As the host opened the voting, the producers gathered together.

"This is fantastic," whispered the middle producer. "Reuben, Mimi, look how much traction we're getting online."

"Half of that is people drooling over Miss. Idaho. And mocking her," the youngest producer muttered, almost hiding behind her green hair.

"Both?" the oldest producer asked. He shrugged. "I don't see the appeal."

"Breasts and butts are made of fat stores too," the middle producer said, scrolling through her phone. "I guess people want to pick and choose what parts of her are big. Anyway, the part that matters: all these comments are racking up views. Like, a lot of views. Guys, I think -- next season -- we could ask for raises. 15 mil each? Maybe 20?"

"I quit," the youngest producer blurted.

The oldest producer blanched. "Mimi? What are you on? This is a dream job. You'll never have a chance like this."

The middle producer rubbed the youngest producer's shoulders. "Hey, honey, I get it. I know your divorce is fresh...and, look, I know Joe wasn't a great guy. Some of those stories, the more contentious ones, must have been hard to hear. And Miss. Connecticut was cruel to use your name."

"No. She was kind." The youngest producer gulped. "I think I like those girls more than I like you two."

The middle and oldest producers exchanged a glance, and the intern ducked her head into her hoodie to hide her laughter. "W...Mimi, if that's what you actually think--"

"Goodbye. And fuck this." The youngest producer gathered her things and hurried away. The remaining producers watched her leave, and then shrugged and returned to their work.

----------------------------------------

Back in their dressing room, Miss. Oregon hugged Miss. Connecticut. "You blew us away, Ximena."

"Thanks, hon." Miss. Connecticut hugged her back. "If they wanna humiliate us like this, we'd better bite back, y'know?" She turned on Miss. Illinois. "Like you. Freaking amazing, babe."

Miss. Illinois smirked, although it looked a little forced. "Thanks. It felt good. I wish I could have lasted until the swimsuit portion, though -- I've worked hard on this body."

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"It shows," Miss. Hawaii asserted.

"Hey, we should start a group chat. We could stay in contact after half of us are eliminated," Miss. Maine said, pulling out her phone.

"Can someone explain Ximena's story to me?" Miss. Pennsylvania asked meekly as the phone was passed along. "Also, where's Deirdre?"

"If you didn't get it, that's probably a good thing," Miss. Idaho said.

"I think I heard Deirdre getting yelled at by a "Juliya" over the phone, in the other room," Miss. Delaware added. Miss. Pennsylvania flinched in empathy.

"Oh, speaking of -- Ximena, why did you use one of the producers' names in your story?" Miss. New Mexico asked. "I can't imagine she liked that."

Miss. Connecticut shrugged. "I guess I wanted them to take this stupid contest as seriously as they're making us take it. And, I dunno. I can't say I didn't feel bad for her, when her divorce went down. And so publicly, too. I guess that's the risk of dating high-profile actors, but she didn't deserve that humiliation."

"What happened?" Miss. Wyoming asked.

"Oh, right, you're not on social media. Crazy girl. Mimi's ex was just a real Rupert Mannion type, if you've ever watched Ted Lasso."

"What's that?"

"Oh, girl, you've gotta watch Ted Lasso. It's so good," Miss. Arkansas interjected.

Miss. Connecticut waved Miss. Wyoming off. "Older dude, pretty famous, really charismatic and manipulative. For his midlife crisis, he's making himself out to be some macho playboy. Dude trades his girlfriends for a newer model the moment the first grey hair or, god forbid, love handle, appears, which is funny, because he's gotta be pushing 50. I don't like the producers on this show, but--."

The door swung open, and the youngest producer entered. Miss. Connecticut stopped short.

"Hi, girls," the youngest producer said awkwardly. Her eyes were still red. "I just wanted...I wanted to say thanks." She gulped. "I learned a lot from you ladies."

The contestants looked between themselves. "You're welcome," Miss. Pennsylvania finally said. "Are...are you okay?"

The producer smiled through her tears. "I'll be okay. I quit the show." The contestants exchanged glances again, this time in shock. "You know, I, uh, have a lot of connections in the industry. If any of you ladies want to use these platforms you're growing to get a book deal or something, let me know. I can probably lend a hand."

The contestants murmured thanks in an ill-choreographed chorus. The youngest producer looked down, looked back to the door, and began to shuffle out.

"Wait. Mimi," Miss. Illinois said. "Uh...can I give you a hug?"

The youngest producer wavered, thrown off. "Um, sure. Yes. Thank you, Gabby." Miss. Illinois crossed the room and wrapped her arms around the taller woman. "You're better than this show and that man, okay?" she murmured into the youngest producer's green hair. The youngest producer melted into her arms crying.

"Thank you," she whispered. She took a moment to squeeze Miss. Illinois. "I don't know who motivated you to tell your story--but you're worth more than than them too, you hear?"

Miss. Illinois shuddered. "Thank you."

The youngest producer finally pulled away, and Miss. Illinois rubbed away a tear. "I think the voting is going to wrap up any minute now. Whatever the results, know you've had a big impact." With that, she left the contestants in a heavy silence.