Seven Exes Are Eight Too Many

by Heather Wardell

  They'd had a prayer of getting me to talk about Kent himself. Their chance of my discussing the end of our relationship was less than that of a snowball in my rice pan over a roaring fire. "They'd never ask questions like that," I said, but as I said it I realized they might.

  Michael said, "Any question is possible. So, why'd you guys break up?"

  When I didn't speak, he put his hand lightly on my shoulder, barely touching me. "You don't have to give us all the gory details. Just... just the back-cover copy."

  I laughed. Michael and I had often told each other the little events of our daily lives in back-cover style after he'd brought a particularly over-done novel from the bookstore he owned to show me. Phrases like "devastating consequences" and "a saga spanning generations" had peppered our conversations for weeks.

  "Okay, fine." At least I could hide the truth in a cascade of overblown words.

  Michael squeezed my shoulder and let me go.

  "When MC Spencer and Kent Lawson had been together three months, they went to dinner at his parents' house and their relationship almost died over dessert. She slowly got used to his family's openness, but when they turned that openness on her it swallowed her whole."

  I stopped. They waited for more. I'd said enough. "The end." I pretended to curtsey.

  Sam blinked. "It doesn't make sense."

  "It does to me," Michael said. "Explains why you never wanted to meet my parents."

  "I did meet them. Even spent Christmas there."

  "Yeah, but you didn't want to. He made you like that."

  "I was always like that," I said. "Whatever 'like that' means. It was always just me and Dad, at least after I was six, so I'm not used to big loud family groups."

  Sam took a breath as if to speak but then didn't, for which I was grateful. He'd undoubtedly been thinking of my comfortable relationship with his parents and four sisters, and how their volume hadn't bothered me in the least. Was Michael right? Had I changed after Kent?

  Michael leaned forward. "You were still hung up on him when we dated, weren't you?"

  "If I'd been hung up, I'd have gone back to him."

  And hadn't I considered that very thing more times than I could count in the six months before I'd met Michael? Hadn't I nearly called Kent every day at first? Picked up the phone, burst into tears at my inability to fix what I'd done, put the phone back down, until the pain began to dull and I'd been able to move on?

  Pushing himself to his feet, Michael said, "Well, even if you weren't still after him, he definitely messed you up big time. I'd say he's the reason we broke up, wouldn't you?"

  "No! Michael, I--"

  But he disappeared into the jungle without looking back.

  I turned to Sam. "My people skills are something else, huh?"

  He gave my knee a quick squeeze. "He's got something else bugging him, I think. Probably misses his wife. Don't let it get you down."

  I didn't bother answering this. To get any more down, I'd have to dig a hole first. I'd had Sam, Aaron, and Michael on my side, with Jim neutral. Now, I only had Sam. Great though he was, the rest of the time on the island would be hell with just his support.

  His, and maybe--

  No. Just his.

  No fraternizing with the enemy.

  Chapter Eight

  We ate breakfast in a stiff silence, Sam and I apart from the others, who'd gone swimming together that morning and were clearly united. Their coldness made my stomach twist, and Sam must have felt the same because he muttered, "Going to get water," and fled.

  I looked after him in shock. So much for my one supporter. He'd thrown me to the lions.

  Who pounced.

  "This has to be a group effort," Aaron said. "Look how badly we've done the last few days and how tense everything is around camp. If you keep taking over, we're doomed."

  I forced myself to meet his eyes, struggling not to let the memory of our little encounter overwhelm me. When I was about to look away, too uncomfortable to hold his gaze any longer, he looked away from me.

  Was he embarrassed too? Maybe.

  And was I going to lose this game over a little embarrassment? So he'd backed off quickly, hadn't tried to convince me. Big deal. I'd rejected him. Full of sudden fire, I said, "I haven't taken over. What have I done, besides--"

  Greg tried to cut me off, but I talked over him. "--besides doing what I had to do? I didn't ask to exile someone, you know."

  Greg started again. "We think we should make the decisions together."

  Aaron nodded. "Thing is, we feel like we're a huge part of the team but you'll get all the money. It's not fair."

