by Evans, Katy
“Holy shit. You’re smart.”
“I suppose. I also have a very good memory. That helps.”
“Jeez. Fuck. My parents disowned me when I was sixteen. That’s when I dropped out of school. Thought about going back for my GED, but fuck it. I hate tests. Never was good at school. But you? You’re every parent’s wet dream. You’re seriously telling me your family gives you shit? For what?”
“My father wanted me to go to Harvard Law and follow in his footsteps. But it never interested me. He basically told me that if I wanted to follow him, he’d pay for it all. If I didn’t, I was on my own.”
He stares at me, impressed. “That takes some balls, girl.”
I shrug, though I feel a surge of pride. The tough guy thinks I have balls. “Well. I’m either brave or stupid, because I have a lot of student loans. But you have to be true to yourself. Right?”
The plane starts to taxi down the runway. He cranes his neck over me to see out the oval window. He’s not saying it, but I think he might be nervous.
“What about you?”
“I own a bar. Or . . . the bank owns a bar. I need the money to pay it off.”
“Oh. Which one?”
“You don’t know it. I doubt a sweet, pure thing like you’d ever go to my neighborhood. It’s a dive.” He touches the book on my lap. “You get a lot of stuff in your big old brain from books?”
I nod. “I love Baudelaire.”
“Baude who?” He takes the book from my hands and flips the pages. “Holy shit. It’s in another language.”
“French.”
“And you can read that?”
I nod. “I spent my summers in Paris when I was growing up.”
“Holy . . . fuck.” He clears his throat. He’s still absently paging through the book. “I mean, holy . . . fudge. That’s strange as hell. I haven’t even picked up a book in . . . who the hell knows?”
I shrug. “Le bou est toujours bizarre.”
He gives me a look. “Le what?”
“The beautiful is always strange.”
“Ah.” He points to my earbuds. “What’re you listening to?”
“Mussorgsky. Pictures at an Exhibition. You?”
He pulls out an earbud and hands it to me to have a listen. I’m not sure I want to trade, considering that seems almost intimate, sharing something that’s been in his ear. But I take it, then hand him one of mine.
All I hear is a headache-inducing bang of drums from some rock band whose lead singer sounds like he’s screaming in pain. I wince and hand his back to him.
When I look up at him, he’s so close I can see the amber flecks in his green eyes, which are piercing me. He’s still listening to mine, his lips curved in amusement over the fact that I clearly didn’t like his. “You’re a classy girl, aren’t you?”
“I appreciate classical music,” I say, tugging the earbud away from him and returning it to my ear.
He’s gazing at me like I’m some mythical creature. I think all this conversation has done is prove that we are about as night and day as two people can get. I don’t think the Million Dollar Marriage crew could’ve picked a couple that is more wrong for each other. But maybe that’s just what they wanted.
I almost laugh as I realize the knuckles of his one hand are white on the armrest. “And by the way, you can have mercy on the armrests. We’ve already taken off.”
His eyes move to the window, where the plane is climbing into the sky, leaving Atlanta as a patchwork beneath us. He leans over me. He has small sideburns, stubble on his caramel skin, and a shock of dark hair falling over his eyes that I just want to reach out and sweep back. I get a whiff of his smell, masculine, deep, and . . . delicious, enough to make my insides twist. “Wow. Would you look at that?”
“Would you like to switch seats?” I ask, wondering if he knows what he’s doing to me.
He turns his head a little, and now he’s just inches away. His eyes practically undress me, glinting with mischief. “Nah. I think the view is better right where I am.”
Luke
Sure, it was a surprise. I never saw myself as married or settled down. Especially not to someone like her. I’m easygoing. Whatever works, you know? But Penny . . . she’s another story.
—Luke’s Confessional, Day 2
I survived my first flight. We’re sitting blindfolded on the runway, ready to get off the plane and go . . . who knows where.
