Wild Card

Chapter 7

Daniela

I could have fought my expulsion from Saint Lucia, even bring disability rights groups for added measure, but what for? I was going to get booted off the show anyway, and I didn't need the stress that would have probably weighed on me had I stayed to fight. I wasn't exactly giving up. Les still had good cause to disqualify me.

Having to leave without saying goodbye to Tyler was a totally different matter. But I didn't have a choice there either.

Girl, like I'd even worry about Tyler not going after you, Marilyn told me on the flight to Miami. The way he looked at you the entire time? Dang, if a man looked at me the way Tyler Drake looks at you, I bet he'll move heaven and earth to get to you like you're his personal Mount Everest, alright?

Maybe Marilyn was right, or maybe not. Who knows? But if there was a silver lining to the whole adventure, it came in the form of a new friend. Marilyn—yes, it really is my her name—Monroe, who to this day, never fails to crack me up with her quips.

She had overheard Les berating me that morning and rushed into my room wearing only a t-shirt that said Stand By Me, and literally stood by me. She didn't need to, for I could certainly have defended myself against the likes of Les Wiltern, but Marilyn told him off the only way she could—using language that would have made a sailor blush. It got her disqualified from the show, though she'll tell you that she quit first, getting right into Les' face to say so. And she did.

At least, it meant I didn't have to fly home alone. And although it was bittersweet not being able to say goodbye to Tyler, I wouldn't trade my friendship with Marilyn for the world.

After all, just as it was Fate that had me win the Wild Card slot which allowed me to visit a place I'd only dreamed of going, it must be Fate that things ended the way they did. Some things you just don't fight.

You simply move on.

* * *

The show still went on, and though I haven't seen a single episode, I hear there is no mention of Wild Card at all. It's like I wasn't even there. Like Les told me, I had misrepresented myself and that's exactly what they announced on the show, that due to a technicality, the Wild Card contestant had been disqualified.

I hate that Tiffany blames herself for what happened, even though I came home all sunburnt which, at least, proved to everyone that I got some sun—or depending on who you talked to, too much. My third-graders certainly scolded me for not wearing enough sunscreen.

But I have no regrets. I got a stamp in my passport, and memories of three fantastic days before everything went downhill.

But isn't that what memories are for? Along with the good, you got to have some of the bad.

* * *

Four weeks and so many legal documents back and forth after my stay in Saint Lucia later, Paired in Paradise returns tonight after a week hiatus. This is the episode everyone is waiting for, when Tyler has to choose one woman on live TV. Marilyn tells me not to believe all the hype—and boy, was there hype—for there's no way it could be live.

But the public doesn't really know that.

For some odd reason, Mom and Tiffany have suddenly decided to host a party at the house on the evening of the final show as a way to cheer me up. Even Marilyn has come up from San Francisco where she is a part of a quartet—or was, since she gave them notice a week ago.

Hard to believe she plays classical music, but she does, although she has a more eclectic taste in music and has released a few CDs on her own. She even has her own Youtube channel with hundreds of followers. But like any performer trying to make it big, she entered Paired in Paradise so she could get more exposure, and she did. Sales of her self-released music spiked and she even got a new gig—in Saint Lucia, no less.

"Archer hired me! Can you believe it? Turns out, they need a new act. It's temporary but hey, it's a vacation and I don't have to worry about cameras 24-7."

Marilyn's a bag of surprises, that's for sure, but she's made my life so much better since I've met her. At least, I've learned how to swear like a sailor when appropriate.

When she notices I've become quiet, Marilyn touches my hand. "You never know, Dani. He just might pick...well, no one. I mean, he did like you, like, a lot. That part wasn't showbiz."

Then why hasn't he called? I almost ask just as the doorbell rings and Tiffany and Mom burst out of the bedroom excitedly, signaling the arrival of the guests.

Marilyn brings out her violin, playing special requests from the audience between sips of red wine and dirty jokes. She even knows plays a few of Mom's favorite songs and it's nice to see her laughing for a change. Even Tiffany is finally happy, Marilyn's stories about my adventures in Saint Lucia prompting her to let go of all the blame for what happened.

* * *

I'm in the kitchen getting extra plastic cups when Marilyn stops playing and someone turns on the TV. I groan, hoping it isn't Paired in Paradise, but it is.

At first, I decide to linger in the kitchen but I can't help it. I'm curious. When I emerge into the living room, everyone is riveted to the TV screen, though Marilyn weaves through the crowd and stands next to me. Tyler is on the screen and he's even more handsome than I remember, wearing a dark suit with a tie that enhances his deep blue eyes. When he smiles, I catch my breath, feeling a familiar ache in my chest. It's where the memory of Tyler's kiss still lives, one that I revisit every night.

Though he kissed me only once, I feel that it told me more than he ever could say, and it's something I want to keep for myself. So it's difficult to see him choose the last woman standing in front of him on the screen. When the dramatic music dies down, and he finally speaks, Marilyn holds my hand.

"Camille," Tyler begins, "I have had the most wonderful time getting to know you these past four weeks. Each time we spent together showed me so much about you as much as it revealed parts of myself that surprised me." Camille's smile fades when Tyler pauses, and she glances off-camera. I wonder if she's looking at Les, but Tyler continues. "You are kind and smart, and beautiful. And any man who dares turn his back on such an amazing woman is a fool."

Just when I tell myself that being here is a mistake, that I need to get some more chips from the kitchen, Marilyn squeezes my hand.

"Unfortunately, I am that fool."

The room erupts in hushed murmurs but Tiffany shushes them for Tyler is speaking again.

"My heart belongs to someone else," Tyler continues, "and I can't do this. I can't waste your time any more than I already—"

I never learn what else Tyler's about to say because everyone erupts in conversation just as I retreat into the foyer, the beating of my heart drowning everything else, but the ringing of the doorbell.