Scavenger Hunt

by John R. Little

  “Yeah.”

  They didn’t need to say more. Fernando had loved Selena, too, and they both missed her. Today was the second anniversary of her death.

  “We should celebrate her passing.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Meet you tonight. Five o’clock. The Rock.”

  The Rock was the bar located next door to Fernando’s dental office. It was a quiet place with only a dozen round wooden tables scattered through the place. Once upon a long time it had been a place tourists stopped at after getting off the bus that went to show them famous actors’ homes in Hollywood. One particular bus tour had stopped only a few doors farther down Vine. Fat, thirsty tourists provided good business for The Rock.

  Back in the seventies, the managers started a tradition they copied from some other bar: patrons were encouraged to donate neck ties to hang from the rafters.

  Once the bus tour company went out of business in 1998, only the locals ever went to the bar. Hundreds of dusty neck ties remained hanging, silent reminders of a better time.

  There was one waiter who spent most of his time reading People magazine behind the bar and one waitress serving the tables. She didn’t try to hide how bored she was.

  Carlos and Fernando each ordered a pint of draft beer. Fernando proposed a toast to Selena, and they clinked their mugs.

  “I need to get away from Brit,” said Fernando. “But I couldn’t figure out how to do it until now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’d get half the business if I divorced her. It’s not that lucrative, you know. I have to pay my staff and with the rent and everything, it’s not like I’m rich. If she takes half… well, I don’t know.”

  “Should never have hooked up with that bitch.”

  “I know.”

  “Saw it the first time I met her. Remember that time I went to get my teeth cleaned and she was there and wagging her little ass in front of you. You just let your cock do your thinking all these years.”

  Fernando didn’t answer. He drank his beer and Carlos felt bad.

  “Never mind,” he said. “How can I help now?”

  “We’re going on a new TV show called Scavenger Hunt.”

  “Fuck?”

  “I printed out a copy of the rules for you.” He handed the paper to Carlos, who glanced through it.

  “Never happen. Why would they take two old Mexicans like us.”

  “We’re not Mexican. We’re American.”

  “Shit.”

  “And we’re taking her.”

  “Her? Brittany? Fuck that. I’m out.”

  “I called the producer. Got a patient that’s a cameraman for her. He set it up. I told her we’d provide her with what she wants.”

  “Yeah? What’s that she wants, you think?”

  “She told me. Sex, conflict, and danger. I told her we can supply conflict in droves. It’s payback time for that bitch.”

  Carlos drank a long slug of beer. “We’re in?”

  “She didn’t commit, but I think she’ll take us. I really do.”

  “What’s the bitch think about it?”

  “Haven’t told her yet. I had to get you onboard first.”

  Carlos looked at his beer and heard Selena whisper to him. She told him this was his chance to get out of his funk, to start to take back control of his own life, to have something worth living for.

  Carlos had always listened to Selena. She was the smart one in the marriage. Now, the voice in his mind was insistent. He knew it wasn’t really Selena, but that didn’t matter. It sounded like her, and it was smart like her.

  Do it, Carlos. Take your life back.

  Brittany - Sixteen Years Old

  Brittany left the strip club with a job, but she felt awful. As she walked home to her tiny apartment, all she could think about was losing her virginity to a fucking asshole just so she would have a job that let other assholes stare at her body.

  She could stay working at McDonald’s but she’d be stuck with minimum wage as long as she was there. The strip club paid her real money.

  When she reached the apartment, she sat in the corner of her tattered, used couch and cried. For the first time since she’d left home, she thought of her mother. Should she call? She thought of it but knew she’d only get a lecture roaring down the phone line.

  No dinner that night. She just wasn’t hungry. Brittany fell asleep on the couch and woke up with a sore neck.

  But somehow during the night, she’d processed her situation. She showered and dressed and had a banana for breakfast. At 11:00, she walked back to the strip club, ready to work.

  Marc Orso hardly looked at her when she showed up. He just called one of the other dancers over and introduced her to Brittany.

  “This is Sugar,” he said. “Oh, you’ll need a stage name. You got something in mind?”

  Brittany shook her head. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Well think of it quick cause you’re on at 3:00. You can train a bit, but I want to see you shake your little body then!”

  He slapped her ass and walked away, leaving her with Sugar.

  “Come on, honey. You’ll get used to that treatment. Don’t let him bug you. It’s just a job, so don’t take it personally. At the end of the day you’re still… what’s your name?”

  “Brittany. What’s yours?”

  “Donna.” She laughed. “Could you imagine if I didn’t have my stage name? ‘And now, please welcome Donna!’ How sexy is that?”

  Brittany liked her. She was very sweet, so Sugar was a good name for her. She was a petite blonde, with wavy shoulder-length hair and was maybe five feet tall.

  “What do you think my stage name should be?”

  “Usually it’s some kind of food. Sweet food preferably. What was your favorite food as a kid?”

  “Licorice.”

  Donna smiled. “Well, that’s kind of unique. I like that. Licorice! How’s it sound to you?”

  “I guess it’s okay.”

