Chapter Twenty Hell Is a Fakeout Makeout with Someone You Maybe Want to Real Make Out with
Chapter Twenty
Hell Is a Fakeout Makeout with Someone You Maybe Want to Real Make Out with
Once we’ve been divested of our mic packs, we all retire to our rooms. I’m exhausted from the challenge, but also wired and jittery. My mind keeps playing my memories of the last few days on loop: The messy scrawl of handwriting in a notebook. Anton’s body, lying prone in the sand. The bandage snaking around Dawn Taylor’s leg. Seth and Mikayla arguing on the speedboat.
To calm my nerves, I force myself to take a blisteringly hot shower. I step out feeling a little bit more human.
“Shower’s all yours,” I call, walking back into the bedroom, and stop short.
Daniel is arranging some plates on the coffee table in our room.
“Hey, come and eat,” he says. He’s laid out an entire feast—a bowl of perfectly ripe honeydew and watermelon, fresh green Cobb salad, and fried chicken.
“Where did you get all this?” I marvel.
“Stole it,” Daniel says. “I engineered an entire heist from craft services while you were showering.”
I could kiss him, I think. I really could. Daniel steers me into a chair and I take a huge bite of the chicken. It’s perfection—just a little bit spicy and fried to a crisp.
Daniel says, “Okay, now you can tell me what’s on your mind.”
“How do you know there’s something on my mind?” I say between mouthfuls. I’m practically inhaling the food now.
“Alice, you’re always thinking about something, but even I can see that your brain is working overtime right now. Why do you think I brought you food? You haven’t eaten all day, and I know you don’t eat when you get stressed before a competition. Same principle.” Daniel pushes the bowl of fruit toward me, and I spear a piece of watermelon. “Now talk.”
“You know how the crew is taking down the labyrinth?”
“I don’t like where this is going.”
“I want to go take a look at where Anton died.”
Daniel rubs his face and groans. “Alice, that’s a big risk.”
“But we need to check the scene of the crime before it gets completely destroyed. We know someone out there killed Anton, probably because he was trying to blackmail them. The sooner we figure out who that someone is, the better.”
“I’m going with you,” he says. “No arguing.”
I’m about to do just that, but then I nod. “Fine,” I say. Having backup and another set of eyes could be helpful.
As I finish my food, a warm, contented feeling steals over me. My mind is no longer the churning whirlpool of questions and worries and to-do lists all clamoring to make themselves heard. Instead, I feel like I can take on whatever is ahead of me.
I look over at Daniel, who’s stealing bites from my Cobb salad. There’s something comforting about having him here. Why does it feel so good to be working together?
It must be because I trust Daniel.
I actually trust Daniel.
—
The sky is overcast when we make our way back to the labyrinth from the Wrath Challenge, and everything is eerily quiet. There’s only the lapping of the waves on the beach and the rustle of the trees as the wind picks up.
If the weather were like this back home, my mom would say that the wind was rising—a sure sign that it’s about to rain. We’d rush out to the balcony to pull the laundry off the clothesline, and hours later, a downpour would arrive—but by then, my mom and I would be settled in around the kitchen table. She’d be cracking watermelon seeds into a bowl and watching a K-drama with Chinese subtitles on. I’d be picking at a plate of sliced fruit and grading papers.
As Daniel and I step into the shadows cast by the looming wooden structure of the labyrinth, I wish I were home now, cozy and safe. But that’s not an option for me. I found Anton’s body. I tried to revive him. I saw the dark bruise around his eye, how his arm dangled lifelessly off the stretcher. Someone on this set is a murderer, and I can’t let this problem go unsolved.
Daniel’s hand tightens on mine, and I realize with a start that someone is slumped over just inside the entrance. For a moment a spike of fear goes through me, until I realize that it’s one of the crew members, and he’s not dead, just snoozing.
He jerks awake with a snort when we approach. “Hey! Contestants aren’t supposed to be here.”
This crew member is a burly guy in his forties, with a buzz cut under his hard hat and a reflective yellow vest tucked sloppily into his jeans.
I zero in on his name tag. “Gill, it’s lovely to meet you.” I look up at Daniel, playing the part of a friendly and forgetful girlfriend. “I’m so sorry about this. I dropped my sunglasses in there. I should’ve gone back yesterday, but after Anton…after he…” I blink really hard and start to sniffle.
Playing along, Daniel tugs me close to him. “Just breathe, sweetie.” To Gill he says, “Look, man. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t. Leah said we needed them for our interviews—you know, for continuity. She’s on a tear right now, so I’d appreciate it if you’d let us run in and get them real quick.”
“Sure, just don’t get in the crew’s way,” Gill says gruffly. He’s looking anywhere but at me, obviously uncomfortable with seeing me fake cry. A crashing sound reverberates through the enclosure, and Gill is gone, shouting, “Jeff, I told you not to stack those so high! They’re not fuckin’ Pringles!”
“Nice work,” I say to Daniel, nudging him with my shoulder.
He quirks an eyebrow. “Rare praise.”
