Chapter 5

Even growing up in Montana, waking up at dawn to brush Ringo and take him for a spin around the ring before school, or spending a few summers at the FFA camp with friends who milked cows and fed pigs—even then, Krystin never anticipated standing in front of a pen filled with mud, and being expected to wrestle in it.

Yet here she is, wearing bike shorts and a sports bra, surrounded by thirteen other women wearing variations of the same thing, staring at how they'll be spending the next five hours. She looks around the room, some repurposed warehouse-cum-CrossFit gym, walls painted the shade of gray someone imagines when they think "gray." Krystin blinks. This is probably what Delia had in mind when she said Krystin was going to look stupid.

She can't help but feel this couldn't possibly have been Josh's call. Sweet, fun Josh, who based their last date on a classic scene from a '90s rom-com. But maybe that hadn't been Josh's idea either.

"The rules are simple," says Michael, season fourteen's Hopeless Romantic. He's their guest host for today's group date, still in the show's orbit despite breaking up with his fiancée on After the Final String. "We're gonna pair you guys up, you'll get in the pen, and you'll wrestle it out. Safely, of course."

"On Amanda's season, it was really important for us guys to let out some of that pent-up aggression," Josh says. "And I know, as a feminist myself, that it's just as crucial for women to express those feelings."

"There's no time cut-off, but you'll have to pin the other woman for five seconds in order to win the fight. Then the winners will wrestle each other, until eventually there's one Mud Queen standing." Michael holds up a rhinestone crown. "Now, you might be wondering what's at stake here."

Krystin isn't. She's seen enough seasons of this show to know what's coming.

"Well, the lucky lady who wins the title of Mud Queen will get some extra one-on-one time with my buddy Josh tonight."

The women gasp as if they hadn't also anticipated this "twist," then size up their competition. Lily looks smug, arms crossed over the hard-won abs she maintains with the personal trainer she never shuts up about (and maybe seems to have a thing for). Gabi, though Krystin's pretty sure she's got an aversion to sweating, is definitely not afraid of some hair-pulling. Krystin has to train a little for rodeo, but there's no question she's more comfortable on a horse than on her own two legs.

Michael runs through a list of rules that Krystin's sure go largely unnoticed by the girls. Besides, it's not like any of them are in real danger, surrounded by three cameras and a field medic on site. Wait—are they going to need a medic?

Pia and Jen are up first. Krystin watches as they enter the ring, Pia stepping delicately into the mud like she's testing a hot tub's temperature. When they're both inside, they just kind of stand there for a minute, looking at each other and wavering like Wii avatars.

"Come on, guys," yells Holland. "You have to actually touch each other."

Pia looks down at her golf skirt, a pristine cream—until Jen lunges toward her and collides with Pia's tan torso, knocking Pia onto her ass in the mud. It takes a second for Pia to recover and mourn her soiled outfit, but then she's back on her feet, and remembers the six-inch advantage she has over Jen. Her long arms wrap around Jen's compact frame and she uses her weight to force Jen into the mud, where she stays for the five count.

Michael rings a bell. "Nice job, ladies! Pia, great form."

Krystin glances at Josh, who looks a little scared.

The girls climb out of the pen, dripping brown in their path.

"Okay, next are Madison and Lauren H."

Lauren H. emerges victorious, as do Lily and Kaydie in their respective matches. Lauren C. hops into the ring with Gabi, who's wearing head-to-toe leopard print, and they last for longer than the other women. Gabi's strategy is mostly slapping, which seems to annoy Lauren, because she stops playing defense and starts actually wrestling. Krystin can't look away, her eyes pulled as if by a magnet by Lauren's lithe, catlike movements. She whips her head up, mud sliding off her dark hair, slicking her poreless skin. It's kind of like the rodeo, Krystin thinks, the spectacle of it all—which means she knows how to win.

Lauren pins Gabi pretty quickly after she starts trying, and Gabi sulks out, wringing wet dirt out of her extensions. "This is so unfair," Krystin hears her mutter, which Krystin can't help but think is extremely unattractive. If she loses, she tells herself, she'll be graceful and dignified. As graceful and dignified as she can be while wrestling other grown women in mud.

