A Date for the Hunt

by Dover, L. P.

  “Fine,” I give in, “I’ll go. Just tell me what I have to do.”

  I have a strange feeling my life will never be the same after this.

  2

  Hudson

  I look to my left. My teammate Jensen is poised and ready to go. I lift my head slightly and look at our captain. He’s holding a stopwatch in his hand and any second now, he’ll give us the signal to start. I get into position and wait for his command. He blows his whistle, it’s a short piercing sound. Jensen and I start our newest challenge—who can do the most push-ups in thirty seconds. Each time I rise, I grunt out a number, praying it matches the number my spotter is keeping. Up, down, up, down. I continue to push myself as fast as I can to pound out as many of these as possible.

  “Time,” Captain yells.

  Jensen collapses to the ground in a heap, panting and out of breath, while I stand and flex. I put on a good show especially in front of these guys. Truth is, my abs are screaming, my fucking arms are killing me, and my lungs are burning. I fight the urge to cough, to show any type of weakness. Still, I play it off and run my hand up and down my abs. Everyone around us cheers, and some mock Jensen. He’s always daring me to do something so he can try and prove he’s faster, stronger, or smarter but he’s rarely victorious. The only time he’s beaten me in anything was when we had a chili cook off. I was recovering from the flu and my taste buds weren’t exactly working. Everything tasted off. When I meant to pepper, I salted, which ruined my whole pot. After the failed cook-off, I vowed to never lose to another one of Jensen’s hairbrained ideas.

  Dave Jensen is my best friend and has been since high school. Right after high school, we both knew we wanted to be firefighters and signed up at a local tech school and enrolled in their fire science program. We did everything together and hoped we’d be assigned to the same firehouse after graduation. Luck was on our side when the assignments came in. We haven’t always worked the same shift, but for the last year or so, we’ve been on the same rotation, which makes things easier for me. I trust my team, my squad, but there’s nothing like having your best friend fight fires right alongside of you. It gives you a sense of protection and duty. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for the station house, but I’d lay my life down for Jensen.

  He finally stands and I pat him on the back. “What’s next?” I ask, fully expecting him to have a list taped to the inside of his locker.

  “Weightlifting?”

  “Nah, too easy,” I say as I flex my arm. I’m ripped and toned, but not like those guys who gorge out their muscles. It’s just not for me and doesn’t really work with the job we have. I need to be flexible and fast.

  Jensen ponders, or at least pretends to, and does so until our captain tells us to report to our conference room. I detour and hit the kitchen first and grab a bottle of water and chug most of it before I get to the room.

  Our conference room is set up like a classroom with those desk/chair combo things. The seats are uncomfortable, and the room set up is odd as fuck, but whatever. We don’t have assigned seats, so I take one in the back. I man spread and lean back. Our captain is at the front of the room, looking over each of us. I have no idea what he’s going to talk about, but my mind is spinning. We’ve had a few fires the last couple of days. More car accidents this week than last. And of course, every other day there’s a call about someone’s kitty stuck in a tree. We don’t respond to those. We did it once because we felt sorry for the elderly lady but Chuck, one of the guys on another shift, fell out of the fucking tree and shattered his femur. The cat hissed at him, swatted his forehead and connected, leaving a scratch across his head, which became infected. Chuck fell about twenty feet and was lucky he didn’t break his back. After that, Chief said no more. Honestly, I’m happy with the new rule. However, on the other hand, it seems that when we’d respond to a call, all the women in the neighborhood would come out and objectify us. I kind of like that part of the job. I work hard to keep my body in shape, might as well let people look.

  Captain clears his throat and stands tall. He’s about five foot five, but his machismo attitude makes him seem at least six foot. I wouldn’t want to meet him in a dark alley. The guy used to be some jiujitsu fighter when he was a teenager. It’s those squirrely guys you have to watch out for.