“Yeah, you should get it embroidered on a pillow.”
We navigate the labyrinth, retracing our steps from yesterday. But this time, there’s no camera crew in the scaffolding above us, and we easily make it past the wooden walls and scattered blocks. Finally, we reach the point where we had exited the labyrinth, and Daniel and I cautiously enter.
“Try not to disturb anything,” Daniel advises me.
“Thank you, counsel,” I say with mock seriousness.
We stop just a few feet shy of where we found Anton’s body. The blood has been scoured away, and the path is clean now. The slime pit has been partially emptied. We squint up at the scaffolding, which is the same as it was yesterday.
“See, look at the walkway,” I say, pointing at the splintered wooden beam above us. “It’s got a break in it, but…”
“But it’s not big enough gap for someone to fall through,” Daniel concludes.
“And the railing seems fine,” I say, eyeing it. If the scaffolding had given way, Anton could have grabbed onto the metal railing for balance and simply stepped over to a more solid part of the walkway. “It’s like I told Lex, he couldn’t have fallen. And there’s no reason for him to have a black eye, either.”
“Shit.” Daniel surveys the area grimly.
We knew what we were dealing with, but seeing the proof before our very eyes, that feels different. This isn’t just the set of Dawn Tay’s Inferno. This is really and truly the scene of a crime.
“Let’s take a look around—” I start, but I snap my mouth shut when a burst of laughter filters through to us. Then there’s the rumble and clank of equipment being moved and footsteps approaching.
I glance toward the exit, but it’s too far for us to make a break for it. We had an excuse for being in here, but we promised to be quick, and we should’ve been long gone by now. I’m panicking, trying to come up with a reason we’re still here. Maybe I dropped my sunglasses in the pit, or just couldn’t find them. The sounds of the crew are growing louder and louder, and there’s no escape.
I feel a hand on my elbow. It’s Daniel, his face half in shadow and half lit by the meager sunlight breaking through the clouds above us. He tips my chin up, his gaze intense on mine, and all he says is “Alice.”
I swallow. I know exactly what he’s trying to ask, and my heart’s already starting to race at just the thought of it. I nod, and then he’s sweeping me into his arms and pushing me back against the labyrinth wall, pressing his body against mine.
By the time the sound gets closer, he’s kissing me deeply, his hands going through my hair, his thigh slotted between mine, and we’re doing a very, very good impression of being locked in a passionate make-out session.
Maybe too good of an impression. The threat of being caught heightens everything, sending a rush of adrenaline surging through me. I can feel a spark igniting everywhere we’re touching as I lose myself in the kiss, my hands running over the expanse of his back. When Daniel’s fingers trace the gap of exposed skin beneath my shirt, I gasp at the touch and nod. His hands leave a molten trail of fire as they skim under the band of my bra.
I start to I surrender to the sensation of his fingertips pressing into me, but at the sound of heavy footsteps, my eyes fly open, and I can see the brown Timberland boots of a crew member barely within my peripheral vision.
“Hey! Get a room!” Timberlands laughs.
Daniel pulls away from me and looks over his shoulder at the crew. He’s covering me with his body still, and thank goodness for that, because I’m not sure I want the crew seeing me like this. I fight to steady my breath. Part of me just wants to drag him back to our suite and keep going, keep hearing those little desperate noises he was making, keep feeling the hard length of him pressed against me as he touches me everywhere.
“Did you find your sunglasses?” another member of the crew—Gill, I suspect—calls.
“Not yet,” Daniel says. He turns around and, still blocking me from view, says calmly, “Sorry, we got a little distracted.”
“No shit,” Gill says. “We’re heading out for dinner, but I don’t want to see you two when I get back. This is a demo site, not one of your sexy cabanas.”
The sounds of the crew recede, and Daniel steps away from me. I adjust my shirt and decide the best course of action is to act like nothing happened.
“Let’s split up the area around Anton’s body to see if we find anything. You cover the area from the pit to that wall, and I’ll do the same on this side.”
And we start searching. The rain probably would’ve washed away any marks, but the walls and scaffolding seem to have preserved the site. I can see faint drag marks from where Anton was. I keep searching. At first there’s nothing, just the debris of construction and the footprints of the workers around the site, but then I notice a strange pattern in the shoe treads.
“Daniel, check this out,” I say. “The footprints here look different from the rest.”
Most of the footprints are clearly from the rounded Timberlands that the construction crew are wearing. But there’s a single set of footprints that don’t match. They’re narrow with a distinct pointy tip.
“These are leading away from the body. You said that someone tried to drag Anton away, but obviously they failed. They must have had to make a quick exit once I came back, and this must be the route they took,” I deduce.
We track the footprints as they lead into the shadows of the labyrinth. Our silence is punctuated by our shoes crunching in the sand and the cry of birds in the distance.
“Damn,” I say when the already faint shoeprints trail off into a dark corner. “Dead end.”
“Maybe not.” Daniel studies the wall, then pushes it. It gives a little, opening a crack and revealing itself to be a door.
