Wicked Games
Page 37
I walked carefully forward in my swingy little green dress that brought out my eyes and matched my only pair of heeled sandals on the island. Moving from the darkness into the lights of the council stage blinded me for a moment, and I concentrated on walking to the spot the producers pointed me to. I moved there and sat down elegantly on the carved wooden stool, then crossed my long legs, folded my hands, and stared at my enemies.
Lana and Dean looked filthy and exhausted. Lana’s fragility was obvious, but there was a hidden core of strength to her and her posture was defiant. My gaze slid to Dean. He was more casual, leaning over one knee and resting his weight there. His cheeks were a little more hollow than I remembered, and his clothing was filthy, but he sat up straight as I walked in, and his eyes followed me. I ignored him, my back stiff with tightly wound anger as the other jurors filed in. He tried to meet my eyes, but I looked away.
Chip smiled at all of us as we sat. “Welcome to the final Judgment,” he said in his best game-show voice. “It’s been a long journey to get here—six weeks on the island. During that time, you’ve learned a little bit about each other, and you’ve competed together. You’ve fought hard to get where you are, but you’ve burned some bridges along the way. It’s inevitable. And now it’s their turn to judge you.” He turned to the jury and gave us a brilliant smile, made all the more leering by the shadows. “Each of you will have the chance to interview the last two contestants, and when the interview is over, you’ll cast your jury ballot. Vote for who you want to be the two million dollar winner.” His eyes gleamed in the torchlight. “Understand?”
The jury nodded.
“Let’s begin with…” Chip reached into a bag and pulled out a name written on a seashell. He flipped it over in his hand. “Leon. Stand up and ask your questions.”
The big, tattooed man moved forward, and Lana turned to watch him. I took that moment to sneak a peek at Dean.
His gaze was still on me. Flustered, I broke eye contact and looked over to Leon, who was speaking. “Lana,” Leon began, “did you, or did you not, make an alliance with all of us on this island?”
She gave a sly smile. “I did. I approached Will first and then Dean and Abby since their camp was next to ours. Then when we had the switch, I suggested an alliance with you. And I had you pull in your old partner, and Will pulled in his. Then it was easy for me to approach the others and offer them the same thing—final four.” She gave a small, unconcerned shrug. “You have to do some lying to get ahead in this game. It’s unavoidable.”
Leon turned toward Dean and gestured. “Is that true? Did you have to lie to get ahead in this game?”
“Yes,” said Dean immediately.
My eyebrow went up.
“You want to elaborate?” Leon crossed his arms over his chest, a scowl on his face.
Dean shook his head. “Nope.”
Leon glanced back at Chip and then moved back to his seat.
“All right, we’ll move to the next member of the jury.” Chip pulled out another shell and examined it. “Abby, you’re up next.”
My heart gave a painful nervous thump. I stood, unclasping my sweaty hands, and moved to the center of the stage. One of the cameramen zoomed in on me and that made me suddenly tense. Swallowing hard, I met the gaze of the two contestants sitting across the fire from me. Lana had a confident smile on her face, but I’d expected that from her. She knew how to work people. What I hadn’t expected was the smile on Dean’s face. His gaze was possessive as he regarded me, his eyes roaming over my figure, and he wore a smile like we shared a secret.
I wanted to punch it off of his face. I cleared my throat, kept my expression calm, and focused on the two. “I’ll start with Dean,” I said in a light, careful voice. “Dean, did you fuck me to make sure you’d have my vote?”
His smile was replaced by a frown and then a scowl. “No, of course not.”
I turned immediately to Lana. “My question for you—is he lying?”
She glanced over at Dean and a small, smug smile touched her mouth. “He told me he was stringing you along for your vote.”
“Now wait a minute–” Dean began.
Chip interrupted. “I’m sorry, Dean, but you had your chance to speak. Abby, did you have any further questions?”
I felt ice cold as I stared at the two of them. My eyes narrowed at Dean and I scowled back. “No. No more questions. I found out what I needed to know.”
I turned and went back to my seat.
The rest of the questions passed in a blur to me. I clasped my hands hard in my lap so I wouldn’t cry or anything embarrassing like that. I focused so hard on keeping my icy composure that the council blurred for me. Lana answered all questions glibly, freely admitting to scheming her way to the top of the pile. Dean seemed less inclined to answer quite so easily—his responses were terse and sometimes angry. It reminded me of him when we’d first gotten to the island.
