by Suzanne Cass
No one had to be told twice, they all surged forward, jostling and shoving good-naturedly for the best spot. The aroma was heavenly, and Cilla’s stomach rumbled like a herd of stampeding elephants. She couldn’t pile the food quickly enough onto her plate. There were meat patties, and chicken patties and tomato and lettuce and pickles and sauce and mustard and enough buns to feed twenty people. There were even vegie patties, just for her. Plate piled high, she carefully negotiated her way through the benches to find a seat.
Simon was the only one already seated and she hesitated for the briefest second before plonking herself on the rope cushion next to him. It wouldn’t do to look as if she was shunning him. Tam manoeuvred along the row and sat next to her. His plate had twice as much food as hers. She lifted an eyebrow at him, but her mouth was too full of food for her to form any coherent words.
The food was so good it almost distracted her when Tam’s knee accidentally bumped against hers as he sat down, along with the ensuing sizzle of heat that soared up her thigh. Almost, but not quite.
It’d been a long week. Tam had been avoiding her after their kiss on the beach. But she wasn’t sure why. Did he regret it? Did he think it showed a moment of weakness, presenting his tender side? Did he think she might use that flaw against him? Who knew? In this game every move a person made was scrutinised for strategy. Dissected to see if it could be manipulated in some way. It was nearly impossible to trust anyone out here. On the surface she’d forged a strong bond with Alisha, Tam and Marg, but underneath she wondered if she could truly rely on them. And she knew they were thinking the exact same thing of her. It was a slippery slope they were negotiating. She did hope, however, they might remain friends outside the game.
Did she want to stay friends with Tam afterwards? Now that was tricky one. And friend wasn’t really the correct word. She knew, given half a chance, her heart would want a lot more than just friends from Tam. Could she be sure what kind of person Tam really was though? He seemed solid and compassionate enough on the surface, but in her experience men changed once they had you hooked. They all seemed to have the ability to morph into reproductions of her father. Especially Marco.
She’d fallen in love with Marco because of his zest for life and his enjoyment of good food. Unfortunately, his love for food had gone hand in hand with his love for drink, which at first hadn’t bothered Cilla. But after two years of his laid back persona, she started to see him more as lazy bum than just laid back, and his drinking escalated until she was reminded more and more of her father. When she tried to tell Marco she wasn’t happy with their relationship, he’d become violent and smacked her around. Exactly like her father.
She was starting to understand her interactions with her father had left her damaged in many ways. She found it hard to show affection. Marco had called her the ice queen towards the end of their relationship. She wondered if it were really true. Whatever the case, she found it tough to trust anyone, to let them in. It was just all too hard.
‘Nightrebels come on in,’ JJ spoke, loud enough to be heard over the hubbub of the Dawnbreakers people finding their seats. A hush fell as they watched Nightrebels enter the stage. A line of glowing firebrands wound up the stairs announcing the team one by one. It was hard to make out individual faces, hidden in the shadows cast by the flickering flames.
Some people from the Nightrebels cast envious glances towards the Dawnbreakers and their food, but most kept their heads down, ignoring the gluttony going on in the face of their own malnourishment.
As the other team took their places on the benches on the other side of the fire pit, rain started to fall in big soaking drops. It seemed nature was going to have her own vote in tonight’s conclave. At least the small area where the Dawnbreakers were eating was covered, even if the thatched roof did leak in spots. Cilla crouched over her plate, protecting it from most of the wet drips escaping from the underside of the wooden beams above.
Even JJ wasn’t safe from the ravages of the storm as it lashed the tribal platform. His tree-trunk chair was just as unprotected as the Nightrebels’ team benches and he was soon soaked to the skin. His expensive shirt plastered to his chest and his flat-cap drooping over his forehead. Somehow he still managed to remain poised and confidant and Cilla’s respect for their host grew. He must be feeling at least a little vulnerable, his egalitarian well-dressed persona stripped bare by the rain. But his professionalism kept him out there in the pouring rain, doing his job, hammering team Nightrebels with his rigorous questioning.
