A Conversation with Sam

Andy and Sam walked together along the high tide line, where the sand was firm underfoot and the wind off the water felt sharp enough to cut through even the thickest anxiety. Sam matched his pace without comment, sometimes a step ahead, sometimes a half-stride behind. They were the only two humans in sight, and their only other company was the forlorn cries of seagulls flying overhead. At least, Andy thought they were seagulls, although he thought there was something wrong with the shape of their wings.

For a while, neither said anything. Andy didn't want to break the silence. Sam respected it, and let her gaze drift out to the blank blue of the horizon, where the sun was already slanting low. The sky looked like it had been painted on in layers: cobalt at the top, washed out to hazy gold near the waterline. It was too beautiful to be comforting, and too swift to be natural.

It was Sam who finally broke first, as she always did when Andy's thoughts started to spiral. “So,” she said, hands in her back pockets, “do we have a plan yet, or are we just walking in circles until the Host pipes up again?” She kicked at a piece of driftwood, sending it spinning toward a gull that squawked in protest.

“Is there a plan to have?” Andy said. “You saw what Arabella’s like. She’s got every move already choreographed.” He tried to smile. “You see how she handled the arrivals. Not exactly subtle.”

“I thought that was your type,” Sam said, nudging him with her elbow. “Tall, dramatic, emotionally unreadable.”

“Never said I liked it,” Andy replied. He tried to sound dry, but it came out flat. He looked down at the sand and watched as his shoes left perfect, obliterated prints with every step.

Sam gave him a long look, as if weighing the exact right moment to press. “You gonna tell me what happened since you woke up here, or are we skipping right to the recap episode?”

Andy exhaled. “Sure. Let’s get you up to speed.” He tried to order his thoughts, but everything about the last hours felt blurry, out of sequence. “First thing I remember is waking up in that suite. Purple silk pajamas, the weird view, everything. I barely had time to look around before Arabella showed up and started with the whole ‘Master of the Harem’ speech.”

“Let me guess,” Sam said. “She monologued you into submission.”

“More like she sweet-talked me into confusion. She kept calling me the center of the universe, then kept dodging every question I threw at her.” Andy paused. “I thought maybe it was a cult. Did you see how she called Dawn out on that? Or, I don't know, a simulation. Something. But then the Contestants started showing up, and—”

Sam cut in. “It’s weird that everyone here is connected to you, isn’t it?”

He hesitated. “You noticed that too?”

“It’s not exactly subtle, man. I remember Erin from college, and Liesa by reputation. The others… I don’t know, but the way Claire looked at you was not neutral. And Dawn practically bowed the second you talked to her.” She waited, then added, “Am I missing something, or are you secretly a Disney prince?”

Andy snorted. “If I’m a Disney prince, I missed the lesson about emotional literacy.” He shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t even know why half these women are here. It’s not like I had an ongoing thing with most of them. Some I barely knew at all.”

They walked a few steps in silence. “Start with Claire,” Sam said. “What’s the story?”

Andy winced. “High school friend. Sort of. She was… well, she was the first girl I liked since middle school, and also the first to completely ignore that fact. We were friends, but when it mattered—” He broke off, remembering the look on Claire’s face when she realized who he was. “Never mind. It’s ancient history.”

Sam’s tone softened. “Didn’t seem ancient, the way you looked at her.”

Andy shrugged. “Maybe. It’s just—when she sat down today, it felt like we’d picked up an old conversation mid-sentence. But then, before I could get my head straight, Dawn showed up, and it got weird.”

Sam grinned. “You mean weirder.”

Andy nodded, grateful for the correction. “Weirder. Dawn’s from The Harrington, the hotel I always stayed at for work trips these last few months. I only talked to her at the front desk. She remembered my name, which is more than I can say about myself half the time, but that was it. There was never anything… I mean, she wasn’t—” He stopped, searching for the right word. “She wasn’t part of my story.”

Sam was silent for a moment, then said, “She seems nice, though. Like, one of the few girls here who aren’t actively planning your ****.”

Andy half-smiled. “Yeah, but that’s why it bothers me. Why would Arabella pull her into this? Why not someone who actually matters to me?” Of course, he thought to himself, morosely, that would require that there be other women to whom I matter.

Sam kept walking, chewing on that. “You think she’s a red herring? Or… what do you call it, a control variable?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just another way for Arabella to screw with my head.”

Sam nodded, her face drawn in thought. “What about the others? Marissa—that’s Dr. Holt, right?”

Andy looked at her, surprised. “How did you—”

Sam made a face. “You said the name a couple times when you called me drunk last year. I remember because you never do that. Call me drunk, I mean.”

Andy groaned. “God, that’s embarrassing.”

