Season 20, Episode 10 “The Book of Luke, Vol. 2”
Where’s Mr. Shawn?” Andie asked.
Troy eyed me from across the room. I wasn’t allowed to reveal Shawn was gone, but I had no clue what Barnes had already mentioned. “He’s busy, but he said to tell you hi.”
She shoved Wallace as he leaned on her. “Don’t do that to your brother,” I said.
“He always does this now,” she whined, and his head defiantly perched on her shoulder once again as proof. “Wally, stop! So did you win the Tribulation this week, Daddy?”
Again Troy raised an eyebrow. I never fathomed Zara would become my more lenient jailer.
And I hadn’t won the previous day’s Tribulation, our last one before the final episode.
It had been a memory puzzle involving bungee jumping, and I’d placed an unlucky third behind Erika and Fortune (and his damn photographic memory).
Thus, by arbitrary Endeavor decree, Imogen, PB, Greta, Barnes, and I were all in the final Trial.
Only three would advance alongside Erika and Fortune, and I refused to let Barnes be included.
But I couldn’t discuss that with our daughter.
“Honey, let’s not talk about the game. Have you thought about where to go for your special birthday trip?
We’re only a month away from your big day… ”
“That’s not for forever,” she replied, slouching in her chair.
“Andie, come on, you’re too big to act like this.”
“Why can’t you and Baba talk to us together? These calls take twice as long now, and we either have to get up early, or I lose screen time at night—”
“Andie, we had this conversation,” Jenny warned off-screen.
“I’m tired of saying the same thing twice a day!”
“Then you don’t have to, Andie!” I snapped, my temper finally breaking.
She glared at me through the screen, looking so much like Barnes, so much like her father. I didn’t understand this sudden shift in her attitude. She’d been in a decent mood for weeks now, hadn’t she? Or had I just been too self-absorbed to pay close enough attention?
“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. Go watch TV, it’s okay,” I said, working to mean it but so jealous Barnes had gone first today. I tried not to dwell on her relief as she sprinted off, summoning a smile for Wallace while he listlessly described his new swim class.
“I wouldn’t take it personally,” Jenny said, bringing the laptop with her to the living room sofa after Wallace too had left. “They’re like this constantly right now.”
“I don’t find that encouraging.”
“Just stay focused. It’s almost over, and you’ll be home in a week. Though I can’t imagine the kids behaving like hobgoblins helps after what happened to that Vanessa girl.”
Hairs prickled down my neck, and even Troy’s face betrayed rare confusion. “What about Vanessa?” I asked.
“I saw online she was hospitalized in New York,” she replied, retrieving the article. “It says her landlord found her unconscious in the stairwell… Doesn’t go into specifics, but it’s a click-bait blog, not the Times. If it was serious, I’m sure your producers would have heard.”
“You would know, right, Troy?” I asked after the call ended.
His teeth dragged over his lower lip, ruminating.
“The network does usually alert us if something like this hits the press, but if family’s with her, they might be keeping things quiet.
That said, Vanessa doesn’t really have any family.
She still lists PB as her emergency contact.
” He forced a half-hearted laugh, but his eyes flitted nervously.
“Has anyone called PB’s cell?”
“I’ll check, but Vanessa’s hardly a Jane Doe. Like your sister said, it’s probably tabloid bullshit, and Vanessa got a little too wasted. I’ll give PB a heads-up though.”
My stomach involuntarily bottomed out at this proposal.
PB would never quit the show—his expulsion of Jiamin proved that—but this would make him spiral at the worst possible time.
He was so close to both of us being in the final, the last requirement to satisfy his bargain with the network, and despite all the upheaval in our relationship I did feel I owed him that.
Besides, even if PB left Queenstown that minute, he wouldn’t get to New York for at least a day.
For all we knew, Vanessa was nursing a hangover on the A train right now…
“Can I tell PB?” I asked Troy. “It’ll be better coming from me.”
“Sure, I’ll get a camera—”
“Off camera. It’s the decent thing,” I said, and he actually scoffed.
Obviously not the argument to use on Troy.
“Plus, you want Vanessa back stirring the pot eventually, right? Zara said she was uninsurable for at least a year. Won’t putting more damaging info on camera just get her banned from the show forever? ”
He crossed his arms, impressed. “And the suits were skeptical of how you’d reacclimate to the politics of the game… Okay, I’ll give you a wide berth.”
