As the night’s show ran, the monitor above them showing only the live portions, camera men walked around them, trying to get close-ups of their faces as they pretended to react to the videos of clips from the past week that they couldn’t even see. The whole production was tedious, and Gunner was ready for it to be over. He was anxious to get on with the game.
But it wasn’t the eliminations that had him all worked up. It was what came after.
The rules of the game stated that the viewers were not only to vote on who should leave the house each week, but they also had the right to vote on which houseguest was on which team. If they so choose, the viewers could switch the teams up, creating new couples they thought would work better—or worse—with one another. They hadn’t changed the couples since week three, but Gunner was hoping they’d change them up tonight.
He wanted the viewers to move Lesley to Brian’s team and bring Zola over to his. He was convinced that he and Zola were the strongest players in the game, and together they couldn’t be beaten. That had been his strategy all week long, and Brian had played right into it, as had Zola to a certain extent. He wasn’t sure if she was buying his act; she was responding to him just how he wanted, and he couldn’t have asked for anything better.
The cameras had to have captured it all perfectly. The kiss out in the backyard, the fight with Brian. The way she responded when he fell from the wall. Not to mention the conversation he had with Lesley during their little picnic a few days ago, another win from a comp.
“I think Zola might be scheming against us,” Lesley said.
“I don’t think so. I think she wants to break the teams up.”
“It’s too late for that.”
“No, not really. The viewers get to vote in one more week.”
Lesley grew quiet. “Will you let her?”
“It’s all about winning, Lesley. Besides, wouldn’t you rather win with Brian?”
“Not if it means you and Zola teaming up. That would be a disaster!”
He’d looked up and could see Zola watching them from the windows of the house. Perfect. He couldn’t have set it up any better, from the things Lesley said to Zola watching with that longing look on her face. The viewers had to have eaten it up, assuming it all made it to the episodes they aired in the week before this live show.
All he could do now was keep his fingers crossed.
If he were watching this show as he’d watched Big Brother religiously every summer with Gretchen, he would have voted to change up their two teams. But he didn’t know how the viewers might respond. They’d done some unpredictable things before.
“Houseguests!” Susan called as her face appeared on the large monitor on the wall. “The votes have been cast and tallied by our amazing support staff! It’s time to find out who’s going home.”
All around the room faces tensed, shoulders straightened, and hands were squeezed. Gunner found himself looking at Zola and the serene mask of nothing she’d been wearing since the night he came back from the hospital. It unnerved him, that look. He didn’t know what it meant, but he hoped he wouldn’t live to regret his manipulation of the viewers.
“The couple going home tonight is . . .” There was a beat, and then Susan announced, “Michelle and Kirk!”
A surprised gasp slipped from Michelle’s lips, but there was no other sound in the room other than a collective sigh. They slowly got up and turned to the others. Gunner struggled to his feet with the help of the crutches, shaking Kirk’s hand and offering Michelle a small hug. She turned to Zola after him just because she happened to be standing directly across from him. He heard her whisper in Zola’s ear, heard her say something about winning the game for them all. And then they were gone, slipping out the main door and appearing on the monitor behind them. Gunner settled back down on the couch, Lesley beside him, and half listened to Michelle cry about the friendships she’d made and the disappointment of being so close to the end when she was finally eliminated.
His eyes shifted to Zola again. She was watching him, not even trying to hide it. But she wasn’t giving him any hint of what it was she was thinking. Just those amber eyes and full lips that he sometimes found himself tasting in the middle of the night.
Had he made a mistake?
“Now, houseguests,” Susan called, pulling his attention back to the screen. “As you know, each week the viewers vote on the couple who is to be eliminated, they also vote on the team pairings. As you also know, the viewers have not deemed it necessary to make any changes since week three. However, now, at week seven, the viewers have chosen to shake the game up.” Susan paused as the camera men attempted to get reactions from the houseguests. Gunner’s eyes again flew to Zola. She was watching the screen, a touch of confusion in her eyes. “This is the last week the viewers will be allowed to vote on the eliminations or changes among the teams, and they’ve decided to go out with a bang!”
Dread settled in Gunner’s chest. He was suddenly convinced he’d made a huge mistake with his manipulations. What if the editors had changed his moments so drastically that the viewers didn’t see what he was trying to do? What if they misinterpreted what he wanted? Or what if Zola had been playing them all the whole time? He had no idea what she did behind closed doors, what allegiances she was making behind his back. Was it possible she had done something that would sink them all?
“The viewers have elected to alter all three teams,” Susan announced.
Gunner’s heart sank as Jessica whispered, “No, no, no!”
“The new teams are as follows: Brian and Jessica.”
Jessica cried out, gripping Josh’s hand as hard as possible. Brian paled but otherwise did not react.
“Josh and . . .”
Gunner waited, convinced she would say Zola. Instead, she said, “Lesley.”
Relief coupled with trepidation rushed through Gunner. He didn’t even hear Susan say it, but he didn’t need to hear it. He and Zola were officially a team now. And they were going to kick-ass for the next two weeks! It was game on, now.
