by Amy Vansant
He looked around the tent area. “Do you see a flag?”
Marc jerked open the tent and as it expanded, a large red flag sprang from the top of it. In the center of the flag was a large white dot on it.
Sebastian plucked it from its mount.
“Ah.”
“We can bring it in the tent with us,” suggested Kady.
“It said it has to stay on top.”
“Oh, right.”
Sebastian ducked his head into the tent. “We have bigger problems than a flag. This thing is only big enough for two, and that’s if both of us hold your breath.”
Emily peeked inside. It was definitely too small for four people. There was another note lying on the floor near the back of the tent and she crawled in to grab it.
“It says if two couples find the same tent we can compete to see who gets it.”
“Rock, paper, scissors?” suggested Kady.
“No, it says cornhole with a twist will decide it.”
Emily crawled out and walked behind the tent to find a clearing. In the center, sat two low, wooden, rectangular boxes featuring the logo of the show. Each box had legs on one end that tilted the box up, creating a sort of ramp. The boxes were reminiscent of playing boards for cornhole, a popular backyard and tailgating game. As a rule, the cornhole boxes had a softball-sized hole in the upper center. Players threw bean bags from one box to the other, scoring points for sinking a bag through the hole or keeping it on the board. Keeping a bag on the board was harder than it looked—they tended to slide off.
Emily hadn’t played a lot of cornhole, but she’d played enough to know there was something wrong with Minefield’s boards. They were too long and skinny, and they had no hole, which left her baffled as to the rules.
“What’s the twist?” asked Sebastian.
Emily pointed. “They don’t have any holes. That’s a twist, I suppose, but how are we supposed to play?”
“Another sign,” said Kady, walking to a cardboard square nailed to a nearby tree. Beneath it a bag of mini-marshmallows hung from a nail.
Lay on the boards, open your mouths. Halfway point, switch who catches.
“We’re the holes,” said Emily. She glared and pointed at Marc. “I hear it now. Don’t even.”
He snickered.
“Let’s just go with the rock, paper, scissors option,” suggested Sebastian.
Kady nodded. “That’s fine with me.”
“I like marshmallows,” mumbled Marc.
“Gotta do the game,” said one of the cameramen. Emily jumped. She’d forgotten he was there.
“What?”
“Gotta do the game or neither of you get the tent. Them’s the rules.”
Sebastian sighed. “You want to catch or throw?”
Emily studied the layout of the boards. The distance was shorter than a standard cornhole configuration, but still too far to throw a mini-marshmallow accurately. “Are you a good shot? What am I saying? You’re great at darts.”
“This isn’t darts, and I can’t say I’ve played a lot of human marshmallow cornhole.”
Kady considered their options. “I guess it doesn’t matter since we’ll have to take turns. I’ll catch first.”
“You’re up, sport,” said Kady, clapping Marc on the shoulder.
The girls lay on the boards with their mouths open and the boys took turns tossing mini-marshmallows at their partners.
A marshmallow bounced off Kady’s nose and she burst into giggles.
“Come on Kady, keep your mouth open,” said Marc.
Kady cleared her throat and resumed position.
“Eh ehhe eehee olhing aye ouha ohen.”
“What?”
Kady sat up a second before Marc was about to throw and he jerked back his arm to save the turn.
“I said it isn’t easy holding my mouth open.”
Like cornhole, they received two points for landing in a mouth and one point if the marshmallow remained on the board, which in this case, was the person, as their bodies covered the playing field.
For once, Emily was glad to be relatively flat-chested.
The winner would be the first team to hit twenty-one.
Sebastian remained ahead for his half of the game, but when they switched and it was the girls’ turn tossing, Emily fell behind thanks to Sebastian’s slippery, sweat-wicking golf shirt. The marshmallows stuck to Marc’s shirt like flypaper. Kady quickly racked up points and won the tent.
Kady poked Emily. “This is good because you can keep an eye on the flag out here while we’re sleeping. We can work as a team.”
“I think if it’s stolen, only you are penalized, so there’s no real incentive for me to keep an eye on your stupid flag.” She grinned and poked Kady to show she was playing with her.
Marc rolled out a sleeping bag and tossed another to Sebastian. “You guys can use this.”
Sebastian, who had been forlornly staring at the tent, appeared relieved. “Thanks.”
“Where do you want to setup our tent-less camp?” asked Emily.
Their cameraman slipped his phone in his pocket and lowered his camera. “Sebastian, I just got word they want you to do another weather report.”
Sebastian dropped the sleeping bag on the flattest piece of land he could find and then turned to the cameraman.
“What’s your name? And don’t tell me not to look at the camera because it’s pointed at the ground.”
“Jason.”
“Hi, Jason. Tell me, does Nicole watch the dailies?”
The cameraman shrugged. “I don’t know. We upload what we have at the end of the day. I’ll send them this weather report, too.”
“Good. What’s the weather?”
Jason raised his camera. “Eighty, breezy and sunny.”
Sebastian nodded and stared into the lens. “Hi, everyone. Sebastian here. It’s going to be eighty degrees, breezy and sunny tomorrow and that’s good, because it’s my brother’s last day on earth for talking me into this competition. Tomorrow, I’m going to beat him with whatever part of my body hasn’t been eaten away by insects.”
