21. Hunted
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
HUNTED
TARYN
“Well done. You should get your results in two to four weeks.” My examiner says as I inform her that I’m done. “You can leave the premises now. If you drove here, don’t forget to get your parking validated by reception.”
I thank her and walk out of the exam center into the parking lot.
The Registered Nurse License exam took longer than I anticipated, but I’m confident I aced it.
And I was lucky to be able to book a date with very short notice and to find a spot available in the neighboring town of Shell Cove rather than having to drive all the way to Bridgeport or to San Francisco.
It’s only seven p.m. and it should be still light outside, but the weather has taken a turn for the worse while I was taking the exam and the sky is covered by dark clouds.
It hasn’t started raining yet, but I can smell the telltale damp, earthy scent in the air.
The warm breeze of the early afternoon has picked up too, and a sudden gust of wind whips my hair over my face.
The air is charged with electricity, and I bet the night is gonna be stormy.
“I better drive back to camp before the storm hits,” I say to myself as I unlock my car. “You’re an old classic, but you aren’t the most reliable ride when the roads are wet.” I say to my old VW Beetle.
I haven’t told anyone about taking this exam, but I feel happy about my decision.
There is more than one reason why I did it.
First off, my spot on the team isn’t guaranteed.
It’s true that I’ve been consistently ranked in the top two dancers since training camp started, but what happened before our last performance was a wake up call.
Lexi was nice enough to give me the afternoon off to rest, and she was happy about how I danced before the game against Seattle.
But what if I got injured? As dancers, we put our bodies through hell, and like every professional athlete, the risk of a career-ending injury is always looming over us.
So it feels nice to have something to fall back onto if I couldn’t dance, and using my college degree feels right.
But the fear of a possible injury isn’t the only reason why I want to be licensed to work as a nurse in California.
Another reason is financial. We had a meeting with the team’s CFO to discuss the contracts the final thirty-two will be offered after the Cove Knights’ final game of the preseason.
Once the reality show is over, we’ll get a mid five figure pay out for agreeing to appear in the show.
But with that coming to an end, the team will pay us an hourly rate for rehearsals, performances, both home and away, and appearances scheduled by the team.
It was explained that on average we can expect to earn a gross income of twenty-five to thirty-two thousand dollars per season.
That excludes any sponsorships we might be asked to participate in and, in my case, the share of the royalties from the sales of my doll.
But California in general, and Star Cove in particular, are expensive places to live. So we were encouraged to get second jobs to make ends meet.
This didn’t come as a complete surprise. For a cheerleading team, especially in hockey, the pay is average. The reason why being a Shooting Star is such a huge dream is the spotlight it puts on us and all the opportunities that notoriety can bring. The reality show is a prime example.
The not so stellar pay, however, isn’t the only reason that made me decide to pursue my nursing career.
There is the fact that our contracts will be just for one season.
If we want to dance with the Shooting Stars after our first season, we’ll need to go through the selection process again.
As veteran candidates, we won’t have to start from zero, but we’ll have to battle it out with all the rookie candidates that will make it to the final one hundred.
I understand why our coaches want to keep us fighting for our spots.
They don’t want their dancers to become complacent, and they strive to keep us always motivated to be the best. But having to audition every year feels harrowing, to say the least.
Then, of course, there are a couple of personal reasons that make me feel like I’m on even shakier ground.
I’m falling hard for Tucker, Colsen, and Nash.
And I realized that I don’t want to spend the next six to eight months hiding our relationship and sneaking around.
I’m planning to wait and see if I make the team and then sit down with Carole and Lexi and come clean.
I know there can be exceptions to the no fraternization rule.
In the case of a familial relationship, like in Talia’s case.
Or if the relationship is pre-existing and established at the time of signing the contract.
Genevieve was trying to get exempted from that rule to be able to keep dating Mack.
The fact that it was completely one-sided is a different matter.
