Chapter Six
The 'throne room', a clearing on a different island, had trees arching overhead, blocking out the dim moonlight and forming a natural roof. A most unnatural chair hunkered down in the vegetation near a fire pit. The chair's gold finish was painted on, and its frankly fake jewels glittered in the firelight as we approached. Peter stood waiting for us, cameras everywhere.
"Princess, take your throne, please." He gestured toward the chair. "Courtiers, over here."
I shifted around in the uncomfortable chair, trying and failing to find a position that worked, while the guys sat on the log Peter had indicated. Once we were settled, Peter sat on a rock off to the side where he could see us all. "Before the Princess exiles one of you, let's have a little chat. What happened today?"
My exes, clearly not interested in a chat of any size, sat silent. They'd talked in the afternoon, though; one by one, they'd told me they didn't agree with Phillip and encouraged me to exile Dean. Even Greg had stammered that he'd been shocked and disgusted but that I shouldn't worry because they'd keep Phillip in line after I exiled Dean.
Michael hadn't spoken to me about Phillip again, but he'd been more relaxed, initiating conversations and looking me in the eye. Maybe his doubts about the end of our relationship had been the cause of his earlier tension, although I didn't know why he would care at this stage.
Only Dean and Phillip had ignored me. Sam had stuck to my side whenever I wasn't talking to someone else and Phillip didn't try to get past him, and Dean didn't seem to recognize that he was at risk. I'd watched him for the afternoon and they'd been right: he did nothing.
When the guys didn't speak, Peter turned to me. "How do you see it?"
"I can't read maps, and I couldn't get them to the bags fast enough."
His eyebrows went up. "You take the blame for the loss?"
"I do."
He studied me, and I forced myself not to look away. It had been my fault. The guys couldn't exile me, but could Peter?
With a slow nod, he said, "Interesting. But it doesn't matter. You can never be removed from your own Court. Any Courtier, though, could be. Is it an easy decision for you?"
I shook my head. "They've all got strengths and weaknesses, and I could probably make a case to keep, or exile, any of them."
My exes exchanged nervous glances. Good. I'd planned that line on the way over to shake them up. "But I'm going to exile the one who's most deserving."
The guys relaxed. Even Dean. Phillip still looked worried, and I was glad.
"Have you decided who will be leaving your Court?"
I nodded. I had, but I kept changing my mind.
"Before you tell us, let's give some of the Courtiers a chance to speak in their defense."
Peter turned to Dean, the first on the log. "Why should the Princess keep you here?"
"I haven't been in a contest yet," Dean said, not looking at me. "It wouldn't be fair to send me home when I haven't had a chance to show what I can do."
Peter nodded, then moved on.
"We're heading for a good friendship, I think," Sam said, smiling at me. I smiled back, and he said, "Some people might think I'm only interested in staying on the island, but that's not true. It's nice getting to know her again, as adults this time, and I think we'll still be friends after the show. I hope she keeps me so we can see how it works out."
I felt warm and fuzzy, but only for a second.
"Phillip, why should the Princess keep you?"
"I already told her."
"Yes," Peter said, his tone cool. "Why don't you tell her again now?"
I locked eyes with Phillip. His face flushed, making the outline of my fingers stand out. The defiance was gone. He had no allies: the way Sam and Aaron had left space between themselves and him, as if afraid he'd contaminate them, made that obvious. Plus, Peter obviously knew what he'd said to me. Would he have the nerve to repeat it?
Nope. "She knows who should be exiled. We've all told her. You've set this game up so she makes the decisions, but everything she does affects us too, so we should have a say. And we have. Now, she needs to make the smart choice and send him home."
Put as precisely as that, I could appreciate the logic behind it. Why hadn't he been so calm and rational before? He'd have had more success.
Peter raised his eyebrows. "So, Princess, they've told you who to exile?"
I nodded. Dean looked confused, and I felt bad for him.
"And how do you feel about that?"
I raised my chin. "I agree. They told me to exile the most deserving one, and I will."