The storm seemed to be having an effect on the minds of Nightrebels. They looked like a string of lost children sitting in front of an angry principal. Their protective veneers were dropped, and while some sat hunched and sorry-looking, trying to stay warm in the cold rain, others – the ones who felt most susceptible – started pleading for their lives.
‘I wish I could’ve done more to help carry those boxes today. I really do.’ A man called Ben scrubbed the rain from his bald head with his red bandana. ‘But I’m sure the upcoming knockouts are going to require more mental skills than physical skills and that’s when you’ll need my ability. I’ll be able to win those knockouts for you, hands down.’
Ben looked to be Korean of descent, around mid-forties in age. Water ran down his face in rivulets, accentuating the obvious despair in his eyes.
‘I agree with Ben, I don’t reckon people should be voting because of someone’s physical ability. Just because I’m not the fittest woman on this team doesn’t mean I should be a target,’ said a younger woman from the middle row. ‘I mean there’re a lot of other people in this team who don’t do nearly as much around the campsite as I do. I’m good at keeping the fire going and I do the cooking most days. You guys would be lost without me.’ She gave a nervous glance to her left, looking for support from the other women in the team.
Cilla studied the woman between large bites of her vegie-burger, and decided that fitness probably wasn’t why people wanted to vote her out tonight. She had mousey brown hair, a long nose and a rotund belly. She was constantly preening, stroking her wet hair and wiping the rain from her face. Her whining was beginning to get on Cilla’s nerves and she’d only been listening to her for a few minutes. She could imagine having to put up with it for weeks on end. That woman would be high maintenance.
‘Sorry, Susan, you’ll have to speak up,’ said JJ. The wind was starting to howl now and he had to lean forward to catch what she was saying.
The mousey woman continued to whinge and Cilla tuned her out as she picked the last of the crumbs from her plate and considered returning to the table for another plateful.
‘Learning anything?’ Tam whispered into her ear.
‘Yes.’ She grinned at him. ‘Our team isn’t nearly as bad as I thought.’ He swept his amber gaze over her and laughed along with her.
Then she sobered. ‘It’s a little sad as well.’
‘What do you mean?’ His breath tickled the side of her face as he leaned in closer. He smelled good, a mixture of spicy hamburger and fresh salty skin. As they spoke he unconsciously licked sauce from his fingertips, one by one. She became mesmerised by this action, watching as he put each finger into his mouth and releasing it again with a smack of his lips. Tam had beautiful hands. Long-fingered, tanned and graceful. Oh what he might do to her with those hands. What he had done to her with those hands the other night. When he’d kissed her. She remembered how he’d cupped her breast, hefted it in his hand, branding her with the heat of his fingers. Warmth flushed up her chest at the memories of the encounter. She almost moaned with frustration as she recalled how their kiss had ended. Very unsatisfactorily.
‘What do you mean, Cilla?’ Tam prompted her again. Averting her eyes, she drew in a sharp breath.
‘Oh … I just feel a little uncomfortable I guess,’ she mumbled. With a supreme effort she regained her previous train of thought. Managing to shut down her body’s response to him, she forced an ironic smile to her lips. ‘Here
we are watching their every move, assessing their weaknesses as if we’re the predator and they’re the prey. It’s a bit morbid really.’
‘Yep, I know. It’s hard to watch … but fascinating at the same time.’ Tam’s voice wavered – was it with empathy or curiosity? ‘I guess we just have to remember we’re all here to play the game.’
She nodded. ‘Yes we are.’
That night they watched as the Korean man, Ben, was voted off by Nightrebels. He trudged down the same stairs Paloma had vanished down only half an hour before, despair evident in his every step. Cilla felt a little sorry for him. There but for the grace of God went she.
