Ricardo came in with another white, and Bev set off for her final circuit, but as Kevin grabbed another peg and pounded back toward the Red Team’s start line for all he was worth, she’d barely struggled through the hoop. Kevin’s hard-won peg was a low-scoring green. But he gave John a pointed look as he spat it into the tiger’s maw anyway.
The airhorn sounded to end the challenge. Bev spat the green peg she’d been carrying out on the lawn, threw her arms in the air, and slowed to a walk. “Good try, Bev,” Ricardo shouted. “Good try.”
“Everybody take five,” Iain called out. “Medic, go have a look at Sue’s knee. Jia—you’re a royal pain in my ass, you know that, don’t you?”
Jia tossed her hair.
Kevin dropped his spitty mouthguard into an assistant’s bucket, and said, “The two of you should leave the strategy to me.”
“And you should leave the comedy to Chip Challenge,” Jia said. “Your precious strategy is a joke. It hasn’t panned out once.”
John relieved himself of his mouthguards, and kept an eye on his opponents as Jia and Kevin squabbled. Gold Team was huddled together, hanging on Bev’s every word. No doubt she’d pieced together each team’s score.
And no doubt it all came down to Jia being disqualified or not.
Stylists came around to blot Jia’s brow and tousle John’s hair more attractively, and a medic brought Kevin some eye drops. The remaining contestants—only six of them now—were lined up opposite the scoreboard, three men in back, three women in front. John couldn’t say anything to Ricardo, even though they were standing side by side. Because the cameras were on him—and he was just as close to Kevin.
Once the crew cleared the set, Iain said, “Go ahead.”
“It was a very close race,” Monty said. “Let’s take a look at how each team fared. Gold Team—”
“Cut,” Iain said. “Marlene doesn’t like the way you pronounced ‘fared.’ Do over.”
“Faired,” Monty said, missing the R completely. “Faired.”
“Replace it with ‘did.’”
“Got it.”
“Go ahead.”
“It was a very close race. Let’s take a look at how each team did. Math Wizard Bev, you struggled through the circuit. If you had been able to complete your last run, you would have netted your team a total of four points. However, the clock ran out on you, and your final score was three.”
Bev nodded grimly. Monty wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know.
“Jia Lee, the luck of the draw was not on your side. The first peg you selected was green. And so you decided to take matters into your own hands…or, should I say, teeth. What was your strategy?”
“I could see the color of the peg once I pulled it out, Monty. And I wasn’t going to settle for another green.”
“Jia, with your unconventional methods, despite the poor start, you ended up scoring six points for the Red Team.”
Jia crossed her arms and nodded.
“Ricardo the Magnificent, you seemed right at home running that course. And you also didn’t end up with a single green peg. Your first run netted you a two-point white, your second run a coveted brown, and your third run another white. Your final tally is seven points.”
In John’s peripheral vision, Ricardo nodded. John didn’t dare turn to look and gauge his expression. Who knew how an on-camera “look” of any sort could be construed?
“Sue, you took quite a spill there.” Monty’s voice softened. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Monty. I’m tougher than I look.”
“Indeed. You picked yourself up and brought home one white peg and two browns, scoring a total of eight points for your team. Well done.”
Gold Team clapped. Kevin shook his head, fuming.
“Kevin Kazan, you were the only magician to bring four pegs back for your team. An impressive effort. Unfortunately, two of those pegs…were green. Your final score…is six.”
Kevin stared fixedly at the scoreboard and didn’t move a muscle. Neither Jia nor John commended him on his four complete runs. Jia, because she loathed him. John, because he was busy wondering how he’d gotten so carried away with the game that he’d given in to the temptation of pulling three brown pegs. Not one other contestant had drawn three pegs of the same color. Not one.
“And, of course, our big winner tonight with nine points is…Professor Topaz, our oldest remaining contestant at sixty-three years of age. Not only were you incredibly lucky with three brown pegs, Professor, but you sailed through that circuit faster than any other contestant. Our producers tell me you were an accomplished surfer in your day.”