Chapter Twelve
Joe popped his head from the tent he and Greta had stumbled across during their wander through the forest. It had been a long day and they’d nearly set off one tripwire and one hidden landmine contraption. All he wanted to do was hide in the tent from the mosquitos, but he didn’t like the idea of Greta wandering around outside unchaperoned.
He spotted his ex-mistress-slash-current-bane-of-his-existence sitting against a tree, chatting away on a cell phone. The cameraman was nowhere to be seen.
He crawled out of the tent. “Where did you get a phone?”
Greta held up an index finger, asking him to wait.
Joe’s shoulders slumped to one side, like a scarecrow slipping from his post.
He hated everything about his life.
Why did I agree to do this? Why did I make that call?
After Kady came home to get clothes, he’d been out of his mind and called Greta.
I should’ve taken a breath.
He’d panicked after Kady told him she’d joined the cast of a reality television show with another man. That’s when he remembered Greta mentioning during one of their clandestine dates something about her aunt doing a reality show.
And now here he was in the middle of the forest with Greta.
Greta didn’t even want to speak to him until he blurted that Sebastian was also on the show. Then she was all ears. She fell over herself to get them a slot.
Greta either wanted Sebastian back or wanted to destroy him. He wasn’t sure which.
Greta finished her call and disconnected. “What’s up?”
“I said, where did you get a phone?”
“It’s my phone.”
“No kidding. I know it’s your phone. But why do you have it? We had to turn in our phones.”
Greta looked at him as if he’d grown a second head. “Not me.”
He nodded. “Oh. Right. You’re special. I forgot.”
“Joe, are you stupid? How do you think we got on this show at the last second?”
“Your Aunt Karen.”
“Exactly. And why do you think she let us on the show?”
“Because you wanted to get back at Sebastian and I wanted to win Kady back.”
“Right. But why would our love lives matter to my aunt?”
Joe thought about this. “Uh, I guess she wants to help you?”
“Ha, no. Don’t you know who we are on this show?”
“The fake couple?”
“Plants. We’re the plants.”
His brow knit. “Like ferns?”
“No, like people who were planted to cause trouble and boost ratings.”
“We are?”
“Of course we are. How stupid are you? When I told my aunt I needed to get on this show to get back at Sebastian and you wanted in to win back mop-head, she nearly screamed with joy. It’s such a good storyline, us all having dated.”
“But—” Joe considered the events that brought them to this point. “Does that mean we have to tell the world we cheated on those two with each other?”
Greta had already returned to texting. “Hm? Yes. Duh.”
“But we’ll look like terrible people.”
She snorted a laugh. “No one is going to blame you for cheating on fusilli-head with me.”
Joe scowled. Greta had fifteen different nicknames for Kady and none of them were kind. In a way, he was grateful she was stuck on Kady’s curly hair at the moment—some of the other names regarding other body parts and topics had been horrific.
He couldn’t remember what he’d ever seen in Greta.
Just as he had this thought, she stretched, her massive bosom bouncing.
Oh right. Now I remember.
He shook his head to clear it. “What about you? You were cheating on Sebastian. No one is going to like you if that comes out.”
Greta arched an eyebrow. “I don’t care who likes me. The villains get all the press. Anyway, when I’m done with those two, that dart whore will be the most hated girl on the Internet and people will be asking why Sebastian doesn’t come running back to me.”
Joe frowned. “I know Emily. She isn’t a whore. Plus, Kady says no girl is ever a whore no matter what she’s done because—”
Greta talked over him, showing no sign that she’d heard a word. “But I won’t take him back. In fact, I think I might just take that strapping pile of man-muscle away from Kady while I’m at it. I see the way he looks at me.”
Joe nodded slowly. That was food for thought.
It would make my mission easier if Greta seduced Marc away from Kady...
His nodding head picked up pace as he did the relationship math. “That’s a good idea. We can work together on this.”
Greta stood. “That’s the plan. Come on. I think it’s dark enough now.”
“Where are we going?”
“My aunt sent me the coordinates to where Sebastian is sleeping. Kady and that hottie are there, too. We’re going to go steal their flag.”
“Why? We don’t want them kicked off.”
“For drama. We have to make it look like we’re trying to get them kicked off. That won’t happen though. Don’t worry.”
Joe trotted behind her. “What about our flag? There won’t be anyone here to protect it.”
She dismissed him with a wave. “Don’t worry about it. We’re going to win.”
“Win what? The whole competition?”
“Naturally. They don’t want to have to give twenty thousand dollars to just anyone. So they’re going to rig it so we win, and we’ll accept less.”
“How much less?”
“We get ten. Well, you get two thousand. I’m doing all the heavy lifting here. And maybe you’ll get the poodle-head back.”
Joe sighed. He spotted their cameraman scurrying out of the woods, zipping his pants as he followed them.
He hoped he’d been peeing.
Thanks to the coordinates app on Greta’s phone, finding Sebastian’s tent proved to be a breeze. They paused close enough to spy on the tent as their cameraman took a position nearby and pointed his lens at them.