"That's good," Phillip said, his attitude returning. "I wasn't sure you'd have the sense to--"
His words solidified my decision. "The problem is that my opinion on who most deserves it isn't the same as theirs."
The guys stared at me, stunned. Except Dean, who clearly didn't understand.
I paused, loving the horror on Phillip's face, then took a breath to speak again, but Peter held up a hand. Startled, I stopped. "Sorry, MC," he said. "That's a perfect spot to put in commercials when we air. Go ahead."
My train of thought completely off the rails, I said, "I am exiling Phillip."
*****
"How could you do that to us?"
"To you? I thought I did it to Phillip."
Aaron, Michael, and Sam stood in front of me. The others had scattered once we'd returned to our island. I stood alone.
"You know what I mean," Aaron went on. "We all agreed."
"No, you all agreed. You assumed I was going along."
"You said you were." Michael seemed somehow taller than usual.
"I didn't."
"MC, give me a break. You knew who we wanted you to exile, and you said you'd do it. Why lie to me, to us?"
I had to force myself to meet his eyes. I didn't think I'd had a choice, but knowing I'd turned my allies against me stung. The disappointment in Michael's eyes stung even more.
"I didn't think you were a liar," he added.
"I'm not." I turned to face him head-on, wanting him to understand. "But you try being me, having your exes telling you what to do, what should and shouldn't offend you. If you decided something you knew they wouldn't like, would you really march into camp and tell them all?"
Our eyes met and held, and I saw his anger fading as he took in my words.
"You could have told me."
I stared at him. His face reddened but he didn't look away. Why would I have told him over anyone else? What was he thinking?
Dean stormed up from the beach, where he'd been sitting in the dark since our arrival, and Michael took off for the water. I turned toward Dean, glad to have a supporter.
Except he was anything but.
"So everyone told you who to exile, did they?" He glared at me. "You asked everyone else for their opinion and didn't ask me. How do you think that makes me feel?"
"I didn't ask, Dean. They told me."
"And who did they think should go?" His tone, nearly a sneer, proved he didn't know.
Aaron wasted no time. "You."
Dean's eyes widened. To me, he said, "Is he telling the truth?"
I nodded.
He took a step backward. "Why? What did I do?"
"Nothing," Aaron said bluntly, "That's the problem. We're sick of picking up your slack."
"Why didn't you say something?"
Sam shrugged. "Like what? We can't make you work. We thought you'd smarten up after a day or so, but you didn't. So when we got the chance..."
"You told her to exile me." Dean stood frozen, then stunned me by turning on me. "Then why didn't you, if I'm so useless? I don't want your pity."
"I wanted Phillip gone. After what he said. It had nothing to do with pity."
"Yeah, right." Dean pointed at Aaron. "You made me look stupid in the limo and I've been screwed ever since."
To me, he snapped, "Thanks for nothing," then took off up the path to the latrine.
"At least he's g
rateful." Jim, returning from the latrine in time to hear Dean's comment, grinned at me, showing more teeth than strictly necessary. "That makes it all worthwhile, right?"
"Oh, shut up." Turning to leave, I stumbled over a rock and toppled into Sam. He caught my arms to steady me, tighter than he needed to, and said, "Can I talk to you in private?"
We'd have to discuss it eventually so I let him lead me up the darkened path to the water hole. Once we were well out of camp, he stopped and faced me, the words bursting from him. "Okay, tell me why the hell you did that."
"Because he was rude and crude and I hate him. Why can't anyone understand that?"
"We understand it fine. Why can't you--"
"You know what, you don't," I said, taking a step closer, fury filling me. "He didn't expose your history to the world, or ask a bunch of your exes how you were in bed, or make you feel like a tramp. None of you understand. You think you do, but you don't. I had to exile him."
I started back down the path, the camera man stepping out of my way. I'd only gone a few feet, though, when Sam recovered. "Why let him get to you like that?"
I stopped.
"He's an ass. Nobody took him seriously. He was good for the team, though." His voice grew louder as he approached. "Why not just use him for contests and then ignore him?"