“Whoa, how’d you see that?”
“I saw the hinge. Most of them were painted black, but someone missed this one,” he says, pointing at a silver hinge close to the ground. “I imagine this is how production got in and out of the labyrinth when they were setting up all the puzzles.”
“Good job,” I say, and we open the door.
Or we try to. It seems a little broken, and I realize something’s caught at the corner of the door. I reach down to where some rocks and debris have been kicked up and start clearing them away so the door can move. That’s when my hand brushes against something crumpled and half buried by the sand. It’s a piece of paper.
I smooth it out. Something’s been printed on it, the ink faded by the elements. “I think it’s a photo.”
I look around and spot a fake, battery-operated lantern on the wall. After switching it on, I hold up the image to the light it provides.
“Is that—” Daniel squints. “Mikayla?”
There, looking away from the camera, is Mikayla, in her lingerie outfit from the night of the blackout and straddling someone’s lap.
And that someone isn’t Trevor. I point at the man beneath Mikayla. He’s got one hand between her legs and one cupping her breasts.
“Look at his hair,” I say. The man’s dark hair is peeking out from beneath his hat. “Do you know who that is?”
“I don’t—”
“Hey!” A voice cuts off whatever Daniel’s saying. “You shouldn’t be here.”
I know before I turn around who I’m going to see.
There’s something menacing about how Seth is pacing toward us. I take a step back, suddenly desperate to put more distance between us. Seth looks tense, even more so than the last time I saw him. His jaw is clenched, and he’s holding his hand carefully, a fresh bandage wrapped around it.
“You should be in your rooms,” Seth snaps. “Does Leah know you’re here?”
“Does Leah know you’re here?” I retort. It’s not the smartest response, but it’s all I can think to say in the moment.
“I dropped something yesterday. Came back for it,” Seth says, adjusting his hat. My gaze leaps to the crinkled picture I’m still holding and the identical blue cap on the man’s head. “And Leah’s not my keeper. I don’t answer to her. But you do.”
The puzzle pieces are slotting together: The blue hat I’ve caught glimpses of around the villa. The figure standing stock-still beneath the palm trees when we first landed on the island. Seth sitting with Mikayla on the speedboat while Trevor fumed. Mikayla disappearing during the storm and then returning to the villa soaking wet.
Mikayla isn’t cheating in the competition. She’s cheating on Trevor.
And Seth’s bandages aren’t wrapped around his entire hand. They’re wrapped around his knuckles. Like he punched somebody.
“What happened to your hand?” I ask quietly.
But Seth has noticed what I’m holding. “Give me that photo,” he says, dropping all pretense of being the friendly producer we’re used to.
“Let’s talk about this,” Daniel says firmly. “Why don’t we go back to the hotel first? I’m sure Leah’s waiting for us.”
“Not until you give me that,” Seth says, pointing at the photo.
“No,” I say evenly. “I think it’s evidence. I think you met with Anton yesterday because he’d printed this incriminating photo of you and Mikayla. I think he tried to blackmail you over it, and instead of handing him money, you punched him…and maybe you even threw him off the scaffolding—”
“That’s not what happened!” Seth screams. He lurches toward me, trying to grab the paper.
“Hey!” I yelp, and then Daniel’s pulling me behind him. Seth takes a swing at Daniel, aiming for his head, but Daniel simply ducks under Seth’s fist and, with ruthless efficiency, tackles him to the ground.
Holy shit, Daniel can fight ?
Now prone, Seth lashes out. Daniel dodges, jerking back and cursing as the punch glances off his cheekbone.
“You need to cool it,” Daniel orders, but Seth answers him with another fist, this time landing a hit on Daniel’s side. Daniel jerks back in pain, his hand going to where he was burned not too long ago.
Seth scrabbles away, but I’m ready for him, and I piston my arms forward, shoving Seth off-balance. Still wincing, Daniel wrenches one of Seth’s arms and twists it behind his back.
“Get off me,” Seth yells, and bucks against Daniel, his legs kicking out and colliding with the scaffolding.
There’s an ominous, drawn-out creeeeaaaaaak.
The scaffolding around us is wobbling. I hear a loud clang in the distance as a beam slides out of place and plunges into the sand.
“We’ve got to go!” I shout, and pull Daniel up. He grabs my hand and we sprint for the exit. The sound of metal on wood crashing together follows us as we navigate the labyrinth in reverse. Seth is staggering behind us, clutching his arm.
Daniel pushes me through the doorway first, then glances back to check on Seth.
“Come on!” he roars, and Seth puts on a burst of speed just as another beam plunges down, just inches away from him.
“Alice! Daniel!” Leah is running toward us, her hand on her earpiece. “What the hell are you guys doing here?” She glares at Seth. “You couldn’t have called this in? And why are you limping?”
“Seth tried to attack us,” Daniel informs Leah.
“What?” She looks at each of us, then taps her earpiece. “Security, come down to the villa.” To us, she says, “I don’t know what’s going on here, but we’re taking this to Dawn Taylor.”