They’d been staring at the tent for thirty seconds when Greta pointed and gasped. “Look. It’s a tent.”
Joe looked at her. “Huh? No kidding. You just led us to—”
Greta slapped Joe on his shoulder with the back of her hand. “It’s for the camera, idiot.”
Joe glanced at the cameraman. “Oh. Um...I wonder who’s sleeping there?”
“I don’t know, but we should try and get that flag.”
He nodded. “Yes we should.” Even he could hear how wooden he sounded. Recreating fake events for the camera made him feel dirty. None of his plotting with Greta made him feel better about his decisions. Now he’d be forever on film making an idiot out of himself—
Greta pushed him. “Go get it.”
“What? Why me? You go in and get it.”
“But you’re so much faster.” She batted her eyes and then looked at the camera. “Can you pick up my expressions on the night cam?”
The cameraman grunted an affirmative.
She smiled and then returned to looking like an endangered doe.
Chewing on his lip, Joe stood, figuring at least maybe he could look brave on film. “Fine. I’ll get it.”
Greta tapped him on the arm. “Wear this.”
She thrust something at him and he took the object. It felt soft. In the dark it wasn’t easy to make out what it was.
“A knit cap?” he asked.
“A ski mask.”
“I’m stealing a flag, not robbing a bank.”
“It’s so they don’t know who took it and they don’t retaliate against us.”
He stared at the mask. “Wait. Where did you get this?”
“It was in our supply bag.”
He wanted to ask if that was true, but decided it didn’t matter. Who knew what extra things she’d been given? She probably had a box of donuts and a television in there.
He pulled on the ski mask and crept through the trees, tip-toeing toward the tent, illuminated in the moonlight. He paused, waiting to see if anyone stirred inside.
Nothing.
Deciding to make a quick run for it, he bolted forward and snatched the flag. He turned to run, but didn’t make it a step before someone grabbed him.
“Oh no you don’t.”
A tall man held his wrist like a vice.
Sebastian. Where’d he come from? I thought he was in the tent...
Sebastian held out his other hand. “Give it back.”
Joe tried to jerk away, but found Sebastian’s grip too strong.
“Ow, you’re hurting my wrist.”
“Give it back.”
“What’s going on?” Marc’s voice sounded from inside the tent.
Joe felt himself beginning to panic. Oh no. Sebastian is tall and bizarrely strong and Marc is built like a video game soldier. This is getting bad fast.
“Who is it?” said a sleepy female voice.
Joe’s stomach sunk to a lower level.
Kady. I’m going to look like a loser in front of Kady. Again.
Greta had said it was Sebastian and Emily’s tent. He wouldn’t score any points with Kady if she saw he was stealing her flag. Especially if he was being beaten to death by Marc and Sebastian at the time.
Time to cut and run.
“Take it,” he said, trying to force the flag into Sebastian’s outstretched hand.
Sebastian snatched the flag and released Joe, who bolted into the woods like an animal released from a hunter’s trap.
“Run,” Joe said as he passed Greta.
He didn’t look back.
Chapter Thirteen
“Wake up.”
Emily opened her eyes.
Leaves. Why am I staring at a tree?
Turning her head
, she found Sebastian standing over her, looking sexy, but grim. She was in a sleeping bag, which had grown damp in the morning dew. Beside them was a tent with a flag hanging limply from a stick on the roof.
Is that what you call the top of a tent? A roof?
She never realized how often she turned to the Internet to research bits of trivia. Not having access to a search engine was going to kill her faster than the bugs and blood-thirsty deer.
At least she remembered where she was now.
Minefield.
Ugh. Cameras. Try and look fresh as the morning dew.
She smiled at no one in particular. “What time is it?”
Sebastian stared down at her. “Quarter past hell.”
She spotted their cameraman, his handheld unit already pointed in their direction. Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes, attempting to primp without looking desperate. “Did I hear talking last night?”
Sebastian nodded. “Someone tried to steal the flag. It was pretty dramatic. You sleep like the dead.”
“Really? What happened? Who was it?”
“He was wearing a ski mask, but I think it was Joe.”
“Definitely a guy though?”
“Definitely.”
“Where did he get a ski mask?”
“Maybe their bag has different stuff in it than ours.”
“A ski mask? I’d think that would be about as useful as packing mittens.”
Sebastian shrugged. “Nothing about this game makes sense.”
She eyed the limp flag hanging from the tent. “He didn’t get it.”
“No. I was awake and saw him go for it. I grabbed him and he threw the flag at me and ran off.”
“That’s good. That sounds like Joe, too.”
She cocked her head to the side. Something about Sebastian’s expression worried her. “Why do you look all weird?”
He glanced at the camera, his voice dropping low. “I need your help.”
She crawled out of the bag and stretched while Sebastian addressed the cameraman.
“Could you give us a moment of privacy?”
The cameraman didn’t move.
Sebastian nodded. “Great, thanks.”
He turned away and stepped behind a large oak, motioning to Emily to follow him. Temporarily blocked from camera view, he pulled down his shorts so Emily could see the top of his butt cheek.