by Kim Linwood
“Oh? Why’s that?” It’s a measure of my maturity that I don’t push up my nose and make squealing noises at her.
She smiles, flicking a speck off her shoulder. “Well, if you’re only going to be here a couple of days anyway, what does it hurt? Might as well live it up while you can.”
Bitch. I’m going to end up wanting to win this thing just to beat the smirk off her face. Putting her out of my mind for now, I go back to my seat.
Conversations buzz around me, but none of them involve me directly, so I study the outside of the house. My grandfather’s office used to be on the far end, right off the living room on the first floor. It’s possible that things have been moved around, but the pictures and paintings seem to be about where I remember them. There’s just a little hope the deed still hangs where it always did. But if it doesn’t, I’ll go through the whole house if I have to. Room by room.
Sometime in the early 1700s, a distant ancestor traded his pirate flag in for a badge. Smart enough to settle down before he lost his ill-gotten fortune, he brought his family over from France and staked his claim with a couple of partners. The rest met various, rather suspicious fates, though time has probably made the story more interesting than it was. Since then, the island has been in our family, generation after generation. Sometimes rich, sometimes poor, but always ours.
Until ten years ago.
Mom used to be happy here after Dad met her in Cancun and brought her home as his wife. But when we lost him for good, things changed. I’d thought her marriage to Campbell a few years later would fix it, but instead she turned bitter. She’s always denied it, but I think she was happy when he kicked us out. Relieved to leave that part of her life behind.
It doesn’t really matter anymore. What matters is that according to local property law, she shouldn’t have had the legal right to transfer it to the Campbells. It was never hers to begin with.
It was mine.
The camera crew starts to circle, and in a second I see why. Hunter strolls out of the house, gorgeous as always. His deliciously worn jeans hang low, and his white linen shirt is untucked with enough buttons open to show off his chest. On some guys it would look cheap, but he owns it. His every move screams self-confidence.
He smiles, walking around the tables and making conversation. A shoulder touch here. A whisper in the ear there. His eyes lock with mine as he dips down to say something to Bianca. She puts a hand on his arm and laughs.
Jealousy rears its ugly green head. I look away.
Slowly, chair by chair, he comes closer to our table until he kneels down between me and Amanda. “So how are my two favorite castaways today?”
Amanda giggles. “Much better, thanks to you.”
“And you, Sarah? Sleep well, I hope?” He cups my hand, lightly stroking just behind where my thumb and index finger meet. I feel it all the way down to my toes.
The cameras are on, so I can’t tell him to go jump off a cliff. I duck my head, knowing I’m blushing and go with it. Tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, letting it pop back out, plump and red. “Everything’s been wonderful, Hunter, but it’s so hot at night.” My fingers trail over my collarbone, fiddling with the pendant that hangs down between my breasts. “It’s so cold back home, and I didn’t pack anything light enough.” I lean forward to whisper so nobody else can hear. “It’s a good thing you didn’t come knocking. Who knows what you might’ve seen.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. He probably knows I’m playing it up for the cameras, but his eyes darken, and I see him swallow. “Sorry to hear that. I know of a perfect solution, but I’d have to show you.” Hunter picks a banana fig off my plate and peels it, one slow strip after another, while watching my face with a sexy, mischievous grin.
It’s my turn to swallow, but I keep my head cool enough to quickly dart my hand out just as he finishes peeling to take it back. “Stop taking my food.”
He laughs, then suddenly goes quiet as I suck the tip into my mouth. His eyes widen even more than his grin does. I hold for just second, making sure he’s watching, then I take a hard enough bite that the clack of my teeth is audible, then chew while raising an eyebrow at him.
He winces, but the smile never leaves his face. Raising his hand to his mouth, he makes a point of licking the residual sweetness off his fingers while I finish my reclaimed piece of fruit. Even after he’s risen to move on, he throws me stormy glances over his shoulder.
