Famous Last Words
Arabella
Oh dear, this is not good. Not good at all. Will was smiling, but now he’s not. And I’m pretty sure that gorgeous grin faded precisely at the moment he recognized me. Nuts.
Now, he’s standing perfectly still, looking ridiculously handsome and utterly angry in a fitted grey T-shirt and blue cargo pants. And I’m standing here like a complete moron in these stupid short shorts while I smile like one of those beer tub girls—you know, the ones at nightclubs dressed very much like I am now, only in front of a tub of ice and beer bottles. Except, in this case, my sole customer does not want to buy what I’m selling. Not that I’m selling anything, but you get the idea.
This is bad. Very, very bad. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this humiliated in my life. Or rejected. This feels like having a group of nonagenarians tell you they want your brother’s manny to take them on a palace tour instead of you. It reminds me of my school days waiting to for the team captains to pick players for a game of field hockey in gym class. You beg them with your eyes to choose you, but deep down you know they’d both be happy to be a player short than to have to pass to you. Will would rather be a player short. Oh Zeus, please strike me down with a bolt of lightning right now.
Dylan breaks the awful silence. “Haha! Perfect! You're in shock, which is exactly what I was going for.” She turns to the camera. “He can't even believe his eyes, folks. To be standing face-to-face with the beautiful, elegant, dare I say sexy, Princess Arabella, fourth in line for the Avonian throne! Will, say hello to your new co-host!”
“Hello,” he says, setting his jaw.
Dylan keeps smiling back and forth between us. “Are you two ready to be dropped into the jungle with only each other to rely on for your very survival?”
Instead of answering her, Will starts toward me, his legs moving fast. “Can I talk to you for a second, please?”
“Yes, of course,” I say, feeling slightly worried, super embarrassed, and also horrifyingly turned on.
When he reaches me, he takes my hand and starts walking me away from Dylan and the crew, but the sound guy and the cameraman hustle to keep up with us, capturing our every move as we hurry to the chain link fence. When we reach it, he drops my hand and lowers his voice, keeping his back to the camera. “Is this some kind of joke? Because if it is, I don't find it very funny.”
Yup. This makes sense. He doesn’t want me here. He assumes I’m weak and useless. Well, screw him. “Of course it’s not,” I say in a haughty tone. “I applied for the show and they chose me. If you don't like it, too bad.”
“This is … You don’t … You have no business—” He stops himself and lets out a frustrated sigh. “Did someone force you into this? Because I swear to God, if someone forced you into this, I will … well, I don’t know what I’ll do, but whoever it is won’t like it.”
Oh, well, that was sort of chivalrous in a weird way. No, Arabella! It was chauvinistic. He’s a gorgeous, gorgeous chauvinist. “No,” I say, straightening my back. “No one coerced me. It was entirely my choice, and quite frankly I don't appreciate the assumption.”
“So, if you weren’t coerced, that either makes you extremely naïve or completely insane.”
“I am neither, thank you very much,” I quip. Don't cry. Do not cry, whatever you do. I dig my nails into my palms and lift my chin.
“Listen, Princess, you don't have the first clue what you're getting yourself into out there. This isn't like some luxury safari you may have gone on in the past.”
What an arsehole! “I know that.”
“Then … why?” he asks, throwing his hands up.
“To prove I can.”
He stares at me for a second, then shakes his head. “Look, I'm sorry I insulted you at my sister's wedding, really. I didn't mean any of it. I was jetlagged, and I had a little too much to drink, and I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I’m sure I implied people from your class are soft or … or something to that effect. And I was way out of line. Okay?” he says, every word sounding sincere. “Way out of line. But trust me when I tell you this is not the way you want to prove me wrong. It’s life or death out there.”
Life or death? That doesn’t sound very comforting.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness. I can’t let you do this. There’s no way you can handle life in the jungle.”
Okay, that did it. “You can’t let me do this? I’m sorry, but I seem to have missed the part where you were put in charge of my life.”
“That’s not what I—”
Holding up one hand, I say, “You don’t know me. You have no idea what I can do or where I’ve been. For all you know, I was raised in the jungle.”
