Season 2, Episode 10 Never Eat the Sacred Chicken
“Never Eat the Sacred Chicken”
Do what’s best for your own game,” Barnes advised. “Reveal what she did. Tonight.”
“Right before the final Trial?” I asked. We’d just won the last Tribulation; only a double elimination remained. Our team controlled the vote and would choose two from each side.
“Luke, she conned you.” He matted concealer along my jaw in the communal bathroom, spiriting away my scars before we filmed a ceremony spotlighting the islands’ Indigenous peoples (a requirement for the show’s tax credit, Helena explained). “She deserves to pay.”
When our team gathered in the colonial-chic living room for the Trial deliberation, Imogen was first to speak up. “Barnes, would you go in? You’re the only guy left who hasn’t seen a Trial. In the interest of fairness.”
Barnes’ lips twisted into a grim smile. “I can’t argue the fact.”
I’d get no better sign to intervene. After all, I knew what side of the war I’d chosen. “I’ll go in,” I announced. “And I want Arjun against me.”
Imogen stared, equal parts perplexed and defeated. “That’s a terrible idea.”
“He’s the only one on their side who saw the final last year. Keep them unprepared,” I said coldly. “It’s best for our team. Not that you care, Imogen.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you sabotaged us weeks ago with your fake cramp to help Arjun get Barnes out of the game, and I’m done covering for you.
” Shock waves rippled through my team, but I was relieved to finally hold Imogen accountable for ever considering me a dumb pawn, my whole torso resonating with the zealous conviction of being right.
Imogen sat stricken as I recounted the plot I’d heard at the waterfall. The votes rapidly locked in for her to face the other team’s most athletic female, a Polish Korean kickboxer named Moon-Lynn Kosinski.
Imogen pursued me and Barnes to the lawn after the vote, tears brimming in her eyes. She wasn’t one to cry, which should have meant something. And yet it didn’t.
“Luke, I swear, I was trying to protect you!”
“Like you’d protect your horse?” I sneered. “Your horse to ride to the finish?”
She whipped to Barnes. “Did you tell him that? Luke, that’s a lie!”
“How about saltine crackers? Was that a lie?” I asked, her face falling with recognition.
“I hadn’t even known you one day when I said that,” she answered, voice hoarse. “What can I do? Forget this stupid show! You are my best friend. What can I do?”
“You already did too much, that’s the problem,” Barnes said coolly. “Expensive mistake, but I guess you learned what things cost.”
Imogen’s eyes flashed. “You want to talk to me about the cost of things?”
And out came the sound bite that launched a thousand think pieces, to say nothing of a political campaign. “Oh, am I supposed to apologize for the fact that you grew up poor?”
“Are you trying to get punched in the face?!” she snapped, and I saw Arjun emerge across the lawn by the villa’s turquoise gazebo, transfixed, like he didn’t recognize any of us.
“Take your shot,” Barnes baited her. “You’re going home. Get something out of it.”
Imogen grabbed me, furious and desperate. “Luke, can’t you see what he is? Are you even paying attention?!” But all I saw was him defending me against someone who’d used me, who’d confirmed my worst fears that all the world saw in me now was a hulking, broken fool.
“Cut the self-righteous bullshit, Imogen, and just hit me!” Barnes yelled.
I hoisted him around so I stood between them. “Stop, she’s not worth it.”
“Why?” Imogen dared me. “You worried I’ll smear all the pathetic makeup you two wear? Let me hit him, and I’ll gladly go home. Why wait for the Trial?”
It escaped before I knew it, but I meant every word. “Because I want to see you lose.”
And she did, though it wouldn’t be the last time.
I actually think Imogen did eventually forgive me for that night in the Turks.
Maybe she convinced herself Mitch’s cancer and Arjun breaking my heart excused it.
In the email she wrote me after Season 2, she called her conversation with Arjun at the waterfall her “most cowardly moment.” Barnes insisted we owed her no apology (“Certainly not in writing!”), so instead I had his newly hired assistant send a bouquet of orchids with a card that simply said, “To new beginnings—B how I cheered when Moon-Lynn defeated her; how Barnes conducted a chorus of waving hands while she left the Arena.
The only thing we actually forgot was that we were once inseparable.