  “About a month ago, Officer Don Hoar invited you all to fill out the application for the new reality show A Date for the Hunt, where you go to Aruba for two weeks. The producers spent a couple days here, helping you fill out the application,” Captain mumbles. I remember when the people from the show came to the station and asked us to sign up. Not my thing, but Jensen dared me, so of course I signed up. Although, sitting here, I’m wondering if I put down the correct information or if I exaggerated on anything. Officer Hoar, he’s all about reality television and is always trying out for Big Brother and the Amazing Race. He’s yet to make it past the initial application round but seemed confident he had this one in the bag. Which makes it odd that Captain is talking about it during our shift since Hoar isn’t even here.

  “Where’s Hoar?” Lenny Baker, another firefighter yells.

  “With the producers,” Captain says.

  “That fucker finally made it onto a reality show?” I ask aloud. The guys around me snicker, but it’s the women on our crew who chuckle.

  “Bryant,” the captain drags my name out.

  “I can’t imagine anyone wanting to fall in love with him, Let alone spend two weeks with him,” Rosie Keiper says. Everyone assumes she and Hoar had a thing but neither have ever come out and said. One day, they’re acting like their best friends. The next, Rosie is hosing him down in one of the bays.

  Hoar finally walks in. Normally, he looks like a smug son-of-a-bitch but today he looks like his mother took away his sirens. He sits down in front and the producers we met a month or so ago stand by Cap.

  “I’m sure you all remember me. If not, I’m Jeremy Wilhelm. I work for Dun Production and am one of the producers of A Date for the Hunt, which you graciously filled out an application for. We thank you.” He pauses and looks at each of us. “As you remember we are taking ten single men and women to Aruba for two weeks. The concept is simple. Each woman will hide an Easter egg and the men will hunt for them. Whatever egg the man finds, he will spend the remaining time with the woman who hid it.” He pauses again and holds up a stack of papers. “One of you, from this department has been chosen.”

  Chairs adjust and people start murmuring. I’m under the assumption Hoar got the gig, but now I’m second-guessing by the fact the producer is telling us all of this.

  Jeremy Wilhelm clears his throat and looks at the paper. “Congratulations to Hudson Bryant. You’ve been selected to participate in A Date for the Hunt.”

  All eyes turn toward me. Some of my co-workers smile, a few of them glare, but my core friends are standing and rushing toward me. They push, slap my back, some tell me I’m a lucky fucking bastard.

  “Quiet down!” Captain yells. “Bryant!” He barks my name.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Is participating in the show something you want to do?” he asks. “Before you answer, I must advise that you’ll have to use your own personal time to cover the time off.”

  Shit, really? I hadn’t considered that I’d have to use my vacation time when I filled out the application. Of course, I only filled it out because Jensen said he’d get chosen over me, which turned it into a challenge. Guess, I won, again. But do I really want to use my vacation time to go to Aruba? Fuck yes!

  “I’m in.”

  “Seriously?” Jensen asks.

  I shrug. “Why not? A two-week paid vacation to Aruba, to frolic in the ocean with some chick that I don’t know, all while trying to get lucky. . . who would say no?”

  “Frolic in the ocean? What the hell is wrong with you?” Hoar asks.

  I brush off my shoulders. “Don’t hate the player, hate the game, Hoar.”

  He throws his hands up at me and turns
back around. Sucka!

  Jensen claps a hand on my back. “Dude, I can’t believe you’re going to go.”

  “Don’t worry, Jensen, I’ll send you a postcard!”

  The producer calls me over and asks me to follow him. I do and as I pass by, my team razzes me. I love it. Wilhelm heads toward the Captain’s office and takes a seat at the small table Cap has in there. I do the same.

  “Here is the contract. I suggest you read it over before signing.”

  I do as he says. In a nutshell, I can’t be a douche. Which is easy, I may give Jensen and my co-workers a ton of shit, but when it comes to women, I’m nothing but respectful. My mother raised me right.

  Wilhelm pushes a pen toward me. I take it and scribble my name in triplicate. “Now what?” I ask him.

  “Now, you go home and pack. You only need clothes for a couple of days, as the show will provide most of your outfits.”

  “Seriously?”

