Chapter Four
Sienna’s mother had taught her the word association trick back in fifth grade when she couldn’t remember the order of the planets for a science quiz.
Make a sentence out of it, her mom had said.
If it’s a ridiculous sentence, even better.
It had worked for the planets—My Very Eccentric Mother Just Served Us Nachos—and later for every college exam, brand reps at working events, and the names of her hair stylists in Los Angeles.
By the end of the evening’s introductions, Sienna had come up with the sentence: Heart Laughed Dangerously Making Cliff Notes with Intuitive Brushes of Trust and Lines.
Holly (Heart) ran a flower shop that specialized in Valentine’s Day bouquets.
Lucille (laughter) had been a stand-up comic before switching to youth work.
Dani (Danger) was a wildlife photographer with a scar on her chin.
Marie (Making money) was a wealth manager and a single mom of two who thrived on energy drinks.
Carla (Cliff) was a divorce attorney who base-jumped in her spare time.
Nisha (Notes) was a music therapist who brought a ukulele along.
Imani (Intuition) was a yoga instructor who offered yoga sessions with puppies.
Brooke (Brush) was an artist whose latest painting was chosen to be displayed in a famous art gallery in Paris.
Trina (Trust) was a veterinarian and country girl with a Texan accent.
And finally, Lara (Lines) was a romance novelist who had fourteen books out on Kindle.
“And we’re done with the introductions!” Sara called. She waved her hand in the air, which was apparently some kind of signal, because suddenly a woman with a headset materialized at Sienna’s elbow.
“This way,” the woman said, gesturing toward a setup on the far side of the deck where Vivian was waiting with a mic in her hand.
The sun had set completely now, leaving thin streaks of coral and violet lining the darkness behind the trees.
But even with the sun gone, the heat lingered, and somehow that made the cicadas’ buzzing seem even louder.
“How’s the head?” Vivian asked her when Sienna reached her.
At first, Sienna didn’t hear her. Or maybe she did, but it sounded far away. Sienna was too busy watching the soft swell of Vivian’s breasts against the silky ivory halter. She’d never seen a more perfect view in her life. It was almost unfair.
But then she remembered the question, and her fingers instinctively lifted up to touch the spot where Maurine had placed the steri-strips. Thankfully, she hadn’t needed any stitches.
“Not bad,” she said. “Although I feel like every contestant looks at my forehead before they look me in the eye.”
“Don’t worry, production will just Photoshop it out.”
“Really?”
Vivian laughed, and Sienna was hit in the face by how lovely it sounded and how easily it came out. “No,” Vivian said, shaking her head. “They won’t. But don’t worry, Elise will probably spin some story behind the injury and the viewers will love it.”
Sienna laughed, though it was a little awkward. “Right,” she said. “Mild head trauma meets romance in the bushveld. Elise is probably frothing.”
“She does love good drama, but only if it’s on her terms.”
Sienna knew Vivian was talking about last season’s debacle.
Being rather curious herself, Sienna wanted to ask Vivian about it, get a first-hand account, but she knew that as soon as the question came out, a whole lot of others would follow.
Specifically, questions about Vivian. Who she was, how she became who she was.
Clearly, those were questions Sienna should save for the contestants.
And then her brain was going in an entirely different direction and drafting a word-association for Vivian: Vivian (Charisma), who could charm the socks off anyone just by laughing.
Sara’s voice rang across the deck. “Ready in five… four… three … two … one.”
Vivian pivoted, and in that instant, she became a different person. “So, Sienna, now that you’ve met the other contestants and survived the introductions, tell me what’s the one thing you want the viewers to know about you?” she said in a voice that was smooth and polished for television.
Sienna knew the question was coming. She’d rehearsed it in the mirror in her tented suite over and over again.
Which was why she surprised herself when she said something completely different, something more appropriate given the circumstances.
She gave a small laugh. “Well, I guess I want them to know that the wound on my forehead isn’t from any wild animal out here.
I’m just incredibly clumsy. Like tripping over a flat surface and landing on my forehead kind of clumsy. So, buckle up!”
“Great!” Sara called, already moving toward the monitors. “That’s a wrap.”
Then, Elise crossed the deck. She was smiling. A black bandana held back her curls, which, with her black dungarees and All-Stars, didn’t look half as bad as it would on someone else.
“That was amazing,” Elise said, her eyes all sparkly. “Great way to introduce the head wound. Now, next up is the cocktail party where you will get the opportunity to mingle with the contestants. They’re already waiting at the boma. I’ll take you th—”
“I can do it,” Vivian interrupted. Her hand was already on Sienna’s arm, burning finger marks into her skin. Sienna glanced down to look at the spot where their skin met and thought she experienced a little flutter in her stomach. But no, that couldn’t be.
“Great,” Elise said. “Give it a minute or two before you make your way down. Everything is nearly set up.”
Vivian nodded, and Sienna reminded herself to breathe.
Why wasn’t she breathing? Was it because Vivian was standing way too close, apparently ignoring any and all reasonable interpretations of personal space?
Or was it because the air was still hot and suffocating and her dress squeezed a little at her sides?
“Are you really clumsy?” Vivian asked, dropping her hand.
“Yup,” Sienna said, stepping back when in reality she wanted to step forward and ask Vivian to hold her.
She remembered earlier, the way Vivian had just reached up to touch her chin.
