Alice Chen’s Reality Check

Chapter Twelve Hell Is the Prisoner’s Dilemma

Chapter Twelve

Hell Is the Prisoner’s Dilemma

The next day, I wake up to the covers being violently yanked off me.

“Up, up, up!” Leah drops them on the floor. “Looks like you two got cozy overnight,” she observes.

As I blink away the dazzle of morning sun, I realize that my head is tucked into Daniel’s shoulder, and his arms are wrapped around me. I let out a squeak and roll away, but it isn’t easy. Our legs were tangled together, our bare skin touching in a way that I really don’t have time to think about right now.

Daniel clears his throat. I jump out of the bed. We both don’t look at each other.

“Guess I spoke too soon.” Leah heaves a sigh. “Come on, we’re already late.”

I check the digital clock on the bedside table. “What? We’re early.”

“Dixon’s pet PA, Anton, botched the call sheets. Plus, we have a lot of catch-up to do since we lost so much time dealing with the vomit fest yesterday.” Leah unzips my suitcase and starts flipping through my clothes. “Cute, but given your new story arc with Daniel, what you have isn’t going to cut it. Here, try this.” She reaches into her own bag and produces a red sundress that she tosses to me.

“Uh.” I hold up the dress. It’s fire-engine red.

“Just try it on,” she says. “I know, it’s very look-at-me, and your wardrobe is more about blending in with the walls, but it’ll help viewers remember who you are. And the editors will have an easier time with the color balance in your scenes.”

“Got it,” I say, ducking into the bathroom. Once the dress is on, I check myself out in the mirror. With the plunging neckline, barely-there straps, and flared skirt, this is the kind of look that Cindy would call a “fuck-me” dress. I’ll admit that it does look good, especially paired with my jade necklace.

I emerge from the bathroom to find Daniel wearing jeans and a maroon button-down with the sleeves rolled up to show off his forearms.

“Hey there,” Daniel says, turning to me, and then his eyes widen.

“What is it?” I smooth my skirt down. “Did I get toothpaste on myself?”

“No, you—” He blinks, then reaches for my hand. His voice drops, taking on a slight rasp. “You look perfect.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” I say.

“All right, save the flirting for when the camera’s rolling,” Leah says, herding us out of the room.

“We’re not flirting!” Daniel and I yell in unison, and Leah cackles.

As we follow Leah down a winding staircase, then past the living room where the other contestants have been sleeping and a stunning bay window that looks out onto the ocean, I ask Leah about our wardrobe people. She laughs at that, telling us that our “stylists” were only here for the Lust Challenge. Apparently our producers are expected to do double duty as our wardrobe people.

From the set of her shoulders, it’s clear that Leah is feeling the pressure of landing that extra budget from FlixCast. There’s a lot riding on the next few episodes, and the stakes couldn’t be higher.

“What about breakfast?” I ask.

“I’ve got you covered,” Leah says. Then she sees Anton at the end of the hall, lounging against a wall, and groans. “Let me guess, Anton. You didn’t get the smoothies I asked you to fetch for our lovely contestants.”

“Didn’t feel like it,” Anton says, yawning.

Leah glares at him with a fire hot enough to melt lead. “Anton. Do you see how busy everyone is? Can you at least pretend that you’re here to do your actual job?”

Anton pushes off the wall and heads to the kitchen, but not before calling over his shoulder, “You know, technically I don’t report to you!”

“Technically, every single person on this set outranks you!” Leah yells back.

We end up back on the beach, where a whole new setup has been constructed. The crew has built bamboo walls to hide what the challenge of the day is going to be. Eventually we’re escorted around the walls, where we’re greeted by the sight of two empty barrels in the sand, one painted red and one painted blue. The camera crew is standing at attention, covering every possible angle of the barrels. Behind the barrels is a small trailer painted with bright red and orange flames, looking like it blasted out of Flavortown.

I’m puzzling over what the competition could possibly be when Seth runs up with our smoothies.

“I asked Anton to get those,” Leah says with a frown. “You can’t keep bailing that kid out. He already acts like he owns the place. It doesn’t help that you’re always jumping in every time he flakes.”

Seth shrugs. “I had a free minute, and we both know Anton wasn’t going to do it. Do you want your contestants to starve?”