Susan said good night, and the cameramen tensed to see who would react first. Brian won that award, jumping up from the couch and marching out of the room. Jessica was next, bursting into tears.
“We’ve just lost the only chance we had to win this thing!”
“It’s okay, babe,” Josh said, standing in front of her to wipe the tears from her face. “We’ll figure something out.”
“Don’t you get it? Gunner and Zola together? They’ll take it all! They’re the strongest players!” She turned to glare at Zola. “You come in half way through the damn thing, and you’re going to take it all! I hope you’re fucking happy!”
She stormed off, and Josh followed, casting a befuddled glance back over his shoulder.
Lesley was silent for a long moment. When she finally reacted, all the cameras were focused on her.
“Waste of fucking time,” she muttered, un-Lesley like, and simply walked away.
“That went well,” Zola commented.
“Did you suspect that might happen?”
She shrugged. “I thought they’d switch me and Lesley, but that’s all.”
“Yeah, me too.”
She studied his face for a moment; her lips softly parted like she had a comment to make. But then they heard a cry and a thud, chaos taking place in the hallway where the bedrooms were. Gunner pulled himself up and followed her through the house just in time to catch up with her as Brian threw a handful of her underwear out into the hallway.
“Fucking bitch!” he was screaming over and over like some sort of mantra. “I was going to win this damn game! I gave up everything to make this work, and you went and fucked me over! I hope you go to fucking hell, you fucking bitch!”
Gunner might have laughed if it wasn’t all so tragic.
He touched Zola’s arm and urged her farther up the hall. “Maybe we should just get out of the way for the time being.”
She agreed, following him
to the room he’d been sharing with Lesley for nearly a month. Lesley was standing at the closet, calmly removing her clothing and placing it nicely in a suitcase so that she could move into Josh’s room with him. She looked at the two of them as they entered the room but didn’t feel the need to comment.
“I’m sorry, Lesley,” Zola said in a soft, gentle voice. “I really didn’t see this coming.”
“You should have. I think the writing was on the wall from the moment you won the first competition.”
“No, I . . .”
Lesley just shook her head, brushing away a stray tear as she did. “Brian and I had it all planned out. I was going to stick with Gunner till we won, then he and I would share my half of the winnings. Then we’d come back and win the second prize after we proved the two of us had been together since we met in this house. But now . . . Maybe we’ll still have a chance at the second prize. Or, maybe not.”
“You might.”
She chewed on her lip a moment. “He broke up with me just after you came into the house, making the excuse that he had a real chance to win with you, and he didn’t want to fuck it up by the viewers learning of our relationship. But I think that bit him in the ass. Don’t you? I’m not sure I can forgive him for that.”
There was nothing left to say to that. They stood off to one side and watched her lift her bag and carry it out of the room. Finally alone, Gunner pushed the door closed and threw himself down in a chair, his crutches clattering to the floor.
“I wasn’t sure they’d actually do it!”
“Was this your plan all along?”
“Damn right!”
She smiled, crawling up into his bed as she did. “They all think we have a good chance of winning.”
“We do. Why do you think I wanted you on my team?”
“Only for that reason?”
She pouted, that full bottom lip irresistibly seductive. He got up and crawled over the bed to stop right above her, tugging at that bottom lip with his teeth.
“No,” he said before kissing her roughly, not impaired by drugs this time. She responded whole heartedly, slipping her arms around his neck and pulling him hard against her. Her hands slipped over the back of his head, directing the motion of his mouth, his tongue, showing him where she wanted to be touched. And he was more than happy for her direction, wanting to know what drove her crazy so that he could be the only one to do it.
They kissed for a long time, his hands itching to touch her places that no one else should have the right to touch. But he kept it PG-13, too aware of the cameras all around them to allow himself to get carried away.
“I should go get my stuff,” she said when his leg finally gave out, and he had to roll onto his back beside her, resting his injured ankle.
“Want me to come with you?”
She sat up and ran her hand over his chest. “No. You rest, I’ll do it.”
“You’re just afraid I’ll get into it with Brian again.”
“Yes. Yes, I am.”
He laughed, his balls aching as he watched her walk away. He couldn’t wait for the warm weather to come back. He desperately wanted to see her in that bikini again.
Gunner rested his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling.
“I did it, Gretch,” he said with something like a smile, but not quite. “I did it. We’re going to win this thing.”
It was a promise he’d made in the heat of the moment, a promise he never really meant to keep. But he was going to keep it now. If it killed him, he was going to keep this promise.
He just hoped he didn’t have to hurt Zola in the process.
Chapter 13
Chicago, Illinois
The Set of Stranger’s Retreat
There were no comps the first few days after the team switch up, probably because the director and his crew were more interested in the tension the switch had brought to the house. Gunner and Zola were completely ostracized, left out of every discussion, every meal, every simple moment in the house. Whenever Zola walked into the bathroom, whoever happened to be in there would walk out. Whenever she went outside, everyone would go inside. When she went inside, everyone would go outside. She only had Gunner to talk to, and while that was nice, the tension was beginning to wear her down.
