Of course, that meant that my student loans were catching up with me, so I took a job waiting tables to pay the bills. Most times, customers didn’t recognize me. I wore enough make-up and dyed my hair brown instead of the island blonde I’d been, and I flew under the radar.
Some days - like today - there was just no way to hide.
Steeling myself, I gripped a stack of menus and took in a deep breath. I exited the kitchens and headed back out to the table where the couple was sitting eagerly, waiting for me to return like a pair of jackals hovering over a kill. My smile pinned to my face, I beamed at them as I re-approached the table. “Y’all ready to order now?”
“Sure,” the woman said, smiling. Instead of looking at the menu, though, she grinned at me. “Can I ask you something, though?”
My heart sank. “Of course.”
“What happened between you and that Kit guy? You two were pretty hot and heavy on the island.”
“You’d think that with the way it looked on TV, wouldn’t you?” I made my tone light, as if the question didn’t bother me in the slightest. “Kip and I are just good friends, though. Nothing more.”
“It looked like more than friends out there,” her date commented.
I clutched the menus to my chest tighter. “Just friends. I haven’t talked to him since the finale. Can I recommend the special of the day? Chicken fried steak with pepper gravy, and some fresh corn. It’s really good.”
~~ *** ~~
Karma was against me that day. Maybe Mercury was in Retrograde, because all the Endurance Island groupies came out to the restaurant to see bimbo Annabelle and her slutty McSlutterton boobs. I had no less than four tables that night that asked about the show, and one guy even wanted to pay me to pose with him in my yellow bikini. I turned it down. Yuck.
By the time I’d cashed out my tips for the evening, I never wanted to hear the words ‘Endurance Island’ ever again. Ever. Again.
“Better check your phone,” my friend Patrice warned me as I headed to my locker. “I heard it buzzing all night long.”
“Oh?” At the restaurant, we weren’t allowed to carry our phones with us out on the floor, which sucked. I normally came back to a few silly texts from friends, and the occasional dirty picture from my friend Norah. I opened my locker and pulled out my phone. Tonight, it seemed I had voicemail. Huh. Listening to messages, I headed to my car.
Two messages from Norah, two calls from debt collectors (those student loans were REALLY starting to rack up), and two voicemails from a number I didn’t recognize. I put my phone to my ear, listening as I started the engine.
“Hi, Annabelle, this is Judy with Endurance Island casting. We’re putting together a returning players season and would love to know if you’re interested. Can you give me a call back?”
Judy had left a similar message two hours later. This one sounded more desperate than the last one. “Hi, Annabelle, it’s Judy with Endurance Island casting again. I hate to keep bothering you, but I wanted to make sure you got my message. We had one of our players fail a physical and now we’re looking for a replacement that can fly out on short notice, and your name came up in casting. Please give me a call back, even if it’s just to tell me no. I’d really appreciate it.”
She sounded stressed. I felt a note of sympathy even as my stomach clenched at the thought of going on Endurance Island again. No freaking way. Going back on Endurance Island was the last thing I wanted to do. Public national humiliation, round two? No thank you. I’d learned my lesson the first time. Annabelle the Island Bimbo was retired.
But still, I felt guilty. The woman on the other end sounded frazzled. I couldn’t stop thinking about it as I drove home. When I entered my apartment, I sat down on the couch and stared at my phone. Did I feel guilty enough to return her phone call?
I did. After all, it was about seven at night California time. Judy wouldn’t be in the office. I’d leave her a nice voicemail thanking her for thinking of me, but no, I wasn’t interested.
To my surprise, the phone picked up on the first ring. “Judy Gish.”
“Um.” My mind blanked out. I hadn’t expected to actually talk to anyone except the machine. “This is Annabelle Tucker. I was just returning your phone call—”
“Oh, Annabelle! Thank God! I’m at my wits’ end here!”
“Listen, Judy, it was nice of you to think of me—“
“Before you tell me no,” she interrupted, “Can I tell you a bit about the season? Please?”
I chewed on my lip. I’d never been able to hang up on a telemarketer. Why had I expected to be able to hang up on Judy with a firmly barked “NO”?