Daniel and I lock eyes for a second before we try the drinks, and I can tell we’re both thinking the same thing—did Seth mess with these drinks and are we about to get food poisoning again? But no, that would be way too suspicious, and Seth has no reason to pull the same trick twice. Right?

“Drink! Fast!” Leah barks at us, and we obey.

I only have time to take a few sips of the tropical blend of coconut, pineapple, and strawberries before Leah snatches the cup out of my hand.

“Time’s up. Alice, you go first,” Leah says. “Daniel, you’re going to wait over there inside the trailer.”

Leah guides me over to the barrels.

“What about the other contestants?” I ask Leah as she fluffs my hair.

“Different format today. You’re all going to do the challenge separately,” Leah says.

Several feet away, Peter Dixon perches in a director’s chair, attended to by a handful of producers and production assistants.

“I think we’re good to start the first take. Where’s DT?” Peter Dixon says.

Right on cue, Dawn Taylor emerges from her own trailer, looking stunning in a skintight crimson dress, her perfectly blown-out hair topped with two cute devil horns. The cameras immediately train on her, and one of the producers signals for her to start.

“Welcome to the Greed Challenge! Today we’re putting your greed to the test,” Dawn Taylor says. She turns to face me. “In front of you are—” Fireworks explode behind her in a shower of red sparks. A loud series of pops immediately follows, and she shrieks.

“What the fuck ?” She whips her head around, murder in her eyes.

“Dawn!” Peter Dixon jumps out of his chair and rushes over to her. He grasps her shoulders. “Are you okay? Shit, didn’t the PAs tell you we were doing fireworks for this challenge? I told Anton to keep you in the loop.”

She gives him a withering look. “No, he didn’t mention it.”

“I’ll talk to him. This is unacceptable,” Peter Dixon says, shaking his head. “Do you need a moment? Should we cut?”

“No, I’m fine. Keep rolling.” Dawn Taylor pastes a smile back on. She walks back to her mark and nods at the cameraperson.

“Today, we’re putting your greed to the test,” she says again. This time, when the fireworks shoot off behind her, she spreads her arms and throws her head back. “Mwahaha!” She laughs as the sparks rain down around her.

“I’m here to present you with a choice,” Dawn Taylor announces. “If you want to, you can drop out of the competition right here, right now. And I’ll give you twenty thousand dollars to do it.”

I can’t help it, I gasp. That kind of money is more than I make in six months.

“Yeah, I know,” Dawn Taylor says. “Here’s the catch. If you take the money, your time here ends, and your partner gets nothing. And if you’re thinking you can do something cute like splitting the cash after the show’s over? Dream on. We’ve built into the terms of agreement that you absolutely cannot share the money. I’m making this offer to every contestant today, and only one lucky person is going to hit the jackpot.”

She gestures to the barrels. “Now I’m about to start a timer. Inside each barrel is a bucket. If you want to stay in the competition, fill the blue barrel up with water from the ocean. If you want the money, fill up the red barrel. Whoever fills the red barrel the fastest will win a cool twenty thousand dollars and leave the competition. Whoever fills the blue barrel the fastest will win a romantic ride on my personal yacht at sunset. Understood?”

I nod. My mind is racing. Twenty thousand dollars. I’m starting to sweat at the thought of pocketing that much money. Twenty thousand would be enough to cover all the hospital bills we owe currently. It would be enough to have some money left over to put toward any future treatments my mom would be facing. It would mean I could breathe easier again.

“Your time starts now !”

I have to think this through. I know staying in the show and winning would result in a bigger payout. It’s one million dollars compared to twenty thousand. But then again, there’s no guarantee that Daniel and I are going to make it to the final challenge, much less take home the grand prize.

But winning the twenty thousand dollars isn’t guaranteed either. If I’m not the fastest to fill the red barrel, I’ll lose. And I’m doing this challenge alone. I can’t rely on teamwork to carry the day. Even if I try my hardest, I’m not the strongest or the fastest one here. My chances of beating every other competitor who decides to fill the red barrel is low.

Maybe I’m thinking about this all wrong. It’s not just about me. I have to take Daniel into consideration. Sure, we’ve agreed to a truce. We’re even kind of getting along right now. But he’s been my rival since high school, and he has no reason to be loyal to me. Why wouldn’t he go for the twenty thousand dollars?

