Nine a.m. on Thursday, and I glanced toward the refrigerator. Was it too early for wine? Because right now, I sure needed a bottle. No, a glass. Just a glass. I absolutely wasn't an alcoholic.

David had decided we'd do today's script reveal in the kitchen at the beach house. Casual. Relaxed. The five of us sitting around like old friends as we nibbled on low-fat croissants and slivers of fresh fruit. At least, Kane and Lucas would be nibbling. Mikki had announced yesterday she was on a new diet where she only drank water until noon, and my churning stomach had made its feelings clear. I'd puked in front of my housemates once, and I didn't want a repeat, thank you very much.

The camera operators set up their equipment, four of them, one to capture each of our reactions in glorious, horrific detail. My look of shock-slash-disgust from the last reveal was already doing the rounds as an internet meme with captions like That face you make when you realise it wasn't a fart and When you see bae for the first time without make-up.

Shonda had arrived at six with the rest of the crew, so at least I looked the part. Mikki was wearing a sparkly dress better suited to a nightclub, while Kane had agonised over a button-down shirt versus a V-neck sweater. Which would the ladies prefer? When he'd asked us, Mikki suggested he ditch the shirt altogether while I just shrugged. I'd barely been able to dress myself this morning, let alone coordinate somebody else's outfit as well.

"Ready?" Lucas asked, meandering through from the dining area. He'd gone with jeans and a plaid shirt; California does cowboy.

"Don't think I'll ever be ready for one of these horrible little vignettes. Has David dropped any hints?"

Lucas shrugged, but his nose also did that little crinkle I'd noticed on occasion, usually when he wanted to avoid giving me bad news.

"What is it? Tell me. Please."

Anything to help me prepare, to temper my reaction while the cameras rolled. Shonda had done her best to assist, caking on enough foundation to hide any blushes, but now I was in danger of melting like a candle under the hot lights the gaffer was directing the technicians to position.

Lucas reached for a croissant, but a member of the crew smacked his hand away.

"Not yet! We need five to make the plate look balanced."

"But I'm hungry."

She pointed in the direction of the refrigerator, and he groaned. "That's full of weird health food and non-fat power shakes."

"Not my problem."

I grabbed his elbow and steered him out of earshot. "Lucas, would you just tell me what's going on?"

"David mentioned that it might be another—"

Clapping from behind made me jerk my head around, and I saw that the man himself had walked in. David looked chipper this morning, one of those men who grew ever more cheerful at others' misfortune as long as he could somehow leverage that misfortune into ratings.

"Everybody ready to go?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Right, let's have Violet next to Kane, Lucas opposite her, and Mikki in the far corner."

Mikki's pout told everyone exactly what she thought of the seating arrangements, but she did as she was told. So did I, and the instant I settled onto the white leather stool, beads of sweat popped out on my back. On Shonda's advice, I'd worn black so the stain wouldn't show, but I could feel the sweat trickling down my spine while my stomach defied gravity to claw its way up my throat.

How bad would this be?

The answer? Bleeping awful. Like, literally. Good thing there was a ten-second delay on the live broadcast. A string of curse words slipped from my lips as Mikki sniggered in the background, and even Kane raised an eyebrow.

"Is this some sort of..." I trailed off. No, of course it wasn't a joke. Getting naked with Kane for a love scene on a sunlounger was totally in keeping with the rest of this awful experience.

During yesterday's filming, Veronica had left her phone at Kelvin's place when she visited with Lance for another follow-up. The ME had found a needle mark in the autopsy. Where did it come from? The toxicology results were still outstanding, but if Del Swanson had been drugged, that could go a ways toward explaining how a big man like him had been overpowered. Kelvin had dodged and weaved, avoiding straight answers but stopping short of asking for a lawyer. For a man who claimed he had nothing to hide, he sure didn't behave that way.