“Please?” She asked again.
Sigh. “Okay. Go ahead.”
“Great,” she said, bubbling enthusiasm through the phone. “The newest season starts taping in three days and we’ve had a few unexpected drop-outs that have cleaned out our pool of back-up candidates. So we’re going through the cast list of your season and your name came up. This season will be Endurance Island: Power Players. You’ll be coupled up with an old friend —“
Couples? Old friend? “God, no,” I blurted. “I refuse to play with Kip again.”
“Hear me out,” she said quickly. “We’re pulling people from several different shows. It doesn’t mean that you’d be paired up with Kip. That’s just the marketing gimmick.”
“I still don’t—“
“We’re paying flat fees to all contestants this year to encourage people to sign up,” she continued on merrily, as if I wasn’t trying to shut her down. “Since this is going to be a highly competitive season, everyone gets twenty-five grand just for being on the show, even if you’re in last place. Jury members make fifty grand.”
I paused. That…was a lot of money. Last time I’d been on the show, they paid us $200 a day, and I’d been stoked at receiving a check for eight grand. Fifty grand was…crazy. “Why so much?”
“As I said, it’s going to be a tougher season.”
Like an idiot, I wavered. “I’m not exactly thrilled with how I was portrayed last season.”
“New season, new villains,” she chirped. “Plus, don’t you want the chance to redeem yourself?”
Boy, she knew just the right things to say to hit my buttons, didn’t she? I thought of the money. Fifty grand if I made it to the jury. That would make a huge dent in my mounting student loans. More than that, though…I could redeem myself.
I’d play hardball this time. No Annabelle the Make Out Bunny. I was reasonably athletic, reasonably likable…why couldn’t I turn things around?
Hell, I’d have to do better than last time. There was no place to go but up, really.
Still, I wasn’t eager to jump right back on board. I’d lose my (admittedly not great) job. I’d be back on TV and back on the minds of everyone. With the exception of today, things were starting to calm down again. Going back on TV would put me back to ground zero when it came to the public forgetting about me.
But…fifty grand.
“Are you still there, Annabelle?”
“I’m here. Just thinking.”
Some days - like today - there was just no way to hide.
Steeling myself, I gripped a stack of menus and took in a deep breath. I exited the kitchens and headed back out to the table where the couple was sitting eagerly, waiting for me to return like a pair of jackals hovering over a kill. My smile pinned to my face, I beamed at them as I re-approached the table. “Y’all ready to order now?”
“Sure,” the woman said, smiling. Instead of looking at the menu, though, she grinned at me. “Can I ask you something, though?”
My heart sank. “Of course.”
“What happened between you and that Kit guy? You two were pretty hot and heavy on the island.”
“You’d think that with the way it looked on TV, wouldn’t you?” I made my tone light, as if the question didn’t bother me in the slightest. “Kip and I are just good friends, though. Nothing more.”
“It looked like more than friends out there,” her date commented.
I clutched the menus to my chest tighter. “Just friends. I haven’t talked to him since the finale. Can I recommend the special of the day? Chicken fried steak with pepper gravy, and some fresh corn. It’s really good.”
~~ *** ~~
Karma was against me that day. Maybe Mercury was in Retrograde, because all the Endurance Island groupies came out to the restaurant to see bimbo Annabelle and her slutty McSlutterton boobs. I had no less than four tables that night that asked about the show, and one guy even wanted to pay me to pose with him in my yellow bikini. I turned it down. Yuck.
By the time I’d cashed out my tips for the evening, I never wanted to hear the words ‘Endurance Island’ ever again. Ever. Again.
“Better check your phone,” my friend Patrice warned me as I headed to my locker. “I heard it buzzing all night long.”
“Oh?” At the restaurant, we weren’t allowed to carry our phones with us out on the floor, which sucked. I normally came back to a few silly texts from friends, and the occasional dirty picture from my friend Norah. I opened my locker and pulled out my phone. Tonight, it seemed I had voicemail. Huh. Listening to messages, I headed to my car.
