The Holdout

by Laurel Osterkamp

  “That’s insane!” I jump up from my chair because it’s become impossible to stay seated. If I was the crazy, reactionary type I would pick up my chair and throw it through the window just to express my anger at being accused. But I settle for kicking my chair forward so it’s flush against the table. “I am not biased, or prejudiced, or any of those other bad words like tainted, influenced, or swayed. I am rational and I base my opinions on facts. The facts. Period.” I look at Four to see if that gets a response. She rolls her eyes.

  Nobody responds. Nick just sits there, peeling the label off his water bottle.

  Six stands and places a gentle palm on my shoulder. “Robin, I do think you should consider what we’re suggesting. Sure, we don’t know you very well, but we saw your show last night. What you said to Grant at the final vote does make me wonder if there’s some truth to all of this.”

  I had no idea that jury duty would be so similar to therapy. If Six was my therapist, I would tell her that what I said to Grant is the one thing I don’t regret.

  §

  After I got kicked off The Holdout the first aid team soothed my burn with aloe, put some ice on my lip, and had me swallow down a high strength ibuprofen with cold, sweet apple juice. Then I was taken to the hotel that housed all the cast-off jury members. The suitcase I had packed for after the show was waiting in my very own private room. I took my first hot shower in over a month, and the lavender scented bath soap and conditioning shampoo felt more luxurious than silk. I toweled off and put on my favorite old t-shirt and soft cotton pajama pants, both of which smelled like fabric softener and home. Then I ordered room service – a Cajun chicken sandwich, salad, and a coke. Plus a chocolate sundae for dessert, with extra whipped cream. I ate it all, and each bite was more delicious than the last. Afterwards I watched a captivating Spanish soap opera, until finally I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Then I snuggled up, curled in smooth, dry linens, and closed my eyes while I lay atop a mattress as soft as a cloud. This was after a month of being hungry and damp, and smelling like feet.

  But that night I didn’t sleep at all.

  I just stared at the darkness, with one thought running through my mind. “How can I make Grant lose?”

  The final vote would be in less than twenty-four hours. Each jury member would get to ask the last three contestants one question. All I had to do was come up with the perfect, revealing question that would make Grant falter, flinch and forfeit. But what was it?

  The next day I talked to Beth and Bailey.

  “I’m not voting for him, but I think the others are,” said Bailey.

  “He played a good game,” said Beth.

  “But he’s the one who got everyone to vote both of you out. We were in an alliance! How can you tolerate that?”

  Beth shrugged her shoulders. “Who said I am? But look at the choices. None of them deserves to win. At least Grant had a plan.”

  In the air-conditioned hotel breakfast room, the skin on my arms formed goose bumps. I looked through the picture windows to outside. Being indoors no longer felt natural. I longed for sun on my face and sand beneath my feet.

  Beth grabbed her tray like she was about to get up. “Besides,” she said, “I feel bad for Grant. After what happened with his parents and his sister, he could use some good fortune. I bet Henry’s been pampered all his life.”

  She cleared her dishes and walked away. But she had left me with an idea.

  Show producers were still monitoring the jury members and use of the internet was strictly forbidden. So I went and stood in the first floor bathroom.

  After only a couple of minutes a touristy looking lady walked in. I held up $100 and pointed to her phone. “Please,” I said, hoping she understood English well enough to get my meaning. “I just need to use your phone for a few minutes.”

  She pushed her Gucci sunglasses further up her head and raised her eyebrows. “Are you one of the contestants from The Holdout?” she asked.

  I bit my lip. “I can’t say.” Then I just stared at her phone.

  She smirked. “Fine,” she said, giving me her phone with one hand and extending her other hand to receive the money.

  “Thank you!” I said, as I handed her the bill. “But this never happened, okay?”

  She shrugged. “Whatever.”

  I smiled my appreciation and then turned away, trying to be stealthy about my quick Google search, which told me all I needed to know.