A part of me regrets not speaking up when we were told about the rule. But in hindsight, it was too soon. Our relationships were just beginning, and I didn’t know if the guys would have wanted me to choose between them. I didn’t know if Nash was interested in more than a few casual hookups.
Maybe having to take risks to be together was the challenge we needed to understand that what we have is important.
But during the seven weeks of camp, our feelings have grown.
To the point that if I’m faced with the choice between the men I love and being a Shooting Star, I have no doubt that I’m not going to sign that contract.
I’m prepared for the judgement that might come with dating three men, but I know they’re what I want.
Above all else. I’m prepared to trade my pompoms for scrubs if needed.
There is also my stalker. I’m convinced it’s Gen.
Hopefully, once she secures her spot on the team, she’ll lose interest in blackmailing me.
I’m convinced the reason she’s been threatening me is that she’s jealous.
She wanted to be the star of the team. But I’m happy to let her take the biggest spotlight.
I don’t know who Carole and Lexi will select as team captain, but if they choose me, I’ll decline in Gen’s favor.
Once she gets what she wants and she realizes that there really isn’t anything more than a platonic friendship between me and Mack, she’ll stop coming after me. That’s the hope, at least.
I’ve been so wrapped up in my thoughts that the twenty-minute drive between Shell Cove and Star Cove has gone in a blur.
As I’m entering Star Cove’s city limits, the weather has definitely changed.
I’ve been so distracted that I didn’t even realize how hard it’s raining; my front wipers are working hard to keep the windshield free from the pouring rain, but it’s an uphill battle and the visibility is decreasing with every passing second.
“Fuck!” I jump as a thunderclap catches me by surprise, lighting the interior of my car as if it were broad daylight.
That makes me realize that the sky is so dark that outside it’s almost pitch black. The only lights come from my car and from the eco-lights that dot the road that leads to the campgrounds.
Despite the scarce light, at least the asphalt is well maintained and there isn’t a lot of water on the road. God knows that my bug will stop if I drive through a large enough puddle.
That thought just crossed my mind when my car made a sputtering noise and came to a stop in the middle of the road. “Shit.” I mutter, turning the key in the ignition to no avail.
My head slumps on the steering wheel. “Oh, come on. Please, please, please. Don’t let me down.” I whisper to my car. “I promise as soon as I get some money, I’ll get you a nice fine tuning at the best shop in town. But take me home tonight.”
I try the ignition again, but there’s no sign of life from my car at all.
It’s just my rotten luck that out of all the times my car could break down, it happens in the middle of the mother of all summer storms.
As the water batters my small car from all sides, I take a steadying breath. What should I do?
“One last try.” I say to my car. “Come on. Please, be a good girl.” But just as I’m about to turn the key again, a red light on my dashboard attracts my attention.
It’s the fuel gauge, and it reads empty. “How is that possible?” I ask, frustrated. I filled the tank earlier today, right before setting off for Shell Cove. There’s no way my car used a full tank of gas n a forty minute round trip.
There must be something wrong with my car. I know nothing about mechanics, so it could be anything; maybe the light could be on for no reason, even though since the car isn’t starting, the problem might be way more serious than a broken indicator.
The problem remains that I’m stranded in the middle of a dark road in the pouring rain. The weather is so bad that the eco lights do nothing to improve the almost nonexistent visibility.
I need to get the car towed, and that’s going to cost me money I really don’t have right now. But there’s no alternative. I can’t leave my car here.
“Why couldn’t you have broken down after camp is over and I’ll have the money from the reality show and the dolls?” I groan.
Of course, no one answers my question. I guess this is the universe’s way of balancing things after we ran out of gas not too far from here and bumped into the cheerleading tryouts almost two months ago.
If that hadn’t happened, Jodie and I might have driven through Star Cove without stopping. I would have never met my guys.
Tonight the universe must really be hellbent on balancing out the stroke of good luck that made us stop in Star Cove; because just as I think about how lucky it was that my best friend and I ended up here of all places, the lights inside my car go out leaving me in total darkness.