“Fuck Camdon,” Imogen groused as Zara handed us helmets for the Trial. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s a gift. We’ll prove we’re the biggest threats here,” I replied, trying to mean it.
“After the boat fiasco yesterday, you think we can?”
Breathing deep, I dared to take her shoulders. “Im, I trust you. No matter what.”
Her brows flared in a brief spasm, but she nodded, heading off to her position.
Not surprisingly, the Trial required collaboration rather than brute strength. Each woman was rigged on cables while her male opponent was beneath, pulling a network of ropes to levitate his partner across the Arena so she could rip down a dozen dangling Virgin Mary statuettes.
I stood by my ropes ignoring Solana, floating in her harness a few feet away. When the horn sounded and I grabbed the first rope, I hadn’t accounted for interference.
Solana descended on me from above like a harpy, incisors bared, nails scratching at my face. I howled as she dug her claws into the gash I’d received from Hartt a few days prior. Meanwhile, Royce yanked Imogen’s calf, preventing her from reaching the highest statuette.
“That’s allowed?” Shawn hounded Zara, who nodded uneasily. It wasn’t not in the rules.
“Luke, stop being a goddamned gentleman and send Tinkerbitch flying!” Melange yelled.
I roughly pried off Solana and launched her like a pendulum, rushing back to forcefully tug my rope so that Imogen soared free, quickly ripping down four statuettes.
“Luke, left!” Imogen instructed, fire in her eyes. I traded ropes, and as she glided, her shoulder collided squarely into Royce’s nose, foiling his next attempt at accosting her. The whole crowd winced as Royce clutched his face with a whimper, blood gushing.
“It was just gravity,” Imogen stated innocently to Zara after we’d won.
“His nose was in the path of my shoulder. I didn’t put hands on anybody.
Can you say that about the fingernail marks on Luke’s face?
” I hadn’t realized the extent of Solana’s scratches, which looked like someone had tried to murder me by paper cut.
“I guess my face just runs into things,” I joked in our OTF, Imogen proud by my side.
“Are you intending to leave here in one piece?” Troy asked, massaging his temples.
“We’ll be leaving here with $5 million,” Imogen answered for me. “Count on it.”
I’d never been so happy to bleed. Being next to her felt like I’d returned to the ledge of that pool at twenty-two, standing with the girl who swore she’d leap in with me fully clothed. I almost believed she’d never left my side. That I hadn’t driven her away.
Heading to the bus after our interview, Camdon halted us. “You understand, right, Im? Nobody would want to face you two together at the end.”
“Like you’ll get the chance,” she laughed dryly.
He recoiled, contrite veneer instantly gone. “You’ve been riding my coattails since I met you. You only win when you put some guys on a leash to carry you to the end—”
“Hey, no one’s ever carried her anywhere, you sanctimonious piece of shit!” I exploded.
Camdon’s eyes became watery saucers, voice rising an octave.
“You can’t judge me for fighting for my parents…
and my five brothers… and my twelve cousins…
Only the Lord can judge me!” Before he could speak in tongues, I noticed Troy had naturally resumed filming.
An unimpressed Imogen signaled we should continue on our crunchy path through the gravel back to the bus, Camdon babbling in our wake, both of us exhausted. And exhilarated.
“What will you tell the kids about your face?” Imogen asked later that night.
“Rogue cat?”
“Not too far off, actually.” We’d nestled in the penthouse’s window seat, a bowl of popcorn between us. Between the time difference and the lingering adrenaline, neither of us could sleep. “We did well,” she said after a moment. “Almost like old times.”
“You mean the old old times?”
“Yes, Luke, when we competed against the mastodons.”
I chuckled. “Speaking of prehistoric beasts, where’s Helena Malloy these days?”
Imogen rolled her eyes. “Bloodsucker Barbie left after Season 6. She’s a VP at a cable network, last I heard. Never let it be said one can’t fail up in Hollywood.”
“And Mary Peach?” I asked. “Her I actually do miss.”
“Honestly, I think this all became something she didn’t sign up for. But she’s good. According to Instagram, she’s in Utah, married, adopted three kids, runs wilderness tours.” She sighed. “It’s been a long time since anyone here said those names.”
I stared at her, the lights of the city beneath us gently radiating on her cheek. “Any chance you’ll indulge a slightly more in-depth apology now?”
