Scavenger Hunt

by John R. Little

  Rick said, “We can show you around later if you’re interested.”

  “Thanks,” said Carlton. “We’ll see if we have time.”

  Cynthia just nodded and waited for him to continue. She could have offered coffee, but she never was much into the normal amenities. She just wanted to film her dream show.

  Carlton opened a notepad. “We’d have preferred to have our lawyers here, but — ”

  Cynthia had made it clear that only Carlton and Jayson were invited. “Lawyers and agents are snakes. They just gum up the works,” she said. “This is a business deal first and foremost. You take care of your lawyers when you get back.”

  “We have a few concerns,” said Jayson.

  “Let’s hear them.”

  “First is the liability, of course. You’ve made it clear that the safety of the contestants is not your primary goal.”

  “You heard me tell you that what people want in their reality shows is sex, conflict, and danger. That’s what you’re buying. We’re going to give it to our audience in spades.”

  “Your contract leaves all liability with us.”

  “Yes.”

  “But you control the locations and the tasks.”

  “Yes.”

  “Our lawyers have advised us to make the playing field a bit more level.”

  “No.”

  Cynthia stared at Carlton, ignoring Jayson. Although they were both barely thirty, Carlton was the one with the bigger ego and who had controlled RTV’s half of the conversations.

  “I told you,” she said. “You play by our rules. The waiver each player signs protects you. Your lawyers will have a field day protecting you in court. With us, it’s just Rick and me. We’re not going to take any liability. None.

  “Did I tell you HBO offered forty mil?”

  Carlton met her gaze. “Somebody’s going to die.”

  “Not if they’re careful.”

  Jayson whispered, “This show is wicked. Not in a nice way.”

  They all stared at each other for about ten seconds before Carlton backed off and looked at his notes.

  “Are you going to show live sex on the show?”

  “We’re going to tempt the players every way we can. If we can convince someone to cheat on his or her spouse, we will. If we find a player who likes it rough and finds a willing partner, we’d love to show that. We’re not going to back off. That’s why the forecams have night vision built in. They’re going to think everything they do is in the dark and won’t be televised, but they’re wrong.”

  “Are you going to tell them all this?”

  Cynthia laughed. “C’mon, boys. You’re not that naïve. Of course we’re not. It’s implied in the fine print.”

  Carlton made a note in his notebook and glanced at Jayson.

  “Our lawyers are concerned about the bracelets. You’re not telling them that they’re really lie detectors. There may be privacy laws to worry about.”

  “Is that all you’ve got?”

  Cynthia stood and walked to the window of her office and looked down. Below, a traffic jam was slowly building. It was 2:00 in the afternoon and rush hour was in full force.

  “You guys don’t seem to get it,” she said. “You’re buying whatever we want to package into the show. You have no control. You have no rights to sue us. You take all the risk. And for that privilege, you pay us the thirty million you promised.”

  She turned and walked back to them. She took Carlton’s chin in her hand like a grandmother might. She stared right at him and asked, “So, where is our check?”

  Chapter 17: Team Harvard

  Susan - Lhasa City

  Susan Cook loved her sleep. She never had trouble falling into a peaceful and deep sleep each night. She could sleep on her back, her tummy, or either side; there wasn’t any position she couldn’t happily sleep in.

  When she slept with Michael, he snored. If he’d been drinking a lot, the snores got louder, but even that never bothered her. When she wanted to sleep, she’d lie down in whatever position she felt like that night and she’d feel her muscles all relaxing. She never understood how anybody could have trouble sleeping, because she’d be asleep in minutes, no matter how stressful the day, no matter how loud the environment. Lights didn’t bother her. Cold didn’t bother her.

  Sometimes she’d wake during the night. Maybe she’d have to pee, or maybe she’d be thirsty. Whatever it was, she’d be back asleep as soon as the problem was resolved.

  Tonight she’d been sleeping on her right side, facing toward the other bed where Joe was sleeping.

  Her eyes snapped open and for a moment she didn’t understand why. She licked her lips and wasn’t thirsty. She didn’t feel the need to go to the bathroom.

  She blinked in the darkness and realized that Joe was standing right in front of her. He was masturbating.

  Oh, my God.

  She froze, not knowing what to do. She tried not to stare at him, but she couldn’t help it. She watched his hand run up and down the shaft of his cock. He was breathing heavily and she knew he was close to coming.

  How can you do that? How can you do that to me?

  Suddenly he stopped. He seemed startled and she knew he saw her open eyes.

  She closed them. She pretended she had only partly woken and was now drifting back to sleep. Please go away.

  His heavy breathing slowed, but he still stood by her bed.

  She opened her eyes just a crack and saw that his cock had wilted, even though his hand was still holding it. She closed them again. Go away, she pleaded in her mind.

  “Susan?”

  She heard the whisper and ignored it. I’m asleep.

  He didn’t say her name a second time. She heard him shuffle back to his own bed and climb under the covers.

  She didn’t sleep again the rest of the night.