“Those are all the questions,” Chip said. “Now it’s time for the jury to vote who they want to win the prize. Abby, we’ll start with you.”
I stood and walked carefully to the voting booth. A stack of blank slates was there waiting, and I took one and laid it flat, then carefully wrote a name on the front.
The cameraman waiting there spoke to me. “Can you hold up your slate and explain to the audience why you voted the way you did?”
Very calmly, I held up the slate and revealed the name.
Lana.
“I’m voting for you, Lana,” I said, and I couldn’t even be gleeful about it. I was just tired and hurt. “You have my vote because you admitted to lying, and you never tried to get in my pants to get what you wanted in this game. Dean, I did not vote for you.” My voice threatened to wobble but I rushed past it, my words spilling over themselves in a hurry to get out while my voice was strong and I was composed. “I’m sure that ruins all your little plans for world domination, and I hope it does. I hope you slept with every woman on this island and I hope your dick falls off because of it. You are the worst kind of person to sleep with a woman just because you wanted her vote. I actually thought there was something below that shallow surface of yours, but it looks like I’m the biggest idiot on this island, right? No longer. Lana, I hope you enjoy your two million dollars.”
And I dropped the slate into the voting box.
Chapter Thirteen
I can’t wait for this to be over. Now maybe we can get back to being normal again. And I can’t wait to talk to Abby. It’s been a long three weeks without her. I miss her.—Dean Woodall, Last Day of the Game
Once the final vote was cast, the producers moved into action. The jury was separated and shuffled away, reminded of our non-disclosure agreements. We weren’t allowed to discuss our votes, or anything about the show until the finale aired on national TV a few months in the future. Each of the cast members was assigned a media escort that would follow us like a dog until we boarded the plane and went on with our lives. I was fine with that—I just wanted to get home.
So I quietly packed my things and closed up my cabin and followed my escort out to the gravel parking lot where all the show’s vehicles were parked. One or two of the cast had already left, and more were getting ready to depart. I saw Chip chatting with one of the cameramen. A few of the others hung back, talking while their media escorts waited, analyzing every word of conversation with a frown on their faces. Waiting nearby was Lana, and she scowled at the sight of me.
Lana and Dean looked filthy and exhausted. Lana’s fragility was obvious, but there was a hidden core of strength to her and her posture was defiant. My gaze slid to Dean. He was more casual, leaning over one knee and resting his weight there. His cheeks were a little more hollow than I remembered, and his clothing was filthy, but he sat up straight as I walked in, and his eyes followed me. I ignored him, my back stiff with tightly wound anger as the other jurors filed in. He tried to meet my eyes, but I looked away.
Chip smiled at all of us as we sat. “Welcome to the final Judgment,” he said in his best game-show voice. “It’s been a long journey to get here—six weeks on the island. During that time, you’ve learned a little bit about each other, and you’ve competed together. You’ve fought hard to get where you are, but you’ve burned some bridges along the way. It’s inevitable. And now it’s their turn to judge you.” He turned to the jury and gave us a brilliant smile, made all the more leering by the shadows. “Each of you will have the chance to interview the last two contestants, and when the interview is over, you’ll cast your jury ballot. Vote for who you want to be the two million dollar winner.” His eyes gleamed in the torchlight. “Understand?”
The jury nodded.
“Let’s begin with…” Chip reached into a bag and pulled out a name written on a seashell. He flipped it over in his hand. “Leon. Stand up and ask your questions.”
The big, tattooed man moved forward, and Lana turned to watch him. I took that moment to sneak a peek at Dean.
His gaze was still on me. Flustered, I broke eye contact and looked over to Leon, who was speaking. “Lana,” Leon began, “did you, or did you not, make an alliance with all of us on this island?”
She gave a sly smile. “I did. I approached Will first and then Dean and Abby since their camp was next to ours. Then when we had the switch, I suggested an alliance with you. And I had you pull in your old partner, and Will pulled in his. Then it was easy for me to approach the others and offer them the same thing—final four.” She gave a small, unconcerned shrug. “You have to do some lying to get ahead in this game. It’s unavoidable.”
