Taking the Heat (Real Heat #1)

Chapter 1

Transcript of Tara M’s video diary: Day 1

So … hi!

(Nervous laugh)

Um … well, I’m Tara and I survived my first day on Erotic Island. The producers said I’m supposed to just talk about everything that’s happened in here, for at least an hour a day. I’m not sure an hour is gonna be enough, what with today, and meeting Henry and Douche-face and the luau-orgy and all the rules and oh my god, I’m so mixed up right now. I need to tell this in order.

Okay, no one’s told me how far back to go, so I guess I’ll just talk about how I ended up here. It certainly wasn’t something I planned. Seriously, I’m not the kind of girl who ever thought she’d end up on reality TV. I’ve never even watched Big Brother before. And this show isn’t Big Brother .

It’s because of Serena I’m even here. My bestie ran into my room one morning about a month ago, launched herself onto my bed and squealed directly in my ear. ‘Tara! Get up! We have to go down to the convention centre right now!’

I’m not a morning person. I rolled over and pulled the covers over my head. ‘Go ‘way,’ I slurred. ‘‘Stoo early …’

‘Look!’ yelled Serena, yanking my blankets off again. ‘ Auditions today, new reality show, gorgeous guys and gals wanted for an international adventure of a lifetime .’ She thrust her iPad in my face, too close for my tired eyes to see anything but a colourful blur.

‘It sounds like a scam,’ I said, grumpily pushing the pad away. ‘You’ll end up on someone’s lame YouTube video.’

Serena’s black curls bobbed around her pretty face as she shook her head vigorously. ‘Nope, not a scam, I already Googled, plus Facebooked, and called my friend who works for Channel 9 and he said it’s legit. It’s huge news! Check it out!’

Again, she flipped the pad around to show me feeds from News.com.au but I rolled my eyes. ‘Why would a new reality show be big news? And what makes you think I’d be in any way interested in going on it?’

Serena arched an eyebrow high and dropped the bombshell. ‘Because every contestant who follows the rules is guaranteed to go home with a million dollars.’

***

An hour later, without even time to shower, I found myself sitting in line with Serena and ten thousand other hopefuls. The cool Melbourne air whistled around us, whipping my straight hair in every direction, the ash blonde strands catching on my sticky lip gloss.

Wait—I probably sound like a terrible person now, don’t I? Someone waves a million-dollar flag in front of me, and all of a sudden I’m ready to sign up? I wish it was so simple. The truth is, I have some … family stuff going on. But we’ll get to that later, I suppose.

And Serena skimped on the deets a bit. All she told me was that it would be on an island, Survivor style. I’m pretty fit, thanks to a year of living in Serena’s building with its free twenty-four-hour gym access for residents, so I figured I could keep up with whatever insane rules the show entailed. I could eat snails or make out with a tree or wrestle an ibis. Just tell me what to do.

Little did I know …

Finally, we inched inside the foyer of the convention centre. Clusters of people chatted and preened nervously. I realised that everyone I could see was wildly attractive and no one looked over thirty-five.

At the sign-up table, Serena and I scribbled ‘yes’ on release forms and received a numbered sticker for our shirts. I struggled to find a place to stick mine: the top Serena had insisted I wear was bright red and tiny. I’d bought it after a break-up and never worn it, because it left my belly totally exposed and dipped low between my breasts, but Serena said it would help me stand out. I gave up trying the shirt, and wrapped the sticker around the leg of my dark blue skinny jeans instead.

‘You’re in the second-last group for pre-auditions,’ the bored sign-up girl told us. ‘You’ve got about an hour before we need you.’

I sighed. ‘Awesome. Hey, I’m gonna go order a tea. Do you want anything?’

‘Nah, I’m good,’ Serena said, eying a cute blond guy standing by the door.

I slipped out and across the road to a little café. Inside, the air was fragrant and warm and relaxing. Or it would have been, if not for the stream of cuss words coming from behind the coffee machine.

‘… goddam bastard son of a mother—’

‘Hello?’ I interrupted.

Pale blue eyes popped up over the machine, and widened at seeing me. ‘Dammit. Hang on …’

He emerged from behind the counter, wiping his hands on a grimy towel, and my breath left me. The guy was a freaking Adonis. Along with the cool eyes, he had chocolate hair that fell forward over his forehead, his darkly tanned skin shining from his argument with the coffee machine.

I tried to think of something hilarious and intelligent to say about his swearing, the weather, my single status, but I lost the capacity for anything besides, ‘Can I order an Earl Grey tea to go, please?’

‘Sure,’ he replied, his gravelly voice running through me. ‘Three bucks.’

He turned away, packing leaves into a strainer while I searched my bag for change. My fingers trembled and I tried to analyse why I was having such a strong reaction to the barista. Sure, his shoulders were wide and he was clearly hiding a six-pack under his stained t-shirt, but I’d seen attractive men before. In fact, I’d just left a lobby full of them. I decided I was just being silly; it was a reaction to being dragged out of bed before 6am and standing around on an empty stomach.

But as he turned back with a lidded cup and passed it to me, our fingers touched and heat leaped between us. His icy eyes locked on mine, confusion in their depths. His hands shook slightly as I handed him the coins, and I knew I wasn’t the only one feeling something.

‘Thanks,’ I said, my trembly voice betraying me. Desperately, I tried to think of something more to say, not wanting to leave him.

‘The machine broke down earlier,’ he burst out. ‘It’s all those idiots lining up for the auditions. They all ordered coffee and the morning girl didn’t check the valve, and then it blew up.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, a smile working its way over my lips.