  They spent the next couple of hours going through some traditional stripper moves. Sugar showed Brittany how to use the pole. There was a training pole in the dressing room. She wouldn’t be able to do any of the fancier tricks yet, but she could still dance around it.

  “You’ll have to practice on your own time. The thing to remember is the riskier and skankier you are, the bigger tips you’ll get. The job pays pretty well but the real money is in the tips, so it’s up to you how much money you make.”

  Another girl walked in as they were practicing. It was the girl that had been dancing on stage last night when Brittany came by. She was topless, probably just finishing her show.

  She was taller than Brittany, about 5’8” with long dark hair. She was beautiful but seemed snobbish.

  “Hey, Veronica. This is Brittany, AKA Licorice.”

  Veronica glanced at her and mumbled something as she got dressed.

  Sugar spoke quietly, “Veronica is the only one in the club who refuses to use a stage name. She said that’s the name her mother gave her and that’s the one she planned on using.”

  Veronica looked at them again when she’d zipped up her jeans. “Hey, Donna, you tell her about the VIP room?”

  Sugar frowned, causing Veronica to laugh. She came over and took Brittany by the hand and brought her to another door that was almost hidden. She hadn’t noticed the door before. They went inside and she saw a heart-shaped bed in the middle of the room. The lighting was very dim.

  “This is the VIP room. If you want the real bucks, this is where you earn it.”

  “Isn’t that illegal?”

  “Of course it’s illegal.” She moved her face close to Brittany’s and whispered, “That’s why the room is hidden.”

  “Do you do it?”

  “Only when I’m tight for money. Marc gets half of everything.”

  “Does Sugar do it?”

  She laughed again. “No.”

  “How much money can you make?”<
br />
  “Depends what you’re willing to do.” Veronica walked back out to the main part of the dressing room and Brittany followed.

  Brittany looked back to the little room. Could she do it if she really wanted more money? She didn’t think so, but… maybe.

  Within two months, she was in the room, in the heart-shaped bed. Her base salary was good, and the tips were great, but she wanted more. It wasn’t enough. Now she was making the kind of money she wanted.

  She moved to a nicer apartment in a better part of town and bought some new furniture. She was finally able to spend money on herself, too. She loved that.

  Brittany worked at the strip club for fifteen years, till she was 31. She’d been told that very soon she’d look too old for that kind of career. Men weren’t interested in old.

  She decided to move to L.A. Even with all the spending habits she’d learned, she’d managed to save about $20,000, and she wondered about learning how to be an actress.

  Although she loved the money and attention of her stripper career, she knew she’d need something more respectable now.

  In L.A., she could swear the air smelled different. Fresher somehow… and richer. She loved richer.

  Brittany found a Starbucks and surfed around some sites that listed apartments for rent until she found one she liked.

  Later that day, she passed by a dental office with a sign on the window. “Help wanted!” was written in blue magic marker on a piece of white computer paper. It screamed desperation.

  Inside, she found a middle-aged man dressed in a lab coat and face mask rushing around the office. He had fairly dark skin but she couldn’t tell for sure where he was from. He tapped something on the computer, then rushed back to one of the dental rooms calling, “I’m coming, Ms. Robinson.”

  He did something in there, then hurried back out again. He scratched his head and looked around the room, looking for something.

  “Hi. I saw the sign on the door about needing help?”

  “You’re here for the job? Oh, thank God. I thought you were another patient. I’m just dying here. My receptionist quit this morning. Something about moving to God knows where with her musician boyfriend. I should never have hired her. She’s like a 60s hippie. I knew I’d never be able to count on her. So… you know how to answer a phone?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Great, you’re hired. I’m Fernando. Can you start right now?”

  Fernando - Faroe Islands

  The cliffs seemed to go on forever. The rope ladders seemed easy when they started but now that they were near the top, each step seemed like Fernando’s legs were being ripped apart. They were on fire from the thousand steps. Was it a thousand? His mind wandered, thinking the rungs were about a foot apart and the cliff was about 500 feet tall. The math seemed impossible as he was forced to concentrate and lift his foot one more time.

  Steve was 39, so he wasn’t exactly young, and even he was struggling. He kept stopping and looking down. Fernando knew he was just capturing some dramatic footage. Or maybe trying to see that bitch Brittany waiting at the bottom.

  Fernando didn’t want to tempt fate by looking down.

  He glanced up, knowing they must be close, and sure enough, the top of the cliff was only a few dozen feet above his head.

  “Almost there,” said Carlos.

  “Yeah.”

  Those last few rungs seemed to take an hour. Fernando pulled himself onto the ground, which wasn’t quite flat but close enough. He measured his pulse. 140.

  “Fuck,” said Steve. “That was the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done.”

  “Me too,” said Carlos.

  Fernando just lay on the ground, trying to recover. He knew his legs would stiffen up later and if he wanted them to be of any use, he had to get moving, but he just didn’t have the energy.

  He closed his eyes. Just for a minute.

  “Time to wake up, bro.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Time to wake up. You’ve slept for an hour.”

  Fernando snapped his eyes open. “No. Couldn’t be.”

  “They left us a gift.”

  “Who?”

