Million Dollar Marriage

by Evans, Katy

  This is right up my alley. I run up to it, and the view is insane. I’ve spent my whole life around Atlanta. In all my years on the farm or on the streets downtown or tending bar, I never thought I’d ever be here. Six months ago, I was jealous of Jimmy for jet-setting all over the place, and now look at me. I take in the entire vista, breathing the mountain air, and feel like that loser on the Titanic, screaming “I’m the king of the world!”

  Then I look back at Penny. She’s frozen, green in the face.

  This ain’t good.

  I nudge her closer to the guide. The guide says, “Welcome, travelers. You have an important choice to make. You can either mount your horses and take Switchback Trail to your destination, which on average will take you three hours, or take the Heart Attack, which will get you there in three minutes. The choice is yours.”

  She gets a sheepish look in her eyes, and I know what she’s gonna say before she opens her mouth. Her voice is soft. “I’m afraid of heights.”

  “Yeah. But think of all the time we’ll save. We were sixth at the last outpost. We can’t afford to come in much later.”

  “I know. But I can’t.”

  “You can. All you need to do is hold on.” I look at the guide. “We do it in tandem, right? Together?”

  He nods.

  “Yeah, see? It ain’t nothing. You hold on to me like you did in the corn maze and we’ll be down before you know it.”

  “But . . .”

  “You can be behind me this time, okay?”

  She inhales a sharp breath. “I can close my eyes?”

  “Yeah. Remember, Penny? I told you to trust me. I ain’t gonna let nothing happen to you.”

  She’s trembling. “That’s a double negative. That means you’re going to let me die!” she whines, covering her face in her hands.

  “Look,” I tell her, getting down to her level and peering in her eyes. “This is all you. All your choice. You know what I wanna do, but I want you to decide. I’ll do what you want.”

  She gives me a look, and I swear I see a trace of gratefulness. She walks to the edge and peers carefully over the side, and then her eyes follow the path of the zip line to the point where it disappears among the pine trees.

  She sets her jaw, rips the glasses from her face, and tucks them into her pack. Then she nods at the guide. “Set us up for this thing.”

  I don’t want to say anything to make her change her mind, but I’m so pumped I could kiss her. I was never one to follow Jimmy on his stunts because the stuff he does risks serious injury, but I’ve dreamed of doing shit like this all my life. The guide gets us into helmets and harnesses and sets us up on the platform. He attaches us to the tandem zip and shows us where to hold on. “I’m just going to give you a little push, and you’ll be off. Easy ride,” the guide says.

  I can’t see her behind me, but I can almost hear her heart beating. “You okay?” I call to her.

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this! I must be insane!” she cries. “Tell me when it’s over.”

  She must have her eyes closed. She’s going to miss one hell of a view. The guide calls, “One, two, three . . .”

  And before he gives us the push, she’s already screaming in fear. Loud.

  We careen toward the trees below, and it’s steep. At first it almost feels like we’re falling. Everything’s rushing by in a blur. But somewhere along the way something changes.

  She stops screaming in fear and starts squealing in delight.

  “Oh my god! This is awesome!” she shouts, laughing. I see the tops of her feet as she kicks out wildly, and I start laughing too.

  We break through the trees, and the landing platform comes up fast and furious. I put my feet out for the landing, and a guide is there to slow us down. He unclips the carabiners and I jump out, feeling like I already have that million dollars in my hands. I rip off the helmet, and when Penny gets loose, she bounds over to me, wrapping her arms around me.

  And I kiss her. Tongue and teeth, hands and hair. Crush her lips with mine and devour her mouth like she’s my last meal.

  The weirdest thing? She lets me. She groans and kisses me back, tangling her hands in my hair and thrusting that little tongue of hers into me like she can’t get enough.

  And the cameras capture every last beautiful minute of it.

  FRENCH IN THE DARK

  Nell

  Sure, I kissed him. It was an amazing experience. No, it doesn’t mean anything. We were both just high on adrenaline. There’s nothing to read into, believe me.

