Chapter 7
Jet lag hits me hard the next morning. It took me hours to fall asleep, namely because I was fretting about the plan, and then I only slept for what felt like two hours.
I wake to the sound of Nate returning from a run, his sneakers loud on the floor and his breathing heavy as he plods toward the bathroom and turns on the shower.
When he paces back and forth between the bathroom and his luggage a third time, I give up any hope of falling back asleep.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re as quiet as a fucking mouse in the morning?” I don’t hide the bitterness in my voice. Not that I can when I’m this tired and not caffeinated.
Nate doesn’t miss a beat as he rummages through his bag for clothes. “Can’t say anyone has. Though you’re probably the only person who’d admit to knowing what a mouse fucking sounds like.”
“That’s not what—” I pinch the bridge of my nose. Correcting Nate isn’t worth the effort. “Never mind. If you won’t let me sleep, I’m going to need coffee. Lots of it.”
“There’s a coffeemaker over there.” He points to a standard single-cup brewer. “Or I’m planning on grabbing breakfast at the buffet after I shower if you want to come with me. To breakfast, that is. Shower is all mine.”
“Gee, I was totally about to jump in the shower with you.”
“That’s why I had to be clear. You may have forgotten I’m only pretending to be Brody.”
“Okay, gross. I would say it’s too early for this conversation, but I hope to never have it again. Just hurry so I can get a decent dose of coffee ASAP.”
If I’m going to deal with jet lag and Nate today, a single cup of coffee at a time will not cut it.
The breakfast buffet is everything our check-in clerk, Berta, promised and more.
Station after station of food from around the world welcomes us with an aroma that is both confusing and enticing.
My stomach rumbles, though I’m not much of a breakfast person.
Coffee, the elixir of life, is always the top priority.
The only downside to breakfast, aside from the company, is the laughably small coffee cups that could easily be mistaken for a kid’s tea set.
Nate disagrees just to be difficult, but at least he tries hiding his smirk when I fill two mugs for myself.
“How can you eat before an excursion?” I ask as Nate polishes off an omelet. “You’re not worried about puking?”
“Twenty bucks you’ve never asked the real Brody that question.”
“Brody knows what he’s doing.”
“And I…?”
“Do not.”
Nate rolls his eyes. “I need food to continue existing, Abigail. Not all of us can survive on coffee and a wish.”
“Fine, but if you upchuck while filming, I can’t guarantee I’ll remove it from the brand materials. Maybe they’ll keep it in the final cut of Rush. Then there’s really no coming back.”
“You say that as if this is my brand to worry about. By the end of the season, Brody will be trending on social media for gaining 20 pounds of pure food bliss and losing this whack-ass hairstyle.” He gives his bun a squeeze before heading back to the buffet.
I’m left with no choice but to refill my two mugs and then consider going back for a third.
Even without Nate facing his first excursion, today is doomed to be a long one.
We finish breakfast and make it to the meeting spot with over 15 minutes to spare, but we aren’t the first ones there.
Jamie stands in the resort’s open lobby in a loose-fitting black tank top and the shortest athletic shorts I’ve ever seen in an olive color that accentuates her toned, tan legs.
Despite the additional platform her sneakers offer and the top knot she’s pulled her hair into, she can’t be taller than 5’2”.
Towering over her in plum high-rise biker shorts, a matching crop top, and white sneakers, I feel ridiculous.
Especially since it took me a solid hour to get ready (not counting the 20 minutes I spent slathering on sunscreen while Nate complained about it being too early for the coconut smell) while Jamie looks effortlessly pulled together and confident about embarking on another season of Rush.
“Morning, Brody!” she greets, beaming. “Abigail, you’re coming with?”
“For a bit,” I say, adjusting my backpack straps to have something to do with my hands. “I need to get some content of Brody in action.”
“Right. Well, Dave and Corbin will be here in a few. The rest of the crew is getting set up on site. I’m excited to kick off another season!”
Nate murmurs his agreement before I pull him away to create some quick social content. We wrap up just as Dave and Corbin arrive in a pair of Jeeps driven by two men I don’t recognize.
“Everybody in!” Jamie cheers, gesturing to the vehicles. “Brody and Abigail, you can take the back one. We have logistics to discuss in ours along the way.”
