“No, I was just… assessing our team.”
“Then howdy, teammate. Melange Mason. Well, Melanie Angelica, but everyone calls me Melange except her.” She indicated Chrissy. “She addresses me only with expletives, though admittedly I’ve referred to her as ‘Big Bitch’ since our grandma’s eightieth.”
“Oh, you’re related! You must be on—”
“Good oldMason Dixon. Chrissy’s my cousin. Troy puts us on the same team since I’m usually the only girl who gets a rise out of her. Otherwise she’s basically a slutty coma patient.”
It felt risky to bond with the mortal enemy of Hartt’s girlfriend, but I needed intel fast. I gestured to the Angels. “So, anybody over there who might be a threat to our side?”
“Our side, how precious.” Still she indulged me, eyeing the Angels and nodding toward Imogen and Greta. “I believe you know Bachelorettes #1 and #2 pretty well already.”
“That’s an understatement, and I can’t imagine who’d classify Greta as an Angel.”
“It’s all relative, mister. You flew in with Jiamin and Winston. Winston’s one helluva runner if given the chance, and Jiamin’s the ultimate puzzle queen. I think she was studying physics in Beijing beforeModel Citizensrecruited her and she moved to New York?”
I sized up a strapping all-American bro with a buzz cut. “Who’s the Ken doll?”
“Camdon. He didMedals of Honorlike your old pal. Olympic volleyball player, goody two-shoes, at least on camera. He’s best pals with Royce.” She pointed to the tall Black man who’d joined Camdon and Imogen in conversation. “Royce is a Tennessee guy, Army vet beforeMedals. They always align with Imogen. She bosses them around easily enough.”
“Really?” I tried to suppress any bitterness over my replacements.
“Not that they hold a candle to her original trio.” She paused, testing me.
I bit my tongue, not ready to get too familiar, then noticed the young guy with the pouty lips had been cornered by Bal, whose spiteful eyes cut my way. “Who’s Balthazar chatting up?”
“Shawn. He crossed over fromBeverly Blondelast season. Total sweetie, but I wouldn’t call him a mastermind. Cute though.” That was obvious. He had a swimmer’s build and ivory skin, mahogany locks bouncing as he yet again averted his gaze.
“Pretty sure Balthazar’s poisoning the well for me.”
“Yeah, Bal picks fights for camera time. I’d give him a wide berth,” Melange warned as the sporty trans woman joined their huddle.
“That’s Erika, of course. Good egg, private, but I get why…obviously.” Melange stared at me pointedly, judgment creeping into her voice. I understood: Erika would naturally have to protect herself from people like… me. I breathed deep. My reputational course correction had to begin somewhere; might as well be with the tiny Texan.
“I can’t even imagine being a trans woman in this environment. It’s brave of her.” I felt slimy forcing it into the conversation, but I meant every word. “My politics aren’t my husband’s,” I added for good measure before realizing. “Ex-husband.”
“Praise God for lesser mercies,” she replied flatly.
I didn’t want to belabor the point, so I indicated the only Angel still unidentified: a boulder of a man who’d yet to bother putting on his jersey. Eyes closed, he swayed like a horse asleep on its feet, the beads of sweat on his bald head glittering under the lights. As Mitch would have said, he was a “hoss,” at least 6’5” and 300 pounds, easy. “Who’s the giant?”
“Everybody, back to one. Trying this again!” Zara declared before Melange could answer, all of us resuming our marks. “Monitors look good,” Zara confirmed. “Action, Drew!”
“Welcome toEndeavor: Angels vs. Devils!” Drew boomed. “Get readyfor Tribulations and Trials like never before, starting right now! We’re going right back to thebeginning, to Eden itself, with a little game I like to call… ‘Snake and Bake’!”
With that god-awful pun, the chain mail whipped off to reveal the irate reptiles. Two narrow plexiglass tunnels curved through the open-air terrarium like the serpents surrounding them, mirroring each other’s winding paths. Each tunnel had six porthole-like openings staggered on top. Golden apples were scattered amongst the writhing snakes along each tunnel’s route,barelywithin reach if you popped out from the holes and leaned to grab them.
“Both teams will select six people, at least two of each gender, to crawl through these tunnels. Each person will retrieve an apple with a number on it, which together form a code to unlock those.” Ecklund gestured to two identical boxes on nearby tables before tossing one last smirk to the cameras. “And if you win any Tribulation, win the first.”
“Teams! Decide who will be in the tunnels,” Zara instructed. “Five minutes.”
I finally intercepted Hartt as we huddled up. “You said Imogen wasn’t coming…”
“Sorry, bro. I guess the network ponied up, but don’t let her get in your head.” His voice lowered, the swagger briefly softening. “You’re onmyteam now. I got you, dawg.”
I nodded, surprised how much he seemed to mean it. Besides, what choice did I have?
Two cameras broke away from the bank, like alien explorers departing the mother ship. Zara took one cameraman and boom operator to the Angels, while Troy brought his to us. He playfully waved a hand over his face, ridiculously mouthing, “I’m not here.”
“Greetings, fellow misfits,” Hartt began.