“Where do you think we are?” Penny whispers to me. “We were only in the air three hours. So based on that and the wind shear and the location of the airport as we were taking off . . . I’d guess that we’re in . . .”
“Philadelphia.”
“How do you . . .”
“I’m peeking.”
She nudges me. “Well, don’t. You know they’re filming us at all times. Even now. Don’t get us disqualified.”
I like that she’s thinking about the game. “Yes, ma’am.”
A staff member escorts us onto another bus, and we end up driving for another hour. By then, it’s dark. I’m ready to hit the hay.
Which might be exactly where I end up sleeping, knowing Penny’s rules.
“All right, guys!” Will Wang announces from the front of the bus after it stops. “We are at your first outpost. You may remove your blindfolds.”
I pull mine down around my neck. It’s dark outside. I scan all the windows. Hell, we might really be in the middle of nowhere. “What the fuck is this?” Ace says behind me.
We all file off the bus and form a circle around Will in some rutted, muddy field. It’s cold as fuck; I can see my breath. I stuff my hands deep into the pockets of my shorts.
“The time is now nine p.m. Go right to your quarters, where you may freshen up, eat something, and rest. When the siren sounds, you must all converge here for the instructions on your next challenge. From here on out, you and your spouse will be traveling independently from other contestants. Whoever arrives at the next outpost first will be given an advantage in the next leg of the journey. Any questions?”
Charity, a model with enormous tits the cameramen are clearly in love with, says, “I don’t see any quarters here?”
With that, a floodlight switches on, illuminating a handful of small tents.
Then I see Penny’s horrified expression.
Fuck. I’m sleeping on the ground, outside of the tent. In the cold.
We find the tent with our names on it. It’s even smaller up close. The producers are definitely fucking with us. I motion for her to go in first.
She climbs in and lets out a whimper. “I hate camping. God, it’s cold.”
I go in and see that there’s only one sleeping bag. I think the producers are trying to get us as uncomfortable with our new spouses as possible. It’s a two-person bag, but I don’t think I’ll be lucky enough to use it. I twist on a lantern on a small pack, and it casts a circle of light on Penny’s huddled shape.
“Hell yeah!” I shout when I open the pack and find a container of Cheez-Its and Cokes. I pass one to her.
She plops down on the bag and shakes her head. “I don’t eat that stuff.” She looks at her sneakers. “I’m all sticky, too, from that Jell-O.”
“So you got a thing against junk food, nature . . . anything else?”
She pulls her knees up to her chest and hugs herself, shivering, as I tear through the pack of snacks. I haven’t eaten all day, so I easily clean it all up. I could go for a beer, but I settle for the Coke. She rummages through her bag.
She pulls out a toothbrush and toothpaste.
Is she crazy? “I think you’re shit outta luck there, girl. This ain’t the Four Seasons.”
She wrinkles her nose. “I have to brush my teeth.”
“Good luck.” I pull off my shoes and start to lie down on the bag as she stands up, going for the tent flap.
She’s half out of the tent when she turns around and sees me lying there. “What do you think you’re doing?”
I c
lose my eyes. The bag ain’t much, but it’s sure as hell better than nothing. “You were serious about that?”
She nods. “Dead.”
I sit up, put my shoes on again. I’m just getting ready to go find another place to sleep when she comes back, a sour expression on her face. “I think I’ve scarred myself for life.”
“What? No spa?”
She shakes her head. “Porta-potties. So gross.”
She climbs in past me, and I smell mint—so she must’ve gotten her teeth brushed after all. That, and her. I think it’s her shampoo, but maybe it’s the lime Jell-O. I smelled it on the plane, and I couldn’t stop leaning into it.
What I wouldn’t give to curl up in a sleeping bag with that and feast on it all night long.
She sits down on the sleeping bag and unties her sneakers, slipping out of them. Then she crawls to the top of the bag and slips inside. She winds her hair up on top of her head and pulls off her glasses, setting them atop her backpack.
Then she looks up at me.