That night as they all slogged through the damp darkness, bloated and weary, back to their camp, Cilla’s thoughts were occupied not with the precious information she’d learned about team Nightrebels, but by the image of Tam’s hands curled around her breast. Lust, she reminded herself. That was all this was. Lust and nothing more. And she’d always been able to control her own desire. She’d never let it consume her before, and it’d be no different out here.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘You’ll have to sit two players out of this knockout, Dawnbreakers. Who’ll it be?’ JJ asked. For some reason Glen was the first to put his hand up, which surprised Cilla. Perhaps he’d got wind of the pseudo plan to vote him out if they lost, and knowing just how weak he was in knockouts, he’d decided to take himself out of the equation.
Marg floated the idea that they throw this knockout; intentionally lose it, just so they could vote Glen off. She and Alisha talked about it briefly, but in the end they decided – even though they detested the mere sight of Glen – for the sake of a strong team, they needed to win every knockout possible. It wasn’t good for team moral to lose a knockout on purpose.
At the moment they were streaks ahead of Nightrebels on the knockout tally board. Since the double elimination six days ago, Nightrebels had lost another knockout and voted another team member out. They’d now lost four members, while Dawnbreakers had only lost two. A great position to be in if they could just hold onto this lead. Any advantage when the two teams finally joined would help her advance further in the game.
‘I’ll go as well,’ said Marg. ‘I haven’t sat one out yet, and it’s probably time.
Simon was chosen to be the caller because of his loud penetrating voice, and Cho and Alisha put their hands up to do the puzzle. Leaving Tam and Cilla paired together to do the obstacle course. Which would’ve been all good and well, except they had to do it blindfolded and tied together, relying on Simon’s voice commands to guide them through a maze.
Cilla took a good look at the maze while JJ explained the rules. It was hard to see exactly what lay on the furthest edges of the maze from the ground, only Simon would be able to really see what was out there from his vantage point atop the calling platform. She could make out piles of wooden beer kegs thrown haphazardly together, some kind of slalom course constructed out of large empty whisky bottles, and a roughly constructed long table with benches down both sides. Then it hit her. This maze was supposed to resemble the inside of a seedy whisky bar. The tackiness of this show never failed to surprise her.
‘You ready for this?’ Tam sent her a quick glance and then went back to tying the rope around her waist.
‘Course I am.’ If only she felt as sure as she sounded. They were about to be tied closely together, then blindfolded. Having to rely on their senses of sound and touch to find their way through. The hardest part of this whole thing wouldn’t be the bumped elbows and scraped knees, it’d be Tam’s enforced proximity. Cilla was able to control her body’s cravings around him, as long as he didn’t touch her. And now this knockout called for their bodily contact to win this challenge.
Since their kiss on the beach over a week and a half ago, Cilla had toyed with the idea of seducing Tam, of using their obvious attraction as a tool to advance herself in the game. If she let things go further, he might well become putty in her hands, willing to do just about anything she asked. She’d seen it happen before. A lot of men tended to think with their dicks and not their heads, even when there was a million dollars at stake.
However, after laying awake most of one night, sorting through various scenarios, she found that in the end she couldn’t do it. Allure and captivation came so easily to some women, but not to her. She’d no doubt that if she exploited this visceral attraction she’d be able to draw Tam in, make him a partner in crime – albeit perhaps an unwilling one. But there was something more to this attraction, a deeper connection, which, given time, Cilla would’ve liked to explore. And much as she hated to admit it, she was loath to do anything to destroy that connection. And using him as a sexual pawn in her game would surely do that.
When she was with Tam there was a degree of heightened awareness, as if the very hairs on her body knew he was close and rose up to point in his direction, making her skin tingle with an undercurrent of mindfulness centred on him.
But it wasn’t merely the physical effect he had on her body. He was affecting her mind as well. Their many conversations over the past week revealed he had an uncanny knack of stripping away the shield with which she normally protected her true self, driving straight to the heart of her doubts about her own capabilities and flaws. He prodded her with questions and scenarios for which she had no immediate answer, but in thinking about her answers she found herself opening up. She didn’t mean to tell him the things she did. Small things she’d never told anyone else. Things like how she kept a perfectly round, perfectly smooth stone she’d found on the beach in her pocket, so she was always reminded how lucky she was to live on the most beautiful place in the world. His calming presence seemed to draw her out of herself, almost like drawing poison from a wound. It was a vicious circle, the more he stripped away the safeguard she kept around her heart the more sensitive she became to his attentions. It scared her, the effect he had on her. It was dangerous.