Some of her clothes were ruined when Brian packed it for her, leaving her with only a few t-shirts and a couple pairs of shorts, not much else. Durango told her there wasn’t much he could do about it without proving that she was getting special treatment from the crew. But she didn’t mind. Most of what Brian had ruined were the sexy clothes Felicity had provided. She preferred the frumpier stuff, anyway.
The first comp was a digging challenge. The teams had to use a shovel to dig up pieces of a 3D puzzle, clean the pieces, determine which ones were required to finish the puzzle and which weren’t, and then put it all together. It sounded simple when it was described to them, but it didn’t look that way as they were led to the area where it would all take place. For the first time, they weren’t on the studio lot. They were in the middle of a barren soybean field, the ground still hard as cement after the frozen winter’s wrath.
It was going to be difficult.
Zola sat on the tailgate of one of the production’s trucks, watching everyone mill around. There was a lot of setup required, and it was quickly turning chilly as the early afternoon became late afternoon. Gunner came to sit beside her, hitting her lightly with his shoulder.
“Your boyfriend is here.”
She looked across the field to the area he was indicating. Durango was helping lay cable for the equipment, stealing the occasional glance in her direction as he worked. She inclined her head, and he looked away, his gaze falling on the stack of equipment that was laying on the ground behind another of the trucks. Zola had been watching the pile but hadn’t seen anyone go near it. Not yet, anyway.
“He’s not my boyfriend. I explained all that.”
“I know. But I have to tease you.”
She tilted her head, resting it on his shoulder briefly. “There are no cameras on right now.”
“True. Maybe I should move on, go flirt with someone else.”
He started to climb off the truck, but she grabbed his arm and held him in place. “Don’t go!”
He laughed. “Where would I go. Everyone around here hates me!”
“Oh, I see how it is. I get you by default.”
“Exactly.” He leaned over and kissed the tip of her nose. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Nope.”
“This thing looks rough,” he said, growing serious. “You think we’re up to it?”
“As long as your ankle holds out.”
He looked down at the walking boot the doctors had put on him the day before, wiggling his toes. “I think it’ll be better than the crutches.”
“Maybe I should do the digging.”
“And I should just hand in my man card right now . . . Let a girl do the digging? Are you kidding?”
“Don’t be a chauvinist.”
“I’m a man. I can’t help myself.”
She just shook her head before sliding her arms around his upper arm and resting her head on his shoulder. The other contestants were sitting in the shuttle, probably scheming against the two of them. They’d all decided that they had no choice but to work together now even though the game was no longer up to the viewers. Now that there were only three teams, the rules shifted. Now the comps gave each team a certain number of points: first place got five points, second got three, and last got one. At the end of the week, the team with the least amount of points went home, making the comps the only thing that mattered now. If the other two teams could figure out a way to push Zola and Gunner into last place for the majority of the comps, they had a chance of sending them home. But if all the comps were like this one, the chances of that were pretty slim.
Gunner was the strongest man in the house even with his injured ankle. And Zola’s military history made he
r a pretty strong competitor. She had no doubt they could win this competition based on the points system.
If it was a real game and she was a real contestant.
She was almost hoping she and Durango wouldn’t figure out who the saboteur was. She dreaded the moment she had to admit to Gunner that she wasn’t who he thought she was. Besides, she was having a good time despite all the backstabbing and distrust. And she liked Gunner.
“We can do this.”
“I know,” she said, her eyes moving back to the pile of equipment. She thought she saw something. Did she just see what she thought she saw? She sat up a little, but whatever it was she’d seen was gone. She shook her head, decided she was paranoid and rested her temple back against Gunner’s shoulder.
The director called them together, went over the rules of the comp again, and then sent them to the safety team to get ready. This game didn’t require a lot of safety equipment. The shovels were the most dangerous things, so they were required to wear steel-toed work boots. And gloves. They always had to wear gloves, and thank goodness for that or else Gunner’s hands would have been torn to shreds when he grabbed the rope to save himself from falling during the last comp.
The teams lined up at one of three freshly dug graves and began at the sound of a bell. When editing, they would add Susan’s voice wishing them luck, but she hadn’t wanted to come out in the middle of nowhere for this day of filming, and no one could blame her. It was a nice spring day, but the wind had a definite chill to it.
Gunner began digging, using his good foot as much as he could. She watched his walking boot fill with dirt, but it didn’t seem to bother him. He only grimaced a few times, and that was when he forgot about his injury and tried to use his injured foot to put weight on the shovel. When he finally hit the spot where the puzzle pieces were hidden, Zola rushed over to begin digging them out. Everyone had to use the same large tub of water, a modified trough used for farm animals. Zola dove in between Jessica and Lesley, scrubbing the pieces as quickly as she could. She handed them back to Gunner, only vaguely aware of him rushing over to the base and putting the 3D puzzle together, maneuvering every piece before determining which ones were relevant and which weren’t.
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