‘Don’t be,’ he said, his anger dissipating. ‘I’m just glad you wanted a tea. God, did you see the morons, lining up in the cold for something so ridiculous. Who the hell would sign up for a show like that anyway? You’re not auditioning, are you?’

‘Nope,’ I said. I wasn’t lying—in that moment, I genuinely changed my mind. I wasn’t going back in with Serena. ‘Actually, I thought I might stay here and drink my tea.’

‘Would you like some company?’ He indicated around at the lack of customers. ‘I’m free.’

We stared at each other for a few seconds, the heat palpable. I could see his firm chest rising and falling quickly, mirroring the thrumming in my heart. This is what it feels like when people say ‘love at first sight’. I’d never believed in it before, but in that tiny coffee shop, I truly thought I might have been wrong.

‘Company would be great.’

His face lit up and he began to move around from behind the counter. Feeling him step towards me, I felt warmth rush to my cheeks. And just as he drew close enough for me to catch his scent, all coffee and spice and sweat, Serena banged on the glass door.

‘Girl! Let’s go, they’re calling us in early. Time to go win a million bucks!’

Desperately, I turned back to my coffee-god, but his eyes were focussed on the number on my thigh.

‘It’s not what you think—’

His jaw set in a fine line. ‘Jesus. Unbelievable. You know, I didn’t take you for the type to have sex on TV for cash.’ He left, stalking out through a storeroom door, shaking his head.

Before I could call after him, Serena grabbed my hand and dragged me back out into the cold.

‘Serena, wait! What the hell did he mean? What’s this about sex?’

Her face was one big apology, while behind her, two workmen unrolled a massive poster against the building. A guy with a sculpted chest and a platinum blonde in a bikini embraced against a background of a heart-shaped island. The words screamed in a bold red font, ‘Erotic Island: Out-flirt, out-seduce, out-f#ck.’

Serena started rapid-fire explanation. ‘It’s not as bad as it sounds, I swear—’

‘Out- WHAT?! ’ My voice was so high, I’m sure dogs were cowering in pain somewhere.

‘Look, it’s just like Survivor —’

‘With sex . You forgot to mention the sex bit, Serena. I’m out of here.’ Hot humiliation burned through me and I stomped away from her.

‘Yes, there’s sex,’ she pleaded, following me. ‘But it’s not mandatory!’

‘Answer me this,’ I said, not stopping. ‘Do you have to have sex to earn the million bucks?’

Her eyes lowered. ‘Yes.’

‘Jesus …’ I cursed.

‘But only the once! And there are other challenges! It’s an all-expenses-paid luxury trip! And everybody is super-hot! Tara, please …’

Her voice faded behind me, mixing with the background noise of the city. Her final frantic cry brought me to a halt. ‘It’s a million dollars! You’ve slept with ugly guys for free!’

I wanted to scream back at her that it wasn’t true. But, of course, it was. There was the short guy I picked up during a dry spell a while ago, and the unwashed musician who shagged me in the back of his van after I’d convinced myself that talented equalled sexy.

Storming back to Serena, I hissed, ‘There’s a big difference between making a bad choice when you’re drunk and having sex for money.’

‘It’s not just about the sex.’ She waved an indifferent hand. ‘It’s about the experience. And it’s not like we’re talking about turning tricks for twenty bucks to support a drug habit. This is a million dollars!’ Serena stroked my arm gently. ‘You and I both know what you could do with that cash.’

She had me. When framed against a need as great as mine, my indignation and morals started to look selfish. ‘Just once?’

‘Just once.’

Resigned, I dumped my tea in a nearby bin. ‘Fine. Let’s go.’

We jogged quickly back to the convention centre, where the snarky desk girl made us wait for another hour or so. Then we were ushered into a preliminary room with a hundred other pretty people. On an iPad, I answered dozens of random questions.

Have you ever had sex in a public place?

Have you ever led someone on?

Have you ever thrown a tantrum to get your way?

I selected yes for everything. If they were looking for crazy, I would give it to them.

We made it through the first round and found there were only ten people left from our group. Serena winked confidently as we were separated into smaller rooms with interviewers. A personality test later and I was cleared for round three.

A girl in the next room gave me more waivers and informed me casually, ‘This is the aesthetics test. If you make it on the show, you’ll be expected to wear what we provide for you, which will be mostly bikinis and resortwear. Are you comfortable in your own skin?’

‘Yeah, I actually am.’ All my gym time had paid off.

‘Great. We’re after a specific look, so I’ll need to see you in your underwear.’ She tapped her stylus against her tablet and stared at me.

‘What? Now? ’

‘Yes. Or you’re welcome to leave.’

If I was going to back out, it would have been then. But my sister’s face swam before me, and I sucked up my inhibitions. I shucked out of my jeans and pulled off the silky top before I could rethink my choice.

‘Great,’ the girl said, marking something off on her screen. ‘What’s your bra size?’

***

After dressing, I joined the other auditionees in the almost-empty auditorium. That actually wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be …

Looking around, I tried to find Serena. There were only about twenty people milling around the seats, giggling and chatting, and I couldn’t see my friend anywhere.

‘Excuse me,’ I tugged the sleeve of the closest production assistant. ‘Are we waiting on more people?’

He consulted his schedule. ‘Nope, that’s it. You guys are the short list.’

‘Out of my group?’

‘Out of everyone.’

I gasped as he scurried off. There were thousands of people out the front when we started the day and now I was one of the last ones left standing. Despite myself, I felt a little special.

Wait … Serena’s gone? I was only standing there because of my friend. With her cut from the audition, I felt my resolve to get on the show start to falter.

I looked around for the assistant again to tell him that I wanted to leave, when my neck prickled. Someone is watching me …

Turning, I found myself pinned under the intense gaze of a certain judgemental barista.