And to complicate matters, there’s the question of what Daniel thinks I’m going to do. He knows I’m here for the money, and it’s not like we’re in a real relationship. Of all the couples here, we’re the most likely to flip on each other and take the cash. If he thinks I’m going to flip, then he’ll flip too—and try to beat me to the punch.

Part of me wants to believe in Daniel, wants to believe that we’d stick together until the end. I glance toward the trailer where Daniel is waiting.

I shake my head, dislodging that train of thought. Enough wasting time. I’m here for my mom. The rest is just noise. My course of action is clear. I grab the bucket from the red barrel and start racing down the beach.

Thanks to the crash course on island-based competitions Cindy and Tara had put together for me, I knew there was a good chance that I’d be doing some kind of water transfer challenge—a classic on the show Operation: Bikini. The trick is to assess the distance and account for how much water is going to spill out of the bucket. In this case, there’s about fifty yards between the barrel and the ocean, which means that each trip is going to be time-consuming and exhausting. If I rush, I run the risk of spilling most of my water and flaming out. My best shot is to go slow and fill my bucket to the brim so that I can cut back on the number of trips I take.

When I tip my first bucket of water into the red barrel, it sloshes at the bottom, barely making a dent. This is going to take forever. I look down at the barrel as if it can tell me its secrets. Then I realize, technically, there’s no rule against moving it closer to the ocean. I brace myself against it so I can tilt the barrel onto its bottom edge and half push, half roll it toward the water.

There. It’s much closer.

But it’s still a large barrel. After five minutes, I’m covered in sweat. After ten, I’m starting to get blisters. After twenty, I can’t even feel the blisters, so at least that’s something. And after almost thirty minutes, on my last trip, my arms are shaking, and my fingers can barely maintain their grip on the bucket. I stumble forward, nearly dropping it, but manage to catch myself and dump the water in.

Immediately behind me, a spray of red fireworks goes off.

“Crap!” I yelp. Okay, I get why Dawn Taylor didn’t like that.

“Alice, you’ve made your choice,” Dawn Taylor says solemnly. “Now you wait.”

—

The waiting is its own form of torture. After the challenge, I’m taken to what I can only describe as a party room, with a fully stocked bar and plenty of plush armchairs facing a view of the dense forest behind Villa Paradiso. It’s absolutely gorgeous, but despite the luxury I suddenly find myself in, my mind is a mess. I’m already kicking myself for wasting precious minutes making my choice. Of course, Daniel is going to make the same decision, and knowing him, he’ll do it with twice the speed and strength that I have. Damn it.

When the door swings open, my heart leaps. I’m expecting it to be Daniel, but instead Selena bounds in.

“Alice, hey! That was a tough one today, huh? But we did it!” she says, holding up a hand for a high five. I hesitate, and she lowers her hand. “Too soon? Sorry.”

“It’s cool.” I manage a weak smile. “I mean, it’s not. But that’s between me and Chase.”

“That’s fair.” Selena sighs, sinking into one of the armchairs beside me. “It’s just, I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking. I guess I just assumed when I saw you with Daniel that you and Chase weren’t exclusive. I really had no idea that the two of you were engaged.” Selena shakes her head. “Not my best moment. I am so, so sorry about how things went down, and I really regret hurting you like that.”

She might just be a good actor, but to me she sounds genuine. Still, that doesn’t mean I want to be having this heart-to-heart with her right at this very moment.

“We really don’t have to talk about this,” I say.

“But hey,” Selena says, brightening. “You and Daniel are hot together. I can absolutely see the chemistry between you two. The way he looks at you—girl, let me tell you. He never looked at me that way.”

“We really, really don’t have to talk about this,” I repeat. I contemplate climbing out the window to escape this line of conversation. “Can we talk about literally anything else?”

Selena laughs. “Okay, I hear you. How about mimosas?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer before she leaps up, snags two flutes, and starts pouring.

“Selena, when you said it was a tough one today, do you mean you had a hard time deciding, or that you had a hard time filling the barrel?” I ask.