  “Cynthia and Rick, I guess. There’s a bird in a cage just over there.” He pointed past a rocky outcropping. “Guess they thought climbing the fucking cliff was enough of a challenge.”

  “I’m okay with that.”

  His legs ached as he stood.

  Steve was sitting about twenty feet away, reading something on his tab.

  Carlos had turned so his back was to Fernando. “You know, I think about her every day.”

  “I know. I wish she’d never died.”

  “She was my whole life.”

  Carlos rubbed his face and then stretched his arms.

  “God’s will, man. You’ll be reunited with her one day.”

  “I know I will. Sooner than you think.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Carlos didn’t answer right away. He turned to face the cliff they’d just climbed. Fernando could see tears in his eyes.

  “I only came on the show as a memorial to Selena. I wanted the whole world to know how much she meant to me.”

  “You should sit down with Steve and tell her story.”

  “Nah. That’d never get aired. Not sexy enough. Not dangerous enough.”

  He walked until he was right at the edge of the cliff, and for a moment Fernando felt the rush from standing atop the building, ready to jump to his death.

  “Get away from there. You just need to get one gust of wind and — ”

  “She was the girl of my dreams. The only reason I had to live.”

  “Carlos…”

  “Now, everybody will know who she was.”

  Fernando jumped forward as Carlos leaned into the void and dove off the cliff.

  Carlos started to scream after a few seconds, but the sound soon died out. Fernando didn’t hear him land.

  From the Los Angeles Times:

  SECOND DEATH ON REALITY SHOW

  By Tony Sutherland

  A second person has died while filming the reality television show, Scavenger Hunt. Carlos Anthony Santiago, 58, was in the Faroe Islands as part of a team hoping to win the $10 million prize when his death occurred.

  At press time, the Times is unable to confirm any details about his death. The executive producer of the show, Cynthia Wright, was unavailable for comment. Her partner, Rick Sanderson sent out a press release that neither confirmed nor denied Santiago’s death, simply stating that the issue would be addressed on the show this coming Sunday evening.

  Sources close to the show say that Ms. Wright has not been involved in production for several days. It’s not known if Wright’s absence was planned.

  Less than a week ago, Robert John Bors, 34, died while filming a segment of the show in the Galapagos Islands. According to a police spokesman, that death is still under investigation.

  From TMZ.com:

  SCAVENGER HUNT PARTICIPANT COMMITS SUICIDE

  TMZ has confirmed that Carlos Santiago, a butcher from Los Angeles, has committed suicide by diving off a 500-foot-tall cliff while filming the smash hit reality show Scavenger Hunt.

  Santiago killed himself for unknown reasons. He was with his brother, Fernando. They were in the Faroe Islands (off Denmark) and had climbed the strenuous cliffs using only rope ladders to support them in a bid to win the largest prize ever to be awarded on a reality TV show.

  Fernando Santiago has been flown to a hospital in Copenhagen, to recover from the extreme stress of watching his brother die. The third member of the team is Fernando Santiago’s wife, Brittany, who seems to have developed close ties to the cameraman following the team (see photo).

  TMZ first broke this story earlier today and we continue to try to locate the show runner for Scavenger Hunt, Cynthia Wright. Rumors have her checked into a hospital as well, and we expect to be able to provide more details soon.

  From The National Enquirer

  CY
NTHIA WRIGHT DYING

  Superstar producer Cynthia Wright is dying of terminal cancer and is unlikely to live long enough to award the $10 million prize to anybody.

  Wright has leukemia and may die at any time. She previously recovered from the same disease but this time, no recovery is possible. She is now in palliative care at Cedars Sinai hospital in Los Angeles.

  Rick Sanderson, Wright’s partner, scoffed at the news of Cynthia’s upcoming demise, but as you can see from the photo of her in her hospital bed on our cover, Wright looks horrible and cannot recover.

  Scavenger Hunt, the newest reality show from the pair of producers has now notched its second death. Carlos Santiago, one of the contestants, killed himself yesterday, planning on his death being used to memorialize his wife, Selena.

  Santiago’s sister-in-law, Brittany, has already contacted a lawyer to ensure his heirs cannot lay claim to any part of the grand prize, should her team win.

  Chapter 19: Team Genius

  Samantha - Seven Years Earlier

  Samantha thought of Carl all the time. All the time. It was a dream come true to have such a successful and inspiring man as her boyfriend.

  On the four-month anniversary of their first date, they found themselves back at the same hotel they’d stayed when they first hooked up. Although they lived in different cities, they managed to connect a lot and ended up at layovers in Dallas frequently.

  “Thank God we found each other,” she said to him. They were in the pool again, swimming after dinner. The entire night was a repeat of that first date: the same restaurant, the same club, the same late night swim.

  They were in each other’s arms in the water, and Carl smiled broadly when she said that. Her eyes were locked onto his, and she felt nothing but happiness rushing through her body.

  Carl pulled her closer and said, “Marry me.”

  It wasn’t a question. It was almost an order, but she didn’t mind. It made her feel queasy to know that he wanted her that much. She loved that powerful side to him, the forceful personality that got whatever he wanted. She jumped to him and wrapped her legs around his waist.