Concentrate. Her self-control needed to be rock solid today. She needed to ignore her body’s blatant alertness to the fact his face hovered mere inches from her own as he checked on the knot tying them together. Or the fact his broad male shoulders loomed over her, making her hands itch to reach out and run over his powerful physique.
Realising she’d been holding her breath in an attempt to keep from inhaling Tam’s scent, Cilla drew in air sharply and at the same time took a step backwards.
‘That rope must be tight enough now,’ she said, a little more sharply then was perhaps necessary.
There was surprise in his glance, but he said nothing as he took his place beside her on the starting line.
Then JJ placed two eye patches over her eyes and tied them tightly at the back of her head. The world went black. Other senses started to heighten to make up for her lack of sight. A breath of wind tickled her cheek in passing. She could hear JJ’s heavy footsteps crunching over the sand as he walked towards the next pair with their eye patches. The midday rays felt hotter on her skin and she could smell the peppery mixture of sunshine and sweat that was Tam, standing so close beside her.
Tam grabbed her hand. It was large and warm and rough. Callouses on his palm, formed by his hard work on the island, abraded her skin, each movement of his fingers making her ultra-aware of their contact. Flame-like sensations licked from her fingers up her arm, setting the nerve ends in her palm tingling with anticipation. She stifled a grating intake of breath, which threatened to give her away.
‘Contestants ready?’ JJ said, his voice sounding clearly over the battle ground. Tam’s arm tensed next to her hers, muscles at the ready. She tightened her grip on his hand. Their connection was now the anchor to which she clung. Could she use her hyper-awareness of Tam’s every move to her advantage? With this tension fizzing between them, she could follow him with a precision the other team might lack. If only she stopped fighting it, perhaps there was a benefit to be found and used in this attraction between them.
Cilla had already made a m
ental map of the maze before they were blindfolded and now she tried to bring that image back to the forefront of her memory, shaking loose her mind’s preoccupation with the purely physical sensations Tam was creating. Then she too tensed, ready to take off.
‘Go.’ The word sounded like a whiplash to her finely tuned ears and they surged forward together at a near run, both going on instinct towards the first obstacle; three piles of wooden kegs directly across their path.
Simon’s voice reached them, booming above the cacophony of the other team’s caller yelling instructions. They’d chosen well, Simon’s voice was deep and controlled, easy to hear.
‘Keep going straight. You’re on the right heading. Slow down now, you’re going too fast.’ Cilla felt the tug of Tam’s hand and she slowed to a walk, waving her free hand out in front, searching for any impediment. ‘In two more paces you are going to hit the barrels, you need to take three paces to the left.’ They did as they were told and Cilla felt the brush of wood beneath her hand, then they were round the first obstacle.
‘Right, keep walking in the direction you’re going. There’ll be two benches coming up in about ten paces.’ Simon was amazingly cool and calm and talked them through each obstacle as it came up, until they finally reached a pole where a bag of puzzle pieces hung.
‘Tam, you need to reach up to your right, as high as you can. You’ll need to let go of Cilla’s hand.’ His warm hand left hers. She smothered a silly feeling of deprivation. He was still standing there right next to her, he hadn’t left her out here on her own. She made a determined effort not to reach out and make sure he was really there.
Then he bumped against her as he reached up high, feeling for the bag.
She was standing too close, so she took a step backwards, to get out of his way. As she stepped back her heel caught on a stone behind her and because she was already unsteady without his hand keeping her firm, she felt herself overbalance. There was nothing she could do. She knew she was going to fall. She prayed she wasn’t going to land on anything hard. Or God forbid break her arm in the fall. At the last second she felt Tam’s fingers scrabbling to grab her arm or clothes, something, feeling her falling. His forearm half-caught around her waist.