I didn't turn around. "You wouldn't understand."
He put a hand on my shoulder. "Try me."
"There's no point, because it's different for guys. You're heroes, we're sluts."
Both hands on my shoulders now. "You are so not a slut."
I swallowed hard. "He made me feel like one. And every time I looked at him, I'd have remembered. I couldn't face it. That's what you guys don't get."
Sam slipped his arms around my waist, and I turned and threw my arms around his neck. "Even you," I said, my voice choked. "I like that we're friends, and he made it seem ugly."
"It's not. I like it too."
He cuddled me against him, stroking my back as I burrowed into his shoulder. It was like snuggling with a big animate teddy bear, comforting and friendly and non-threatening, and I was starting to regain control when he pulled back and said, "We'll still be friends after, right?"
"I hope so."
He looked into my eyes, his face more serious than I'd ever seen it. "Just friends?"
I couldn't tell whether he hoped I'd say yes or no, but I had to tell him the truth. "I think just friends. I'm glad we found each other again, but..." I trailed off, not knowing how to say I didn't feel even a hint of attraction without hurting his feelings.
I didn't have to.
He smiled, and the relief in his eyes might have offended me if I hadn't understood that he hadn't wanted to hurt me either. "That's how I feel too. It's like you're my little sister or something." His eyes widened. "I know you have a brother, had one, I mean. I said that wrong."
"It's okay. I like it."
I hugged him again, and he squeezed me so hard all the air whooshed from my lungs. I made a strangled croak and he loosened his grip.
"Sorry. Oh, and before we go back, I have to say nice job."
"At what?"
He grinned. "Exiling that jackass."
"What? You said it was wrong."
"I think Dean was a better choice for the team, but I sure loved seeing Phillip go."
We grinned and I replayed Phillip's exit in my mind. His shocked expression, his attempt to get Peter to intervene (which Peter rebuffed with a calm 'The Princess cannot be overridden' and a look that said he didn't want to override me in the slightest), and finally his snapping, "You'll regret this," at me and storming from the clearing, camera crew in hot pursuit.
"'You'll regret this'", Sam scoffed. "Some lawyer. Should have threatened to sue you."
I clapped my hand over his mouth. "Don't give him any ideas."
He winked, and gave me another hug when I'd removed my hand. I hugged him back, but my mind was busy as we headed to camp. My exes seemed split into sweet cuddly ones like Sam and sexy but impossible ones like Phillip and Aaron. Was there no way to get both at once?
Chapter Seven
When Peter announced who I'd exiled, several of Kent's exes sighed. Phillip certainly did make a good first impression. If only the second and subsequent measured up.
Summer flashed me that bright grin. "Said one too many rude things, did he?"
"Something like that."
Sam and Michael flanked me like bodyguards, but my other exes stood together as far away as they could get. They'd been even further away, but Peter had made them move so we'd all be on camera. Summer gave them a mock stern look. "Let that be a lesson to the rest of you."
"Yeah, don't be strong at contests or you're finished," Greg muttered. I pretended I hadn't heard, but he'd said it loud enough that it was hard to ignore, made even harder by their snickers.
Sam's arm slid around me and I leaned in, grateful for his support. And Michael's.
While we'd made dinner the night before, Michael had told me that he too disagreed with my choice on a group level but supported it personally. He even gave my shoulder a quick squeeze, although the way he instantly snapped back his hand drained much of the comfort from the gesture. Still, he'd made the attempt, and I appreciated it.
As Peter began to explain the contest, I glanced at Kent, wondering how he was taking his exes' reaction to Phillip's exile. To my surprise, he was staring at Sam. A quick glance showed Sam staring back. Confused, I turned back to Kent, who held Sam's gaze for another second then focused his attention on Peter.
Strange.
The contest required us to answer questions about island survival. It should have been me and all the guys against Kent and all but one of his exes, but it didn't quite turn out that way.