Anyhow, rather than doing the smart thing and asking Lance to go back with her, Veronica had decided to pick the phone up on her way home. But she just couldn't resist asking a few more questions while she was there, and that would be the basis of our next scene. Kelvin would negotiate a deal with her. If she agreed to a repeat of their first encounter, he'd provide answers. Each time she "made him happy," she got to ask another question, with a maximum of three. "Use them wisely," he warned like a debauched genie, except Veronica wouldn't be rubbing a lamp. No, she'd be rubbing... Oh, hell, I didn't even want to think about it. And of course, she didn't know whether Kelvin would actually tell the truth, but since she had this weird attraction to him, she went along with the plan anyway.

And where did this scene take place? Out back, by the pool.

Before I met Kane, I might have been tempted by the offer too, murder suspect or no murder suspect. But the idea of screwing him in broad daylight? I checked my arms to see if any hives had appeared yet.

"What are the questions Veronica asks Kelvin?" Mikki wanted to know.

David beamed because he'd obviously been waiting for somebody to ask precisely that.

"This is the fun part. I thought we'd encourage a little audience participation, so we're going to ask our Twitter fans to make suggestions."

Words deserted me as the others talked. Probably that was for the best because rambling incoherently on tape would only embarrass me further. I noticed Lucas kept glancing in my direction, asking with his eyes whether I was all right. I managed a quick nod, even though I was anything but.

"When do we film this?" I blurted during a lull.

"Mikki and Lucas will film their scenes today," David said. "Then we'll continue with you, Lucas, and Kane. Build-up tomorrow, and the big scenes the day after. Let's keep our fingers crossed for sunshine seeing as we'll be outside."

Twenty-four hours before I was due back on set. Outside. In freaking February. How far could I get in twenty-four hours? Alaska? Outer Mongolia? Australia?

This promised to be an utter disaster.

***

Two days. I had two days to prepare for the most embarrassing moment of my life.

"Shonda, I need help."

"Thought you might be in touch. Is this about you bumpin' uglies with Kane?"

"What else?"

"Don't worry, sweetie. I phoned my girls the moment I saw the script this morning. We'll be there in an hour to fix you up."

She ended the call before I could ask who "we" was. More witnesses to my impending humiliation? The situation got worse with every passing minute, but I didn't have time to waste worrying. I needed to get to the gym because the clock was ticking.

An hour later, Kane handed me a bottle of water as I crawled off the treadmill.

"Why are there three women in the living room? One of them is setting up a tent."

"They're beauticians. We don't all have the luxury of a body double."

He looked me up and down. "Don't worry—they can always edit out your love handles in post."

Count to ten, Violet. Don't maim the movie star. "I'll bear that in mind. Would you mind getting out of my way?"

Kane's words echoed around my head as I stumbled toward the living room. Love handles? Did I really have love handles? I'd barely eaten a thing for the past week, and the wardrobe assistant had spent yesterday morning grumbling about having to take my costumes in. Well, she'd be happy tomorrow, seeing as I wouldn't need to wear one for most of the day.

"We're ready," Shonda announced, beaming. "Marsha's gonna do an anti-cellulite wrap to start with."

I'd been on a spa day with Lauren last year, a gift from her parents, and the facial and massage had been kind of relaxing. Shonda's version, not so much. After I'd been slathered in some sort of magic cream and mummified in plastic wrap for an hour, Marsha went at me with a sander. Literally, a sander. Back in Oakwood Falls, the Vickerses' gardener had used a remarkably similar machine on the front gates each year.

"Won't this make my skin red?"

She waved at the tent thing behind us. "Don't worry; we'll spray you the right colour again afterward."

David should've filmed this part for his YouTube channel. Hidden Intent: Behind the glitz and glamour. Or maybe I could start my own show as a public service? Remorse: The Diary of a Lonely Actress. If I showed all those teenagers dreaming of stardom what Hollywood was truly like, perhaps I could prevent a young girl from going through the same heartache.

"Violet? Are you ready for your bikini wax? We need to take everything off, or the modesty patches won't stick."

"Please, just get it over with."