Amanda looks at me suspiciously, and Megan’s jaw is practically on the table. My face is on fire, but I want to laugh out loud.
At first, I was relieved he didn’t recognize me, but hurt at the same time. Now, I’m kinda starting to love it. I can be as flirty as I want, without all of the baggage. This can’t last, but for now I can pretend.
And boy is pretending fun.
Hunter finishes his rounds, then joins Blaze near the end of the terrace. They stand together, blue sky and jungle trees behind them like a postcard.
“Ladies and gentlemen. Well, gentleman, I should say!” He pauses, and a few of us laugh nervously since it seems to be expected. “Yesterday, you all escaped the bitter taste of defeat due to special circumstances, but today we’re making up for it. If you want a chance at staying in the game and spending your life in paradise, you’re going to have to get your hands dirty.”
I have a bad feeling about this.
“And speaking of playing dirty, the winner of today’s contest will also get something special. We’re not telling you what it is until the end, but I’ll promise you this, it’ll be good.”
A buzz of excited whispers spreads before Blaze cuts it short.
“Just beyond those trees is a challenge that will see some of you rise victorious, and the rest of you crying for mercy. It’s messy. A little bit sticky. And a whole lot of fun.” Blaze grins and elbows Hunter, who smiles thinly, like he’s embarrassed to be part of this. “For us anyway. Right, Hunter?”
“That’s what it says on the card, Blaze.”
“Card. Hah! What a kidder.” Blaze laughs awkwardly. “Ladies, I’m sorry to say those pretty outfits are going to have to go, because they won’t last a minute in the… mud wrestling pit!”
There’s a pregnant pause as we register what he just said. Someone gasps. I’m still blinking.
The what?
14
Liz
The guy with the rake gives the gross brown concoction one last stir to check the consistency before giving Blaze a thumbs-up. It’s a huge inflatable kiddie pool, laid out on the lawn behind the estate. The show’s logo is printed on its outer walls, while the inside is filled with wet, gooey, dirty mud. It’s got to be almost six inches deep.
The host flashes us his trademark grin. “It’s time to get down and dirty, ladies. Are you ready?” We laugh nervously. There are a few nods, and a lot of head shakes. “Hunter, if you’ll do the honors?”
On a table next to them is a glass bowl full of paper slips, resting on a makeshift stand. Hunter reaches in and pulls out a rolled-up piece of paper. Unrolling it carefully, he reads it out.
“Bianca.”
The black-haired beauty smirks confidently and takes a step forward. She’s the only one in a one-piece bathing suit, and I bet it’s not just me looking enviously at her choice. My bikini isn’t the skimpiest by far, but I’m still terrified that something’s going to pop out while we wrestle.
Bianca rolls her head back and forth to loosen up, sending her tight ponytail swinging. She looks ready to rumble.
Please don’t pick my name next. I cross my fingers.
“Heather.”
Thank God.
I don’t even feel bad for her, not after that crack about my breakfast. But then I feel a little bad about not feeling bad. The cattiness seems so artificial when you watch these shows, but being on one now, I can see how the situation goes to your head really quickly.
Bianca climbs over the side of the pool, staring do
wn Heather, who looks like she wants to hide behind Elena. Elena narrows her eyes and steps away, leaving Heather to her fate.
They meet in the center and shake hands. While they’re about on scale, Bianca is obviously the more athletic, moving with a spring in her step that Heather doesn’t have at all.
Hunter blows the whistle, and they leap into action.
In high-school I had pet rats. Mom doesn’t like cats, and I didn’t want fish. They were our best compromise and it turns out they were pretty awesome little buddies. They used to wrestle all the time, pouncing and rolling until one ended up on top, and the other on her back with her legs in the air.
This goes a lot like that.
Bianca grunts. Heather squeals. Mud splatters over all of us.
Twice in a row, Bianca easily ends up the top rat in the ring, gaining the best of two out of three. Winner clear, Hunter blows the whistle again, and they get up, both covered head to toe in mud.
