Partner Games
Page 53
“This isn’t the last you’ve seen of the Price twins,” I agreed with a nod. It sounded like an appropriately cocky sort of thing to say.
Truth was, we’d blubbered out all of our tears earlier over noodles. We’d sat in the shade of a red-ribbon covered tree, chowed down on food, and wept over our loss. Then we’d composed ourselves, joked around through the last two individual challenges (and racked up a crapload of penalties with our goofing), and then sauntered our way to the finish line sometime around sunset.
Chip chuckled, and then made a cutting motion with his hand. “That’s a wrap,” he called out. Immediately, an assistant rushed forward with a bottle of water and placed it in Chip’s hand. “Get me out of this fucking place,” Chip called. “The altitude is making me frizz like a damn poodle. Where’s my helicopter?”
“No helicopter, I’m afraid,” his assistant stammered. “But we have a private cable car waiting to take you back down the mountain—“
“Whatever,” Chip said sourly, storming off. “This fucking show. God. You guys are so damn cheap.”
Georgie smothered a giggle as the assistant trotted off after Chip.
“I don’t know what he’s so grumpy about,” I murmured to my twin. “It’s not like they tried to get him to cross that stupid plank bridge.”
“Hi ladies,” one of the production crew said, approaching us. She waved us off to one side. “Come this way and we’ll tape your exit interviews. Then we’ll get you to a hotel room.”
I paused, craning my neck and looking around. There was always a crowd at the finish line of each leg of the race. In addition to the other racers, there were several crew, cameras, assistants, sound guys with microphones, and locals that stopped to watch the taping of things. I was really only interested in one face, though – Swift’s. I wanted to talk to him before we were shuffled off into loser land.
A glimpse of dark hair and a black t-shirt amidst the crowd caught my eye, and I saw Swift’s handsome face. He was standing behind a pair of tourists who were taking photos of the finish line, and stepped forward. The expression on his features was frustrated, his mouth a flat line.
“Go talk to him,” Georgie whispered to me, and gave me an encouraging nudge.
I nodded and pulled away from her, heading toward Swift. I wanted to tell him that it was okay. That I’d done it on purpose, because he needed the money and I was fine. That there was nothing to worry about. And to wish him luck.
Before I took two steps in his direction, the production crew member stepped in front of me and put her hand up. “Sorry, Clementine, but you know the rules.”
“Rules?”
“Eliminated contestants can’t talk to contestants still in the game.” She shook her head at me, frowning like I’d just piddled on the carpet or something. “Please stay with me and we’ll get you to your exit interview.”
“Oh, but…I just want to tell him good luck,” I said, glancing over at Swift again. Surely this wouldn’t be the last time I’d talk to him? We hadn’t even exchanged phone numbers.
“Well, the Black team is currently in third place, so you can see him if he makes it to the finish line,” the production assistant said, taking me by the arm and steering me back away.
Third place was good, I reassured myself as Georgie and I were shepherded away with the rest of the crew. They could still win this thing, and after Plate and Swift won, we’d all go out for a nice celebratory dinner. Hopefully.
~~ * * * ~~
“Can you imagine looks on the Red Hat ladies faces when they realized they came in fourth place and not third?” Georgie wiggled her feet against the edge of the bubble-bath filled tub and then puckered her mouth, trying to frown in imitation of one of the elderly ladies.
I rolled my eyes. “I wish it was the Green Machine instead of the Red Hat ladies. I can’t believe those jerks are going to finish ahead of us.”
“The world is a cruel and bitter place,” Georgie said in a sunny tone, and splashed her washcloth into the bathwater again.
“You’re in a good mood.” I sat cross legged on one of the hotel beds a few feet away from the bathroom and braided my wet hair. I was wearing a pair of complimentary World Races pajamas. I’d just finished showering, myself, and I had to admit that I felt almost human again. The World Races people had been great to us so far. They’d set us up in a luxury hotel room at one of the hotels at the top of Huangshan, and had given us kits of toiletries and snacks to make our stay pleasant. We couldn’t leave our rooms, according to production, until our flight out the next evening.