And then it's her turn, and she faces Ashley O. The mud is warmer than she expected. Is that the heat generated by an hour's worth of women pinning each other? She inhales, one, two, three, four. She's riding Ringo. She's Rodeo Queen Montana. She's on top of Ashley O., rolling around in the dirt.

Ashley grunts under Krystin's weight and wedges her foot under Krystin's stomach. They rock sideways, but Krystin doesn't let go. Krystin brings her knee up to Ashley's sternum, stabilizing her enough to grab her wrists and hold her down.

"One, two, three, four, five!" Michael rings the bell. "Krystin wins."

She stands up, holding her hand out to Ashley, who just looks at it before reluctantly accepting. As they leave the ring, Krystin glances at Josh, and winks. He directs a golf clap toward her, and she laughs.

After a couple more showdowns, they're paired up for Round 2, which goes by quicker than the first. Now that she's warmed up, Krystin easily beats Kaydie in their match, and then watches as the victors emerge. It's kind of fun to watch everyone get all Lord of the Flies, survival of the literal fittest. Lauren C. absolutely decimates Lauren H., with the kind of unbridled energy that Krystin thinks has to be premeditated. The girls are barely paying attention to Josh at this point, so utterly obsessed with the competition, and Krystin feels a little bad for him. Then again, he already watched her defeat him on the paintball course, and he seemed to like that.

Eventually they hit Round 3; only a handful of matches left. The competition has activated the less … diplomatic part of Krystin's brain, and she wants to win. Badly. She feels pretty confident too, having spent the last two hours watching the girls use their best moves and studying their strategies. She's already thinking about how she'll place her rhinestone crown right next to her rodeo sash.

"Krystin," Michael says, and she steps forward, not even caring about the mud that's dried in rivulets down her cheeks. "You'll be going against Lauren C."

Lauren grins and flips her hair behind her shoulder. "Easy," she says.

"Ooooh," Michael whistles, nudging Josh. "We've got some fire."

"All right, all right," Josh says. "Play nice, you two."

Krystin steps into the ring. "Oh, I'm not playing at all," she says, looking directly at Lauren, whose grin has evolved into a smirk. It ignites a burning sensation in Krystin's gut.

"Mm," Lauren replies, a razored edge to her silky voice. "Watch out, cupcake. I've been doing cardio kickboxing for eight years."

"Well, I can tie down a calf in seven seconds. And they're a lot quicker than you."

"Ho, ho!" Michael laughs. "Josh, you've certainly got some fiery women this season. I hope you can take it."

"Trust me," Josh says. "They're just as sweet as they are fiery."

But Krystin isn't feeling very sweet. She's feeling like she wants to win.

The bell rings.

Krystin and Lauren both leap forward with equal strength, going right for the shoulders, but neither falters. They step forward, then back, and Krystin's reminded of the time her dad took her to the father-daughter dance on Valentine's Day when she was seven. Then she remembers the time her dad taught her how to escape a captor—God forbid she ever got attacked when she went away to college—and does a variation on the move to destabilize Lauren and get her on the ground. Mud splatters on Lauren's face, and she squints in surprise.

"You okay, cupcake?" Krystin asks, her knee planted firmly on Lauren's pelvis.

Michael starts counting. "One, two—"

"I will be," Lauren mutters.

Then she pulls Krystin down with her, using the momentum to roll until she's practically straddling Krystin, her dark hair hanging in damp vines around her. She's so close that Krystin can smell her rose-scented face cream. They lie there for a moment, just breathing. Lauren is nearly covering Krystin's body with her own, her stomach pressing into Krystin's, her thighs pinning Krystin's in place. She feels warm, warmer than the mud, warm like the sun is hitting her, like she's in direct light. For a split second, she thinks she wants to hold Lauren there.

But then she hears the sports-like commentary from Michael, and she hears Josh chuckle, and she remembers. Krystin thinks she sees something flash across Lauren's face, but it's gone before she can decipher what it is.

"One—"

Krystin pushes up to flip Lauren over again, and they roll some more. Krystin has so much mud on her face that she can barely see, but she locates Lauren's wrist in the flurry of movement and wraps her fingers around it. Now she only has to—

"Ow!"