“Who’s it for? Me or you?” she groaned. “Because I’m okay, or I’m getting there at least. Why dig up stuff that neither of us is proud of?”
“To finally take some responsibility for everything I did?”
“You already are. You’re speaking up, you’re championing genuinely good people. You’re… trying to do it right this time.” Her finger traced the popcorn bowl. “I was mad though, when you showed up in Italy.”
“Oh, I got that.”
“Not for why you think, at least not entirely,” she said. “Luke, you have a real life, you actually got out, but you came back to this shit. You know better.”
“Im, it was this or the YMCA,” I answered. “And why’d you stay the whole time, then? Money can’t be the only reason anymore.”
“I didn’t stay the whole time. I missed three seasons.” She pulled her knees to her chest. “After I got married.”
My jaw fell. “You’re married?!”
“Was married, to a dentist I met on OkCupid.” She smirked ruefully.
“I thought I’d run into the sunset, but shockingly I wasn’t meant to be a housewife in Valencia, California.
Anyway, that blew up, and I only knew how to exist…
here. Stay long enough, and you realize not only is this your career, but you also don’t even know anyone outside it.
At least no one who understands what it’s all like.
Besides, Erika had just been cast, so back to the nest I flew. ”
“Imogen, I don’t know what to say…”
“Don’t say anything.” She shrugged. “You keep acting like we’ll resolve the last decade in one conversation. Let’s just enjoy that we’re talking at all.”
I nodded. “On the subject of pleasant surprises… do you trust PB a little more?”
“No, but we have to work with him now.”
“Well, my vote is still your vote.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You sure? I’m zero for one.”
“I’m positive. Just promise we won’t vote against Erika. I won’t ask you to protect Shawn if you don’t want to, but I need to stand by Erika.”
“Me too, so there we go. And I’ve no interest in targeting Shawn.” She fell silent then, gazing across the ocean of electricity below. “God, if he could see us now…”
I didn’t have to ask whom she meant. “I doubt he’d want to see me.”
“He would… I always did,” she replied. “I’d see the new douchebags each season with their popcorn muscles, and I’d catch myself thinking, ‘Luke would kick your asses.’ Then I’d fantasize about me kicking your ass.
Or I’d pass this hipster toy store in Silver Lake that makes children’s furniture with reclaimed wood.
One day it hit me: ‘That’s what I’d buy for Luke’s kids. A little desk, where they could draw.’”
“Want to hear something funny? The only person I knew at the baby shower for Andie was my sister. Well, the only person I liked. The rest were these Republican congressmen’s wives who’d have rather leapt out the window than be there.
So, the sight of you with the reclaimed wood desk would have been supremely welcome.
God, I thought about my dad a lot that day, what he would have said… ”
“He was so kind to me when I met him in LA.”
“Once he got foggy at the end, he’d ask about you. Arjun too… I guess you were my only friends he remembered. Hell, you were the only friends I ever had.”
“What’d you say?”
“I pretended we’d just returned from Season 1 and were planning the trip to Europe,” I answered, the back of my hand grazing my mouth. “You know, I still haven’t been to Paris.”
“Overrated, if you ask me.” Imogen picked at a cuticle. “For the record, I always thought about you. I worried more than I’ll ever admit.”
“Why?”
“Because somewhere in there will always be the boy I knew, no matter what he turned you into. Standing at the airport in Charlotte with your books, just a big blushing nerd tripping all over your own feet, not a goddamned clue what you’d gotten yourself into.
I don’t know why but I just remember instantly deciding…
I gotta look out for him.” She swallowed, rubbing her eyes.
“God, I thought I had everyone’s number back then. ”
“You did though,” I said quietly.
She exhaled, watching me sadly, searching for something in my eyes. “You know, sometimes I think I might be the loneliest person in the world. Never imagined you’d give me a run for my money.”
“No, I have the kids, I could never be lonely when I have them…” I was unable to follow where the thought led, my stomach punching into my spine, finally drawing out the tears.
She slid across the bench to wrap an arm around my shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay.”
“I’m sorry, Imogen. I’m so sorry…”
“No, you’re okay. Everything’s okay.” She leaned me into her side, taking the burden of my weight. “Tell me about your kids.”