Page 22 of Idle

Where is she?

Pushing away from the masonry, I walk down the hallway to the bedrooms—the only rooms I haven’t checked. It doesn’t take me long to locate my missing teammate. And she’s with … Bo.

My stomach cramps. Seriously? How long have they been chatting it up?They can’t be hooking up, can they?At least they’re both still fully dressed. Except for his hat on the floor.

Memories of his ex-wife’s description of their sex life comes to the fore—she’s the only person to beg off tonight. So what? Paige can sleep with whomever she wants, so long as it doesn’t affect our chance to win. My jaw throbs, causing me to unclench my teeth.She’s off limits.

The duo stands at the oversized window, gesticulating with their Solo cups. Paige brings hers to her mouth, laughing while her teeth close around the plastic lip. Bo’s free hand reaches out and strokes her arm, moving up and down.

Ready to knock his hand away from her person, I charge into the bedroom. Four eyes register my appearance. With a smirk, Bo’s hand covers Paige’s and he tries to interlace their fingers but she steps forward, effectively thwarting his overture.

Somewhat mollified, I address Paige. “It’s getting late. You should let people know it’s last call. Cleaning up in here’s not going to be fun.”

Bo pulls out his phone. “Dude. It’s only one. Chill.”

If he wants this party to move to his apartment, he’s free to do so. Since it’s being held undermyroof, he has no right to give his hillbilly opinion. “The graduates have had several hours to party with their family and friends.” My eyes skewer Bo. “Plus our television castmates.” I turn to Paige. “The place has to be back in the condition it was before it started, and the longer the party drags on, the harder this chore is going to be.”

“One more hour can’t hurt anything.” Paige tucks her hair behind her ear, a tic I’ve noticed she uses when she’s thinking.

Going for a controlled tone, I reply, “Fine. Promise me you’ll wrap things up and usher your last guests out in sixty minutes.”

“I will.”

I glance between the two of them, spin on my heel, and vacate the bedroom. One minute longer in there, with Bo making googley-eyes at my partner, and I might have decked him. Wouldn’t the cameras have loved that?

Three steps out of the room and their laughter reaches my ears, causing me to pause. My spine straightens. If Paige thinks I’m going to help her clean this mess up, she has another think coming. This is all on her.

Resuming my path back to the kitchen, I give myself a pep talk with every step. Paige brought this on herself. She andBocan clean this shit up. I resist the urge to throw empty, and half-empty, cups into a garbage bag.

Marion and Peyton stand off to one corner, by the cabinets that have seen better decades. “Hey, ladies. Enjoying yourselves?”

“We are.” Marion raises her red cup to me. For her part, Peyton tips her glass against her lips.

“That’s great.”

“I’m not sure I’d have agreed to host a party in the apartment so close to filming. You’re much braver than I am,” Peyton says.

“Wasn’t my idea.” A shout of “Shots!” rings throughout the apartment. “Clearly.”

Marion smirks. “I wouldn’t want to have to clean this place up. Although, I have to say, I’m happy that’s on you. Maybe that’ll give us a leg up.”

“Don’t bet on it,” I retort. “We’ll be ready when Monday rolls around.” If it kills Paige.

Marion holds up her cell. “What do you think of using these rather than our own phones? I wish I could’ve saved some photos.”

“Of Hugo and Sally?” her sister asks, causing Marion to narrow her eyes.

Must be her kids. I’m about to ask their ages when Marion tugs on her pink hair. “My cats are beautiful. Haters gonna hate.”

Their sibling banter tugs a chord in me. What would Diana think about the show? In my heart, I hang onto the belief she would’ve been excited for me. Hell, getting selected by the network was a big deal. No way would she want me to continue in a career I didn’t like. Despite the fact it was the one she had chosen for herself.

I tune back into the siblings’ conversation. “Don’t look now,” Peyton says, lowering her voice. “Nancy’s in the living room.” She knocks back whatever’s in her red cup.

Marion responds, “Oh crap. I don’t want to be stuck here with her. It’s bad enough she’s in our bedroom. Maybe we could pull a Janice on her.” The two start cackling.

Intrigued when they don’t explain, I ask, “What’s a Janice?”

Peyton opens her mouth, but Marion forestalls her. “She went to high school with us. The girl never shut up. Drove the teachers bonkers.”

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