Slightly Sweaty

by Amy Vansant

  “I’ll make a bird call.”

  “What kind?”

  “A cardinal?”

  “I don’t know what that sounds like.”

  “How about a duck?’

  She laughed. “That should work. Very subtle. A forest duck.”

  “Exactly. I’ll blend in.”

  He waved and ran back twenty feet, tucking himself behind a tree.

  Kady shifted. She was pretty sure there was a pine cone under her butt. She was trying to find a way to flick it away when she heard voices approaching from the opposite direction Blake had run. From Blake’s direction, she heard a noise.

  “Quack, quack.”

  Kady laughed and then slapped her hand over her mouth.

  “Come out of there.”

  It was a woman’s voice.

  It sounded like Greta.

  Kady grimaced. Why did it have to be her?

  She shimmied out from under the log. Greta stood ten feet away, her egg gun pointed in Kady’s direction. Joe stood not far behind his teammate.

  Kady held up her hands. “Okay, okay, you got me. Don’t shoot until I stand, you might hit me in the face.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Greta aimed her gun. Kady heard a whoosh of compressed air and covered her face.

  “Ow!”

  Kady peeked through her fingers. It hadn’t been her yelp.

  Greta spun to face Joe. “You shot me.”

  Kady could see the egg dripping down Greta’s back.

  Joe’s expression didn’t change. “Whoops.”

  “You weren’t supposed to do the grand gesture at my expense.” Greta stomped her foot.

  He shrugged.

  Teeth gritted, Greta turned, lifting her gun to shoot Kady.

  Katy dove forward and pressed her back to a tree. She peered around it to see if Greta followed. “You can’t shoot me, you’re dead.”

  Greta lowered her weapon, looked at Joe and pointed to Kady with her other hand. “You shoot her.”

  “No.”

  “You’re an idiot. She’s not going to take you back. Kady, tell him.”

  Kady scowled. “It depends. Is he going to shoot me?”

  Joe lowered his gun. “Come out, I won’t shoot you. I swear.”

  Kady stepped out from behind the tree, brushing pine needles from her clothing. “Did you really shoot her on purpose? For me?”

  He nodded. “Yes. That and the fact that I couldn’t imagine anything more awesome than shooting her.”

  Kady chuckled. Greta crossed her arms against her chest and glowered at Kady. “But you’re not going to take him back, are you?”

  Kady stared at her.

  “No.”

  She shifted her gaze to Joe. “No, Joe, I’m not. I could never trust you again and, let’s be honest, we weren’t right together in the first place.”

  Greta spun back to face Joe. “Ha. Why do you say that?”

  Joe ignored her and addressed Kady. “Why do you say it wasn’t working anyway?”

  Kady sighed. “I felt like I was going through the motions of a relationship. I liked being with you but, deep inside, I knew we weren’t right together. And you, you cheated on me, so I think that was a big warning sign we weren’t a match made in heaven. A big sign that maybe you knew it, too.”

  Joe hooked his mouth to the side. “Maybe.”

  Kady held her arms out at her sides. “So, shoot me I guess.”

  Joe shook his head. “Run.”

  “What?”

  “Run. Get out of here. Not because I hope to get you back. It’s the least I can do for you, considering how I treated you for...this.” He gestured at Greta.

  Greta scowled. “That was unnecessary.”

  Kady smiled. “Thanks, Joe.” She stuck her tongue out at Greta and took off, running.

  Behind her, she heard Greta yelling at Joe until her shrill voice was replaced by the sound of Blake’s footsteps flanking her escape.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Emily and Sebastian split up in the forest, hoping the move would keep them from being struck by eggs at the same time.

  Emily’s plan had been to walk as far away as possible in one direction, hoping most of the hunters would stick to the center of the battlefield. She ducked behind trees whenever she heard voices or cracking branches underfoot. The contestants weren’t terribly stealthy with camera operators in their sensible boots shadowing, but she’d only had two scares since venturing out on her own, both of which had been easily avoided.

  Emily reached a marker signifying the end of the legal playing area and leaned against a large oak to rest. She imagined herself watching Minefield when filming wrapped and wondered what they’d all look like on television. Would viewers see the true personalities of the contestants? What would people think of them all?

  What would they think of her?

  She’d watched reality shows before and read about how viewers hated characters she liked or loved contestants she couldn’t stand. Maybe Greta would have a fan club. Maybe somehow Emily would appear to be the villain. How much of her real personality had been captured on film? What if she looked like something she wasn’t—or worse, something she didn’t know she was?

  Emily roused from her musing as her cameraman crept through the pine needles toward her, presumably filming some sort of close-up. The attention made her face twitch.

  That’ll look fabulous on television.

  She pretended not to notice, as she’d been instructed to do, which made her twitch even more.

  Somewhere to her left she heard a twig break.

  I’d better start paying attention.

  She and Sebastian only had a couple more days to make it through Minefield. Maybe less if they lost. She wasn’t sure either one of them even wanted to be in the game, but she didn’t want to be the reason they lost, either.

  “Ow!”

  Emily turned in time to see what looked like the side of the cameraman’s head exploding. He dropped his camera to the ground and covered the side of his face with his hands. She could see yellow goo oozing between his fingers.