As John admonished himself not only for choosing all three-point pegs, but for drawing the envy of every other player by also beating them in time, every handheld turned to him. And he realized he was expected to give a response. “Yes,” he said, searching for banter, and failing. “I was.”
There was a long silence, and Iain made a “keep going” motion.
John said, “I’ve always been fond of the ocean.”
When Monty saw John had nothing more to add, he said, “Well, you’ve certainly kept yourself in great shape and given all the younger players a run for their money. You, Professor Topaz, have proven yourself a force to be reckoned with.” Meant as a compliment, no doubt, but the other players didn’t need him to keep fanning the flames of malice. “That’s nine points to the Red Team, thanks to you.” Would he ever stop hammering it home? “That means Red Team has won their very first challenge. Well done, Professor. Well done, Red Team.”
John did his best to appear satisfied when, in fact, all he wanted to do was groan. He inclined his head gravely.
The final score read:
TIGER TRAINER CHALLENGE
RED TEAM - 21 points
Professor Topaz: 3 − 3 − 3 (Total 9)
Kevin Kazan: 2 − 1 − 2 − 1 (Total 6)
Jia Lee: 1 − 2 − 3 (Total 6)
GOLD TEAM - 18 points
Sue Wozniak: 2 − 3 − 3 (Total 8)
Ricardo the Magnificent: 2 − 3 − 2 (Total 7)
Math Wizard: 1 − 2 (Total 3)
“Red Team, please step forward.” John, Jia and Kevin separated themselves from the Gold Team. John put his hand on Jia’s shoulder—not so much as a show of support, but because his knees were shaking with more than the fatigue of running the challenge. Jia reached up and placed her hand over the back of his. Kevin crossed his huge arms. “As the victors in the Tiger Trainer Challenge, the Red Team has won the opportunity to make an important strategic decision. This choice will affect the course of the rest of the competition, so use it wisely.”
Jia squeezed John’s fingers. John tried to steady himself with a slow breath.
“Jia…Professor…Kevin…you may continue this challenge as the Red Team…or you may dissolve the teams entirely, and proceed as individual competitors. Consider your decision carefully, because once the team colors come off, there’s no going back.”
The end of Red Team would mean John would be free to ally with whomever he chose.
The end of Red Team would mean he could take Kevin out.
But the end of Red Team would also mean there’d be nowhere to hide. John would need to play hard to stay in the game. Even though that meant drawing the caustic envy of the other players, and worse, all the other players’ supporters, onto himself. If he did that, though, he’d be deflecting the spite from Ricardo’s True magic. So that was what he needed to do.
Before John could decide whether he would need to use reverse psychology on Kevin to make him dissolve the team, Kevin took two steps forward and said, “Monty, it’s time to see what everyone here got. I say bring it. I ain’t scared of y’all. Y’all want a piece of me? Come and get it. Fuck Gold Team. Fuck Red Team. ’Cos I’m gonna win dis thing. Me. Kevin Kazan.”
The set went deathly quiet, except for the sound of the wind rustling the palms. Iain lowered his phone, and said, “That’s fine. G
o ahead.”
“Red Team,” Monty said cheerfully, “or should I say, ex-Red Team…how do you feel about Kevin making that decision without consulting you?”
Jia let go of John’s hand, tipped up her chin, and said, “It wouldn’t be the first time, Monty. There was a reason Red Team lost almost every challenge. It carried its deadweight right at the helm. I say good riddance to the Red Team. I’m better off without it.”
“Strong words. And what about you, Professor?”
As diplomatically as he could, John said, “Now, it’s every man…and woman…for themselves. We’ll see how it all plays out.”
Iain called out, “Let’s get a shot of you throwing your medallions in a pile over there on that green patch of grass.” The magicians arranged themselves in a semicircle and did so. The red-ribboned medallions were pitched in first…but Sue, Bev and Ricardo couldn’t seem to let go of theirs. Sue sniffled back a tear. And then Bev stifled a sob. Soon Ricardo was hugging them both and kissing their hair, while Jia tapped her foot and Kevin Kazan rolled his eyes. Cameras circled them for a minute or two, but finally Iain said, “Come on, kids, chill out. Nobody died here. You’ll get to keep the damn medals.”
