Page 137 of Between the Lines

Her eyes fill with tears. “That’s the thing. It’s not. It’sneverbehind me.”

“It was years ago. You’re not?—”

“Promise me you won’t watch it,” she says. Her words are frantic. “Promise me. Okay? You won’t watch the show. Please don’t look up any clips.Please,Aiden, I just need… I can’t imagine…”

“I promise. Hey, look at me. I promise, okay? I won’t watch a single minute of your season.”

She nods and seems to center herself. Like she’s drawing strengths and rebuilding her armor. “Okay. Good. I just need…” Her phone dings and she seems to take it as a signal. “I have to go.” She pushes away from me. “I ordered a rideshare.”

I want to pull her back against me.

“Charlotte,” I say.

But she’s already taking a step back, jitters burning through her. I can see the urge to run, and I recognize it. She wants to be alone.

“Get home safe. Take as much time as you need.”

She nods and heads toward the waiting car at the curb. It’s painful to stay where I am, rooted to the bench in this tiny excuse of a green space, surrounded by concrete and steel and an endless sea of cars.

The Gamble.

I know the show. It’s not one I like, not one I’m proud of. It’s a big earner, though. Has been since the very first season. I remember being in the office when Jeff pitched it to Dad and the other content producers. People weren’t convinced. Weren’t sold. But it had a low enough budget and ended up getting a green light for one season and one season only.

I watched the first episode, I remember that. But I shut it off.Trash.That’s what I thought, and my dad along with me, even as he pocketed the profits. Like I’ve continued to do.

Because the show blew up. It’s now the grandest reality TV hit that Titan produces.

Jeff had said Charlotte was responsible for that success.

I quickly google her name, with the name that Jeff had mentioned. Charlotte Richards.

It gives me to a slew of results. And images.

There she is. A younger Charlotte. Slightly thinner, her face still elfin and heart-shaped. Sharp eyeliner and bleached hair. It falls, straight and light-blonde around her frame. She’s smiling into the camera with bright, hopeful eyes. Beneath the image is the text:Charlotte Richards, a 19-year-old contestant, eliminated after seven dramatic episodes.

She was only nineteen when she was on the show.

We cast teenagers for these shows? Why had I never reflected on that before?

The Gambleis by far one of the wettest and most lascivious shows in our programming. Twenty singles at one Mexican resort… with an open bar. The entire premise of the show is stupid. People need to couple up and compete in challenges that vary from the athletic to the downright idiotic.

And all the while, they’re gambling on the other person keeping them in the game. Continuing to choosethem.

People need to be paired up by the end of the posed challenge or risk getting voted off.

My thumb scrolls through the results. She’s listed underTen of the most memorable reality contestants of all time.

Below is a meme that I vaguely recognize. I still have a social media account, even if I considered shutting it down the same week my father’s sentencing hearing was held.

I cleansed it entirely. Kept it private. I only go on every now and then to keep up with a few surfers I know.

But Ihaveseen that photo used in memes. Her in a purple dress, blonde hair and blonde bangs, standing by a pool with angry tears down her face.

Fuck. I hadn’t recognized her at all. Today, she looks nothing like that young girl. The Charlotte I know is a brunette with fierce eyes and scathing comebacks. She’s someone who works hard, has solidly erected walls, and is only soft sometimes. When youearnher softness and her quiet confessions.

She must hate me.

That’s the only thing that makes sense. She said it herself. The showruinedherlife.

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