Two more names are drawn. “Elise and… Sarah.”
For a second I’m relieved, until Megan pats me on the shoulder in sympathy and I remember Sarah is me. I stumble forward, grabbing the side of the pool. Elise is slender like Megan, but other than that, I don’t know anything about her. I’m no bruiser, but I have a few pounds on her.
That should help, right?
I can do this. Two wins is all I need.
We look at each other across our clasped hands, smiling awkwardly. The whistle blows and I realize that I know absolutely nothing about wrestling. Fortunately, neither does Elise. We grapple, quickly sliding off our feet and ending up down in the mud, where it goes up my nose and into my eyes. I struggle to figure out how to keep from losing my top, or accidentally grab her somewhere embarrassing.
She pins me.
I always did have a competitive streak a mile wide. Hunter is probably to blame, the way he always insisted on turning everything into a race, whether we were running, swimming, diving or climbing. He could make a contest out of dinner.
It’s been years since I’ve had to go head to head with anyone like this, but the moment I think I might be losing, those instincts claw their way up to the surface.
This means war.
With a roar, I take her down, and almost as soon as she’s back up, I do it again. At the sidelines, Amanda and Megan gape at me as if I’d just turned into a monster. I shrug at them and climb out of the pit.
After the first match is over, I can relax enough to have a little fun. I’ve won once, and that should make my spot on the island safe for now. Alright, maybe one more win, just to be sure, but then I’ll let it go. Whatever the prize that Blaze was hinting at is, it almost definitely means spending more time with Hunter, and while teasing is fun, I’m better off keeping a low profile. Much as I hate to lose.
Still, speaking of teasing.
I look up, and catch Hunter watching me. I make a point of adjusting my breasts, scooping out the still squishy mud and flicking it away. The look he gives me, and the images that flash through my mind make me glad this is going on cable. Network TV couldn’t handle the heat.
The rest of the wrestling goes about as expected. Tall beats short, strong beats weak, everyone beats the squeamish. So few of us know anything about what we’re doing that it mostly comes down to size and not being afraid of ending up with a mud wedgie.
Megan surprises me. She easily wins her matches, flipping down her opponents until finally ending up against Bianca, who buries her in the mud like she has everyone else.
In the end—as much to my disbelief as anyone else’s—it’s just me and Bianca.
My goal was to stay in the middle of the pack, but somehow I’ve managed to put myself in the running to win. I don’t really want to, but Bianca wipes the mud off her brow and stares me down across the ring like she’s got a personal grudge, and I don’t want to lose either.
This is all your fault, Hunter.
We circle each other slowly, the cameras following our every move. Chances are she’s going to kick my muddy butt with ease, but I can’t just lie down and throw the match. Not if I want to make it look good.
She sneers, pitching her voice low. “He can’t come rescue you this time. No matter how hard you throw yourself at him. You think we don’t see it?”
“See what?” I taunt. “The win with my name on it? Oh, I think I can just about read it from here.”
Over the chatter and occasional cheer, the girls probably don’t hear us. Hunter, Blaze, and the cameras on the other hand, are eating it up.
Bianca laughs. “You wish. You just think you’re so damn special because you got to spend yesterday together. Wasn’t that convenient? You’re going down. Just. Like. Your. Boat.”
“Bring it on.” I don’t care anymore about the competition, I just want to see her on her back in the mud.
She charges with a growl. I step aside, but not quickly enough. It’s a whirlwind of grabbing hands and sliding legs as we struggle to keep our footing and get the other one to go down first. She shifts her weight suddenly, and I find myself looking at the sky, the wind knocked out of me as I land heavily in the mud with a splash. One for Bianca.
Stepping back with a smirk painted on her face, she waits for me to get back up. I take a moment, blinking while I get my breath back. I can’t afford to screw up again or she’ll win.
