Wicked Games
Page 34

The next vote was my own handwriting. “Riley,” Chip said, holding up the slate for all of us to see.
The next: “Will.” That was random. I idly wondered who had bothered to vote for Will. He was a sweet guy and not exactly kicking anyone’s butt in challenges.
Lost in my musing, I almost missed the next vote. “Abby.”
I frowned, sitting up a little straighter.
Chip turned around the next slate with great relish. “Abby.” And the next. “Abby.”
Four for me. My pulse was pounding in my veins so loud that I could barely hear Chip over the roaring in my ears. “Fifth vote—Abby. That’s enough. You have been exiled from Endurance Island.”
I sat in my seat, numb, before instinct kicked in and I got to my feet, leaning on my crutch. Hands patted me on the back and my tribemates murmured that they were sad to see me go.
Big fat liars.
I moved forward to the Exile Archway and glanced back at Dean. Poor guy—I wondered what he was thinking at the moment. Was he upset? Angry?
But when I glanced back, Dean wasn’t looking at me. His head was bent close to Lana’s and they were both whispering furiously.
A cold pit settled in my stomach. What was going on?
“Time to go, Abby,” Chip said impatiently and put a hand to the small of my back. “You’ve been exiled.”
“I’m going, I’m going.” I hobbled my way through the archway and down the wooden steps. In the background, I could hear the others leaving the council area, and I felt a pang of loss as I stared at the empty darkness ahead of me.
What had just happened?
“There you are,” cried one of the production assistants, and she rushed forward on the sandy path to help me walk forward. “You ready to go?”
“Where are we going?” I stared at her dumbly—she was so clean and fresh. I, well, wasn’t.
“To the Exile camp. You’re the first person in our jury and we’ve got special plans for you.”
“Yay, me,” I said warily, but allowed her to lead the way. Sure enough, she led me out to a dock and we boarded a small boat that took us to a nearby island. I could see the lights and the windows of a cabin in the distance. I should have been excited to see it, because I knew what was coming up—a real bed that I didn’t have to share. A shower. Clean clothing. No bugs eating me alive. All the food I could possibly want.
But I was still numb about what had just happened at Judgment. I couldn’t get past it, not yet. It was like a raw wound. I wasn’t hurt, but I was close. “So what happened back there?”
The assistant looked over at me, her brow wrinkling. “Back at the council? We won’t know until someone reviews the voting booth tapes for the show.” She shrugged. “Even so, seemed pretty obvious to me that you’d been set up.”
It seemed pretty obvious to me, too. But I wanted to know who had done it. Who had flipped the entire tribe against me so completely? And what role did Dean play in all of this? Had he voted with them, or had he been just as surprised as I was?
I wanted to trust him, to believe in him, but my mind kept focusing on that last day in camp. Of Shanna with her hands on his shoulders and Dean laughing. Dean winning immunity. Dean unable to spend a moment alone with me after the challenge. Dean with his head bent toward Lana’s after my vote, whispering madly.
It all left a sick feeling in my gut.
Eventually the production assistant—Jamie, I later found out—had me settled in at the cabin. There were a bunch of bunk beds and multiple rooms in the beautiful four-bedroom villa, with a wet bar and the biggest, most well-stocked kitchen I’d ever seen. There were even a few people on hand to cook for me and fuss over my skinny, bug-bitten body.
After a midnight meal in which I’d eaten a little bit of everything they’d tossed at me, I found myself alone in the villa. Jamie promised to show me the impromptu studio where the crew was set up, but in the morning. And then there were post interviews and all kinds of promotional things to go through for the next few days before the next person was voted off. But for tonight, it was just me, my chosen bed, and the shower I was dying to take.
The shower itself struck me as a palpable thing. Just like the cabin Dean and I had shared for a reward, this one had swinging wooden doors and a massive shower room. The reminder hit me hard, and I began to cry quietly before I’d even turned the nozzle on, and I let myself weep as I showered, soaped my body up, rinsed, and started the process all over again.
Stupid to get so worked up over a game. Stupid to cry about it. Stupid to think I wasn’t going to get voted off. Strangely enough, those weren’t the parts that bothered me. My restless mind kept circling back to Dean.
I’d fallen for the guy—hard.
And I was beginning to think he’d betrayed me.
 
 
Chapter Twelve
 
 
What the fuck just happened?—Dean Woodall, Day 22
 
 
A bunch of hooting and whistling heralded my arrival when Jamie led me to the production crew. I gave her a puzzled look.
“You’re really popular around here. Everyone loves you, especially the producers.”
I blinked. “What? Why?” The looks they were giving me weren’t cheerful as much as they were… well, a bit too personal. I’d chosen to wear a new sarong for a skirt and my bikini top, and I was regretting that decision. I should have sprung for something a little more sedate… but after a month on the island, this felt dressy to me and almost too warm. My ankle was bound tight, and I wore a pair of slip-on sandals. My hair was in a pony-tail and I wore no makeup. Nothing to write home about.
“You and Dean,” she said gently. At my continued blank look, she went on. “You guys, uh, well… your romance was on camera. The producers like that sort of thing. Good ratings.”
I glanced at the cameramen, who were laughing and nudging each other as we passed. “Romance on camera?” Something wasn’t adding up. A moment passed before I began to get an uneasy feeling. “You mean…”
“Reeeeally on camera,” Jamie confirmed. “We sort of have shots of you two everywhere.”
I groaned and hid my face. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Tell me that you don’t have us having sex on camera.”
“Cheer up,” she said, patting me on the shoulder. “At least we’re not a cable network.”
I groaned even louder. This whole experience had just gone from bad to worse. “Shoot me, please.”
“Don’t worry. The network has a no-nudity clause. Anything we shot that isn’t family flavored won’t be shown.”
Somehow that didn’t help me much right now, as the crew was giving me rather knowing looks. My face was bright red and I had a feeling it would be for a while.
“There’s our first jury member,” a voice said behind me, entirely too cheerful for my tastes.
I turned and faced a familiar man, dressed like he was out on safari and not on an island. “Mr. Matlock,” I greeted, remembering the producer from our brief meeting in my boss’s office. “How are you?”
“Sad to see you,” he said, and clapped me on the shoulder with a big, callused hand. “Had no idea you’d turn out to be such an entertaining contestant, Miss Abby.”