  Two hours before the jurors were scheduled to leave for the final Island Assembly, we were ordered to go to hair and makeup. They spent a long time blow drying my hair and painting my face. When they finished I looked sort of like Beach Barbie, except my boobs weren’t nearly big enough. I was wearing a black strapless sundress, which wasn’t something I had packed but what the stylist chose for me. It kept creeping down and I kept pulling it back up.

  On set we waited back stage for Joe Pine to call us out, one by one. “Are you going to freak out again tonight?” asked Beth. “That was pretty awesome when you grabbed Joe Pine by the shirt. Kind of made me like you again.”

  Joe called out, “Beth, Bailey, and Robin, voted out at the last Island Assembly.” I walked onto the set.

  Henry, Klemi, and Grant were sitting in their usual spot. I gave Henry a smile and a wave. I saw Grant’s jaw drop as he took in my appearance. Who could blame him? I do clean up nice.

  Joe spoke to the jury. “Tonight, at the final Island Assembly, the last three contestants will sit before you as you ask them your questions. It is now their job to convince you that they deserve the million dollars. But before we start with your questions, each contestant gets to make a brief, opening statement.” He turned around. “Klemi, you’re first.”

  Klemi flashed a rehearsed looking smile, lowered her shoulders, and stuck out her chest. “Okay. Well, you all know me. I don’t lie. I tell it how it is. Maybe you don’t always like what I have to say, but I didn’t deceive anyone this entire game. I know I wasn’t always the easiest person to have around, but The Holdout isn’t supposed to be easy.”

  Then it was Henry’s turn. He cleared his throat. “Well, I’m sure a lot of you are surprised to see me sitting here. I guess I’m also shocked that I made it to the final three. Part of it was luck, like when I found the hidden immunity idol. And, I know that for a while nobody was voting me out because they didn’t see me as a threat, since I was so bad at the physical challenges. But I did do well in the challenges that weren’t about speed or strength, and I like to think I played a good social game. I worked hard, trying to get people to vote out Grant, who was the game’s biggest threat. I didn’t succeed and I think that has more to do with you all on the jury than it does with me. So now you’re left with a choice. You can award the million to Grant, the guy who worked against all of you, or to me, the guy who tried to work with all of you.”

  “Or they can award it to me,” said Klemi.

  Henry pushed his glasses up on his nose and kept his gaze forward, not on Klemi. “True, but I’m not really sure what you did in this game.” He grinned. “But obviously, jury, if you think Klemi deserves the million, vote for her.” Henry spread his hands to either side in a gesture of diplomacy.

  “Okay,” said Joe. “Grant, you’re on.”

  Grant had been staring off to the side, watching the shadow of flames dance against the bamboo set. When he heard Joe say his name, he turned his head, and his eyes went directly to mine. He spoke only to me, ignoring everyone else.

  “Robin,” he said. “I’m sorry for hurting you.” He sighed and his stare made me realize how empty I felt inside. “Since you left last night I’ve had time to think, and I truly regret my actions. This whole time I was playing a game, and I did what I thought I had to do to win. I never wanted to hurt anyone though, especially you.” He looked away from me, and scanned the faces of the rest of the jury. “If you all think that what I did was unforgivable, then you should vote for Henry.” Klemi let out a dramatic sigh of exasperation, b
ut Grant didn’t acknowledge her. “I don’t want the million if that’s how you all feel. But maybe you can absolve me for the mistakes I made, because you realize that I’m still young and stupid. Perhaps you can recognize that despite everything, I did play one hell of a game. If so, vote for me,” he looked back and spoke with his bedroom voice, as if we were alone in each other’s arms, “but only if you can forgive me.”

  Bile rose from my stomach to my mouth, and it tasted like fury. He waited until now to be reticent, and it was just one more part of his act.

  “Okay,” said Joe. “Time for questions from the jury.”

  We went in order of when we were voted out, so I was to be last. Each question was fairly tame, along the lines of “What was your biggest strength?” or “What would you do with the money?” or “Which action of yours do you regret the most?” Grant said he regretted hurting me and he even wiped a tear away as he spoke. You would think he was the one who majored in theater.

