Page 50 of Fan Favorite

A fter almost twenty years of freedom, Bennett Charles was right back where he started: bound by the shackles of a high school band uniform.

He stared at the pageantry in the mirror, first at the red and white jacket with the epaulets at the shoulders and the gold buttons running down the chest that should’ve been too tight, but when he’d windmilled his arms, stretched his chest, and then his triceps, bending and pulling his elbow behind his head, not one seam protested—just another reminder that every second he remained on this show, he was losing inches and gains.

Conversely, the red polyester bibbers were too tight against his anxious stomach, and the subsequent flatulence was just another lure to the ghost of Charlie Bennett, who he could feel hovering—a shadow, a specter, a body-snatcher, ever present when Bennett was vulnerable or weak.

A PA knocked on the bathroom door.

Reluctantly, Bennett slid on his white gloves and placed the pièce de resistance—the white shako with its towering red plume—upon his head.

And there he was.

Charlie Bennett.

First thing this morning, they’d sequestered Bennett in a hotel conference room.

Something was wrong. No one would tell him anything. He knew it was bad. Still, it couldn’t be that bad.

But then Carole Steele walked in.

She was the same as Bennett remembered—tight dress, towering heels, that particular air of derision—and any confidence Bennett might have left evaporated as she sat down.

“Edie’s gone,” Carole announced.

It took him a second to process. Edie was gone?

Bennett frantically racked his brain, scrolling through a whirlwind of dates and time zones to the last time he’d seen her.

Okay, it was on the boat in Scotland. She’d been drunk.

And, sure, a little crazy. But all the girls were, like, a lot right now.

Managing their feelings was a full-time job.

Wasn’t that what was so special about Edie?

Once they’d gotten used to each other again, their relationship felt like it had when they were kids.

Uncomplicated and steady. So, why would she have left?

Wasn’t Edie his North Star in a sea of starlets?

“Uh, where did she go?” Bennett started to feel sick. Chicago was the place he felt the most insecure. He did not want to be here without her. He looked at his watch. “We’re supposed to start filming the lock-in in an hour.”

“If we knew where she was, it would make things simpler.” Carole crossed her arms over her chest. “But as it stands now, it looks like you and me, we’ve got a big problem on our hands.”

Bennett wasn’t sure he could deal with any more problems. The past two months had almost killed him.

At the beginning, The Key was like this epic party where he was living every man’s dream, with twenty gorgeous women panting for him day and night.

But then Edie showed up and all at once it was no longer just silly dates and making out with hotties—every single thing he said or did became some commentary on who he was, Bennett Charles or Charlie Bennett.

Still, despite all the machinations, Bennett had believed he could make it out of here intact. And maybe even in love.

But then, like some cosmic wake-up call, that volleyball had smacked him right in the fucking face.

He’d broken his nose (again), and this part of himself, the Charlie Bennett of it all, crept closer.

He hadn’t wanted to take Edie to the prom, but then spending time with her had felt warm and something like home.

He’d been easily swept up in the music, the dancing, the kissing, the nostalgia.

The way Jessa hopped around and enthusiastically hugged him on breaks, so excited that Bennett and Edie were connecting, just like she knew they would, because they had all this history between them.

It had felt great, hadn’t it? To not only find in Edie something that felt like love, but also to stop fighting, to give everyone what they wanted?

But after the prom, production had him going out with two to three girls a day , cycling through encounters so quickly it made his head spin.

He had no emotional clarity at all. When he was with Edie, he loved Edie.

When he was with Bailey, he loved Bailey.

When he was with Zo, he loved Zo. Or at least wanted her.

No one understood the pressure. At cocktail parties, the women would argue about who got to talk to him—literally pulling him by the arms like Stretch Armstrong.

On the nights before Key ceremonies, he couldn’t sleep, and his stomach would be in knots.

The tears, the hate, the physical assault he had to bear as he let them go, one by one.

But, finally , a light at the end of the tunnel—the lock-ins.

Just days ago, he’d been in Santa Barbara for Bailey’s lock-in.

They’d ridden horses at sunset. Cooked vegan enchiladas with her mom.