  —Nell’s Confessional, Day 3

  I kissed him.

  Oh god, I kissed him.

  That’s what keeps cycling through my mind as we hike to the next outpost. Luke doesn’t mention it. Doesn’t touch me again, even just offering a hand to help me scale the rocks on the trail. But I can still feel his heat, and my lips feel raw from his stubble. I know I’ve never been kissed like that. Never in a million years did I think I could be kissed like that.

  What does it mean?

  Nothing, of course. That’s what happens when you overload on adrenaline.

  We don’t talk much. The sun is fading in the sky, and we need to get to the outpost. Feeling brave and a little reckless after the zip-lining experience, I do pretty well keeping up with him, even though the trail is steep. A crew member gave us each a pack with hiking gear, food, and other necessities, but Luke didn’t bother with any of it, so neither did I. On the way up, we pass Ivy and Cody, who are resting, but we don’t see anyone else. Then, though Luke assures me Ivy’s part of his alliance, we spend the next hour trying to race each other to get the best position.

  We end up coming in about ten seconds ahead of them.

  When we throw our stuff down on the platform, Will Wang announces that we’re third.

  Third!

  “Holy cow!” I shout as he pumps his fist and pulls me in for a quick, clinical hug.

  I read into that, of course. It’s a hug a person would give his sister, one that says he’s regretting the kiss.

  It makes my stomach twist.

  The guide leads us into a clearing. It’s dark by now, and all I see are trees, until I look up. And what I thought was the moon and the stars is actually the moonlight reflecting on the windows of tiny treehouses. “Welcome to your next outpost, where you’ll be spending the night among the trees. Enjoy.”

  We have to climb a rickety ladder to get to the front porch. I’m a little worried, since the last place we stayed wasn’t so great, but when I flip on the lights, I’m charmed. It’s adorable and clean, and there is a fireplace going.

  Of course, there are some drawbacks. The big one is that it’s romantic. Like I need romance right now, especially with all the thoughts of that kiss still going through my head. One bed, of course. No running water.

  I’m not as bone tired as I was before, so we decide to go down to the campfire to have some food. That’s where we find out that Ace and Marta once again came in first, followed by Brad and Natalie. As we grab our barbecue and sit down at the fire, Ace and Marta get up and leave.

  “Something we said?” Luke says, grinning at me.

  And it’s that grin that makes my insides turn to mush. Or maybe it’s the “we.” Whatever it is, I feel like I’m more than just an obstacle in his way. For the first time, I feel like I’m truly in this with him.

  Luke clearly knows Brad; I can tell they must have allied sometime during the filming. They talk like old friends. Natalie, the motorcycle chick who is on the older edge of things, is quiet but nice. We actually end up laughing together as we talk about our experiences. I’ve never fit into a group like that; Courtney is the only real friend I’ve ever had. But I can tell Luke just effortlessly gets along with everyone, and he manages to draw me out and add me to the conversation, so I feel like I belong. It makes me feel so warm and squishy and . . . yearning to have this kind of life back home.

  It makes me almost dread going back to my boring apartmen
t with no boyfriend, no social life, no job, no future.

  After the rest of the couples show up, we learn that Jen, the workout-video and weight-loss guru, and Elliott, her “husband,” who was a rather large guy, were eliminated.

  It’s pretty late by the time we head up to the treehouse. “I’m beat,” Luke says as we climb the ladder.

  I don’t say anything, but he must misinterpret my silence because a second later he says, “Don’t worry. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  I hadn’t been thinking about that at all. “Actually,” I say, “do you think they’re filming inside the rooms?”

  “Nah. It’s against the contract. But the rooms are probably bugged for sound.”

  “Oh. The bed is bigger than at the other place. It wouldn’t be terrible if you slept on the bed with me. If you stay on top of the sheets. Right?”

  He gives me a raised eyebrow. “You’re the boss.”

  “Oh. And you have to wear clothes.”

  “If you say so.”