  When it was Beth’s turn she got up and stood before the three of them. “I don’t have any questions but I do have something to say.” She put her hands on her hips. With the lit torches that surrounded the set, the fire pit in the middle, and the candles flickering from every spare spot, she was illuminated by flames from every direction. It was like she was presenting a speech in hell. “Klemi,” she said, “you’re worthless. Nobody is going to vote for you so I’m not wasting my time saying anything more. Henry, you’re a nice enough guy, but you’re weak. I would vote for you if I respected you, but I don’t. Grant, you’re a liar and a cheat, and I don’t buy the speech you just gave. Nobody is that young or stupid. But you are strong, and you did play a good game.” She shrugged her shoulders. “So I guess you have my vote.”

  “Thank you,” said Grant.

  “Don’t thank me,” said Beth. “I could still change my mind.” She sat down.

  Then Bailey got up. “I do have a question, and it’s for you.” He spoke to Grant. “Does loyalty mean anything to you?”

  Grant was sitting in a forward leaning position, his arms resting on his knees. The muscles in his biceps strained under the sleeves of his green t-shirt and his Adam’s apple moved up and down before he opened his mouth to answer.

  “No.” he said. “Growing up like I did, loyalty isn’t something I’ve had much experience with.”

  Bailey, who is a man of few words, nodded. “That’s no excuse. You make me sick.”

  Wow. At long last, Bailey and I had some common ground. I studied Grant’s face for a response to such strong words, but he remained as unchanged as a Twinkie that has sat on the pantry shelf for years.

  Finally it was my turn. I stood with wobbly knees, knowing this moment would be one I would relive, over and over, both in my memory and on TV. So I had to get it right the first time. A dozen cameras were capturing my every angle, but the only pair of eyes I cared about belonged to Grant.

  “So,” I said. “You asked for forgiveness.”

  “Yes,” replied Grant.

  My heart was beating so strong I could feel it in my ears. “I could forgive you, except...” I breathed, in and out, in and out, to steady myself. “Except, this one thing is holding me back.” I looked around. Jury members were perched on the edges of their seats, and even Joe was hunched forward, like he was prepared for quick action if necessary. Did they all think I was going to go crazy again?

  “Grant, I told you before that my mother died.”

  He nodded.

  “She was in a car accident when I was two years old. I don’t remember her, and I don’t remember the time shortly after she died, but my family told me that I wandered around for days, looking and calling out for her.” I sniffed and swallowed down the dangerous emotions that were surging through me. “She was a good woman. She loved my brothers and my dad, and although I was something of a surprise, my dad says that she was thrilled to have a daughter. So she loved me, and even though I don’t remember her, I remember the feeling of loving her back.” I blink rapidly and stand up straighter, righting my posture. “And I mention this now because honestly, nearly thirty years later, I still feel like no matter what I do, I just can’t let go of her.” I pause, take a moment, and will myself to hold it together. “That’s why I never really talked about her while I was still a contestant in this game. Using her memory to manipulate my standing in The Holdout wouldn’t be worth a million dollars.” Grant’s mouth was slowly starting to drop, a gradual pull of gravity. “Some things are too painful to talk about, or too sacred to capitalize upon. But you wouldn’t know about that, would you? A person like you, who has never suffered a day in his life, can’t possibly understand someone else’s pain, or how destructive a lie can be.”

  I paused. The only sound came from the crackling of the flames. I breathed deeply, preparing myself to deliver my next punch. “I guess what I’m saying is, while I would never use my mother’s memory to get myself ahead in this game, I feel pretty good about using her memory to destroy you.”

  Grant started to speak, but I cut him off. “Wait.” My voice was hard and strong. “Before you say anything, I want to tell you one more thing. You did play a good game. Your only flaw was that you underestimated me.”

  I pivoted and addressed the jury. “How many of you heard Grant’s story about his parents dying in Iraq and his grandparents blaming him for his sister’s disappearance?”

  Beth, Bailey, and several others raised their hands.