Sue shot him a disgusted look, but then she obediently stepped forward and dropped her gold-ribboned medallion into the pile. Bev pitched hers forward in an awkward underhanded toss. And Ricardo stood with his medallion in his hand one final moment, gazing at it thoughtfully. He kissed it, and dropped it onto the pile.
Yes, indeed, John thought. Every man for himself.
Chapter 28
SPECIAL SURPRISE
“Red Team is gone,” Monty told the magicians, “and Gold Team is gone, and instead the strongest half of the contestants remain—three women, and three men, each of you with a very good chance of making it into the Final Four. The former Red Team won the privilege of deciding your fates…for all of you. But in doing so, they’ve not only done away with the teams…because, you see, there’s a twist.”
Just when John had assumed things couldn’t get any worse. Two more weeks, he told himself. Hang in there two more weeks.
“The power to decide whether to play in teams or singles wasn’t the only prize up for grabs in this challenge. There’s a second reward at stake.”
Monty turned to the scoreboard, and immediately, all the letters and numbers began scrolling and flashing into random characters as the board rearranged itself. When the cameras had all the footage they needed, Iain signaled to a gaffer who pressed a single button, and when the lettering unscrambled, the board read as follows:
TIGER TRAINER CHALLENGE
1. Professor Topaz: 3 − 3 − 3 (Total 9)
2. Sue Wozniak: 2 − 3 − 3 (Total 8)
3. Ricardo the Magnificent: 2 − 3 − 2 (Total 7)
4. Kevin Kazan: 2 − 1 − 2 − 1 (Total 6)
5. Jia Lee: 1 − 2 − 3 (Total 6)
6. Math Wizard: 1 − 2 (Total 3)
“Since there are no longer teams, the Magicians who will receive the second prize are the top three scorers: Ricardo, Sue, and the Professor. Kevin, it looks like your own strategy has served you poorly yet again.”
“I don’t care ’bout no dumb-assed challenge reward,” Kevin said belligerently. “I’m here to take the top prize. Everything else is weak. Think you can distract me with some stupid dinner, some shopping spree? Nuh-uh. I’m better off finishing this competition myself.”
“All right, Magicians,” Monty said, “you’ve worked hard today. Go get some rest. Later this week, the top three will get their special surprise…and then you’ll all compete in an elimination challenge.”
John walked back to the mansion numbly, losing himself among crew so he didn’t need to figure out which contestants he should or shouldn’t talk to, and what he should or shouldn’t say. Though it was awkward when the stylist who usually did his hair fell into step beside him said, “You’re not seriously sixty-three, are you? I’d put you at fifty. If that.”
“Clean living,” he told her. And Casey would have laughed himself silly at that, given that they would snort, smoke or swallow whatever their friends put in front of them—though neither of them were enamored enough with the party drugs to take their relationship with them anywhere past a simple flirtation. Ah, Casey. You’d have plenty to tease me about over this fine mess.
Too easy, babe. It’s like shooting fish in a barrel. You give me scads of ammunition by taking everything so damn seriously.
“Good genetics,” the stylist said. “Men inherit their hair from their maternal grandfathers.”
John had never known any of his grandparents, but he wondered if Rose would have been pleased to hear it. You could never tell with her. Although she considered Guam a dirty word, and every reference to it was taboo, occasionally she seemed as if she regarded her heritage with a certain truculent pride. He veered away from the stylist, planted himself at the bar, and set about helping himself to the very good scotch, though he supposed he should be careful not to overindulge. He didn’t want to roll into his room stinking drunk and give Kevin a chance to erode his confidence even more.
Or to let Kevin provoke him into revealing a Truth that couldn’t be un-shown.
“There you are.” Marlene parked herself beside John as he swirled the remains of his first drink around the bottom of his glass and did his best to talk himself out of a second. “Somehow I imagined that the guy who crushed the competition and rid himself of team leader Kevin Kazan all in one fell swoop would look a little bit happier. What gives?”