  We go inside, and I take my pajamas out of my bag. He pulls off his shirt. I motion for him to turn around, and I pull on my tank and boxers. “I’m done,” I say, slipping under the covers.

  He sits down and pulls off his cargo pants, then lies beside me in his boxer briefs.

  After the kiss, it feels strangely intimate. Everything he does now feels intimate. Like we should be doing more.

  I reach over and turn out the light. The second the light is out, I know I’m going to have trouble sleeping. It has everything to do with his naked body, inches from mine. “Do you want to . . . practice? For the Marriage Test, I mean?”

  His laugh is low. “Didn’t think you’d want to practice anything else, sweetheart.”

  I’m glad it’s dark so he can’t see the way I blush. I try to think of some of the questions they asked on the test. “What’s my favorite food?”

  He rolls over onto his elbow, staring at me in the firelight. “Let me guess. Slim Jims.”

  “No. Beef Wellington. I also like brussels sprouts.”

  “You’re just fucking with me, right?”

  I ignore the question. “Yours is . . . Slim Jims?”

  “Bingo.”

  I smile. “Um . . . who inspires you?”

  “Easy one. My grandfather. You?”

  I shake my head, and now I’m really blushing. “I don’t . . . really have anyone. I left that question blank.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because I don’t need anyone to inspire me. I rely on myself.”

  He nods like he understands, then says, “Huh.”

  I look over at him. “Huh, what?”

  “Nothing. Just . . . sounds kind of lonely.”

  “Says the man who doesn’t want to get married.”

  “I don’t. But I love surrounding myself with others. The more, the better. What can I say? I like people. Most of them.”

  I cringe. “I guess I . . . don’t. I mean, I might. I’d rather just surround myself with a few close people who I know have my back. And one of them will be my husband. Maybe he’ll inspire me.”

  “Shit, girl. You’re going about it the wrong way. You won’t meet him if you hide away from everyone and don’t give ’em a chance. You know?”

  He’s probably right. But that’s . . . terrifying. “I just don’t think those people like me all that much. I’m too different from them.”

  “No, you ain’t. They would like you. You just don’t give them a chance.”

  I guess that’s true.

  A moment later, he says, “Penny?”

  “Nell.”

  “Right, whatever. Say something in French to me.”

  I laugh. “What? Why?”

  “Because I don’t sleep so good. And maybe it’ll keep my mind off the game so I can.”

  “Okay.” I think for a little while before saying:

  Comme deux anges que torture

  Une implacable calenture

  Dans le bleu cristal du matin

  Suivons le mirage lointain

  I open my eyes. In the firelight, he’s rolled over onto one elbow, looking at me. The shadows of the flames dance across his tattooed skin, a pleasant blur with my poor eyesight. “Fuck. What did you just say?”

  “It’s Baudelaire. Basically that we should go to sleep.”

  “Hell. Is that all? Everything in French sounds so hot. I could’ve sworn you wanted me to climb under the covers with you.”

  I press my lips together and shake my head. “No more French.”

  He falls onto his back and puts his arm over his eyes. “Damn.”

  “Um. Why would you want to?”

  He pulls his hand off his head. “Why? You’re shitting me, right?”

  “Well. I’m not exactly your type, am I?” I say lightly, pulling the covers up to my chin. “I mean, boys don’t make passes at girls who wear glasses, right? And the women on the other teams seem like—”

  “You felt my cock. You don’t think you got all the right equipment to turn a guy on?”

  “I don’t . . .”

  “I happen to find those Coke bottles you hide your face with sexy as fuck,” he says. “And I sure ain’t the only one. You’re not a virgin?”

  “Oh no!” I find myself tittering. Why are we even discussing this? Am I insane?

  “All right. Then you gotta know, right? You have a boyfriend? You ever get him hot?”

  “Well.” I trace my finger over the sheet, picking at a loose thread on the blanket. “I’ve only had one. And he isn’t really the type to . . .”

  He closes his eyes. “Wait. Let me get this straight. You’ve only been with one guy in your whole life?”

