126. Contractual Terms
126
Contractual Terms
W illow
As soon as the cameras’ red eyes turn black, indicating they’re no longer recording, all pretense of civilized behavior evaporates from Zedd’s face.
“You’ve titillated the viewers. I’ve done my job and promised them more of the show after the break. If you’ve made a liar of me, I’ll tell you one thing. You won’t make it to lunchtime tomorrow even if I have to fly there and arrange your demise personally. Do. You. Understand?”
“We have every intention of performing like circus animals for you,” I say before I realize it’s disrespectful not just to circus animals, but to the male whose lap I’m sitting on. He has animal DNA. I shouldn’t have said that.
Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.
No offense taken.
“I can’t help but think our numbers are rising at a painfully slow rate,” I say. Am I insane? Talk about poking the bear. I just said the obvious to Zedd, hinting the network is cheating us out of our credits.
“I’ll tell you what. A little secret between you and me.” She leans forward conspiratorially. “I’m holding your credits in escrow. You’ll get your credits when I get my money shot.”
“How about this?” I have the balls to ask, my arousal now forgotten in the heat of these negotiations. “He’ll give you your money shot when the tote board goes over a million. If in one hour we don’t have enough for a medic and a medbot and I don’t see a picture of a medical professional waiting outside the flap of our tent, we’re going to turn our backs to each other and if he has to, he’ll spill into the mattress, cheating us all out of our well-deserved finish.”
I fold my arms over my chest to punctuate my statement even as he asks, What?
“And here I thought all humans were stupid. Well played,” she says, eyeing me with a new respect.
“Very well. The clock starts the moment you’re in your tent and I stop talking. You will keep the audience entertained the entire hour. Do you understand?”
I nod, but she waits for Valor’s agreement as well.
“You two go at it like animals. I want moans, I want begging, I want multiple orgasms from you, little female. You’ll see the tote numbers over one million at the proper time, along with a live shot of the medic outside your tent. Then I want, as we say in show business, the big finish.”
“And the medic will rush in after that?” I ask, knowing that if I don’t nail down everything in the contract, she’ll somehow renege on the deal.
“If you do what you promise, you’ll have earned it. I have no control over your teammate’s recuperative powers, however. From what I see, he’s not going to make it.”
Bitch! I scream inside my head, but I say nothing. Our plan, our little contract, is Braveheart’s only chance.
Valor lifts me in his arms and carries me toward the tent, then doubles back, slides all my food onto his plate, and hands it to me. When all this is over, you’re going to eat, Willow. If we live until tomorrow, you’re going to need the nourishment.
Okay. I promise.
When we’re in the tent, he lets me slide out of his arms and we both hurry to Braveheart’s side.
“Shit,” I say.
His ankle is black and so puffy it barely looks humanoid. I cup his cheek in my palm and lean to talk in his ear.
“Can you hear me, Braveheart? You need to fight. I want to talk to you. Get to know you. I’m sure there’s an interesting story about how you got your name. I want to hear it. If you leave now, it would be cheating. Come back to me.”
Although I’ve done all the negotiating until now, it’s Valor who steps toward one of the five drones in the room. He gets as close as the thing will allow, then speaks directly into the camera.
“I will not make love to this female in the same bed as this ailing male. If you had any decency, you would take him out of this tent and have the medic treat him. Since I can’t expect that…” He pauses, nostrils flaring in anger. “I will wait for you to bring a bed in here and let me place him there.”
He stands tall, jaw tight, eyes swirling dark shades of midnight. By his body language, it’s clear he’s not going to budge until his demands are met.
Not two minutes later, another bed is carried in. It’s just a flat piece of plastic that doesn’t fill with air until it’s tossed on the ground. Then it plumps up.
Valor scoops up his friend with the utmost care and lays him on the mattress.
“Enough!” Zedd orders. “Get on with it!”