For the next twenty-four hours, we didn’t have to do anything but relax. No travel, no camel rides, no taxis that stank of cigarettes, no cramming down a PowerBar for a meal. We’d had room service, cleaned up, and were now relaxing in our hotel room.
It was almost pleasant.
I sighed and flopped forward on the bed as Georgie settled down into her suds again. “You think the guys are upset right now?”
“Mmm. Yes and no.”
I propped my chin up on my hand. “Yes and no?”
“Yes because we’re gone and we’re their buddies – and good to look at.” She winked at me. “No because that’s two less people in the race.”
“You’re not helping much.”
“Don’t moon over him. It’ll be fine.” Georgie scrubbed at her arm, frowning. “I think I have a weird tan-line from Morocco. Either that or there is some seriously stubborn henna on my arms.”
I rolled onto my back and stared up at the ceiling of the hotel room. “I wish I’d had a chance to talk to Swift before they head off to the next leg of the race.”
I heard the sound of splashing as Georgie washed herself. “So go find him.”
I sat up. “Find him?”
“Yeah.” She waved the washcloth at the hotel room door. “Go down to the front desk and ask if he’s staying here. There’re only three hotels on this mountain, and I’m guessing they don’t let a lot of people go traipsing down the side of their dangerous-ass mountain in the middle of the night. So they’re still here somewhere. Go find him and kiss his scowly face.”
“Scowly!?”
Georgie giggled. “I don’t know if you noticed, Clemmy, but just about the only thing that Swift doesn’t scowl at is you.”
I blushed and glanced at the door. “You really think I should?”
“What’s it gonna hurt?”
“They told us to stay in our rooms.”
“Well, we should totally obey all the rules then,” she said in an exaggerated voice and rolled her eyes. “Live a little, Clem. What’s the worst that’s going to happen? They kick you off the race?”
She had a good point.
I jumped off the bed and slipped my feet into an official pair of World Races flipflops (as part of our swag) and headed to the bedroom door. A quick peek out showed that the hall was empty. “Be right back,” I called to Georgie and slipped out. Now to just find someone at the front desk…
The moment I turned the corner down the hall, someone in security stopped me. He wore a headset and an official World Races logo on his t-shirt. “I’m sorry, Miss Clementine,” he said. “But you need to go back to your room.”
Truth was, we’d blubbered out all of our tears earlier over noodles. We’d sat in the shade of a red-ribbon covered tree, chowed down on food, and wept over our loss. Then we’d composed ourselves, joked around through the last two individual challenges (and racked up a crapload of penalties with our goofing), and then sauntered our way to the finish line sometime around sunset.
Chip chuckled, and then made a cutting motion with his hand. “That’s a wrap,” he called out. Immediately, an assistant rushed forward with a bottle of water and placed it in Chip’s hand. “Get me out of this fucking place,” Chip called. “The altitude is making me frizz like a damn poodle. Where’s my helicopter?”
“No helicopter, I’m afraid,” his assistant stammered. “But we have a private cable car waiting to take you back down the mountain—“
“Whatever,” Chip said sourly, storming off. “This fucking show. God. You guys are so damn cheap.”
Georgie smothered a giggle as the assistant trotted off after Chip.
“I don’t know what he’s so grumpy about,” I murmured to my twin. “It’s not like they tried to get him to cross that stupid plank bridge.”
“Hi ladies,” one of the production crew said, approaching us. She waved us off to one side. “Come this way and we’ll tape your exit interviews. Then we’ll get you to a hotel room.”
I paused, craning my neck and looking around. There was always a crowd at the finish line of each leg of the race. In addition to the other racers, there were several crew, cameras, assistants, sound guys with microphones, and locals that stopped to watch the taping of things. I was really only interested in one face, though – Swift’s. I wanted to talk to him before we were shuffled off into loser land.
A glimpse of dark hair and a black t-shirt amidst the crowd caught my eye, and I saw Swift’s handsome face. He was standing behind a pair of tourists who were taking photos of the finish line, and stepped forward. The expression on his features was frustrated, his mouth a flat line.
“Go talk to him,” Georgie whispered to me, and gave me an encouraging nudge.
I nodded and pulled away from her, heading toward Swift. I wanted to tell him that it was okay. That I’d done it on purpose, because he needed the money and I was fine. That there was nothing to worry about. And to wish him luck.