“Were you?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.
I pause for a moment, then say, “No, but I’ve done … plenty of difficult things. Plenty of really … big, challenging things. So trust me when I tell you I can handle myself.”
He barks out a frustrated laugh, then turns and stalks back over to Dylan, who has a gleeful look on her face. The crew follows him, and I hurry after them.
“It's off,” Will says. “I'm out. There is no way I'm going out there with her.”
“Well, I have a contract right here that says you are.” Dylan waves a stack of papers at him.
The two argue quietly for a few minutes and I overhear words like giant rats and lethal spiders. Oh dear, he's totally right about this. I have absolutely no business being out here. I'm actually cheering for him to win this argument so I can go right home and forget all about this stupid idea.
Dylan raises her voice. “Would you like to hear the two options for show titles? It’ll either be A Princess in the Wild World, if she films with you, or it’ll be The Princess and the Bear because I can have Bear Grylls here by tomorrow morning. Either way, I get my show.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes. Really,” she says, crossing her arms.
“You called him? You called that hack to take over my show?”
Shrugging, Dylan says, “I always have a Plan B. And in this case, it’s ‘B’ as in Bear.”
Turning to me, he's says, “This is really what you want? You want to be out in the Congo with giant rats, venomous snakes, and spiders the size of your face?”
My knees are shaking. Literally shaking. Swallowing hard, I squeak out a yes which causes him to scoff.
He shakes his head. “Do you see that helicopter over there? The one with the ropes next to it?” He points at it, and my gaze follows his finger.
“You know what the ropes are for?”
“Obviously.” I shrug, when in truth, I have no idea what they’re for, and honestly, I don’t even want to know.
He smiles down at me—and it's not a particularly nice smile. “So, you’re keen to stand on that skid at two hundred feet above the jungle canopy and rappel to the ground?”
Oh, fuck me. “Definitely.”
“Good, because that’ll be the easiest thing we do out here.”
Shit fuck.
* * *
I'm going to vomit. Or pee. Or pee and vomit. This is really happening. The helicopter pilot, a wall of a man dressed in shorts and a white tee, just arrived. Now that he’s here, we’ll be able to leave soon. Oh, Lord in Heaven help me, I’m about to get into an aircraft with no sides and be dropped into the jungle. And that’s the easy part. How can that be the easy part?
Oh, I know. It’s because then I’m going to be stuck out there alone with a man who hates the very sight of me.
Will and the pilot give each other a quick man-hug. “Will Banks, my favorite crazy person,” he says, in a thick Zamundan accent.
“Idriss, my friend. How have you been?” Will asks. “Crashed lately?”
“Not since last time we were out here.”
The two laugh and I stand by, trying to figure out what exactly is so damn funny about crashing.
“We got lucky,” Idriss says, shaking his head. “Whew, that was a close on
e.” Glancing at me, he smiles. “Is this your leading lady?”
“Yup, I’ll be dragging her around the jungle.” Turning to me, Will points. “This is Princess Arabella of Avonia.”
Idriss smiles broadly and holds his hand out to me. I take it and we shake. “This guy, with the jokes,” he says with a deep chuckle. “Princess!”
Will shakes his head. “This time I'm serious.”
His face falls. “You're a real princess?”
“Yes, I'm afraid so,” I say with a polite smile.
He gives me a quick once-over. “Have you been out in the jungle before?”
“First time, actually, but don’t worry,” I answer, trying my best to sound brave. “I ate at the Rainforest Cafe when I was in the US.”
Dylan laughs like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “Okay, now would be a good time to go over the rules. Come on,” she says, leading us into the hanger where a table with supplies and a map wait. She picks up an envelope and holds it up to the camera dramatically. “This envelope contains all the rules of your adventure. Take it with you in case you need to refer to it.”
Will snatches it out of her hand, but she doesn’t seem put off by his attitude. She grins and shouts, “Are you ready to hear about your challenge?”
We both nod and I’m not sure which one of us is less enthusiastic. He’s beyond angry and I’m too terrified to pretend I’m okay.