And fucking hell. She’s beautiful. She wears those too-big glasses to hide her face, and it works. I blink twice in the dim light, trying to see more of the girl she keeps trying to hide.
“What?” she mutters.
“Nothing,” I say.
I go outside and close the flaps on the tent. The temperature has gone down, even in the last hour since we got here. I look around for someplace to rest and wind up tripping over another form on the ground. It’s Brad, one of the original members of my athletic foursome. He’s lying on the ground, along with a couple of other people I can’t make out.
“Your wife kick you out too?” I ask him, finding a spot I can lay out. It’s muddy earth and dried patches of grass. It fucking sucks.
He shakes his head, bundled up in his North Face jacket. “No. She wanted me to stay. But she’s older than my mother. So . . . yeah. I told her I’d sleep outside.”
Oh. Fuck. Well, at least I have company out here.
Not the company I’d prefer, though.
In the darkness I make out a wiry, kind of weaselly-looking guy named Steven, who must’ve been kicked to the curb by his wife, Erica, who’s one of those type-A, business-suit types and reminds me a little of Lizzy, Jimmy’s girlfriend, except that Erica is all bitch. She’s loud and abrasive and would drive me batshit. He leans over and shakes my hand.
Then I meet Elliott, who’s probably over four hundred pounds. He’s paired with a hot girl named Jen, who supposedly makes workout videos for a living.
There’s Zach, who’s forty-five, divorced twice with three kids, who seems like a bit of a shyster. He is paired with Cara, a twenty-five-year-old ballet dancer.
There are others out here too. “So all the guys are out here?”
Brad grins. “Not Ace.” He points to a tent. “Listen.”
I listen and hear it. A definite moan.
Zach shakes his head. “They wasted no time in consummating their marriage.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Are you fucking kidding me? Ace and Marta? The beauty queen who can’t speak English?”
To think, that could’ve been me and Penny. If she’d just let loose a little and relax.
He shrugs. “She didn’t look like the sharpest tool in the drawer.”
“He’s a piece of work,” Steven says.
“Yeah,” Brad says, sitting up and cracking his knuckles. “I think that if we can find a way to slow him down, we should try. Work together, you know?”
Steven and Elliott nod. Steven says, “I’m in.”
I shrug. “I don’t know, man.”
That ain’t the strategy I’d told myself I would use going in. Even if Ace is an asshole, I want to win this clean. I’m all for helping each other, but I’m not going to try to bring anyone down. I got too much on my mind to think about that.
We talk a little more, but eventually we’re all so tired that we drift to sleep. The sky is clear and filled with stars, and I’m so beat, I don’t dream. It feels like a blink, and suddenly a siren wails overhead. “Contestants up!” someone shouts. “Get ready!”
I sit bolt upright and look around. It’s even darker than before because clouds have moved in, covering the moon. And also because . . .
“No wonder I feel like I hardly slept,” Zach, the older guy, says, rubbing his hand through his receding hairline and looking at his watch. “It’s three in the morning.”
LOST IN A CORNFIELD
Nell
How do I feel? I think I slept on seven different rocks for a total of twelve minutes. I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast yesterday. And I’m covered in Jell-O. I guess I’m not very happy?
—Nell’s Confessional, Day 2
Scraping my hair back into a ponytail and putting my glasses on, I stumble out of the tent but struggle to see anything but darkness. What time is it?
Will Wang’s annoyingly peppy voice is coming through a bullhorn, so I follow that, along with the other contestants.
“We are coming to you from Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, where the Million Dollar Marriage contestants are about to embark on their first challenge. It’s three in the morning, so it’s time to get this underway!”
I have no idea what I look like, but I feel like death. I keep blinking to try to stay awake. I’m still wearing the same lime-crusted, smelly clothes, and I didn’t have a chance to wash up this morning. This is cruel and unusual.
I make my way through the crowd and see Luke standing there, arms crossed. For someone who slept in the mud, he looks darn good. He spots me and gives me a grin. “Sleep well?”