“Filling the blue barrel, duh!” she says. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d love some cash right now, but I’m on this show for my career. Dropping out won’t do me any favors.” She casts me a sideways look. “And I know what he did was wrong, but I feel like I have a real connection with Chase, you know? Just like how you have a real connection with Daniel.”

“Mm,” I say. I don’t bother to correct her, but I do take the mimosa she hands me.

The magnitude of my choice is starting to sink in. Did I make the wrong call? There’s no way Daniel decided to fill the blue barrel. But what if, for some bizarre reason, he did? How am I going to face him? To distract myself, I take a sip from the champagne flute, focusing on the sensation of the bubbles and the tart orange juice sliding across my tongue.

Selena raises her flute and takes a huge swig. “Ugh, I needed that. I don’t think I could’ve handled much more today. I barely slept.”

I take a real look at her. She’s so gorgeous, almost impossibly so, that it hadn’t really occurred to me that she might’ve had a rough night and not be looking or feeling her best. But there are bags under her eyes, dark enough that her makeup doesn’t quite mask it, and her hair doesn’t have its usual shampoo-commercial sheen.

“Rough night?” I ask.

“It was awful. Chase and I had to keep getting up to barf.” Selena rubs her temple. “I’m not usually someone with a weak stomach. I mean, usually I can mix tequila with wine and eat jalapeno poppers all night! This felt way more like a bad case of food poisoning.”

I’m about to tell her that she was literally poisoned, but the mic pack digging into my back reminds me of what Lex said yesterday.

“Maybe having everyone eat raw cow eyes that were sitting out in the sun all day wasn’t the best idea,” I say instead.

“I know, right? You’re so lucky you didn’t get sick.”

The door opens, and I’m spared having to make any more small talk. Brittany bounces in, fanning herself.

“Howdy, y’all! Whew, that was wild!” she says, taking off her cowgirl hat and shaking out her hair. She looks around. “Hey, where’s Mikayla? She should’ve finished before me.”

“She’s probably in a different waiting room,” Selena guesses.

“Ah well. Her loss,” Brittany says, and makes grabby hands at the mimosas. “Now let’s get this party started!”

Selena hands Brittany a flute. “Drink up, girl. I have a feeling we’re going to need it.”

—

It’s another two hours before we’re summoned back to the beach to film the conclusion of the Greed Challenge. The producers keep the couples separated, and I end up sitting between Brittany and Selena.

“Here we are,” Dawn Taylor says, for once solemn. “I wish I could say that all of you chose to fill that blue barrel and stay true to each other. But that’s not the case. In fact, one of you filled that red barrel so fast it made my head spin!”

We all look around uneasily.

“Daniel,” Dawn Taylor says, and my heart leaps into my throat. “Do you think Alice was the one who did it?”

Daniel looks at me and smiles. “No way. Alice and I, we’re a team, and we’re in this together. And she’d never walk away from a competition, even for twenty thousand dollars.”

His words slice through me. Normally, he’d be right. But he doesn’t know about my mom or the medical bills I’ve left unopened on my kitchen table. He doesn’t know that I’ve spent hours on the phone with her health insurance, trying to convince them to lower our costs. He has no idea how much time I’ve spent in hospital waiting rooms, grading exams and hoping for the best.

“Isn’t that sweet?” Dawn Taylor says, looking from me to Daniel. “And Alice? Do you think Daniel betrayed you?”

“He would never.” I hope I sound convincing. “When he gives me his word, he means it.”

Dawn Taylor makes her way down the row of contestants, asking each of the couples the same question. Finally, she returns to the center of the group. It’s time to put us out of our misery.

“It’s the moment of truth. The person who filled the red barrel the fastest did it in less than fifteen minutes!” Dawn Taylor announces.

Fifteen? Fifteen means it wasn’t me. I had a slow start, and even with moving the barrel, I took way longer than that, thanks to my noodle arms.

“And that person is”—she pauses dramatically—“Bacon.”

We all gasp. Firefly’s hand flies up to cover her mouth as she turns to Bacon in disbelief.

“Bacon! How could you?” Firefly demands.

“It’s twenty thousand dollars! You know what I can do with that kind of cash. It’ll change everything. I can get a 12-valve Cummins Diesel, full solar!” Bacon says. “That thing’ll be luxury when we’re on the open road!”