Leon turned toward Dean and gestured. “Is that true? Did you have to lie to get ahead in this game?”
“Yes,” said Dean immediately.
My eyebrow went up.
“You want to elaborate?” Leon crossed his arms over his chest, a scowl on his face.
Dean shook his head. “Nope.”
Leon glanced back at Chip and then moved back to his seat.
“All right, we’ll move to the next member of the jury.” Chip pulled out another shell and examined it. “Abby, you’re up next.”
My heart gave a painful nervous thump. I stood, unclasping my sweaty hands, and moved to the center of the stage. One of the cameramen zoomed in on me and that made me suddenly tense. Swallowing hard, I met the gaze of the two contestants sitting across the fire from me. Lana had a confident smile on her face, but I’d expected that from her. She knew how to work people. What I hadn’t expected was the smile on Dean’s face. His gaze was possessive as he regarded me, his eyes roaming over my figure, and he wore a smile like we shared a secret.
I wanted to punch it off of his face. I cleared my throat, kept my expression calm, and focused on the two. “I’ll start with Dean,” I said in a light, careful voice. “Dean, did you fuck me to make sure you’d have my vote?”
His smile was replaced by a frown and then a scowl. “No, of course not.”
I turned immediately to Lana. “My question for you—is he lying?”
She glanced over at Dean and a small, smug smile touched her mouth. “He told me he was stringing you along for your vote.”
“Now wait a minute–” Dean began.
Chip interrupted. “I’m sorry, Dean, but you had your chance to speak. Abby, did you have any further questions?”
I felt ice cold as I stared at the two of them. My eyes narrowed at Dean and I scowled back. “No. No more questions. I found out what I needed to know.”
I turned and went back to my seat.
The rest of the questions passed in a blur to me. I clasped my hands hard in my lap so I wouldn’t cry or anything embarrassing like that. I focused so hard on keeping my icy composure that the council blurred for me. Lana answered all questions glibly, freely admitting to scheming her way to the top of the pile. Dean seemed less inclined to answer quite so easily—his responses were terse and sometimes angry. It reminded me of him when we’d first gotten to the island.
“Those are all the questions,” Chip said. “Now it’s time for the jury to vote who they want to win the prize. Abby, we’ll start with you.”
I stood and walked carefully to the voting booth. A stack of blank slates was there waiting, and I took one and laid it flat, then carefully wrote a name on the front.
The cameraman waiting there spoke to me. “Can you hold up your slate and explain to the audience why you voted the way you did?”
Very calmly, I held up the slate and revealed the name.
Lana.
“I’m voting for you, Lana,” I said, and I couldn’t even be gleeful about it. I was just tired and hurt. “You have my vote because you admitted to lying, and you never tried to get in my pants to get what you wanted in this game. Dean, I did not vote for you.” My voice threatened to wobble but I rushed past it, my words spilling over themselves in a hurry to get out while my voice was strong and I was composed. “I’m sure that ruins all your little plans for world domination, and I hope it does. I hope you slept with every woman on this island and I hope your dick falls off because of it. You are the worst kind of person to sleep with a woman just because you wanted her vote. I actually thought there was something below that shallow surface of yours, but it looks like I’m the biggest idiot on this island, right? No longer. Lana, I hope you enjoy your two million dollars.”
And I dropped the slate into the voting box.
Chapter Thirteen
I can’t wait for this to be over. Now maybe we can get back to being normal again. And I can’t wait to talk to Abby. It’s been a long three weeks without her. I miss her.—Dean Woodall, Last Day of the Game
Once the final vote was cast, the producers moved into action. The jury was separated and shuffled away, reminded of our non-disclosure agreements. We weren’t allowed to discuss our votes, or anything about the show until the finale aired on national TV a few months in the future. Each of the cast members was assigned a media escort that would follow us like a dog until we boarded the plane and went on with our lives. I was fine with that—I just wanted to get home.
So I quietly packed my things and closed up my cabin and followed my escort out to the gravel parking lot where all the show’s vehicles were parked. One or two of the cast had already left, and more were getting ready to depart. I saw Chip chatting with one of the cameramen. A few of the others hung back, talking while their media escorts waited, analyzing every word of conversation with a frown on their faces. Waiting nearby was Lana, and she scowled at the sight of me.