Sam, Michael, and I gave it our best shot, and Aaron's competitiveness made him participate after we'd fallen a few questions behind, but the questions were tricky enough that we needed everyone's input, and we didn't get it. Dean, Greg, and Jim stayed loyal to their apparently dearly beloved fallen friend and refused to help.
We were probably lucky to only lose by four points.
After the contest, Aaron returned to the 'mad at MC' group, which didn't exactly welcome him back with open arms but didn't push him away either. We waited for Peter to present Kent with whatever he'd won, but instead he said, "Off you go, folks. Your boats are waiting."
Kent clearly didn't understand either, but there was something else in his eyes. He glanced at my four disgruntled exes then gave me a sympathetic look.
My stomach fluttered and I broke our eye contact. I couldn't let myself react to Kent. I had Sam and Michael. I'd be fine.
Kent said, "We just leave now?"
"Unless you want to live here instead."
"Doesn't he get a prize?"
"Did you want to give him something?" His voice held amusement and innuendo.
Four sulky men? Blood rose in my cheeks and I mumbled, "I thought... he did win..."
Peter, apparently tired of toying with us, said, "Princess, the contest is over. You lost. That's all you need to know right now. Head out."
He began talking to a production assistant without waiting for my reply. I looked back at Kent, who shrugged, his eyes again neutral. I returned the shrug, and we led our groups away.
Sam and Michael discussed what this second no-prize contest could mean as we headed for our boat, but I didn't listen, focused on what I'd seen in Kent's eyes.
*****
Back at camp, Sam had the same focus. Once the four stooges had disappeared into the jungle leaving me, him, and Michael at the fire pit, he said, "Dude was mad at me, I think."
"Which dude?"
I knew which dude, but let Sam answer. "Kent. When I put my arm around MC."
"You had your arm around her?"
"Yeah, at the start of the contest when Greg was mouthing off. You didn't see?"
Michael cleared his throat before speaking. "No, I guess not. So
, you think Kent saw?"
Turning to me, Sam said, "When I touched you, it was like his eyes got dark for a second. When I looked again, they were normal, so they probably hadn't changed, but he did look mad. I thought about letting go, but I figured, why should I, so I didn't."
I'd seen Kent's eyes flash darker, such a deep green they were nearly black, but not from anger. It happened when he was particularly passionate about something. I'd seen it the last time we'd made love, once he'd finally talked me into it, which had also been the first time at his parents' house. If only I'd said no.
Why had Sam's arm around me provoked such a strong reaction from Kent?
Maybe it hadn't. Sam might have been wrong. Or the sun had hit Kent's eyes just right and made them look strange. It couldn't have been that he still cared. "No, you didn't need to let go. It's nice having you, both of you, on my side." I rubbed my forehead.
"Don't worry." Michael jerked his head toward the jungle. "They'll come around."
I sighed, tired right down to my core. "Aaron might. He hates losing. But the rest..." I shrugged, then slumped forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "If I didn't have you two, I wouldn't have anyone."
"Well, you do have us, so don't be such a drama queen," Sam said.
I opened my mouth wide in pretend shock. We laughed, but mine faded fast when he added, "And you have Kent."
"Oh, I do not."
Sam gave me a 'yeah, whatever' look, and I said, "Come on, he's the competition. He doesn't care about me."
I felt a twinge of sadness at my words but pushed it aside. I was right and I knew it. After how we'd broken up, I was lucky he was talking to me at all.
"When'd you date him?"
"Started five years ago."
"So, before me," Michael said. "For a while, right?"
"Almost two years. Look, why do we have to talk about him? Who cares?"
"Well, Princess," Sam said, earning himself a sharp poke in the ribs. Rubbing his side, he went on. "He is our competition, as you say. Wouldn't it help to know more about him?"
"I can't see how."
"You know," Michael said, furrowing his brow as if working out a complicated problem, "It might help if we knew more. Not about him, so much, but about your relationship, so if we ever get a contest about it we'll be ready."
Seven Exes Are Eight Too Many Page 8