Played pickleball on the home court with her dad.

Made s’mores by the firepit and kissed under the stars.

Every moment there felt right. She was beautiful and patient and sweet, and they talked about everything .

And then, when the cameras were finally gone and they were cuddling in bed together, he didn’t even try to sleep with her, even though he really fucking wanted to, because Bailey wasn’t just one of the four remaining contestants, she was one in a million.

Bennett wasn’t even sure if Bailey would say yes.

But he was sure that the reason he’d endured all this trauma was to find The One. And she was it.

Now it struck Bennett that maybe Edie leaving wasn’t a problem.

Maybe Edie leaving was an opportunity .

“Is it the worst thing if Edie is gone?” he began, trying to sound nonchalant.

Production had never stopped pushing the “Bennett gets engaged to Edie” storyline, and even though he loved Edie, he knew now it was more friendship than romance.

Could they have a life together? Probably a great one.

She was a solid, steady choice. But Bailey, that’s who he was crazy for.

“Because I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Bailey. Maybe it’s okay—”

“No, it’s not fucking okay ,” Carole seethed.

Carole pulled a MacBook out of her bag. She proceeded to unveil a PowerPoint deck synthesizing the latest press, social media chatter, data, and metrics.

Quickly it became clear that without even trying, Edie had captured the hearts of all the gals and gays in America.

Fan accounts, trending tweets, tabloid articles, TikTok tutorials (“Get Edie Pepper’s No-Look Look in 5 Minutes or Less!

”), media mentions, and soaring ratings.

Next slide. Even her gifs and memes were adorable.

Next slide. His were mockery. Bennett crying.

Bennett with a bloodied nose. Bennett tripping off his motorcycle.

Next slide. The Q Score that measured his brand appeal had tanked.

Next slide . The countless tweets that made him out to be, on a good day, a callous player, and on a bad one, borderline #MeToo. Next slide, next slide, next slide.

Peter had told Bennett that there’d been a lot of gossip and social media chatter after Zo left—they’d had him put out that statement on Instagram (well, they’d had him provide his login info so they could put out that statement on his Instagram)—but the sheer amount of hate was staggering .

Instead of a tough, sexy mountain man, he was pathetic. And everyone knew it. A very old fear washed over him. No one liked him. No one had ever liked him.

“Do you understand what I just showed you?” Carole asked.

He nodded.

“No. You don’t.” Carole leaned forward and looked him dead in the eye.

“We gave you an entire television show, millions of eyeballs, and a PR machine, and you still managed to fuck it up with your dumb ideas and dirty dick. You shit the bed. Because you were certain you knew better.” She sat back and crossed her legs, one elegant stiletto casually arcing through the air.

“You handed the show to Edie Pepper.” She snapped the laptop shut.

“Do you get it now? She’s the one America is obsessed with.

She’s the star. You made yourself irrelevant. ”

Bennett thought he might vomit. Just a second ago he thought he might walk out of here with Bailey and that all his wildest dreams could come true. But now, the idea of rejoining the real world as the most hated man in America was nauseating.

“So, Bennett, tell me, because I’d love to know,” Carole said now.

“How are we going to have a finale when no one gives a shit about you or your love story?” She placed her claws on his forearm and snapped him to attention.

“I would hate for you to end up on that mountaintop, all alone, because no one will have you.”

He looked in her eyes and understood, maybe for the first time, that from the moment he’d walked into the RX offices, they’d owned him.

He should’ve been smarter. Interrogated their power and the risks.

But he’d been certain he deserved not only a hot wife, but internet adoration, because wasn’t he special?

Hadn’t he done every single thing in his power to make himself so? But now the truth could not be denied.

He was a fool.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked finally.

“Get Edie back, of course!” Carole exclaimed. “Ask her to marry you! Declare your love and slide a rock—that I paid for—onto her finger! What you do after that, I don’t really care. But you’re not leaving until you give America what they want. A happy fucking ending.”

Bennett Charles was in love.

Truly, madly, deeply in love with his high school—and America’s!—sweetheart Edie Pepper.

Or at the very least, he was determined to look like he was.