“It’s just nerves,” John said. “The stress of the unknown. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“You should be celebrating the fact that you made it this far and not drowning your sorrows.” She considered her next words for a moment, and the plunged ahead. “Initially, you were picked for the show because we had a race quota to fill. You know how it is. Token black. Token Asian. And those Tongan guys on the last few seasons of Weighty Matters were a big hit among several demographics, so a Pacific Islander was a big score for the Mansion.”
“What are you saying…you picked me because I’m Chamorro?”
“Not me, personally. The executive producers. Plus you’re older, too. And gay—Ricardo hadn’t signed on yet at that point. They wanted to represent a wide range of races and ages and everything else, half women, half men. You, Bev, Jia…quotas. Remember how I said you wouldn’t win? That’s because nobody expected anyone other than the young white men to still be standing this far into the game. Well, except Jia—she’s got a pretty vocal following and a reputation for being a good performer and a smart businesswoman. You, on the other hand, haven’t made any big waves lately in the magic community—and yet, here you are. Which just goes to prove that you never can tell who’s going to crumble under the pressure and the competition, and who’s going to thrive.” She screwed the top back onto the scotch, and said, “Believe me, Professor. You’re thriving. But this week, you’ll need your strength. So cut yourself some slack and figure out how to go to your happy place. Without this.”
John allowed himself a small smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
Marlene held his gaze for a long moment, then reached into the pocket of her black cardigan, and pulled out a key. She dangled it in front of John.
“What’s this?” he said.
“Since you’re not on the Red Team anymore, no sense in you bunking with Kevin.”
Frankly, that was the best thing John had heard all day…but he’d never had access to a room that locked. It didn’t make sense. Not with the dorm-style arrangements and the players and staff going in and out. While Marlene was friendly enough with him, he sensed a test of some sort…especially right on the heels of her warning that he keep his hands to himself when it came to Ricardo. “And what have I done to merit a lock?”
“Only four dorm rooms were set up—the other big bedrooms had problems that couldn’t be patched up with a few coats of paint, but the servants’ quarters are st
ill in pretty good shape. I’ve had your stuff—and Bev’s—moved down there so that each player is truly on their own now. But it’s pretty far off the beaten track. We wouldn’t want any interns stealing your underwear and selling them on eBay. So…they’re locked.”
Most definitely a test. Probably another night-vision camera.
Still, John was eager to tuck himself into bed without waiting for Kevin Kazan to accuse him of some sort of nonsense in the middle of the night in that ridiculous, trumped-up ghetto patois of his.
Marlene led John past the crowded kitchen, through the catering crew, into a plain, sturdy hallway with several small bedrooms branching off either side. Two rooms across the hall from one another had a paper star taped to the door: one had Mrs. Austin written on it in marker, and the other, Mr. Topaz.
“We’re sending dinner to your rooms tonight. Chicken, fish or veggie?”
“Fish, please.” John supposed he should be glad his meal wouldn’t consist of painted pegs.
While he waited for dinner, he checked his things. Everything appeared to be intact—even his underwear. His new room didn’t have much to explore. There was a narrow twin bed that smelled of mothballs, a plain bar on which to hang his wardrobe, and a nightstand. At least there was a small window, and it looked into an overgrown part of the yard that John could potentially pretend was anywhere. The solitude was the thing he welcomed the most. And he hadn’t allowed himself to fully acknowledge how much he’d been missing it.
The mattress squeaked as John lay down with his dog-eared Hemingway, but despite the bed’s discomfort, he felt more at home, more relaxed, than he had since he’d first arrived. He read, but only perfunctorily. Mostly he listened to the sounds of the house: the dry wind outside, the rap of the pneumatic nail gun in the yard, the clatter of gear being shifted, the rise and fall of crew’s voices down the hall. He was half-asleep by the time he realized that the rapping had changed, and it was no longer the construction crew outside, but someone tapping on his own door. Marlene, no doubt, making sure he hadn’t gone back for the scotch. Or maybe his new neighbor Bev, seeking to form an alliance with him.
Magic Mansion Page 24