by Hoff, Stacy
After mumbling a soft “Sorry,” Ana’s feet finally moved again.
Was she going to do the crazy show? Willingly risk her life? Take the biggest gamble she ever could—her own life—and put it on the line. Was it worth it? Just to impress Mark? Show Teleworld—heck, the whole world—she could do it. And get to meet the most intriguing man of her life? If she accepted the challenge, would she come out a winner? She, little Ana Bethany Davis from Brooklyn, a former secretary with two years of community college under her belt. No family pedigree. No fancy resume. No Ivy League education to tout. Just her own pluck, determination, and intuitiveness to guide her. She’d show Teleworld that promoting her hadn’t been a mistake. Yes, she’d show them all that promoting her was their best move ever.
Ana approached Brenda and carefully placed the large deli bag on her secretary’s desk. “Here you go, Brenda. I got everything on your list, even the Fritos. Why do you look so pale? Is everything okay?”
Brenda just pointed toward Ana’s office. “Mark’s in there with some people, waiting for you. They seem important,” she said in a stage whisper.
“Who are they?” Ana asked, keeping her voice low, too.
Brenda shook her head. “I don’t know. But they said they need to speak with you now. When I told them you went out to pick up lunch they said they’d wait.”
“Shit.”
“Exactly.” Brenda nodded. “Good luck.”
As Ana approached her office she could see the men from the partially ajar door. “Hello, Mark.”
Mark gave her a tight smile. Ana felt her forehead crease but decided to press forward. “Bernie and Neil, what a nice surprise to see you. I’ve never gotten a visit from the Board of Directors before.”
Bernie, the taller, older of the two, put his scotch down on the coffee table and got up to give her a hug. When he let her go, he smiled. “You’re going to be our best producer yet.”
“Uh, thanks, Bernie,” Ana said, shaking him off as politely as possible.
“It’s good to see you again, Ana,” Neil said. “We came by because we’re most anxious to get started with The Arctic Gladiators.”
“Nice name choice, by the way,” Bernie interjected.
“Thank you,” Ana responded. “I do understand you want to get started. I was about to meet the man selected by the casting department, William Redding.” She hesitated. “Are you here so we can all meet him together?”
“No, no,” Bernie said.
“Right. That would be quite impossible for us to do.”
“Oh? Why’s that?” Ana asked.
“Because we just sent Mr. Redding back to the Carlyle Hotel to get his belongings. He’s flying off to Alaska this afternoon to help set up for the shoot. Our film crew will be flying out there with him.”
“My God, so suddenly?” Ana burst out. “When is taping officially supposed to start? Mark and I still need to discuss exactly what I’m supposed to do—”
“There’s not much for you to do, production-wise,” Mark interjected. “At least not until you return to the office. While you’re out in the Arctic, however, all you need to worry about is being as comfortable as you possibly can for the twelve days.”
You mean I’m supposed to concentrate on not dying. “Like I said, gentlemen, this is all so sudden. I thought I was going to get the chance to at least meet William before we started—”
“What difference does it make if you’ve met him or not? You’ll meet him in the Arctic, and that’s good enough,” Mark countered.
“But aren’t there logistics I’ll have to work out with him before taping starts? As his partner? As the producer? As the—”
“Yes, of course,” Bernie cooed in a soothing voice.
“Looks like we did hire a smart one,” chirped Neil to Bernie.
“I told you so,” Bernie said.
“Right,” Mark said, directing his comment to Ana. “That’s why you’re going to fly out tomorrow night, so you can meet William as soon as possible.”
“What?”
“Didn’t Mark tell you?” Bernie asked, both he and Neil turning to look at Mark.
Mark gave them a look of angelic innocence. “I gave Ana a lot of information to digest this morning. I figured I’d wait until after she had lunch to give her the rest.”
Ana felt her stomach flop. “But I have personal things I have to take care of!” Her thoughts were whipped into a tizzy ticking off all the things that would need to be done. “I’ve got mail to sort through. Bills to pay. I have to find a cat sitter—”
Mark set his stance, shoulders squared off, jaw firm. “You’ve got until tomorrow to sort all that out. I’m sure that will be plenty of time.”
This can’t be happening.
Bernie had a serene smile on his face. Certainly he wasn’t worried about the outcome. The odds were one-hundred percent in his favor.
Neil was looking at her with his head cocked as if trying to figure out why she was bothering them with the ridiculous, irrelevant details about her private life. She was going to do what they said anyway, so couldn’t she do it faster?
These men were like a freight train. Headed straight for her. She could either hop on board or get run over. Nothing like getting railroaded. Literally. “I’m not sure I actually agreed to any of this,” she stammered.
“Your options,” Mark said slowly and deliberately, “are limited to one—take it.”
Bernie and Neil laughed.
“That’s one way of persuading,” Neil added.
Bernie coughed. “Of course, we want you to do this because you want to do this. To make this show our biggest hit ever. And to show us your appreciation for an unheard of job promotion from the secretarial pool. I know you want to prove your determination, guts and spirit to this fine company.”
Ana gulped loudly, a garish sound she was sure they all heard. “Yes, sir.”
