Wicked Games (Games #1)(24)
Author: Jessica Clare

Two days later, the next Judgment was held. Since I had been voted off, I wasn’t allowed to go back out to the Judgment Court, but watched via one of the feeds back at camp. Heather was the next one to be voted off—she wasn’t surprised in the slightest, judging by her reaction. I watched the faces of my former alliance—Lana, Will, Leon, and even Dean—and they were expressionless as Heather hugged them and left. Everyone knew exactly why Heather was leaving. It wasn’t that she wasn’t good at the challenges, or annoying around camp. She was simply in the wrong alliance.

At least she knew what was coming for her, I thought with disgust. My gaze rested on the immunity necklace that Dean wore around his neck. He was winning this thing handily.

A few hours later, Heather showed up at the camp designated for the jury. I greeted her with a bottle of wine and a celebratory pizza. “Welcome to loser land,” I said with a smile.

“Check your bitterness at the door?” she teased, setting down her one muddy pack with a weary thump.

“No, the bitterness sticks with you,” I said, hating the hard edge that crept into my voice. “Come on. You look like you could use something to eat.” I led her toward one of the tables, noticing just how very dirty her bikini was in comparison to my cheery white tank top and yellow sarong. “Sit down and you can fill me in about everything that happened at camp after I left.”

“Oh, plenty,” Heather said with a grin, reaching for a slice of pizza even before she sat down. She took a huge bite and chewed with an expression of bliss.

I tried to be patient as she ate, even though I was ridiculously curious about what had been going on back at camp. Had Dean been upset that I’d left? Or was he one of the ones that had voted me out?

Eventually, Heather swallowed and reached for another slice. “It’s been crazy at camp,” she admitted. “Lana’s running the show. Everyone listens to what she says and if you’re not in her special club, you’re gone.”

I tried to ignore the sting of that. I thought I’d been in Lana’s club, after all. I’d given her the last of my peanut butter and shared my secrets with her, and look where it had gotten me. “So Lana voted for me?” I asked.

“All of them did,” Heather agreed. “Dean, Leon, Will, everyone. Lana tells them who to vote for and they do it.”

I flinched. Dean too, eh? “So Dean is in the little club?”

“Oh yeah,” Heather said around a mouthful. “Mr. Gold Medals? Definitely in the club.”

My eyes widened in surprise. “You knew he was an Olympian?”

“Hard not to,” she said with a grin. “First time I saw him swim off the boat, I knew who he was. Plus, he’s real easy on the eyes. You don’t forget something like that.”

Shame colored my face. Apparently some of us did. Maybe I’d have remembered him if he’d have written a book instead of posing on the front of a Wheaties box. “I had no idea.”

“He’s killing everyone in the challenges,” Heather said, reaching for yet another slice. She was devouring the food and I couldn’t blame her. Two days ‘out’ of the game and I still felt the urge to eat every ten minutes. “Dean’s mopping up everything. He’s lucky he’s in good with Lana.”

“Oh?” I said, trying to play it casual. “Are he and Lana tight?”

“Really tight now that you’re gone,” she said, and it felt like a dagger in my heart. “Every time anyone turns around, he’s got his head near Lana’s and they’re whispering about something. Lana’s the one in charge but I wonder how much Dean has his hand in. Probably a lot more than I realized.”

Me too. “I wonder if he’s sleeping with her too.”

Heather choked on her pizza. “You slept with him?” Her mouth hung open and revealed a half-eaten bite of pizza. “Are you f**king kidding me? On TV?”

My face grew hot with embarrassment. “I thought everyone knew. You guys were teasing us about it back when we merged.”

“Oh my god.” Her eyes widened. “Dude, we thought he was just stringing you along for your vote. You looked totally lovesick over him and we were convinced… well… that it wasn’t, you know…”

“Mutual?” I offered. The thought hurt me far more than it should have. I ignored the tears pricking behind my eyes and reached for a slice of pizza myself. “They’re playing to win,” I said in a light voice. “I guess I can’t blame them.”

But I totally could. And I did. Dean and Lana had been playing to win, and they’d used me. I wouldn’t forget that.

***

Days passed, the game went on, and the loser lodge slowly filled with more people. One by one, the tribe whittled down to just the alliance, and then Will showed up, equally shocked and hurt that he’d been betrayed by Lana. Leon and Shanna and Lana and Dean made up the final four in the game, each one growing more gaunt and dirty as the days passed.

I still thought Dean was beautiful. I hated him now, but I could still enjoy looking at him, I supposed. Each person that returned to the loser lodge filled in a different piece of the story, but all of their stories lined up—Lana was running the show, and Dean sat back and let her call the shots. Meanwhile, Dean continued to clean up in challenges. They were an unstoppable duo, and it seemed to be a foregone conclusion that they’d be the final two. No one was really surprised when Shanna showed up at the loser lodge, and Leon a few days later.