Two messages from Norah, two calls from debt collectors (those student loans were REALLY starting to rack up), and two voicemails from a number I didn’t recognize. I put my phone to my ear, listening as I started the engine.
“Hi, Annabelle, this is Judy with Endurance Island casting. We’re putting together a returning players season and would love to know if you’re interested. Can you give me a call back?”
Judy had left a similar message two hours later. This one sounded more desperate than the last one. “Hi, Annabelle, it’s Judy with Endurance Island casting again. I hate to keep bothering you, but I wanted to make sure you got my message. We had one of our players fail a physical and now we’re looking for a replacement that can fly out on short notice, and your name came up in casting. Please give me a call back, even if it’s just to tell me no. I’d really appreciate it.”
She sounded stressed. I felt a note of sympathy even as my stomach clenched at the thought of going on Endurance Island again. No freaking way. Going back on Endurance Island was the last thing I wanted to do. Public national humiliation, round two? No thank you. I’d learned my lesson the first time. Annabelle the Island Bimbo was retired.
But still, I felt guilty. The woman on the other end sounded frazzled. I couldn’t stop thinking about it as I drove home. When I entered my apartment, I sat down on the couch and stared at my phone. Did I feel guilty enough to return her phone call?
I did. After all, it was about seven at night California time. Judy wouldn’t be in the office. I’d leave her a nice voicemail thanking her for thinking of me, but no, I wasn’t interested.
To my surprise, the phone picked up on the first ring. “Judy Gish.”
“Um.” My mind blanked out. I hadn’t expected to actually talk to anyone except the machine. “This is Annabelle Tucker. I was just returning your phone call—”
“Oh, Annabelle! Thank God! I’m at my wits’ end here!”
“Listen, Judy, it was nice of you to think of me—“
“Before you tell me no,” she interrupted, “Can I tell you a bit about the season? Please?”
I chewed on my lip. I’d never been able to hang up on a telemarketer. Why had I expected to be able to hang up on Judy with a firmly barked “NO”?
“Please?” She asked again.
Sigh. “Okay. Go ahead.”
“Great,” she said, bubbling enthusiasm through the phone. “The newest season starts taping in three days and we’ve had a few unexpected drop-outs that have cleaned out our pool of back-up candidates. So we’re going through the cast list of your season and your name came up. This season will be Endurance Island: Power Players. You’ll be coupled up with an old friend —“
Couples? Old friend? “God, no,” I blurted. “I refuse to play with Kip again.”
“Hear me out,” she said quickly. “We’re pulling people from several different shows. It doesn’t mean that you’d be paired up with Kip. That’s just the marketing gimmick.”
“I still don’t—“
“We’re paying flat fees to all contestants this year to encourage people to sign up,” she continued on merrily, as if I wasn’t trying to shut her down. “Since this is going to be a highly competitive season, everyone gets twenty-five grand just for being on the show, even if you’re in last place. Jury members make fifty grand.”
I paused. That…was a lot of money. Last time I’d been on the show, they paid us $200 a day, and I’d been stoked at receiving a check for eight grand. Fifty grand was…crazy. “Why so much?”
“As I said, it’s going to be a tougher season.”
Like an idiot, I wavered. “I’m not exactly thrilled with how I was portrayed last season.”
“New season, new villains,” she chirped. “Plus, don’t you want the chance to redeem yourself?”
Boy, she knew just the right things to say to hit my buttons, didn’t she? I thought of the money. Fifty grand if I made it to the jury. That would make a huge dent in my mounting student loans. More than that, though…I could redeem myself.
I’d play hardball this time. No Annabelle the Make Out Bunny. I was reasonably athletic, reasonably likable…why couldn’t I turn things around?
Hell, I’d have to do better than last time. There was no place to go but up, really.
Still, I wasn’t eager to jump right back on board. I’d lose my (admittedly not great) job. I’d be back on TV and back on the minds of everyone. With the exception of today, things were starting to calm down again. Going back on TV would put me back to ground zero when it came to the public forgetting about me.
But…fifty grand.
“Are you still there, Annabelle?”
“I’m here. Just thinking.”
