Chapter 15 Sierra
Sierra
Sierra cracked a fourth egg into the pan and watched the goo turn white with a satisfying sizzle. On the other pan, strips of bacon cracked and snapped happily in oil.
“What is happening right now?” Beck said, stumbling out of his room bleary-eyed.
Sierra pointed her spatula at the popped toast. “Butter those.”
He sleepily pulled a knife from the cutlery drawer and dug butter out of the fridge as Sierra flipped the bacon.
“Why are you making breakfast?”
“Because it’s breakfast time. Sort of.” The clock showed eleven.
“There’s a dining hall full of food across the courtyard.”
“Are you complaining?” Sierra snapped.
“No. Nope. Definitely not.”
Sierra was in a bad mood, and she had no qualms taking it out on her teammates.
They’d only scored one snag, while Team Dread had swept up three.
That gave them far too many advantages. Seeing Carter puke all over Jarius might have helped Sierra feel better if she wasn’t sure that something was off about the way that drink had hit Carter last night.
It had happened too fast, and Carter had been completely out of it when the car brought them back to the villas. Something wasn’t right.
Worst of all, Sierra hadn’t had any opportunities to check out Elijah and Lisa’s terrace.
There was always someone around, and Elijah’s window was right off the patio, so no hope of searching when he was asleep.
The only time she’d managed to get out there while he and Lisa were at dinner, the gate had been locked.
She needed to get to that terrace.
“What’s going on?” Adi appeared, hair freshly damp from the shower.
“Evidently Sierra is making us breakfast?” Beck said, with an exaggerated shrug.
Adi looked equally suspicious as he took in the scene. “Why are we not eating in the dining hall?”
“What? A leader can’t make breakfast for her team?”
Adi stage-whispered to Beck, “Is she trying to poison us?”
But Beck, who had taken a bite of bacon, moaned giddily. “I dunno, but O-M-G, why does this taste so good?”
“I soaked it in maple syrup.” Sierra smiled sweetly. “It covers the taste of the arsenic.”
Beck stopped chewing. Then he shrugged and swallowed. “Worth it.”
“Real talk,” she said. “I don’t trust the executive producers not to mess with the food. Like I told Beck before, some people got food poisoning right before last season’s finale. I’d bet anything it was done on purpose. You know. For the drama.” She danced her fingers along with the word.
“You sound paranoid,” said Adi.
“My sister was left dead in a coffin, and you think I’m paranoid?”
“Fair point.”
The boys took their plates to the dining table as Sierra headed down the corridor. She knocked on the bedroom door. “Carter?”
No answer.
Sierra opened up. Carter had been breathing through the night and continued to do so now. Sierra used her foot to nudge the trash can away from the bed—she’d put it there in case Carter needed to vomit again.
A croaky voice said from under the blanket, “I don’t feel so good.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“What happened?”
Sierra pulled off the blanket. “We got a car back from the party. Hopefully before any executive producers caught wind of the incident.”
Carter flung an arm over her eyes. Her hair was beginning to frizz out of the bonnet that Sierra had clumsily put on her last night. “What incident?”
“You threw up on Jarius.”
“I—what?” Carter’s arm flung away again. Her eyes were wide and slightly red.
“You remember Fitzy buying you a drink, right?” Sierra said darkly.
“Yes, but . . . not much after that. And it wasn’t alcohol!” Carter rolled out of bed, staggering slightly, then pulled off her bonnet. “I swear.”
“Come on.” Sierra ushered her out the door, to the dining table where Beck and Adi were halfway through their eggs. “Sit. Eat.”
“Ish sho good,” Beck said through his bulging cheeks.
Carter sank unsteadily onto a seat. Sierra served her a plate and a cup of coffee.
“I don’t understand,” Carter said.
“Fitzy spiked your drink.”
Adi and Beck stopped eating.
“It’s obvious,” she said, pouring herself the rest of the coffee. “He got you a drink and threw a pill in it.”
“In a room full of people?” Adi said. “Someone would’ve seen him.”
“Do you have any other ideas how her drink was spiked?”
“She had more than one drink last night,” Beck said.
“I was with her the rest of the time.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Fitzy wouldn’t spike my drink,” Carter said quietly. “He’s not like that.”