“That’s more like it,” Neil said.
“Right move,” Mark added.
“But there’s a catch,” Ana shot out.
“A catch?” Whether they were in awe of her courage or outraged by it, she couldn’t tell from their expressions.
“What—” Mark started to say.
But for once, Ana cut him off. “I want fifty thousand for agreeing to do the show.”
The three men stared at her as if she had just sprouted wings.
“That’s the deal, gentlemen. And you have exactly one option—take it.”
Ana gave a tight smile and stood with her back ramrod straight. They could bully her, but she was going to bully them, too. She was desperate, but not their lap dog.
Mark looked at Bernie and Neil with eyes wider than she had ever seen. “Even if we were to give you some money, it wouldn’t be that much—”
“Done,” the board members said in unison. They shot back a challenging stare. It was either rise up to the challenge or go down in flames.
“Done,” she confirmed. A drop of sweat beaded up on her forehead, though the office’s temperature was cool.
My God, what have I done?
Chapter 5
Redd couldn’t believe he was on a plane headed for Alaska. And yet, here he was on a Boeing jet, headed for the Great White North. A few hours ago he wasn’t even sure Teleworld would let him compete on the show. And when they did give him the news, they coupled it with another doozey—that he’d be on the next flight. Without even having the chance to meet the partner they’d just sprung on him. Just how many more surprises did Teleworld have planned?
A youngish guy standing in the aisle was still trying to talk to him. He’d been hanging over Redd’s seat, yammering away for the past ten minutes. No matter how badly Redd wanted to sleep, he was obviously not going to go away easily.
As if surviving the Yukon wasn’t going to be ornery enough, now Redd had to endure the plane trip with a man who wouldn’t shut up.
“What did you say your name was?” Redd asked with absolutely no curiosity whatsoever.
“Devon. I’m part of the camera crew.” The impish face grinned widely. His bright expression was in contrast to the bland gray tee shirt he wore. “Of course I already know your name, Mr. William Redding.”
“I prefer to be called Redd.”
“Should I ask why?”
“No.”
“Well, it’s good to meet you, Redd,” Devon chirped, clearly undeterred by the single word response. “It looks like we’re going to get to know each other real well.”
“Not too well. Either now or later.” Redd yawned deliberately widely and prolonged.
Devon winked. “Don’t be too sure about that. Blocking me, or the rest of the film crew out, won’t be possible I’m afraid.”
“I can try,” Redd quipped, closing his eyes.
“Yeah, good luck with that. So tell me, if you’re the strong, silent type, how come Teleworld picked you?”
“Because I’m hot.” Hot under the collar anyway. Can’t you please let me sleep?
“True, you are hot,” Devon agreed, flashing a wicked grin. “But I thought it was a little early in the game for me to tell you that. Lucky for you, I’m happy to make an exception.” Devon’s grin was so wide it threatened to bust out of the plane’s cabin.
“Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll pass.”
“My loss.”
James, another cameraman, hissed at Devon from an aisle over. “Devon, can’t you at least wait a day before you hit on the show’s stars?”
Thomas, the senior cameraman and location expert, piped up. “Grouchy stars make for grouchy shows, Devon. Mark will fire you for sure if you keep bothering Mr. Redding.”
Devon waved away the chastisement with a laugh. “Hey, Redd here wants to talk to me. In fact, he’s begging.”
“It’s your hide,” Tom said, cutting off the conversation. James was apparently done giving his warnings, too.
Devon looked at Redd playfully. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
Redd rolled his eyes. The film crew was entertaining. But no matter how amusing they were, the only entertainment he wanted right now was his dreams. “Look, it’s nothing personal, Devon, but I don’t want to talk right now. I’m going to take a nap.”
“Sorry, no rest for the weary,” Devon countered, undaunted. “Getting to know you a little might help with the filming. You know, showcase your personality.”
Despite his best effort not to, Redd laughed. “Are you sure that’s the best idea?”
“Probably not,” Devon agreed, laughing too. “But I’ll work with what I’ve got. So answer me, why’d they pick you?”
Redd hesitated. Admitting his connection to Colin Brandt, the last Gladiator, was not something he was going to reveal. Key executives knew, and that was enough. “Because I can last the twelve days, that’s why.”
“It won’t be easy.”
“You worry about filming. I’ll worry about surviving.”
“Hmmm, I’m going with a ‘surly but strong’ typecast for you.” Devon switched into an announcer’s voice. “Yes, folks, underneath this man’s tough exterior, he’s got a heart of gold.”
Redd lifted a single eyebrow. “How do you know I do? Maybe I’m just a surly sonofabit—”
“Devon, are you sure you’re not bothering Mr. Redding?” Tom called out from his seat in the next row.
Devon winked at Redd before answering back, “What are you, a doubting Thomas?”
“Devon . . .” Tom warned.
“Of course I’m not bothering Mr. Redding,” Devon answered in a singsong voice. “I’m hurt you would even think so.” Devon tossed Redd a wink.
Sometimes the best offense is a good defense. “Since you’re so chatty, Devon,” Redd remarked with a plastic smile, “why don’t you tell me about my partner. What’s she like?”