Before I took two steps in his direction, the production crew member stepped in front of me and put her hand up. “Sorry, Clementine, but you know the rules.”
“Rules?”
“Eliminated contestants can’t talk to contestants still in the game.” She shook her head at me, frowning like I’d just piddled on the carpet or something. “Please stay with me and we’ll get you to your exit interview.”
“Oh, but…I just want to tell him good luck,” I said, glancing over at Swift again. Surely this wouldn’t be the last time I’d talk to him? We hadn’t even exchanged phone numbers.
“Well, the Black team is currently in third place, so you can see him if he makes it to the finish line,” the production assistant said, taking me by the arm and steering me back away.
Third place was good, I reassured myself as Georgie and I were shepherded away with the rest of the crew. They could still win this thing, and after Plate and Swift won, we’d all go out for a nice celebratory dinner. Hopefully.
~~ * * * ~~
“Can you imagine looks on the Red Hat ladies faces when they realized they came in fourth place and not third?” Georgie wiggled her feet against the edge of the bubble-bath filled tub and then puckered her mouth, trying to frown in imitation of one of the elderly ladies.
I rolled my eyes. “I wish it was the Green Machine instead of the Red Hat ladies. I can’t believe those jerks are going to finish ahead of us.”
“The world is a cruel and bitter place,” Georgie said in a sunny tone, and splashed her washcloth into the bathwater again.
“You’re in a good mood.” I sat cross legged on one of the hotel beds a few feet away from the bathroom and braided my wet hair. I was wearing a pair of complimentary World Races pajamas. I’d just finished showering, myself, and I had to admit that I felt almost human again. The World Races people had been great to us so far. They’d set us up in a luxury hotel room at one of the hotels at the top of Huangshan, and had given us kits of toiletries and snacks to make our stay pleasant. We couldn’t leave our rooms, according to production, until our flight out the next evening.
For the next twenty-four hours, we didn’t have to do anything but relax. No travel, no camel rides, no taxis that stank of cigarettes, no cramming down a PowerBar for a meal. We’d had room service, cleaned up, and were now relaxing in our hotel room.
It was almost pleasant.
I sighed and flopped forward on the bed as Georgie settled down into her suds again. “You think the guys are upset right now?”
“Mmm. Yes and no.”
I propped my chin up on my hand. “Yes and no?”
“Yes because we’re gone and we’re their buddies – and good to look at.” She winked at me. “No because that’s two less people in the race.”
“You’re not helping much.”
“Don’t moon over him. It’ll be fine.” Georgie scrubbed at her arm, frowning. “I think I have a weird tan-line from Morocco. Either that or there is some seriously stubborn henna on my arms.”
I rolled onto my back and stared up at the ceiling of the hotel room. “I wish I’d had a chance to talk to Swift before they head off to the next leg of the race.”
I heard the sound of splashing as Georgie washed herself. “So go find him.”
I sat up. “Find him?”
“Yeah.” She waved the washcloth at the hotel room door. “Go down to the front desk and ask if he’s staying here. There’re only three hotels on this mountain, and I’m guessing they don’t let a lot of people go traipsing down the side of their dangerous-ass mountain in the middle of the night. So they’re still here somewhere. Go find him and kiss his scowly face.”
“Scowly!?”
Georgie giggled. “I don’t know if you noticed, Clemmy, but just about the only thing that Swift doesn’t scowl at is you.”
I blushed and glanced at the door. “You really think I should?”
“What’s it gonna hurt?”
“They told us to stay in our rooms.”
“Well, we should totally obey all the rules then,” she said in an exaggerated voice and rolled her eyes. “Live a little, Clem. What’s the worst that’s going to happen? They kick you off the race?”
She had a good point.
I jumped off the bed and slipped my feet into an official pair of World Races flipflops (as part of our swag) and headed to the bedroom door. A quick peek out showed that the hall was empty. “Be right back,” I called to Georgie and slipped out. Now to just find someone at the front desk…
The moment I turned the corner down the hall, someone in security stopped me. He wore a headset and an official World Races logo on his t-shirt. “I’m sorry, Miss Clementine,” he said. “But you need to go back to your room.”