Sierra scoffed, leaning back on the kitchen counter as she sipped her coffee.
Carter frowned. “Why are you so against him?”
“Someone here killed Alicia.”
“Yeah, you!” shouted Carter. But then she flinched and pressed a hand to her temple. “At least, we think so. Is that what we still think?” She looked to Beck and Adi for confirmation. Adi shrugged, and Beck ducked his head to shovel more food into his mouth. Carter groaned. “My head hurts.”
“Eat,” Sierra ordered, as there was a sharp knock on the front door. She glanced out the window, swore under her breath, and went to unlock it. “Hello, Ranielle.”
Ranielle Russell, in a forest-green power suit, burst past her, a long, manicured fingernail pointing at Carter. “You.”
Carter looked like a rabbit caught in a snare.
“Out,” Ranielle said. “Pack your bags. You’re gone.”
“Hang on—” Adi started, half getting out of his chair.
“Sit down, or you’re gone, too.” Ranielle’s knife-sharp glare returned to Carter. “We have rules on this show for a reason, and you think because you’re a filthy little influencer you can break them?”
“I—I—didn’t—” Carter’s eyes were wet.
“Save it. You’re done. Delete your account. Stay off social media.” Ranielle’s lips curved into a cruel smile. “You’re going to want to, anyway, after the videos that have been posted.”
Carter let out a horrified sob.
“Oh, come off the power trip,” Sierra said, slamming the door shut. “She didn’t touch any alcohol. Her drink was spiked. By your host.”
At this, Ranielle’s expression flickered. It was incredibly brief, but Sierra was watching for it. The uncertainty. The . . . panic?
Sierra added with a snarl, “If you take Carter out of the game, you can be sure it’ll come out how dodgy your precious James Fitzgerald is.”
“Fitzy?” Of all things, Ranielle laughed. Her tense posture relaxed. “Nice try, Sierra.”
“He was the one who ordered her drink.”
“Fitzy’s under a stricter contract than you, and has way more to lose. Besides, the bar staff was told to watch everyone like a hawk. The last thing we need is more bad publicity.” At this, Ranielle scoffed. “So much for that.”
“Well, someone spiked Carter’s drink,” Beck said. “We were with her, and she definitely didn’t have any alcohol.”
Ranielle’s fury wavered. She stared at Beck, but it was more with contemplation than fury. Sierra recognized that expression. Ranielle Russell was about to turn things in her favor.
“Are you saying,” Ranielle said slowly, “that one of the other competitors tried to sabotage you?”
Beck looked alarmed. “I— No, I didn’t mean—”
“A vicious attack on an opposing team.” Ranielle practically breathed it. “A jealous rival desperate to win the cash—desperate enough to poison the fandom’s beloved Kick It Carter.”
“Beloved?” Adi said. “A second ago, you were calling her a filthy little influencer.”
“That’s show business,” Ranielle said without a hint of remorse.
“Carter, clean yourself up and shoot a video explaining what happened. No—better yet, stay a mess. Do it now, while those big brown eyes are still filled with tears. Really sell how violated you feel, and make sure you finish with a statement that you’re going to win this season no matter what.
Send it to me for review before you post.”
Carter looked horrified. “If my parents find out, they’ll freak.”
“As will our viewers,” said Ranielle, smirking. “What are you waiting for? Go!”
Carter pulled herself from the table and trudged back into the bedroom. Satisfied, Ranielle turned back toward the door, where Sierra was still standing.
“And you,” she said. “Keep my crew out of it.”
“I don’t take orders from you, Ranielle.”
“You do now, if you want that prize money. I can boot you from the show as quickly as I rubber-stamped your return.” Ranielle Russell stalked to the door, leaning close before whispering, “And believe me, if I’d had my way, you wouldn’t have been rubber-stamped at all.”
“Please. I’m the best thing that could have happened to you this season. Watch the viewer numbers soar when the first episode drops this weekend.”
“You are a liability and a huge pain in my neck. But Hitflix thought you’d make for great entertainment.
‘The Sister Slayer, back for redemption, or back for revenge?’ ” She rolled her eyes, like such clickbait was beneath her, even though Sierra knew she lived for precisely that sort of manufactured drama.
“But I’m warning you, Sierra. You want to be in the finale? Then you’d better play the game.”