  "Is that what this is all about? The million dollars?"

  Aaron's look said I was missing a few key marbles. "Of course. I couldn't stand Phillip. No clue what you ever saw in him."

  Blue eyes that made me melt?

  "But he was good for the team. And of course it's about the money. You're the only one who'll win it, so we think--"

  "I am? Where'd you get that from?"

  "You can't be exiled, you have the power to exile us... it seems pretty likely either you or Kent will get the million."

  On the first night, I'd decided I had to do my best regardless, and I hadn't given the possible allocations much thought since. Apparently they had.

  Aaron said, "And I for one didn't like you saying you had big plans for the money. You can't win it without our help. If you win, if we win, we think--"

  "My big plans are to help Colin have a normal life. I'm sorry if that doesn't seem fair to you, but what he lives with doesn't seem quite fair to me either!"

  My intensity stunned them silent, then Aaron's "I'm sorry" and Jim's "Who's Colin?" came out at once. Greg looked as uncomfortable as Aaron, and the rest shared Jim's confusion.

  Realizing most of them didn't know calmed me. "Colin is Craig's son, nearly a year old now. I'm his godmother." I sighed. "Colin was born blind."

  Michael made a sympathetic sound, and Jim said, "How's his mother dealing with it?"

  "She took off three days after they found out he couldn't see."

  "Craig's raising him alone?" The grudging admiration in Dean's voice surprised me; he'd never been Craig's biggest fan.

  I nodded. "His parents take care of Colin when Craig's at work, and I help out when I can, but nobody's sure how it'll work when he gets older. With the money, he could get the best treatment, tutors if he needs them, anything that'll help make his life better." I took a deep breath, but my voice still shook as I said, "I love that little guy and I want him to have the best of everything."

  We sat in silence again, but the chill was gone.

  Greg cleared his throat. "I had no idea you felt that strongly about Colin."

  I stared at him. "I spend as much time with him as possible. How could you not know?"

  "I didn't either," Aaron said. "I knew you liked him, and felt sorry for him, but it honestly didn't occur to me you wanted the money for him."

  How could they not have realized how important Colin was to me? I nearly asked them, but there was no point. "Well, I do. I'd love to keep a bit, of course, but I really want it for him."

  Michael said, "Then let's make sure we win it."

  I smiled at him, and he smiled back, his eyes warmer than they'd been so far, but a flurry of glances passed between my other exes.

  "What?"

  Aaron said, "I can't believe I'm speaking against a blind kid, but don't we deserve a share too? After all, it is a group effort."

  I wanted to say no, but if I won it would be because we'd won. "You do," I said eventually. "Of course you do. But it's only a million, and--"

  "Only a million," Jim said. "Is that all? Here, let me write you a check."

  "Yeah, I know, it's a lot of money, but not when we split it up." I took a deep breath, afraid to fracture our fragile peace but needing them to know how I felt. "I wouldn't take more than you'd get, but I want Colin to have most of it. You need to know that."
>
  They exchanged glances. "I'm okay with that," Dean said, and the others nodded.

  "Guys, you're so awesome," I said to the group at large but looking at Dean, who turned away, blushing. "Okay, so I'll share with you. How much? With all of you, or--"

  Michael jumped in before I could finish. "It might not be up to you. The regular 'Stranded!' show doesn't let people make deals to share the money."

  "But this isn't like the regular show, right? I'm the only one who gets to vote, and the only one who can't get kicked off."

  "We know, we know," Greg said, but in a joking tone.

  I rolled my eyes at him then went on. "Well, let's assume I get to decide, because otherwise there's no point in even thinking about it. Does everyone get some? What percentage?"

  We talked it through, trying different possibilities and airing our opinions, and Jim admitted that Phillip had fired them up with talk of how I'd keep all the money to myself.

  "You guys know me better than that, don't you?"

  Jim shrugged. "I haven't seen you for years, how would I know?"