  I nod. Is it getting warm in here? “Gerald. He’s a doctor. He’s . . . brilliant, handsome, kind . . .”

  “And a shitty lover.”

  “What? No. How can you . . .”

  “Are you still dating this asshole?”

  “He’s not an asshole!” I say, not sure why I’m defending him. “We broke up almost nine months ago.”

  “Okay. So . . . this guy has taught you everything you know about sex. And yet the woman I see before me hasn’t had sex in almost a year, blushes whenever she looks at something she really wants, doesn’t want anyone to touch her, and can’t even say the words fuck or cock.” He shrugs. “He made you frigid. So, in my book? Asshole. Shitty lover.”

  I gape at him. “I’m not frigid!”

  “Hey. It ain’t your fault.”

  I want to smack him, but I can’t bear to have contact with his naked parts. Oh god, maybe he’s right.

  I flip on the light and sit up in bed. “I kissed you, didn’t I? Was that terrible?”

  “No. That was fucking hot as hell. But I think you’ll need about a thousand more of those to undo the number that that asshole did on you.”

  I stare at him, scowling. “You know,” I say, pulling the covers up to my chest, “I think you’d better sleep on the floor.”

  He grins lazily at me and starts to pull the blanket off the bed. I tug it back, and he just laughs at me. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

  He lies down on the floor with just a pillow and doesn’t make another sound the rest of the night. I try to fall asleep, but I can’t.

  Because I have a very strong feeling that he might be right. About Gerald, but most of all, about me.

  Luke

  Penny’s shocked we got this far. I’m not. I always said I was in it to win it. And yeah, she can’t stand me. We’re different. But somehow, we’re making it work. Who knows, though. This might be the end of the road for us.

  —Luke’s Confessional, Day 7

  We’ve been in the game for a week.

  After Colorado, we traveled down to Texas, where Erica, the type A, and Steven, the weaselly guy, were eliminated after a challenge where one of us had to build the biggest haystack, and the other had to carry hay bales across a farm. Supposedly, Steven didn’t want to do either, and Erica w
as all-out screaming at him to choose one, so he just told her to screw off and walked away from the set.

  We did okay on that one because we didn’t need to be near each other.

  Then we went to Charleston, South Carolina, where we had to spend the night at a haunted plantation. We stayed on opposite sides of the mansion and ended up getting our fucking wires crossed, each thinking the other had gone and made the sweetgrass basket we were supposed to make. After that, a second Marriage Test, where—surprise surprise—we again got all three questions wrong about each other. Like I was supposed to know her favorite way to relax was going to fucking art museums? I’d said shopping, because I thought all women loved shopping. I thought it was ingrained in their heads. I might as well have called her a cannibal, from the eye daggers she gave me.

  My favorite way to relax, according to her? Vegging on the couch. My favorite way to spend a night? Hitting on women. My favorite place to hang out? A strip club. I can tell she thinks I’m a dumb, horny asshole.

  The result of that shit? We nearly came in dead last.

  The only people who screwed up worse than us were Cara, the dancer, and Zach, the father, who missed their flight. So they got eliminated.

  And now we’re the last of the five remaining couples.

  We’re in pea-soup fog, up on a pier near a lighthouse in cold-as-hell Lubec, Maine, which is supposedly the easternmost point of the United States.

  The only thing colder is Penny.

  The girl can hold a grudge. Ever since we had that talk in the treehouse in Colorado, she’s been closed off and barely says two words to me at a time. I’ve spent most of my nights getting drunk with my alliance, and she’s pissed off about that too. All the other couples have an understanding. They may not be a love connection, but they appreciate and tolerate each other for the sake of the game. Penny won’t even look at me.

  I’d thought that after the kiss, we’d just get closer and closer.

  But instead, we ended up veering completely apart. Any more and we’ll lose.

  And at this point, I don’t give a shit. I’m thinking about the game and how we can salvage things and somehow pull ahead, even though we’re on the brink of elimination.