  “My eye,” he wailed.

  She heard a smack against the tree at her back. Yolk dripped down the bark.

  I’m under fire.

  She put the large oak between herself and the direction she thought the eggs had come from.

  “Come out, you don’t stand a chance,” called a voice. It sounded like Tad, the male Prepperoni.

  “I’ll go around,” called a girl’s voice.

  Yep. That had to be Claire, his girlfriend. The preppy couple had decided to work together instead of splitting.

  Emily wondered if staying together hadn’t been the smarter choice.

  The preppy couple split in an attempt to flank her. She heard them moving.

  Dammit. I might not win, but I don’t want to be taken out by The Prepperonis.

  She scanned the area, looking for a place to run. She could see the street through the trees. The red Minefield boundary marker was tied to a telephone pole outside the tree line. That made the sidewalk fair game.

  Maybe I can out run them.

  She jumped out from behind her tree and spotted Clair standing fifteen feet away.

  The cameraman stood between them, still cradling his face.

  Claire’s eyes widened upon spotting Emily.

  She raised her egg gun and fired.

  Emily dodged, covering her face with one hand and fumbling with her gun with the other, certain she’d feel the sting of high velocity egg at any moment.

  Then nothing happened.

  She peeked between her fingers to discover why she wasn’t covered in egg.

  Claire had struck the cameraman squarely in the forehead.

  “Come on,” whined the cameraman, dropping to his knees.

  As he covered his head, Emily shot her own egg cannon. Her yolky bullet rifled through the air and whacked Claire squarely in the chest. Claire yipped in shock and, Emily i
magined, a bit of pain.

  “Claire!”

  Tad called to his mate from Emily’s left. She turned and fired again, missing as he rolled behind a tree.

  Emily bolted for the street, trying her best to run in a straight line parallel to a large tree standing between herself and Tad. Hopefully, he wouldn’t see her escape until it was too late. She broke through the tree line onto the sidewalk and kept sprinting. Ahead, she spotted a white Channel Six van parked on the curb. As she passed it, she grabbed the passenger side door handle and gave it a yank.

  It gave way.

  She flung open the door and crawled into the passenger seat, sliding down to duck into the well. She closed the door and crouched there, breathing heavily.

  If she’d had more notice she would have worked out a little in preparation for the competition.

  You have no idea how out of shape you are until you’re running from an egg-gun-wielding madman.

  “And here I was just wishing for a girl to come into my life.”

  At the sound of the voice, Emily jumped and covered her chest with her palm. She tilted to the right and peered between the two front seats into the back of the van. A heavyset man with a gray-flecked beard sat there, hunched over a video screen.

  “You scared me,” she said in a loud whisper.

  “I scared you? You’re the one who just invaded my van.”

  “Sorry. I was being hunted.”

  “Ah. Where’s your cameraman? Won’t he give you away, hanging outside the van?”

  “He took an egg to the face. I had to leave him behind.”

  The man grunted. “You would have made a lousy Marine.”

  Emily shifted to release the pressure on her knees. “Do you mind if I hide here a bit?”

  “Nah. I don’t care. I’m editing the dailies. You won’t bother me.”

  “The daily film from Minefield?”

  He nodded.

  She strained to gander over the dashboard. Seeing no one in pursuit, she scrambled to the back of the van. Stretching, she spied over the man’s shoulder to study the small square screen on which he worked.

  “I’m George, by the way,” he said, holding up his hand.

  She shook it. “Emily.”

  On the screen, she recognized Greta. Her nemesis looked as if she’d been crying.

  Emily’s lip curled.

  “What was that?” asked the man.

  “What?”

  He pointed at her and then the screen. “You look like you don’t like her.”

  “Heh. Long story.”

  “Well, you might like this bit then. She’s got herself in a pickle.”

  Emily couldn’t help but be curious. “Is it something that’ll be in the show?”

  “Yeah, but you can take a peek now. I’m just about done.”

  He rewound the footage and hit play. The clip began with Greta curled on her bed, her legs tucked beneath her. She wore a nightie that seemed much too sexy for a show that aired at a family hour.

  She heard a faint knock.

  “Come in,” called Greta.

  The camera swept to the left as someone entered the room. It wasn’t Joe. This figure was tall—

  Emily felt the blood drain from her face as the man stepped into the light.

  It was Sebastian.

  “Sebby,” called Greta.

  Without meaning to, Emily groaned. There’s that stupid nickname.

  Greta sobbed and jumped from the bed, running to cling to Sebastian’s shirt. Now his back was turned to Greta, though Emily hadn’t seen him turn. Someone had edited the film.

  “What’s missing there?” she asked.

  He paused the film. “You mean that jump? I noticed that. I don’t know. This is how they sent it to me.”

  “This is from yesterday’s filming?”

  He nodded.

  Emily scowled. When had Sebastian sneaked off to meet with Greta? Why hadn’t he said anything?

  George hit play and Sebastian spoke.

  “Jeeze, Greta, calm down. Come on. Let go of me. Is what you said true? Are you pregnant?”

  Emily gasped and slapped her hand over her gaping mouth.