I almost feel guilty for not sharing the tent with him. But it was a small tent. What was I supposed to do? Sleep on top of him?
My pulse skitters at the thought.
“Yes. You?”
“No complaints. You pumped?”
I nod. “Totally.”
“Brush your teeth?” He winks at me. “I hear that’s important.”
I frown at him. “Shut up.”
“How’s everyone doing this morning?” Will holds the mic up for our answer.
As tired as we all are, we manage to scream pretty loudly in reply. It’s freaking cold out, and I don’t see any trace of the sun getting ready to rise. I dig my hands into the pockets of my black ski jacket and jump up and down in my sneakers.
“Welcome, our nine couples, to the start of your Million Dollar Marriage race to the finish! At the end of each leg, you will reach a check-in or outpost, where you can rest and refuel for the next day’s activities. Do not stop until you’ve reached that check-in, or you will lose valuable time. The last couple to show up at each check-in will be eliminated, unless it is a non-elimination round. The order in which you arrive at each check-in will determine your starting time for the next leg of the journey.
“You are going to set off on the first part of the journey in three groupings of three. The order in which you set out will be determined by Marriage Test Number One.”
Marriage Test? That doesn’t sound good. I manage a look at Luke. His brow is low, his eyes focused. Total game face.
“What is a Marriage Test, you ask?” Will says, striding back and forth in front of us. “Well, you’ll have several of them throughout the journey, and they will award you crucial bonuses like earlier start times. You remember filling out your personal questionnaire before the show began? The Marriage Test will see how well your partner knows you and can answer your questions. First, women. Please step forward.”
I take a tentative step forward. I’m flanked by the older woman in leather and Marta, who can’t stop looking at one of her broken fingernails. A staff member comes along and hands us each what looks like an electronic wipe board.
“Ladies, you will have twenty seconds to write down how you think your spouse would complete this sentence: If I were stranded on a desert island, the one thing I’d take with me would be . . .” He pauses for effect, and my stomach drops. My mind goes blank. “And . .
. go!”
I turn and look back at Luke, who’s staring at me, trying to transmit the answer telepathically to me. “Don’t help, men! Let your wives do it on their own!” Will chides. “Ten seconds!”
I think I’ve got it anyway. I quickly scribble down the answer.
A buzzer sounds somewhere in the darkness, and Will says, “All right, let’s see how the couples did on Marriage Test Number One!”
He starts with Marta. Amazingly, though I’m not really sure Marta can speak English, she knows the p-word, the slang, vulgar word for a woman’s sexual parts, and it turns out, that’s just what Ace said. So one point for them.
Natalie, next to me, says, “Protein shakes!” which, weirdly enough, happens to be Brad’s answer. They also get a point.
Then Will comes to me. I gnaw on my lip. “Okay, Dr. Carpenter. What do you think Luke Cross can’t live without if stranded on a desert island?”
I flip over my board and show the answer. “A woman?” I ask.
People start to laugh. Luke lets out a muffled curse behind me. So, I’m wrong? That same annoying buzzer sounds, and Will says, “Sorry, Dr. Carpenter. The answer we were going for was a penknife. A penknife.”
I whirl around to look at Luke, who’s squinting at me. A woman? he mouths, like I’m insane. I shrug.
Turns out, he doesn’t do much better at answering my questions either. We end up going zero for six, which puts us in group three, the last group, which will end up leaving ten minutes after group one. Of course, Ace and Marta are in that group. I can already tell by the way Luke’s muttering that he hates them.
“Our first challenge is taking place at the Riverview Farm in Lancaster County, site of the largest and most challenging corn maze in the entire world. This corn maze is not like any other. There are miles and miles of paths, and one wrong turn can put you off track for hours. There are also underground tunnels that you might have to go through. As you go along, you will be collecting numbers to show that you are on the correct path. There are dozens of paths through the maze, but you must collect the numbers one through ten, in your color, on your journey. On your way, there will be various challenges and riddles for you to solve.