“You’ll be dropped somewhere into the red zone marked there on the map.” She points at it. “Tosh, can you get a shot of this?”
He moves in closer while she continues. “You will need to get all the way from here to …” She moves her finger to a town on the edge of the jungle that looks really frigging far away to me. “Here. The village of Mbambole, taking only these terrific backpacks made by Bearz, the official line of outdoor gear by Bear Grylls, that have been packed for you. As you know, you can’t take anything from home. Only what we provide you with, and what you find, of course, so you’ll need to be resourceful.
“For safety, you’ll have a satellite phone with you, so if something goes wrong, you can call for help. The phone is equipped with GPS so a rescue team will be able to find you within, hopefully, just a couple of hours, depending on where you are. Idriss here will be on call the entire time to bring help straight away, but there’s a catch.”
Of course there is.
“Of course there is,” Will mutters.
Ignoring him, Dylan says, “If you use the phone, you lose the danger bonuses and a special surprise brought to you by the good people at GoPro. GoPro has offered a one-hundred-thousand-dollar prize to be split between the two of you if you can make it out of the jungle in under ten days!”
She shouts, “Can you believe it? An extra fifty-thousand for you, Will, and for your charity, People for Animals, Your Highness!”
“Brilliant,” I say, attempting to smile.
Will says nothing, but just stares.
“Yes! Exciting, right?!” She smiles into the camera. “GoPro, be a hero!”
When neither of us start jumping for joy, she lowers her voice. “Well, that’s okay. You’re obviously too thrilled to speak. Anyway, I’ll give you ten minutes to figure out where you want to be dropped, then we’re going to start the countdown clock and you’ll have exactly two hundred and forty hours to make it to Mbambole!”
Two hundred and forty hours sounds like a very long time.
“Two hundred and forty hours?” Will asks her. Turning to me, he says, “That sounds like a very long time, doesn’t it?”
I shrug as if I’m a hardened criminal who just had another life sentence handed down to make an even hundred years.
Idriss pulls a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his pocket, then taking one out, he lights it up as he and Will lean over the map. He sets down the pack and the lighter on the table and takes a casual puff on the cigarette. “So, where to?”
I peer down at the map. To the untrained eye (i.e. mine), it just looks like a bunch of trees with the odd river and some elevation markings. But apparently to them, it all means something. There’s a large circle that has been drawn on with a red marker. Will points to the spot that would bring us closest to our end point. “Is it too much to hope we can land here?”
Shaking his head, Idriss says, “The gorillas have moved down there for the hot season. I don’t think they’re going to welcome you with open arms.”
I gasp. “Guerrillas? Nobody said anything about guerrillas. Are they armed?”
Idriss looks at me like I’m wearing my bra on the outside of my shirt.
“Gorillas,” Will says with disdain. “As in mountain gorillas. They don’t generally carry guns because they don’t need them. They could snap your skinny neck with two fingers.”
“Oh,” I say, my cheeks burning.
The next few minutes are spent with me just trying to breathe in and out in long, slow breaths so as not to hyperventilate. I stand silently, not having anything intelligent to add to the conversation. My mind starts to wander, and I glance at the cigarettes and lighter, wishing I was a ballsy woman who’d take one out and light it up for myself. That would be such a power move if it wouldn’t make me turn green and vomit everywhere.
Hmmm … maybe I can’t use the cigarettes, but that lighter might come in handy. Dylan did say ‘be resourceful.’ I lean over the table and nod, pretending I’m following what they’re saying. Placing my hands down, I carefully cover the lighter with my right hand.
“How close can you get me to that river?” Will asks.
Idriss squints at it. “About five kilometres.”
Huh, they haven’t noticed. My heart pounds in my chest as I close my fingers around it and casually lift my hands off the table, putting them into my pockets and saying a “Hmm, five sounds good.”
Will stops and looks up at me. “Does it?”
“Yes,” I say, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut.
“Glad you approve, Your Highness.” He picks up a pencil and draws an ‘X.’