Krystin sits up, still pinning Lauren, knees on either side of her tiny torso. "What?"

Josh rushes to the side of the ring. "Lauren, are you okay?"

"I think—" Lauren starts, then gives a little gasp. "I think I'm injured."

"What?" Krystin repeats. "How?"

Lauren doesn't answer. She wriggles under Krystin's weight, and Krystin swings her leg around to release her. Lauren sits up, rubbing her arm.

"Where does it hurt?" Josh asks, leaning against the rubber ropes.

"Kind of everywhere," Lauren answers, only to him.

Krystin starts to feel like she's intruding on something. She just sits there, legs crossed, watching Josh watch Lauren whimper. "But I—"

"Let's get the medic over here?" Josh waves to one of the producers, then helps an almost comically shaky Lauren stand. Krystin's surprised no one's handed her a space blanket.

A person in scrubs meets them on the other side of the ropes and ushers Lauren to a corner of the room where a gurney stacked with medical supplies waits. Lauren looks back at Josh, and—is that a tear in her eye? Is she kidding?

Around her, the other girls stare in awe. Krystin's kind of impressed by the performance, except she's also fucking pissed.

"Josh," she calls, trudging through the mud to the edge of the ring.

He holds a finger up to Lauren on the gurney to gesture one minute, and Lauren nods solemnly. Then he rips his concerned gaze away and walks to Krystin. "Hey," he says.

"Hi." Krystin is suddenly very aware of her skin. It starts to feel itchy under all the mud, drying and caking behind her knees and in the crooks of her elbows. "I didn't hurt her, I swear. Or I didn't mean to, but seriously—" She lowers her voice. "I really don't know how she could have gotten hurt."

"Hey, hey, it's okay." Josh softens, and his eyes crinkle at the edges in a way that makes Krystin feel safe. "Accidents happen. That's why we have medical professionals on set."

Krystin shifts. "No, but—" There was no accident! I didn't do anything! She knows how to lose, and to lose with honor, but she didn't even lose. She didn't even get the chance.

Josh's eyes start to look less like comfort and more like pity. There's nothing she can say now; anything more and she'll start to look like a whiny baby. Things aren't always fair. Krystin learned that back when Toni Milburn told a barrel racing judge that Krystin moved a marker before a competition—a total, absolute lie which got her disqualified. She takes a breath, and steadies.

"I'm sorry. I really hope she's okay."

Josh puts his hand on top of hers, where she grips the rope. "Nothing to be sorry about." Then he steps back and turns to the rest of the room. "All right, I think that's enough wrestling for today. You guys really showed up!"

The women exchange looks, some of which are pointed toward Krystin. Krystin looks down at her feet. Or the mud.

"But what about Mud Queen?" Lily asks. She'd made it Round 3 too, but hadn't yet won her match.

Josh looks at Holland, who nods. "I know I promised some extra time to the Mud Queen, but since we've had to cut this short, we're not gonna have the chance to crown her today."

The women groan, and now Krystin's getting full death daggers.

"But," Josh says over the objections, "as much as I loved seeing you get dirty, I'd love to see how you all clean up later tonight."

They cheer.

"You're all invited to the Victor's Cocktail Hour, all right?"

Krystin's heart settles a little in her chest, not so much for the chance to see Josh but for the women having less to be mad at her for. She looks over at Lauren in the corner. Some PA is fanning her with a folded up People.

The producers start to lead them out of the wrestling room, all of them leaving muddy footprints in their wake.

"Thank God," Krystin hears Jen say from a few feet behind her. "I would have hated to have the whole date ruined just because some people don't know how to leave the competition in bumblefuck."

Krystin thinks about spinning around and showing Jen how girls from bumblefuck deal with twats from Fresno, but keeps walking without so much as a glance behind her.

The evening portion of the date is held in a fancy hotel lobby—the kind of hotel you see in those shows on TV about an undercover CIA agent or a torrid affair, that plays nondescript untz-untz music and has a giant fish tank in the middle of the room.

There is a fish tank, but there isn't any music. "They edit it in, in post," Lily tells her, which is kind of depressing because it means that they all have to sit in a big room listening to each other talk about the same guy.