  “Well,” I said, drawing my words out for emphasis, “it was all a big lie.”

  I turned back to Grant. Even with the orange-red flames illuminating his face, he was pale. “Don’t try and deny it,” I said. “I know everything. Your parents do work for Halliburton, but they’re still very much alive, and their huge paycheck funded your education at St. Paul’s prep school in Connecticut, where you excelled in every sport possible. Your sister is there now, and I hear she’s breaking records in girl’s lacrosse.”

  “Wait.” Grant, now in a panic, held up his index finger. “How did you find…” His face fell and he looked to Joe. “She’s not allowed to know this stuff.”

  Joe answered through suppressed laughter. “Maybe not, but there’s nothing we can do about that now.”

  “You can’t prove anything,” Grant said to me.

  “I don’t have to. Because we all know I’m telling the truth, and that you’re a liar.”

  The flames danced and jumped around us. I was expecting Grant to melt into a pile of deceit and regret, but he smiled instead. It was the same cocky “can you believe this” smile he gave me weeks ago, on the boat during the first few minutes of the game. “My parents are alive,” he said. “They travelled a lot. That’s why I was in boarding school.”

  “So why did you lie? I think the jury deserves to know.”

  Grant thought for a moment, looking off in the distance and sighing. He returned his gaze to me when he answered. “Why not lie?” His face hardened as he shrugged. “Seriously, why not lie? It’s a game Robin. Who ever said I had to tell the truth?”

  I sniffed, wiped my nose, and hoped my makeup wasn’t running.

  “But I really am sorry,” said Grant.

  “Yeah, I don’t forgive you.” I shifted my focus to Henry. “Henry, I feel like I owe you an apology. I should have listened to you in the beginning. And I should have recognized earlier what a threat you really are.” I grinned. “Of course, if I had, I probably would have voted you out, or at least tried to.” I turned to the jury. “This guy is not weak. He may not be athletic, but he’s strong in other ways. He managed to stand on his own, without an alliance, and make it to the final three. It wasn’t luck that brought him here; it was strategy and pure determination. Personally, I can’t think of anyone more deserving of the million dollars or the title of The Holdout. And he wants to use the money to invent some shield that will make the world a better place…so anyway Henry, you have my vote.”

  “Thanks, Robin.”

&nb
sp; I smiled at him one more time, and then I turned and sat back on the jury bench. Joe’s mouth was hanging slightly agape, but I expect he was relieved that I made it through my little speech without physically attacking anyone. In a slightly higher voice than normal, he spoke to the camera.

  “Okay, it’s time to vote. Remember, tonight you are writing down the name of the person who you want to win The Holdout. Robin, you’re up first.”

  I stood, prepared to make my final move in this game.

  Chapter 14

  One advantage of being in jury deliberations over the Smythe case is I’m not allowed to have my cell phone at all during the day. This gives me a built-in excuse for not returning calls or texts. When I pick up my phone on my way out of the courthouse I have a kazillion messages, mostly from friends and family, but a few are unfamiliar numbers. They’re probably reporters, and while I don’t delete them right away, I don’t listen to them either. There are only two calls I want to return.

  “Hey,” I say when he picks up. “Is your family going crazy yet?”

  “I’m going crazy,” he replies. “Do you think I have a chance?”

  Of course anything I say will be pure speculation. To cut down on potential spoilers, even us show contestants don’t yet know who won The Holdout. We’ll find out this week with the rest of the country, when the live reunion special is aired. But I’ve answered this question at least a dozen times before, and I answer it again because that’s what friends do. “Of course. The only one who doesn’t have a chance is Klemi. But otherwise I could see it going either way.”

  I hear him sigh. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think yeah, I could actually win this thing, but then I have a dream where Grant gets all the votes and I realize I forgot to wear clothes to the reunion show.”

  I laugh. “I bet Tenzin would love it if you did.”

  Henry chuckles at that, and I get him to give me all the latest details about his new relationship. Tenzin is the first real girlfriend he’s ever had, and he says it’s going well.