  Greg said, "I didn't really believe it at first, but he was telling stories of past 'Stranded!' contestants and the crazy things they did to get the money. Telling lies, ganging up on each other, pretending to fall in love. It made me wonder. A million's a lot of money, you know."

  "I do know. So, we've agreed that no matter which one of us wins, Colin gets half the money and we split the rest. But what about Phillip? And anyone else I have to exile? Do they get a share?"

  Silence hung over the group until Greg said, "I say they don't. Splitting half a million eight ways? Barely worth the effort. I think only people who stay to the end get the money."

  I frowned. "But then wouldn't it make sense for me to exile as many of you as I could? Lose all the contests so I'd get more money at the end?"

  Ignoring Greg and Dean's angry expressions, Aaron said, "Think, baby. If you lose all the contests, you won't win the money. You need to have more players left at the end to get it."

  I grimaced, embarrassed I'd missed something so obvious, and Aaron grinned.

  "Unless they've changed it from how 'Stranded!' usually works," he said, "but even then you could be in trouble. What if the court that wins the most contests wins?"

  "Plus, having fewer court members left would hurt you too," Greg said, his face clearing. "They'd get tired faster working around the island."

  I nodded. "Plus, I hate losing."

  "I know," the guys said together, and we all laughed. The release of tension felt good; I hadn't realized how draining our environment had been.

  "So anyhow, do we agree that only the final people get the money?"

  They looked back and forth, and eventually all were nodding. Of course, they probably all figured they wouldn't be sent home.

  "Okay, now, time to win it," I said as the distant sound of a motorboat began to grow. I headed toward the latrine. "I'll be right back."

  "Want company?" Aaron shouted after me.

  For once, I thought of the perfect comeback on the spot. I called, "Want a punch in the gut?" over my shoulder, and the guys' laughter was the only thing following me up the path.

  When I returned, the first boat had left. I hopped into the second and we were off.

  Once we'd been microphoned up, Aaron, Greg, and I walked into the clearing I was already beginning to hate. Peter waited by a picnic table, Kent and his women on one side of him and my remaining exes on the other.

  When we reached the table, Peter said, "All right, let's start this elimination contest. I know you're all hungry, so today we have food." He lifted the lid of a serving dish to reveal something that looked uncomfortably like...

  "Brains." Peter smiled. "Monkey brains, to be precise. The first Court to eat all--"

  Kent interrupted him. "They're missing someone."

  Peter ran his eyes along the line of my exes. "You are. Where's Sam?"

  A wave of fear swept me. "He went to get water this morning."

  "And you didn't even notice if he came back?"

  "We were talking," I protested, but Peter ignored me and spoke to an assistant. "Contact the camera crew on Princess Island. We're missing a Courtier. Sam."

  How long had he been gone? All alone in the jungle.

  Aaron took my hand, the warmth of his skin comforting. Greg held my other hand, and the remaining guys gathered around us, differences forgotten, at least for the moment.

  Kent's exes stood looking uncomfortable, and one wiped away a tear. Faith, I thought. Definitely one of the two who'd talked to Sam and Aaron at the etiquette lunch. A flicker of jealousy, utterly inappropriate under the circumstances, hit me.

  Trying to dispel it, I turned my eyes to Kent. He blinked three times in rapid succession then held my gaze. I blinked back once, emphatically, and tore my eyes from his. How dare he? And how stupid was he to even ask that?

  Peter's walkie-talkie crackled to life. "Found him."

  Relief flooded me and I heard Jim mutter, "Thank God."

  The next words, though, brought terror. "We need immediate medical assistance."

  *****

  Aaron and Greg held my hands so tightly it hurt as we waited, but I didn't pull away. I didn't want to. How badly was he hurt? Had they found him in time?

  Peter started and put a hand to his headset's earpiece, shock distorting his face.

  My heart banged against my ribs.

  Peter turned away and spoke into the headset's microphone. His voice sounded intense, even angry, but I couldn't make out his words. A pause, then he spoke again. After another pause, he sounded resigned. He faced us again. "We will go ahead with this contest."

  With Sam hurt? "But..."