Thanks to my ever-increasing amount of duties from the crew, I didn’t get a chance to spend a lot of time with the rest of the jury. For one, I didn’t want to—I was still hideously embarrassed that I’d been suckered by Dean. It was just as well, because when they found out I was here thanks to MediaWeek, they’d given me a skeptical eye and their conversations turned to whispers—no one wanted to be a chapter in my book. I couldn’t blame them. I really couldn’t. So I kept busy with the crew, filming highlights and reviewing the reels they allowed me, even going on location to film a TV special on The Making of Endurance Island. And if I felt a little lonely and left out… well, that was the price I paid.

Soon enough, it was time for the final tribal council. For this special episode, we’d get to dress up in our swankiest gear and sit in front of the two remaining contestants and listen to them answer questions. Then we’d vote for the winner in an elaborate ceremony.

After that… home. And a chance to return to my old life. I couldn’t wait. I would have been thrilled if I never saw another island ever again in my life. Ever.

That didn’t stop me from trying to look my best for the big finale, though. All the voted–off women clustered in the single bathroom in the lodge, applying makeup and fixing their hair (despite the overwhelming humidity). I was no different; I wanted to look my absolute best when the camera closed in on me. I wanted Dean to see how ridiculously hot I was, how clean and healthy and attractive.

And I wanted him to regret using me, just a little.

Of course, I was a wallflower compared to the other women in the lodge. They all cleaned up way better than I did, which was a bit depressing. I wouldn’t think about that too much, I thought to myself as Shanna strolled past in a pale scarf-skirt that put my breezy island dress to shame.

Ah well.

When we were primped and ready, the jury filed into the show’s van and drove to the far side of the island, where the game was still being held. A short drive later, the van parked and we spilled out, the jury members laughing and a little bit tipsy. A frowning production assistant shushed us, clipboard in hand. “When we motion for you, we need you to file in to the council room in the order that you were voted out. Abby, that means you’re first.”

I moved to the front of the line, my hands fluttering down my dress. At the producer’s signal, I straightened, tossed my clean, bouncy hair over my shoulder and stalked onto the Council stage. It had been dressed up for the final council. A bonfire burned in between us and the two remaining contestants, and lit tiki torches dotted the oversized hut that we kept tribal council in. Wooden masks covered the walls, and palm leafs had been strewn about the set, adding an outdoorsy vibe to the interior, and soft tribal music was piped in to set the mood.

I walked carefully forward in my swingy little green dress that brought out my eyes and matched my only pair of heeled sandals on the island. Moving from the darkness into the lights of the council stage blinded me for a moment, and I concentrated on walking to the spot the producers pointed me to. I moved there and sat down elegantly on the carved wooden stool, then crossed my long legs, folded my hands, and stared at my enemies.

Lana and Dean looked filthy and exhausted. Lana’s fragility was obvious, but there was a hidden core of strength to her and her posture was defiant. My gaze slid to Dean. He was more casual, leaning over one knee and resting his weight there. His cheeks were a little more hollow than I remembered, and his clothing was filthy, but he sat up straight as I walked in, and his eyes followed me. I ignored him, my back stiff with tightly wound anger as the other jurors filed in. He tried to meet my eyes, but I looked away.

Chip smiled at all of us as we sat. “Welcome to the final Judgment,” he said in his best game-show voice. “It’s been a long journey to get here—six weeks on the island. During that time, you’ve learned a little bit about each other, and you’ve competed together. You’ve fought hard to get where you are, but you’ve burned some bridges along the way. It’s inevitable. And now it’s their turn to judge you.” He turned to the jury and gave us a brilliant smile, made all the more leering by the shadows. “Each of you will have the chance to interview the last two contestants, and when the interview is over, you’ll cast your jury ballot. Vote for who you want to be the two million dollar winner.” His eyes gleamed in the torchlight. “Understand?”

The jury nodded.

“Let’s begin with…” Chip reached into a bag and pulled out a name written on a seashell. He flipped it over in his hand. “Leon. Stand up and ask your questions.”

The big, tattooed man moved forward, and Lana turned to watch him. I took that moment to sneak a peek at Dean.

His gaze was still on me. Flustered, I broke eye contact and looked over to Leon, who was speaking. “Lana,” Leon began, “did you, or did you not, make an alliance with all of us on this island?”

She gave a sly smile. “I did. I approached Will first and then Dean and Abby since their camp was next to ours. Then when we had the switch, I suggested an alliance with you. And I had you pull in your old partner, and Will pulled in his. Then it was easy for me to approach the others and offer them the same thing—final four.” She gave a small, unconcerned shrug. “You have to do some lying to get ahead in this game. It’s unavoidable.”

Leon turned toward Dean and gestured. “Is that true? Did you have to lie to get ahead in this game?”

“Yes,” said Dean immediately.