I left Troy and rushed to the empty gym, submerging myself in a furious upper-body circuit that no one would dare interrupt.
This would buy me time until everyone else had eaten lunch and drifted off for the afternoon naps that had become customary in New Zealand.
I had to avoid PB like the plague until the Trial, for his best interest… and for mine.
2005
SEASON 3, EPISODE 2:
“Misty Mourning”
In Alaska, I learned there are two ways to avoid someone: keep yourself totally inaccessible, or surround yourself with people to hide in plain sight.
We’d just filmed the second Trial of Season 3, and several of us were soaking in the lodge’s hot tub, the backyard so spacious it was practically a field. Barnes had purposefully drifted inside while I cradled a red Solo of rum and Coke, making nominal conversation with other stragglers.
As the cameras leered, Arjun ran his finger flirtatiously up the forearm of a vacant brunette named Misty who hailed from a home-improvement show.
A volunteer carpenter had accidentally fired a nail gun into her Maltipoo (Snowbell lived), and in exchange for not suing, she’d been gifted a slot on Endeavor.
No one expected her to last long, which was perhaps why Arjun had directed his attentions upon her.
Eventually Greta baited Misty into a fight (impressively, Greta actually made it about the maimed Maltipoo).
Their screed carried across the lawn, boom ops flitting languidly after them like lightning bugs in the summer night.
I was surprised Arjun remained with me, twisting his thin silver necklace around his fingers.
“No more puka shells?” I finally remarked.
“So 2003.” A small grin escaped. “And they didn’t go with my beard.”
“Really? I bet she would have loved them.”
“Wow, coming in with the burns. I wonder who taught you that.” He paused. “Sorry.”
I brushed it off with a limp smile. “Barnes is admittedly a firecracker.”
“The word you’re looking for is ‘starter.’ Fire starter.” He chuckled. “He’d probably take that as a compliment. I can see the campaign slogan now: ‘Vote America’s Arsonist!’”
“You’ve always liked naming things. Did you soft-launch ‘ArMisty’ yet? ‘MisJun’?”
His smile dimmed across the churning water, any retort silenced.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “She seems sweet.”
“No, I’m sorry,” he eventually replied. “For real. I… am… sorry…”
“What for?”
“Bit of a grab bag, isn’t it? How I behaved in LA to start… but that’s still not as bad as the shit I said last season.” He leaned forward, hugging his knees beneath the surface. “I barely recognized us when the show aired. It was like they’d cast actors to play our parts.”
“I never watched it. Barnes did, but I…”
“Had other things going on?” he supplied quietly. “I was so sad to hear about your dad. When Imogen told me… I figured the kinder choice was not to intrude.”
I remembered Mitch’s final two weeks that February, the hazy mumbling as he peered into the corners of the ceiling.
“It’s always the corners,” the hospice nurse said with sobering neutrality.
“That’s where they see their angels.” How many times had I convinced myself I wouldn’t see Arjun’s face one day in my own corners?
That I didn’t want him bounding down the hospital hallway with stale coffee?
That I wanted no one but Barnes clutching my hand?
The hot tub timer clicked, the water abruptly ceasing to churn, and we broke eye contact in the silence. “You know, I’ve been thinking lately about what people owe each other, to family, friends, themselves… Who takes priority,” he finally continued.
I sniffed ruefully. “What did you decide, O philosopher king?”
“That if the ranking’s fixed, somebody you care about always loses. That person never comes first. And for a long time, that was you for me.” I’d never seen him like this, no charm, no arrogance. He was just there, the boy who’d run away. “Are you happy with him?” he asked.
“Of course.”
He nodded, taking my answer at face value or trying to. “Well, if anyone deserves to leave here on a high note, it’s you.”
“Leave here?”
“It’s obviously your last season. I know a farewell tour when I see one.”
He stared expectantly at me, but I knew there was no point in denying it. “So let’s send you off right, then? One last LuMoJun victory for old times’ sake,” he said, cracking a barely there smile that still made me ache. “We started this as friends. Can we finish it that way?”
“I’d like that,” I quietly answered. “I’d like that a lot.”
Afterward I pulled Barnes into a shower in the communal bathroom, water cloaking us.
“Who made the first move?” he asked.
“He started talking on his own. He wants to bury the hatchet. Clean slate.”
“You got that far in one conversation? Look at my big bad double agent go,” Barnes teased, slyly kissing me. “Your plan’s off to a great start…”