  He shrugged, and I realized he was helpless. "He's being airlifted to the nearest hospital. It's out of our hands, and the show must go on."

  I didn't even consider consulting my exes. "No."

  Peter's eyebrows went up, higher than I'd seen them go before. "I beg your pardon?"

  As I forced myself to hold eye contact with him, one of my guys laid his hand on my back, and the others followed. Their touch, and Aaron and Greg's grips on my hands, gave me strength. "Sam's hurt, and obviously seriously. We can't concentrate on a contest right now."

  "Princess," Peter said, giving me a warning look, "you signed a contract to participate at all times. Besides, Sam can't return to your Court. Once someone leaves the island, even for a medical emergency, there is no return. It's as if you exiled him."

  I saw an opportunity. "Fine, then. Sam's exiled. So what's the point in playing it?"

  "The contract requires that you--"

  "I am not eating monkey brains while he's hurt!"

  He recoiled at my vehemence. "The show must--"

  "If we all refuse and you kick us out, the show's over."

  Peter stared at Dean. "You can't do that."

  "The hell we can't," Michael said. "People quit 'Stranded!' all the time. If the whole court quits, then what? Kent's court competes by itself?"

  "Plus," Aaron said, "you guys'll come off like the biggest jerks since that guy who pretended his grandmother had died to win a contest. We're not refusing. We're asking for a delay while we worry about our friend, and you won't allow it? The media'll eat it up."

  "The fine--"

  "You know you'll never collect that money if you force them to quit," Kent said. Everyone in the clearing turned to stare at him. He flushed but carried on. "MC's offered you a reasonable compromise. Why not be reasonable and take it?"

  Peter listened to his earpiece, then said, "This contest is cancelled. We will treat it as though the Princess's Court lost and Sam was exiled." He turned to Kent. "If you agree."

  Kent nodded. "I hope he's all right." He glanced at me then turned back to Peter.

  Beneath my worry, a twinge of self-disgust unfurled. Kent had reached out, blinking at me using the code we'd devised after I'd ended up overwhelmed by the volume and hilarity
of the first family gathering he'd taken me to. He should have known the answer to "are you okay?" would have been "no", but I hadn't needed to send that answer quite so viciously. Even so, he'd still been on my side, our side, in not doing the contest, and his support had made Peter give in.

  "You will return to your islands. There will be another contest tomorrow."

  We started away, but froze as Peter's walkie-talkie crackled again. "Please send the Princess and her Court back immediately."

  Chapter Nine

  Once we were all seated around the remains of the morning's fire, a crew member said, "Sam tripped over a tree root and knocked himself out. He came to when the boats arrived but couldn't yell loud enough for you to hear him."

  Poor Sam, lying there alone. I squeezed my hands together in my lap.

  "He has a broken ankle and a concussion, plus a few fire ant bites. I assume you've been told he won't be returning to your island?"

  We nodded.

  "Then I'll head out now. Be careful, all right? Any questions?"

  I licked my lips. "Can you tell him I'm sorry?"

  He smiled at me. "Will do."

  When he'd gone, emotion flooded me and I hung my head and sobbed.

  "He's okay, MC," Aaron said, and the others added their agreement. "Yeah, he's hurt, but he'll be fine. You don't need to cry."

  "I can't help it," I managed to get out. I knew the tears were excessive but I couldn't hold them back.

  Greg patted me awkwardly on the shoulder. "You know he's going to be okay. Come on, don't cry. I don't think I saw you cry once when we were together."

  "I probably didn't. I hardly ever do, only at that time of--" Shock cut off both my words and my tears.

  Michael and Jim, my longest relationships, looked at each other then at me.

  I covered my face with my hands.

  "Is it..." Jim trailed off.

  I nodded without looking up. Of course it was. I'd be getting my period in a few days.

  "Is it what?" Greg sounded confused.

  "Girl trouble," Michael supplied.

  I could barely discuss my cycle with my doctor, never mind guys plus a camera crew. I'd known I'd get it while on the show, but I'd expected to be in a hotel for my four days of monthly joy, not in the wilderness surrounded by men.