Firefly shoves him. “Seriously? We were supposed to win this competition to show my parents we were serious and didn’t need them! I can’t believe you just made this decision without me!”

“I figured we’d talk it out later,” Bacon protests.

“Oh, we have a lot to talk about, Barry. ” Firefly throws up her hands. “This is what I get for falling for an Aries.”

“Fiona, baby,” Bacon shouts as Firefly turns her back on him. “Don’t do this.”

She whirls around to jab a finger at his chest. “We’re getting a divorce—”

“We’re not married!”

“—and I’m taking the sourdough starter!”

Dawn Taylor cuts in, coming between them. “Bacon, make sure you read the fine print on that cash. You can’t use it on anything that will benefit Firefly. So don’t even think about trying to buy your way back into her good graces. Now, I’m sorry, but your journey through hell ends here.”

Bacon is crying now, tears tracking down his cheeks as Firefly storms off. We’re all quiet in the wake of their departure. Firefly and Bacon had seemed so genuinely in love, but it hadn’t been enough to withstand Dawn Taylor’s test. I just hope that they can get through this.

Relief and disappointment surge through me as the cameras circle Firefly and Bacon like vultures. I wanted that twenty thousand dollars. But I’m still in the game, and I still have a chance to compete. I grab Daniel’s hand and squeeze it.

He squeezes back and tilts his mouth toward my ear. When he speaks, his breath rustles my hair. “Good thing we made that deal not to betray each other before this challenge happened?”

I pull back. “Don’t tell me it didn’t cross your mind.”

He turns more fully toward me, his gaze serious. “No, never. We’re teammates, Alice.”

Now it’s guilt that’s flooding my system. If Daniel is telling the truth, then he didn’t betray me—not the way I did, after we literally made a pact to support each other in this fake relationship.

But we’re not the same as Firefly and Bacon. After this, we don’t have a life to go back to together. Plus, I remind myself, it’s entirely possible that Daniel’s lying, and what happened was that he filled the red bucket and just didn’t beat Bacon’s time. But going by our past together, I can’t recall a time Daniel’s lied to me.

For a second, I contemplate coming clean to Daniel. But when I picture the look on his face, the hurt and the judgment—well. Maybe I’ll tell him later, when this is all in our rearview mirror and we can laugh about it. And anyway, he doesn’t have the full picture of what I’m dealing with. He wouldn’t understand.

“Now, for our winners today, the fastest to fill the blue bucket was—can you guess who?” Dawn Taylor waits a beat before announcing, “Dominic!”

“Fuck yeah!” Dominic roars. He lifts Zya on his shoulders, and they’re racing down the beach together.

“As for the rest of you,” Dawn Taylor says, facing us, “you’ve survived to descend into the next circle of hell. The stakes are higher than ever, so you’d better get ready. The inferno is only going to get hotter.”

The end of her speech is punctuated by a blast. Fireworks explode behind her once again. This time, there’s more than just a burst of sparks—this is an entire show. I clap my hands over my ears as the fireworks keep erupting, growing louder and brighter.

Then everything goes wrong. One of the fireworks zooms right past Dawn Taylor and explodes on the sand in front of us.

Dawn Taylor screams, and then we all scream.

A dozen more fireworks roar to life, whizzing straight for us. The smoke is thick in the air now, and I’m frozen. It’s too much like the day I found my mom on the floor, flames licking up the wall behind her stove. I have to move, but I can’t seem to summon the will. Despite the heat of the sun, I’m cold again, and time seems to slow to a trickle.

Dawn Taylor ducks for cover behind a cameraperson. Everyone, crew and cast, is scrambling to get out of the way. Someone shoves past me, and I go sprawling face-first in the sand. I’m pushing to my feet when I see it. One of the fireworks is headed for me.

Then Daniel tackles me, and I’m being slammed into the sand again. It feels like I’ve been punched as we both go down. But that’s the last coherent thought I have before a firework explodes next to us, spraying us with sand. For a moment, I can’t move. There’s sand in my mouth and a faint ringing in my ears.

Then I realize why I can’t move. There’s a weight on top of me, a body. It’s Daniel.

Daniel, who tackled me.

Daniel, who shielded me.

Daniel, face down, the outline of a burn on his side.

“Daniel!”