“Don’t be. She sounds smart. And hot, to be honest. What’s her angle here?”

“She was… is… my therapist. That’s it. I mean, I admired her, but nothing happened between us. She kept things strictly professional.”

Sam considered. “But Arabella said something about every Contestant having a… what did she call it? ‘Sentimental entanglement’ with you.”

“Exactly,” Andy said, frustration in his voice. “But that doesn’t make sense. Most of these women have never even—” He trailed off.

Sam finished for him. “—looked at you that way?”

He nodded, then watched the surf for a while, tracking the ragged line where the water met the shore.

“I’m going to ask the question,” Sam said, “even though you’ll hate me for it: Do you think Arabella’s right? That there’s something connecting you to all of them? Or is it just her being a manipulative drama queen?”

Andy didn’t answer at first. He thought about the looks he’d gotten from each woman—the flashes of fear, hurt, anger, betrayal. Even those who had been friendly… Not one of them had looked at him the way he wished someone would, but maybe that was the point.

“I don’t know,” he said. “But if there is a connection, I don’t see it.”

Sam snorted. “I do. You’re a people collector. You think about everyone, all the time, even after they’re gone. You worry about more people than you think. Maybe Arabella’s just gathering your collection and shoving it back in your face.”

Andy grimaced. “That’s… disturbing.”

Sam shrugged. “What about me, then? Am I just a pawn in your collection? Because you know I’m not into guys.”

Andy laughed, genuinely this time. “You’re the only one here by choice, Sam. I’m pretty sure Arabella didn’t even plan on you coming. You probably hijacked some other perfectly legitimate ****, didn’t you?”

She grinned, the familiar wicked gleam in her eye. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But for the record, if this is some kind of harem thing, I’m not putting on a cocktail dress for the finale.”

“I’d pay good money to see that,” Andy said, and immediately regretted it when Sam waggled her eyebrows and did a mock twirl, nearly tripping on a broken shell.

“Okay,” she said, sobering. “So what’s the deal with Erin and Liesa? I mean, Erin I remember, you certainly vented enough about her. But Liesa?”

Andy sighed. “Erin was my last serious girlfriend, yeah. It ended badly. She’s still mad at me, for good reason. Liesa was a college thing—a few months, then she left without a word. Honestly, I’d forgotten about her until she showed up today.”

Sam raised her eyebrows. “You forgot about the only Belgian art student you ever dated? Shame, Andy.”

He made a face. “It’s not like that. She was great, but I always thought she was out of my league. When she left, it was… whatever.”

Sam gave him a look. “You really are an idiot sometimes, you know that?”

He grinned, but it faded quickly. “Maybe. Anyway, that’s everyone except Emi, and I don’t want to talk about her right now.”

Sam frowned. “Why not?”

Andy shook his head, eyes fixed on the pale foam of the surf. “Emi was a friend. We lost touch a long time ago. She was always a bit… lost in her own world. But the Emi I saw today, the way she acted when she showed up—it was like she didn’t even live in our world.”

Sam was silent for a while, letting that settle. Then she said, “Maybe she didn’t want to.”

He looked at her. “You’re probably right.”

They walked in silence a bit longer, letting the rhythm of the ocean fill the spaces between thoughts. Andy felt lighter for having said it all out loud, but the underlying dread was still there, gnawing at the edge of every memory. The sense that none of this was coincidence, and that the real show hadn’t even started yet.

“Sam,” Andy said, voice low. “I know I’ve made a mess of things with a lot of people, but I really don’t want to screw this up with you.”

She stopped, **** him to meet her gaze. “You haven’t. Not even a little bit. Whatever’s going on here, we’re in it together. I won’t let Arabella mess with your head. Or, if she does, I’ll prank her right back. That’s my solemn vow as your self-appointed bodyguard.”

Andy grinned, feeling the old confidence return, just for a second. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she said, resuming their walk. “I’ve got a feeling the next round is going to be a lot weirder.”

He nodded, letting the words hang there as a challenge and a promise.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, letting the sound of the surf wash over them. In the far distance, the sky was already starting to shade into indigo. Andy watched the fading light, the long shadows drawing lines across the sand, and thought about the web of connections that bound them all together.

He was the Master, whatever that meant, and everyone here was tied to him in ways he hadn’t bothered to understand. It made him uncomfortable, and a little afraid. But with Sam at his side, the fear was… manageable. Almost familiar.

As they looped back toward the main path, Sam nudged him again. “We should probably head back soon. If I’ve learned anything from every bad reality show ever, the Host always has a twist waiting.”

Andy glanced at the sun, then at the perfect, untouched footprints trailing behind them. “Yeah,” he said. “Let’s get it over with.”