“Sorry, no can do,” Devon answered solemnly before finally taking his seat across the aisle.
Mission accomplished.
Redd relished the reversion to silence. He turned his attention back to the airplane’s window and looked at the darkening sky.
A flight attendant walked slowly down the aisle pushing a cart filled with drinks. “Anything I can get for you, sir?” the very tall blonde asked. “We have some nice wines and a good beer selection if you’re interested.” She gave him a wink as if she was interested.
“Thanks, but I don’t think so. I’ll take coffee. Do you have decaf?”
“No, I’m sorry. We ran out.”
“I’ll take what you have. Black, please.”
When the drink was handed to him the woman silently pushed the trolley cart to the next aisle. The coffee’s caffeine wouldn’t help him sleep, but the warmth on his hands from the cup was worth it.
Somehow, feeling warm always gave him a cozy feeling. One which made him feel like life was good. Maybe that’s why he moved back to Texas after the military. The higher the temperatures the higher his happiness. Which explained why he hated visiting Alaska all those years. The coldness radiating from his father every time he visited was stronger than the mountains’ snow. Redd was never sure why his father sent for Hailey and him at all. Too bad he had to go back to Alaska now. He had sworn he wouldn’t step foot there again.
Redd looked out the airplane’s window to see a last beam of sunlight shine through a group of clouds. Rather than close the window shade, he twisted his face toward it. He felt his eyes close. Everything was so easy up here in the sky. Away from life’s problems.
Redd let out a reluctant smile. Hailey lived up here—forevermore in the clouds. She would surely agree life’s problems were better left behind. For that at least, Redd would be grateful. Yes, Hailey was out of misery now. Safe, happy, and secure. God, I miss my little sister.
Ana opened the door of her apartment to see a breathless Brenda.
“Ana, I’m here.” Brenda panted. “Oh, nice place you have.”
“Thanks,” Ana murmured. Her head was still swimming but at least Brenda was here to help. She held the door open and Brenda hustled in. Her cozy one bed-room loft in Brooklyn was not too far from her parents’ home. It was not fancy, but she was proud of it. Being twenty-eight and able to afford her own place was the New York equivalent of striking gold. But she couldn’t help thinking of what kind of place she could afford after she returned from the Arctic—win or lose. Fifty thousand dollars would be a solid down payment on a condo in Manhattan. Assuming she picked an area in Manhattan that wasn’t too upscale. Maybe she could swing the Alphabet City area, which was walking distance from Greenwich Village if you had time on your hands and good shoes on your feet. For an upscale neighborhood however, she’d need the million-dollar prize. Not that she could garner enough self-confidence to truly contemplate it.
And if she lost not only the Gladiator contest but her very life, the fifty-thousand-dollar guarantee would go a long way toward a spectacular, no-holds-barred, fancy-pants funeral. At least the life insurance Teleworld took out on her would help out her working-class folks.
“Take a seat,” Ana instructed Brenda, gesturing toward the blue velour La-Z-Boy lounge chair. Ana sat opposite her on the matching loveseat.
Even seated, Brenda seemed twitchy. “Are you sure you’re ready to do this show?” Brenda asked, her eyes wide with concern.
Considering they had worked together for only a month, Brenda’s apprehension was touching. “I’m not sure I’m ready to do the show,” Ana admitted. “If I had to venture a guess, I’d say no I’m not.” She gave a tight laugh.
“Is it worth the risk?” Brenda asked in a quiet
voice.
“I don’t know that, either. All I can do is not make myself insane with fear. In a few hours I’ll be on a plane. I’m shutting everything out of my mind until I’m thirty-thousand-feet high. I’ve been busy arranging for everything during my absence, and that’s good. I’ve been too distracted to be really scared.”
“I’ll let you finish up what’s left,” Brenda said with a timid smile. “Your cat and I will be on our way.”
Ana nodded and stood up. Putting two fingers in her mouth, she whistled loudly. A massive tabby lumbered out, its belly swinging with each step. “C’mere, Tiny.”
The cat looked at her and yawned. Then it sat down, curled its tail around itself and eyed her expectantly.
Ana reached behind the loveseat and pulled out a large cat carry-case, hoping Tiny would still fit in it. “This always works,” she whispered to Brenda, taking a can of cat treats off the wooden coffee table and rattling the cylinder a few times.
Tiny looked at the jiggling container and let out a loud, long meeerrro-ow.
Ana opened the door of the cat-case, shoved some treats inside and watched Tiny cock his head in indecision.
Smart cat. “Go on,” she encouraged. To no avail. She could swear Tiny was shaking his head no.
Ana sighed and poured more treats into the cage. Tiny is right. I should be more like him—hold out for something better if I’m going to do something I don’t want to do. I think my demand for fifty thousand was much too low.
Tiny observed the additional bounty of treats and slowly walked himself in, his head hung low. Thankfully, he didn’t need a little shove in order to cram his big tush through the case’s small door. Perhaps the cat treats were his version of comfort food, the animal version of a pastrami-on-rye.