  He nods. “Sponsorships are an amazing thing.” He stacks the papers together. “Tomorrow at six a.m. a car will come pick you up to take you to the airport. The driver will have all your information, tickets, and instructions of what to do when you get to the airport. You’ll be taken to the hotel, where you’ll meet the other male contestants.”

  “But not the woman?”

  A sly smile spreads across his face. “No, you won’t meet a woman until you’ve found an egg. Once all the eggs are found, you’ll spend the first twenty-four hours with your match before all the couples are brought together.”

  “So secretive,” I say, finding the whole concept interesting.

  He laughs. “It’s the way the show works, Mr. Bryant. You’ll have fun, I promise.” Wilhelm stands and we shake hands. “Here’s my card, if you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to call.”

  I take his card. “Thanks.”

  He heads toward the door and stops. “Oh, one other thing,” he says, turning around. “The show will air while you’re participating, so be careful what you say. The only things we’ll be editing out are what the FCC deems inappropriate.”

  “Does that mean you’ll put a dot on my ass if I get naked?” I ask, grinning wide.

  Wilhelm clears his throat and smiles. “If you and your partner decide to do . . . well, the cameras won’t be there, but the microphone might be.” He lowers his voice. “A word to the wise though. If you don’t want it to be on TV, don’t do it. Our camera guys can be sneaky.”

  “Soft porn, I like it,” I joke.

  He shakes his head and turns back to the door. I can’t help it. I find myself funny. Others may not but I can’t change who I am. Wilhelm reminds me what time the car will be at my house and tells me to have a safe flight.

  I look down at the contract and focus on the word—Aruba. Fuck yes, surf, sand, and beach here I come!

  3

  Allison

  Aruba is absolutely gorgeous. For a second, I forgot the real reason why I’m in the tropical paradise in the first place. As soon as I arrived at the hotel, I was reminded when my sister met me in the lobby, all giddy about the show starting tonight. She looked cute with her dark hair pulled high in a ponytail and dressed in a white sundress. I got to see several of the other female contestants, but I haven’t had the chance to speak to any of them yet. I’m sure I’ll get to tonight. Apparently, the men are set to show up later in the day so there’s no chance of running into them. Great. Can you sense my sarcasm? There’s going to be a lot of that going on.

  Sitting out on the balcony of my room, I stare at the crystal-clear waters of the Caribbean. I’ve already read through the agenda on what’s going to happen tonight. After hair and makeup, we pick our eggs, step up on stage, hide our eggs after we’re introduced to the world, and then hide away and wait for the men to find them. Once that’s done, we get to meet the men. Talk about awkward. What the hell am I going to say? Thanks for picking my egg? Who knows, I’ll probably end up freezing and looking like an idiot. That’ll be my luck.

  The wind whips by and it blows my hair all over the place. It makes me wonder how they’re going to do all of the women’s hair so it’s not flying around our faces during tonight’s egg hunt.

  Groaning, I lean my forehead on the balcony railing. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

  A knock sounds on my hotel room door and I already know who it’s going to be. When it comes to the room though, I can’t complain. I’ve been put up in a spacious suite with a king-sized bed, separate living room, and a small kitchen. I stop at the door and peek through the peephole at my sister, bouncing excitedly on her feet and still wearing the same white sundress I saw her in earlier. Seeing her makes me smile, especially since this whole show is her idea and it’s about to be aired all across the country. I’m proud of her. I’d be even prouder if she hadn’t wrangled me into being on it.

  I open the door and she squeals as she runs past me into the room. “Isn’t this exciting?”

  “Oh yeah,” I grumble, shutting the door.

  Erin crosses her arms over her chest, glaring at me halfheartedly. She knows I’m not mad. “Oh, come on, sis. It’ll be fun.”

  I laugh. “If you say so. My stomach is in knots right now.” Being on live TV is nerve-wracking.

  Smiling, Erin places her hands on my shoulders. “You’ve got this, Allie. You’re going to be the most beautiful contestant on the show tonight. Everybody in the country is going to want to know who you are.”