  Michael - Six Months Earlier

  Michael loved kissing Susan when he was high. Somehow, the marijuana buzz left him with enhanced sensations, and when Michael’s tongue rolled along Susan’s lips, he could feel every tiny move she made. Every breath she took caused ripples of joy to run through his body.

  At the same time, he felt relaxed, and that allowed the overpowering love he felt for Susan to flood through him, filling every tiny crack in his body, his heart, his soul.

  She was what he lived for, the reason he was born. She was all that mattered to him, and anything that increased those feelings was all good with him.

  Michael knew that Susan wanted him to give up pot, but at times like this, he knew he never could. He only wished she had the same reaction, but no matter how many joints they shared, she never really felt any different.

  She felt the same love, but he wondered if it went as deeply as his feelings did.

  They were making out on the couch in Michael’s apartment. It was six o’clock on a lazy Friday night in April. School was almost out for the summer. They’d still stay in Boston during the summer, but things would be a bit different. They both needed jobs to make money for their tuition and instead of seeing each other every day, it might be two or three times each week.

  Michael had vowed not to lose her. She was his dream girl.

  Sometimes he wondered if he was becoming a romantic, but if he was, it was only in his mind. He knew everyone else, including Susan, saw him as a class clown, who laughed his way through life.

  She’d changed him, from the inside, but it hadn’t reached the outside world yet.

  The door opened. Susan jumped off Michael as Joe came in.

  “Hey,” he said. He looked down at his books, as if not seeing what was happening on the couch.

  “My brother!” called Michael.

  “’Bout fucking time it got to be Friday,” said Joe. He put his books down and rubbed his hair back, stretching. “Plans?”

  “Nothing special,” said Susan. She and Michael were now sitting beside each other on the couch.

  Joe and Michael shared a two-bedroom apartment a
bout halfway between Harvard Medical and Harvard Law. It was just off campus and was an equal distance for them both to get to classes. Joe sometimes walked to school with Susan if they had classes the same day and if she’d stayed the night in Michael’s room.

  “You guys ever see any of Cynthia Wright’s shows?” asked Michael. “Got the one called something dancing. You know the one? Shit, I can’t remember it.”

  “I’ve seen her,” said Joe. “What about her?”

  “Got a new show. Here’s the skinny.” He went to the book shelf by the kitchen and grabbed three copies of a sheet of paper and handed one to the others. It was the rules of Scavenger Hunt.

  “Ten million bucks,” he said.

  “Yeah?” asked Susan. “You want to watch this?”

  “I want us to be on the freaking show. All three of us.”

  Joe laughed. “Us? On some TV show? You’re smoking way too much of that funny stuff.”

  “No, really. Read the damned rules. It’s perfect for us. We know each other so well, we’re all in great shape, we’re smart and resourceful. Between us we know, what, five languages?”

  He pointed at Susan, “Spanish and Portuguese, right? And Joe, you’ve got French and German.”

  “Probably help if we knew Chinese,” said Joe. “Or Hindi.”

  “We can do anything. Together, we can do this.”

  He watched as Susan read the rules more carefully. “You really serious about this?”

  “Freaking A.”

  Michael looked to Joe. “More than three million each, my man. We can do what we want. Forget Harvard, this is the big time.”

  Joe stared at Susan, almost as if he was pleading with her to tell Michael to grow up.

  Instead, she looked at Michael and said, “It’d give us a chance to really have an adventure together.”

  Michael smiled and looked at Joe. “Cement our friendship. What do you say, man?”

  With both of the others staring at Joe, he just smiled and nodded. “Chances of us getting picked must be a million to one, but what the hell. It sounds like a blast.”

  Bea - Lhasa City

  Beatrice Lace was twenty-nine years old and had a passion for guns. She owned six handguns, including a beautiful sleek Glock that was her favorite, three rifles, an illegal semi-automatic and even an AK-47 that she loved to hold. When she went to the firing range, she’d usually take the Glock, loving the feel of it in her hands.

  She carried that Glock with her while on Scavenger Hunt. She knew Cynthia had cleared the way so she didn’t have any trouble with Customs. They claimed it was part of the show, and as long as she kept the bullets packed separately from the gun, they were able to work their way around the world.

  Cynthia was the only person to call her Beatrice. Everyone else called her Bea. Somehow, the extra two syllables helped to instill loyalty. Bea had worked with Cynthia for eight years now, on various shows. When the show runner was looking for camera people for Scavenger Hunt, Bea made sure Cynthia knew she could be counted on.

  Now it was time to pay back some of that loyalty.

  Sex, conflict, and danger. That’s what Cynthia wanted. There wasn’t much chance of helping with danger while in Tibet, but that left two of the primary game elements for Bea to work with.

  The interview started off casually enough. Susan and Joe were sitting on a cement bench in front of a ten-foot-tall statue. Bea had no idea who the statue represented. She’d check later.

  “How’s the game been for you so far, Joe?”

  “Well, of course it hasn’t been the same since we lost Michael. He was an integral part of our group. Maybe the most important part, because he was so keen in the formation of our team.”

  Bea nodded. “How about you, Susan? Enjoying everything?”

  Susan seemed hesitant but finally answered, “It’s been the adventure of a lifetime, and I’m enjoying it completely.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure.” Susan stared at Bea. “Why?”