I charge almost as soon as I’m up, hoping to catch her off guard. I don’t, and she almost ends it right there. She slips while trying to get leverage, and without that I’d already be back in the mud. I press the advantage, wrapping my arms around her torso and putting my leg behind hers.
I’m not sure who’s more surprised when we crash into the mud together, me on top of her. I might actually have a chance at this. I grin like an idiot, the whole situation absurd but deadly serious at the same time.
Adrenaline rushes through me as I get back to my feet, hot blood roaring in my ears. I think I bit my tongue when we fell, since it’s pulsing and there’s a slight metallic taste in my mouth. I spit it out without taking my eyes of her.
No mercy now. All I want is to kick her cocky ass. And from the lightning shooting from her narrowed eyes, I’m pretty sure the feeling’s mutual.
We crash together in the middle of the ring. I get my hand under her thigh, but her leg sneaks in behind me. Twisting, I shift my weight forward, and she wavers. Just a little, but it’s enough. Hopefully. Her arms snake around my waist, long fingernails digging into my back.
My balance is slipping. I throw out a leg, but somehow she gets a thigh underneath it, and I know we’re about to go down. I scramble to get a hold of her, my fingers sliding over muddy skin. The world spins. I lose all sense of up and down until we slam heavily into the mud.
It’s over.
And I’m on top.
15
Liz
— Eight years ago —
Poughkeepsie falls behind as the train pulls out from the station. Only a couple of hours left and it’ll be rolling in to New York. The last time I passed by this area, it was on a plane, first class. This time the train fare took most of my savings, and I packed my own food.
It’ll be worth it though. Hunter didn’t forget.
I don’t blame him for what happened. What could he have done at sixteen? No more than me.
I look out the window, watching the trees whip by, with the Hudson River in the background. The bright rising sun reflects off a soft layer of fresh snow, the first of the year. As beautiful as it is, I shiver involuntarily. Getting used to proper winters has been a bit of a challenge. At first I was amazed, running around and doing all the things I’d seen on TV. Sledding, making snowmen, even awkwardly learning to skate.
But snow doesn’t go away when you’re done with it.
It sticks around, ruining your shoes and freezing your fingers. Pretending to leave and then coming back for more like an unwelcome party guest.
I’m over it. Sand is better. I’m not sure I’ve been completely war
m in two years.
I check my phone again, reading his message over and over.
Hey princess! This is your email, right? If not, sorry!
I’ll be in NYC in two weeks, and I couldn’t be so close and not at least try to get in touch. I know it’s been a while, but I’ve been thinking about you. If you can come down, let’s meet up.
-H
My grin is so wide it hurts. Hunter would tease me mercilessly if he knew how amazing those few lines make me feel every time I read them. He thinks about me! I’m not the only one still hung up on our kiss, wondering if I’ll ever feel that way again.
Afraid to move on. Afraid not to move on.
I close my eyes and imagine what he looks like now. For being so rich, he’s kept a remarkably low profile online. A few articles here and there, but maybe he lives too far out of the way for anyone to be interested. There were some, though, and wow. Taller, broader, more grown up. I can’t wait to see him in person.
We used to bicker and tease each other all the time, but now that our parents aren’t married and we’re a little older, I’m sure we won’t be as childish.
I know I’ve grown up a lot in two years.
Watching your mother spend money like water and go out every night, while you stay in doing homework and making your own dinner will do that. Our parents suck, but in a couple of months I’ll be eighteen and it won’t matter anymore. In my mind, we’re picking up where we left off, and when do, there’s nothing they can do about it.
The train goes black as we enter a tunnel. Only the ka-thunk ka-thunk of the wheels and the slight shaking of the car give me a sense of progress. I yawn, resting my head back against the seat. Last night I told Mom I was sleeping over at a friend’s house, but instead I caught a train in the wee hours of the morning.
She could care less what I do most of the time, but there’s no way she would let me do this, even though I saved my own money for it.