After a quiet 20-plus minute ride, our Jeep pulls off to the side of the road next to a sign I can’t read. Beneath the words, though, there is a picture of a person walking with a stick, a volcano, and an arrow pointing toward the path. A hike.
Given the excursions I’ve seen Brody tackle in prior seasons, this is plenty easy.
Not something Nate can mess up terribly.
What’s hiking other than a glorified walk?
Given the way Nate’s white athletic tee stretches across his toned chest and his navy shorts—longer than what Brody would wear but not noticeably so—show off his runner’s legs, he’s in shape enough for this.
Heck, it’s even something I can do at least part of to get more behind-the-scenes content of “Brody,” which his fans will eat up.
A quick conversation with the crew while Nate shoots intro content confirms I can join them partway, turn around with a guide at a vista, and head back to the resort.
I’ll miss the volcano, but I can imagine what one looks like.
Besides, with my luck on this trip so far, I’d end up in the lava or push Nate in. Best to just get what I need and get out.
The hike doesn’t seem too bad at first, even as our group sets a quick pace.
Nate leads, followed by Corbin, a second cameraman from the B crew already on site, then a guide, Dave, Jamie, and the second guide with me bringing up the rear.
The rainforest is thick with glorious shade, the air heavy with the earthy scents of forest and a hint of flowers.
Birds trill above and unseen creatures stir in the underbrush, a rhythmic contrast to my ragged breaths and pounding heart.
When I get back to Vegas, Corina and I need to up our spin classes because my lungs burn and my legs ache. The rest of the group moves with steady confidence, while I pause under the guise of taking artsy nature shots. The second guide stays with me, likely worried I’ll pass out.
If I’m lagging, at least the reward is worth it.
There are rolling green valleys, clusters of tiny villages, farmland stretching toward mist-wrapped mountains.
The view is breathtaking, though not as much as my struggle to keep up.
I only need to reach the turnaround point since I have what I came for.
Then the trail gets really mean. Steeper. Rockier. Narrower. Sweat drips down my face, a sure sign my hair is a lost cause. I’d quit if I could, but I refuse to let anyone have the satisfaction of watching me fail.
Finally, the trees part, revealing a spectacular panorama Jamie confirms is the end of my hike.
For the first time since we started, I stop out of awe instead of exhaustion.
Hills stretch endlessly below, sunlight turning the greenery to gold.
Despite my aching body and the return hike taunting me, the view is worth it.
I linger, using the break to rest and rehydrate, as the crew works with Nate to get some sound bites for the show.
Given how well Nate’s doing with the charade and hike so far, I’m less worried about the twin-switch plan or his abilities.
The only thing I’m really concerned about is Jamie, who’s eyeing Nate with an intent I can’t make sense of—or don’t want to.
I wait for Dave to call cut to snap a few photos of “Brody” at the vista. “These are great,” I say to reassure Nate. Knowing he’s doing a good job will keep him motivated.
When he smirks and replies, “Of course they are,” sounding too much like Brody, I no longer want to play nice.
I raise my voice to ensure the crew can hear me, then say, “Best of luck on the rest of the trail, Snookums!”
Nate’s face turns beet red, which I capture in a final photo.
His eyes narrow in a challenge. “Giving up so soon?”
“I need to get back and manage your brand.” There’s more to say that I don’t want the crew catching.
I walk over and click off Nate’s mic. After making clear eye contact so he knows I’m 100% acting, I loop my arms over his shoulders and press our bodies against each other in a hug.
Despite my signals, Nate still struggles to catch on.
“You got this?” I whisper in his ear as his arms circle my waist. Loose, but present.
“Would have been more reassuring if you had said it as a statement and not as a question.”
It’s most definitely a question because I need to know he has this under control, but I’ve been here for the first portion of the hike and seen it for myself. Nate knows what he’s doing, at least for now. He doesn’t need me planting ideas to the contrary when he still has so much hike left.
“I think it’s going well,” I say instead, feeling Nate’s body bristle against mine.
“Me too.” His words are a warm exhale into my hair.
“I don’t want to jinx anything, but if today is any indicator…” I don’t dare finish my statement, but Nate is right there with me.
“We might actually pull this off.”