"Wasn't this just so generous of him?" Madison asks the group, as they wait for Josh to join them. Lauren isn't there yet. Krystin wonders if she broke a bone out of pure determination.

"I think it was the least he could do," Jen says, and Krystin just keeps smiling.

Josh walks in, and they all commence with the giggle-greeting.

"What are we all talking about in here?" he asks with a grin.

Kaydie answers. "You, obviously!"

Josh fans the air in mock humility. "Me?"

The women laugh. Krystin tries to match their enthusiasm, but she's still preoccupied with the events of that day. She really doesn't want Josh to think she's some raving lunatic with anger management issues, even though when she thinks about it, she is angry, because what the fuck? Lauren C. is not only evidently untrustworthy and manipulative, but she's a cheater, and if there's one thing Krystin hates, it's cheaters.

While she's stewing, they break off into little sections.

Krystin turns to Sara-without-an-H next to her. "Where'd Josh go?"

Sara raises a tawny eyebrow. "Um, Lily literally just pulled him. Weren't you watching?"

"I guess I spaced out."

Sara shrugs, then turns back to her conversation. Krystin wishes she were drinking a whiskey neat, but all they ever serve is champagne, which Krystin doesn't even like. She hates bubbly drinks. She doesn't even like soda, and she hates Pop Rocks.

But she drinks it anyway, because there's nothing else to do. She knows she should go join a conversation so she doesn't seem like a loner, but she can't seem to focus on anything because she keeps seeing Lauren C.'s dumb face under her. It was just such a cheap move. She thought Lauren was smarter than that.

She wanders over to the fish tank, a large rectangle right smack in the center of the room, filled with tiny sharks and tinier fish. She watches them chase each other around through the glass, going in circles because there's nowhere else to go. She pictures Lauren again, squirming under her weight, and her cheeks get a little hot. She's just, like, so annoyed.

And then Lauren's body appears through the water, wavy and distorted, and Krystin thinks she's imagined it, until the other women stop chattering and turn toward her too. Krystin steps out from behind the fish tank to see for herself.

Lauren walks daintily down the little steps in her skinny little heels that she would never be able to balance in if she were actually injured, and—Krystin can't believe she's seeing it, but yes, there's an ACE bandage wrapped around her elbow, which is snuggled into a sling. Krystin almost drops her flute.

Lauren crosses the room to the love seats and tables the women have congregated around. "Hey, guys," she says, her voice like a ribbon unfurling.

"Oh my God, Lauren!" Madison says, jumping up to give Lauren a hug that Lauren seems not to actually want. "Are you okay, girly?"

"Yeah," Pia adds, pointing to the sling. "That looks serious."

"I'm okay," Lauren responds as soon as she shakes Madison off. "It's really not as bad as it looks."

I'm sure it isn't, Krystin thinks.

"I barely even need this," Lauren continues, gesturing to the sling. "It's really just to be completely safe."

"Totally." Hilarie nods. "Here—" She pats the cushion next to her. "Come sit."

Is everyone buying this? If they aren't, they're playing like they do. Krystin decides to play along. The more she sulks, the pettier she'll look.

"Lauren!" she says, running over to join the group. Lauren's taken the seat next to Hilarie, so Krystin towers above her. "I'm so glad you were still able to make it tonight."

Lauren smiles sweetly. "Same, even if I was a little late." She laughs like she just made a joke. "But seriously," she says, looking up at Krystin. "No hard feelings."

"For sure."

Lauren holds her gaze for a moment, then breaks away. "Where's Josh?"

"I think he's with Lily," Madison says.

Pia shakes her head. "No, I think Gabi interrupted them. See, Lily's over there." She points to a table where Lily sits with Sarah-with-an-H.

"Hm. Well, I'm gonna go find him," Lauren says, standing up even though she just sat down. "I just wanna make sure he knows I'm okay."

Krystin's pretty sure he already knows, or else this cocktail party wouldn't be happening, but whatever. She watches as Lauren excuses herself, and can't fight the nagging feeling that Lauren did all of this to her, on purpose. And then, as if proving Krystin right, Lauren tosses one more glance at her before she flips her ninety-percent cocoa hair behind her shoulders and walks away, swinging her hips purposefully in her silky dress.