not worried about how or why someone leaked sensitive information to the press, something that could be very damaging to your show, my company, and me personally?”

“No.” There was the sound of a pen clicking on the other end and then the very distinct scrawling of said pen over a clipboard. “Rather, what we are focused on right now is maintaining our viewers’ trust and commitment to our programming. And, from the start, this has been the contingency plan should this ever come to pass.”

“What? To throw me under the bus?”

“It was part of your original contract, Cas. Page nine, if memory serves. We are entirely within our rights to remove you from the show for any reason including, but not limited to, public discussion of the Friday/Hot Summer agreement.”

“And how long have you known that this was going to happen? It obviously was planned, since you guys built it into the challenge.”

Because it wasn’t enough, apparently, to throw her out. They’d had to embarrass her in front of Ada, her friends, the entire damn country, and make sure that this contingency plan of theirs stuck.

“Things started spiraling on social media within the last week. We’ve been keeping an eye on it.”

“But it would’ve gone away if they never got any evidence. It could still go away if you don’t give it any credence—acting on it like this basically confirms it.”

“We aren’t tying ourselves to a sinking ship,” Chloe said simply. They were harsh words delivered with an unrivaled ease. “We have to protect our interests.”

“You can’t do this.” Cas was begging. “Regardless of what brought me here, I’ve more than proven that my motives now are completely genuine.”

“Have you?” The skepticism in Chloe’s voice was an ice-cold knife straight to Cas’s gut.

“Yes.” She knew she sounded desperate, but she didn’t care. “Everything I ever said to Ada I meant. You can’t let it end this way. My feelings for her are real.”

Feelings that were so big, Cas could feel them swelling in her chest, blocking her throat. If this news had broken weeks ago, sure she would have been humiliated and annoyed at the PR control she’d have to do at work, but she would have left. But now, at the idea of leaving Ada behind... at leaving Femi and Sienna, and Freddie.

But maybe there was still hope for them. Ada had said, that morning in the retreat, that if Cas had to leave, she’d follow her out. Yes, Ada was definitely pissed off right now, but they’d both said they could see a future together. They’d made plans for what things could look like on the outside. They trusted each other.

It was that small promise that settled the anxiety clawing at Cas’s chest. She and Ada would need to talk before they left—Ada deserved a full explanation long ago, and Cas would make sure she’d get one now, but then they’d be isolated in a hotel room until they flew back to London. They’d have hours and hours to talk, hours that weren’t going to be filmed and broadcast for everyone in the country to see.

Chloe might not have believed that Cas’s feelings were real, but people were going to think whatever they wanted. It didn’t matter if she, or the other producers, or, hell, even the entire British viewing public, knew or cared about the reality of her relationship with Ada.

The only person Cas needed to convince was Ada. And, given a little bit of time on their own, she was certain that she could explain everything.

“Am I going to get time to talk to everyone before I have to leave? They deserve the truth.”

“You’re going to gather everyone at the fire pit,” Chloe said. “And you’re going to tell them you’ve decided to leave—”

“But I haven’t. You’ve decided I’m leaving.”

“We don’t need to go into the details.” Chloe’s words were the audible version of a dismissive hand wave. “You’re to say that you’ve decided to leave and you’ve loved your time here, you’ll see them on the outside, et cetera.”

“Should I say the ‘et cetera’ part?”

“No.” In any other situation, Cas would have found it amusing that Chloe took her sarcasm seriously. “But under no circumstances can you go into the details of the arrangement or say this is a removal. It must be framed like it was your decision to leave.”

“Why?” If she was going to leave because of a lie, she didn’t want to double down at the last moment, she wanted to leave having told the truth. At least as much of it as she thought she could tell anyway. “I think I should get the chance to explain what’s happening to my friends.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, you signed an NDA. And refusal to follow these guidelines could mean serious legal trouble for you.”

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