Suddenly, I realize how uncomfortably hot I am, even though we’re in the shelter of the hanger. Tosh, the camera guy, steps up and starts giving us instructions on how to use the GoPros. I'm so terrified, I'm not taking in anything he’s saying, so when he finishes, and asks me if I’ve “Got it?” I just nod and smile.
“Okay, I guess that's everything,” Will says. “The sooner we get going, the more light we’ll have to set up camp.”
He gives me a long look, then turns to Dylan. “Where are her real clothes?”
“This is it. It's jungle chic.”
“She won't last fifteen minutes in this getup. She needs thick pants and a long-sleeved shirt.”
“That's not exactly what I had in mind.” Dylan lowers her voice. “This outfit has more of the sexy vibe we’re going for.”
“Well, I don't think dead is very sexy, do you? You've already got footage of her to show off her nice legs, so get her some pants.”
Nice legs? I can't say I hate hearing that. Oh, Arabella, what are you thinking right now? You're about to jump out of a helicopter to your death and you’re excited about a tiny compliment? Pathetic. Just pathetic.
* * *
By the time I've changed into some baggy pants and a button up khaki shirt, the helicopter has been started, creating a loud, intense wind on the tarmac. Will is seemingly ready to go because he’s already wearing a harness around his waist that goes through his legs. On his shoulders, he’s got a large backpack. He gestures for me to come over, holding a harness for me. “Last chance to change your mind.”
“Last chance for you to change your mind,” I say with a raised eyebrow.
He holds open the harness and crouches in front of me. “I'm assuming you haven't worn one of these before?”
I step in carefully, fully aware of his proximity to my body. “You assume correctly.”
He stands, pulling the harness up and fastening it around my waist while I stay perfect
ly still with my arms up in the air. Oh, he smells yummy. Too bad he’s a total arsehole.
“Turn around, please.”
I do as he says, and he tugs on the harness, tightening it even more, his fingers dangerously close to the bottom of my bottom. Clearing my throat, I say, “I could probably manage this myself.”
“I'm sure you could, but we’re in a bit of a rush, and it's not something you want to get wrong.”
Fair enough. When he finishes, I turn to find him directly in front of me, holding a backpack. I take it from him, and the weight of it causes my arm to fall to my side. It feels like it’s got a bowling ball in it, but I don't dare complain. Instead, I slide it on, wishing I was anywhere but here.
Will gestures with his head, and we start toward the helicopter. I jog along behind him, ducked down like an idiot the entire time, even though we're still a good fifty yards from the helicopter. Once we’re on, he attaches two long ropes to my harness and checks to make sure everything is secure, tugging hard enough on the equipment to lift me off my feet.
Mac and Tosh sit across from us, then Dylan gets on. As the helicopter lifts off, my stomach hops up to my throat and I plaster a smile on my face in spite of the fact that I'm positive I'm going to vomit. That lunch was a bad idea.
Tosh points the camera at Will, who puts on an easygoing smile and starts to talk. “We’re here in the beautiful jungles of Zamunda—the third-largest untouched rainforest on the planet and also one of the most species-rich habitats on Earth. There are over 10,000 species of tropical plants here, four hundred species of mammals, a whopping eight hundred fish species—including piranhas. And for anyone who likes to have a lie-in, this is not the place because these forests are home to over two thousand types of birds. And they like to wake up early. The Zamundan jungle is one of the most dangerous places I’ve been, and also one of my favourites.
“It’s literally teeming with wildlife and danger at every turn. And we are about to be dropped into the heart of it, where we can only hope we don't come across any of the several species of gorillas or chimpanzees, who, from my past experience, I can tell you are not big fans of humans venturing into their territory. If we manage to avoid them, we’ll still have to worry about the giant rats that call this jungle home. They’re roughly the size of a large house cat and they have razor-sharp teeth they use to kill any venomous snakes who try to attack them. But all of that is nothing compared to the deadly spiders we’re sure to see. And as if that wasn’t enough, it’s not just the animals who live here that can kill you—some of the plants can as well.”
Royally Crushed: A Crazy Royal Love, Book 1 Page 8