  Greta pulled back from Sebastian and stared into his eyes.

  The scene froze.

  Emily reached toward the screen. “Wait, don’t stop it. There has to be more.”

  The man nodded. “I suppose there was, but it’s on the editing room floor now, so to speak. We don’t use real film anymore of course.”

  “But what does he say?”

  “I don’t know. I just do the promo clips. The commercials and whatnot. This is what they gave me to use as a teaser. I’m sandwiching it between the intro material and the air times and whatnot.” He sniffed and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

  “A commercial?” Emily’s eyes had sprung so wide she worried her eyeballs might roll out to the floor. “This scene is going to be in a commercial?”

  “Yep. Pretty gripping stuff, huh? I can tell you’re going to tune in. It must be working.”

  Emily’s jaw worked but she couldn’t force words past her lips. It was as if the wind had been knocked out of her.

  She moved back to the passenger seat and reached for the door handle.

  “You going?” asked the man.

  Still unsure if she could speak, she nodded.

  “Don’t tell anyone I showed you this,” he called after her as she opened the door. She stepped outside, still nodding.

  Tad was nowhere in sight. In the distance she heard Nicole’s air horn blare and began walking toward the sound.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  They met where the competition had begun, half of them covered in egg. It didn’t take long to see the preppy couple had met their doom. Emily had nailed Claire and someone else had caught Tad in the back. That explained why he hadn’t followed her—someone else had shown up soon after she bolted.

  Sebastian saw her arrive and grinned. His shoulder and neck were covered in drying goo.

  “Good job staying clean. Chef nailed me pretty early on,” he said as she approached.

  “No friends in war,” said Andre, playfully elbowing Sebastian in the ribs.

  Emily nodded. She felt numb. Their voices sounded far away.

  Sebastian scowled. “Is something wrong?”

  She shook her head. “Just tired.”

  “Congratulations on surviving Egg War!” screamed Nicole. Cackling chickens cheered from the speakers on either side of her. “Except you, Tad and Claire. I’m afraid you are the couple to fall. You’ve been claimed by...the Minefield!”

  Explosions.

  Emily was grateful for the goofy noises. It kept Sebastian from talking to her. She didn’t know what to say to him.

  The moment the scene featuring Tad and Claire’s defeat ended, Sebastian tapped her on the shoulder.

  “Garrett has something he wants me to help him with so I’m going to go back in his truck. I’ll meet you back at the room?”

  She nodded.

  He leaned in to kiss her and she turned her cheek to him, pretending she’d been caught off guard.

  Emily sat alone on the bus on the way back to the hotel. Kady tried to strike up a conversation, but Emily feigned a headache and closed her eyes.

  “I shot Tad,” announced Marc. “Who got Claire?”

  No one answered.

  “Come on, who shot Claire?”

  Emily raised her hand without opening her eyes.

  “Noice,” Marc tried to high-five her upraised hand, but only managed to knock her arm into her head.

  She opened her eyes to stare at him.

  He winced. “Sorry. Nice job though.”

  Emily sighed.

  She felt sick. Was it over already? Before it had even begun? How could they survive Sebastian having clandestine meetings with his ex-lover? Especially when those meetings were to talk about their love child?

  The trouble was, they’d never had a roman
ce. There’d been so much drama with Greta, and her attempts to win Sebastian back, they’d never had that googily moment when people just stare into each other’s eyes and fall asleep whispering, “No, you hang up...”

  And now they’d never get the chance.

  She knew Sebastian well enough to know he’d do the right thing. Whatever that was. Whatever happened, it would be impossible for him to start a new relationship. He’d feel, well, she didn’t exactly know what he’d feel, she’d never been told she was a father. But she imagined once something like that happened, new relationships hit the back burner in a big way.

  She was mad he’d sneaked away to meet with Greta, but being mad couldn’t compete against the overwhelming feeling of dread draped over her shoulders like a shawl.

  Sebastian had been acting totally normal. How could he act normal, fresh from finding out he was going to be a daddy?

  Is he that good a liar on top of everything?

  She groaned and rested her head against the window.

  Back at the hotel, Emily headed straight for the room, only to be stopped by the woman at the front desk.

  Not now, lady. My world is falling apart.

  She turned. “Yes?”

  “Your room was moved to this building.” The woman held out a key.

  Emily shook her head. How embarrassing. They didn’t trust them to find their room in the other building anymore.

  She took the key and headed into the main elevator.

  Emily wanted a nap. She always fell asleep when she was upset. Sleep was an excellent way to avoid reality.

  She opened the door to their new room and walked the little hallway entrance that led to the main living area.

  She stopped and stared.

  The room was covered in flowers.

  Not roses, but daisies, geraniums, petunias and other random plants. Most were in makeshift pots and boxes. One geranium had a ball of dirt around it in the shape of a pot, but the pot was missing.

  Sebastian lay on the bed, covered with flower petals.

  He wore a negligee.

  Emily flinched at the site of him, his outfit reminiscent of the negligee Greta had worn in the video.

  That damn video.

  She stared at him, speechless.

  He sat up. “What’s the matter?”

  She pointed at the negligee and he glanced down at it.