  I stare at her as if she’s lost her mind. “You give me way too much credit. Nobody’s going to care who I am.”

  She waves me off. “Just you wait. I might have a star for a sister when this is all over.” Stepping back, she peers down at my black gym shorts and pink tank top. “Now let’s get you to hair and makeup. The dress we have you wearing tonight is gorgeous.”

  One thing about this trip is that I didn’t have to pack much. The show’s providing all of our essential outfits. It’s a good thing because all of my clothes at home are business type attire to wear to the pharmacy and yoga pants to lounge in when I’m not at work. They’re not exactly the kind of clothes you want to wear to the beach to meet new men. Then again, maybe that’s what I need right now. If I can deter Mr. Bachelor away from me, maybe the show will let me go home. The viewers aren’t going to want to watch the disaster that is about to be mine and the bachelor’s relationship.

  Erin takes my hand and pulls me to the door. I grab one of the room key cards off the kitchen counter in passing. “The guys arrived not too long ago,” she explains as we head out of the door. “Right now, I’m taking you to the meeting room where all the other female contestants will be. Once all of you are ready, you’ll be given your egg.” We stop at the elevator and her grin widens. “The eggs are so cute. They’re not real though. The ones we have are much larger and painted all sorts of colors with different designs.”

  “What does mine look like?” I ask. By the twinkle in her eyes, I know she already knows.

  “You’ll see. They’re all designed to portray some aspect of your lives.”

  The elevator doors open, and we step inside. “Great. Then mine will have pills all over it. My guy’s going to think I’m a druggie.”

  Erin bursts out laughing. “That’s hilarious. It’s a good thing that’s not what’s on your egg.”

  Thank God. Once off the elevator, Erin leads me through the hotel lobby and down a long hallway towards the meeting rooms. I can hear a lot of chatter from one of them and when Erin and I walk inside, my mouth drops. The room is filled with people. There are also separate changing stations for each contestant. Several of the women are already in their chairs getting their hair and makeup done.

  Erin waves at two people at the back of the room, one is a guy who looks to be in his late twenties with long, dark hair pulled back in a low ponytail, and the other is a woman with very short, whitish-blonde hair with pink streaks.

  “Who are they?” I ask.

  Erin starts tow
ard them and I follow her. “They’re only the best hair and makeup duo in the world. I made sure you got them.” She points at the guy. “Ricardo is amazing at hair,” then she points at the blonde, “and that little firecracker is Annabelle Krazinsky. She does make-up for all the high fashion models right now.”

  “Wow,” I say, totally impressed. “They’re famous.”

  She squeezes my arm. “You can thank me later.”

  Erin quickly introduces everyone, and before I know it, I’m sitting in the chair getting my hair and makeup done. Ricardo runs his hands through my hair, and I watch him smile through the reflection in the mirror. “You have gorgeous hair, my dear,” he says, meeting my gaze. “I can do a lot with it.”

  Annabelle stands in front of me and nods. “Same with your face. You have the perfect skin tone.”

  “Thanks. I’m super nervous about being on the show. I’m only doing it for my sister. She signed me up.”

  Annabelle dabs some foundation on my face and rubs it in. “Erin’s sweet. I’ve worked with her before on another show. When she said you were going to be on this one, I knew Ricardo and I needed to get you.”

  “I appreciate that. If Erin says you’re the best, then I know you’re the best.” At least I’ll look good on TV.

  When Ricardo and Annabelle are done with my hair and makeup, I almost don’t recognize myself. Ricardo pulled half of my hair up in an intricate braid with small tropical flowers throughout while the rest of my hair hangs down my shoulders in loose waves. The flowers match perfectly with the pink dress I’ve been appointed to wear.

  Holding a clipboard in her hands, Erin freezes when she sees me and does a double take. “Allie, is that you?”

  I roll my eyes. “Ha-ha.”

  Giggling, she holds the clipboard to her chest. “Just kidding. You look amazing.” She taps her watch. “It’s time to go. You ready?”