  “How did you both sleep last night?” The way she asked the question, she knew the players would each wonder what she was talking about and how much she knew…how much each other knew…

  “Great,” said Joe. “The air here — ”

  “Susan, how about you?”

  “Good.”

  “You woke at 4:42.”

  “I did?”

  “And you then pretended to sleep so Joe wouldn’t know you were awake.”

  Birds cawed in the distance, providing the only sound for several seconds.

  “I don’t remember that.”

  “Sure you do. You know, one thing we never told you. Your bracelets are lie detectors. And you’re flying off the charts right now. They also monitored you when you woke up. Your heart was racing. Was that fear? Excitement? What were you feeling, Susan?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Joe? How about you? You remember our forecams have wide angle view, right? We told you that part. Maybe you didn’t know they’re set up with pretty damned perfect night vision. We have a wonderful view from Susan’s perspective of you jerking off. You must really find her attractive.”

  “Oh, my God…”

  “She stared at you for several seconds before you noticed her. It’s going to be the centerpiece of week two.”

  “Jesus, Bea, you can’t broadcast that!” shouted Susan.

  “Of course we can.”

  Susan put her hands to her cheek and shook her head. “God, Michael will see it.”

  Bea smiled, watching as Susan’s face turned white.

  Cynthia would be proud of her.

  “I can’t do this anymore,” said Susan. “I’m done.”

  “Done?”

  “Done. I’m going back to Boston. I need to be with Michael.”

  Susan turned to look at Joe. Her mouth was drawn shut and her eyes narrowed. “You disgust me.” She walked away to the hotel room. Bea assumed she’d be packing.

  “Joe, you’re on your own now. Nobody to split the ten million with.”

  “And no friends,” he said.

  Bea stared at his face, knowing the techs back home would be able to zoom in and see the single tear trickling down Joe’s face.

  “You’ve got the easiest task. The other teams are all struggling. This is your chance to get way ahead.”

  Joe stared at Bea and for a second she thought he was going to attack her. His eyes were filled with hatred and anger.

  “You bitch. Who gave you the right to ruin our friendship!”

  “If you think back to the middle of the night, I think you gave that right to me yourself.”

  Joe sighed and rubbed the tears from his face. “I’m done, too. Team Harvard is officially finished.”

  Chapter 18: Team Hollywood

  Carlos - Nine Months Earlier

  Carlos Santiago was the older of the two brothers. It was only two years difference, but Fernando had hung onto those couple years for all of his life. He had teased Carlos as long as he could remember, calling his brother “the old guy,” as if those two years were two decades.

  Now at 58, Carlos felt truly old for the first time. Part of that was losing Selena — a huge part when he would admit it to himself — but the other part was that his body telling him he was aging.

  He woke every morning with aches in his muscles and routinely popped a couple of Advil to help get himself through his morning ritual of his shower, teeth cleaning, bed making, and the pair of no-name toaster waffles he had for breakfast while reading the Los Angeles Times.

  By the time he finished the second waffle, his muscles wouldn’t be complaining so much, but then his mind would kick in and he’d start to think about Selena again.

  He’d been married to the love of his life for more than twenty-five years, but two years ago, she left him, called home by God.

  He crossed himself as he thought of her passing in the hospital. There was never a day she didn’t call to him,
talk to him through the day, try to make him a better person.

  It didn’t work. For the past two years, he knew he’d gone downhill, not much caring about cleaning the house (their home), not much caring about keeping in touch with friends, not much caring about himself even. Sometimes, he wished he’d died the same day she did.

  “Fucking lunatic driver…”

  When the doctors first saw Selena in the hospital, her guts were hanging out of her and she was in a coma. It didn’t matter that she’d been crossing the street with a green light. The driver of the Lexus was trying to text his girlfriend and just sailed through the intersection, nearly cutting Selena in half.

  “Just one of those things,” they said. “We don’t have all the answers.”

  She died without ever waking.

  He pushed the plate away with half an uneaten waffle covered in Aunt Jemima syrup. Thinking of Selena always seemed to make him lose his appetite. It seemed all he could think about sometimes was how much he’d lost.

  That’s gotta change.

  He walked to the bathroom and stared at the toilet, needing to pee. Nothing came out and he thought about it being one more symptom of aging as he held his penis and tried to force a stream. Eventually a small trickle came out, but when he was done he still felt like he had to go.

  As he zipped up, the phone rang. He checked the call display. Fernando.

  “Hey, kid,” he said.

  “Watch it, old man. Show respect for your younger sibling.”

  “Yeah, when you show me something to respect. Not — ”

  Carlos stopped. He’d complained about Brittany enough. Fernando would never change, would never see the bitch for who she truly was.

  “S’okay, bro. I know you’re on my side.”

  There was silence as Carlos thought of what Fernando said. He’d never acknowledged before that there was any problem with Brittany.

  “Yeah?”

  “Sure. We need to talk sometime. I don’t know what to do.”

  “I’m here.”

  “Yeah. Not now, though. I’m calling to give you my condolences. It’s the day.”