Touch was such a funny thing, it awakened something in a person, triggering a cascade of oxytocin, dopamine, and every other inconvenient chemical evolution designed to make humans go soft at exactly the wrong moment.
She cleared her throat. “I was born clumsy.”
“I don’t think that’s possible.”
“It is,” Sienna said, nodding her head. “My mother said I came out of the womb and immediately rolled off the doctor’s arm. It’s been downhill ever since.”
Vivian laughed again.
Sienna smiled. She considered saying something else stupid just to hear Vivian laugh once more, but thankfully Vivian stepped past her and said, “Let’s get to the cocktail party. There are ten lucky ladies dying to get to know you.”
“Right,” Sienna said, remembering why she was here. To find true love. And apparently, one of the ladies waiting at the boma was supposed to be it.
Vivian led her down a narrow wooden ramp lined with lanterns that flickered against the dusky sky. Neither said anything, and Sienna was glad for it. She had to concentrate on her feet.
When she looked up again, the boma stood in front of her.
Though it was less of a fire pit than she had expected and more of a small, sunken amphitheater.
The floor was soft sand with curved wooden benches hugging the perimeter.
Each bench was dotted with silk cushions in shades of navy blue and cream.
A massive fire crackled in the center, tossing gold and red light across the sand.
The branches of the trees were all adorned with fairy lights and hanging lanterns that seemed to float in the sky.
Across from the fire pit was a sleek copper bar holding several crystal decanters and bottles of exotic liquors that looked way too pretty to drink.
“Here you go,” said a bartender. His linen shirt was rolled up at the sleeves, and his dark hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail. “This is our famous deep-ruby hibiscus martini.”
“Very impressive looking,” Sienna said, taking the drink.
There were delicate edible flowers floating on the surface and a thin curl of orange zest coiled at the edge of the glass.
“Vivian, what are you—” she started, glancing back, expecting to see her standing there like she had a second ago.
But she wasn’t. Poof! Vivian had vanished before Sienna had even had a chance to ask her what she liked to drink.
Not that she had time to wonder where Vivian was, or how she’d disappeared without her noticing, because Holly was suddenly at her side; so too were Carla and Brooke.
“How was your flight?” Holly asked.
“As good as any international flight can be,” Sienna said. “Long and tiring, but thank goodness for eye masks and neck pillows.”
“Have you ever been to South Africa before?” Carla wanted to know as she flicked her golden blonde hair off her shiny tanned shoulder.
“Nope,” Sienna answered. “This is my first time.” She wasn’t going to say that she’d done some extensive traveling to other countries in Africa.
She’d seen the red dunes in Namibia, stood under the mist curling off Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe, sat two feet away from three lowland gorillas in Rwanda, and had her Jeep break down in the middle of a salt pan in Botswana.
She had wanted to visit South Africa; it was on her bucket list, and she was going to, but that was around the time travel had become less of a joy and more of a job. She had found that she wasn’t just traveling and writing about it anymore. Instead, it seemed she was producing a product.
Besides, that type of detailed information was reserved for one-on-one dates when she needed something interesting to fill the awkward silences. Especially since there were bound to be awkward silences.
“Well, you’ll have to come back,” Brooke said. “There’s so much to see beyond the game reserve. The beaches are to die for. Cape Town is probably one of the best cities ever, and then you should do a road trip to the Garden Route.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sienna said, smiling as warmly as the heat that was currently causing friction between her thighs. Fi had suggested rubbing Vaseline on her skin between her legs. You know, to counter the whole chafing situation. Sienna had laughed it off. Now she wished she hadn’t.
“And the food,” Carla added. “Don’t even get me started on the food. Have you ever heard of Woolworths?”
“I haven’t,” Sienna said, shaking her head. She wondered if Vivian had ever heard of Woolworths and then stopped herself immediately. “Are you all seasoned travelers?”
“Not me,” Holly said. “This is actually my first time out of the US.”
There was a collective gasp from Carla and Brooke, who stared at Holly like she was one of the elephants out on safari.
“Well, congratulations,” Sienna said quickly, though she wasn’t entirely sure if congratulations were appropriate.
Those were usually reserved for births, weddings, or other major life milestones, not for braving an international flight.
Still, Holly looked pleased with herself, and Sienna would never burst anyone’s bubble.
“I can’t even remember the first time I went on an overseas—” Brooke started.
But the sentence abruptly died on her lips when someone from the far edge of the boma screamed, “HIPPOS!”
Sienna flinched.
Half of the contestants rushed off toward the viewing deck just beyond the boma, but Sienna didn’t want to rush off anywhere because rushing meant she’d probably trip over something.
Which meant she’d either break a finger or add another scar to her forehead.
So she took her time. Just as she turned toward the river, a guttural grumble rolled over the water.
Then another, and another. By the time Sienna reached the deck, she could see the hippos as their slick backs rose and dipped like small islands in the faint moonlight.
“Did you know that hippos can’t actually swim or float? Their bones are too dense. Instead, they just walk along the riverbed and bounce up for air,” said a voice beside her, smooth and close enough to make her skin prickle.
Sienna glanced to her right and gulped for air.
Vivian was leaning against the railing, one hand draped over it, and the other holding a glass of bubbles.
Her blonde hair looked silver in the rising moonlight, and then Sienna, who had no idea why, found herself wishing Vivian were one of the contestants instead.
“I… I didn’t know that,” Sienna stammered, her cheeks on fire.
Vivian smiled. “Well, now you do.”