“Troy, you’re gay. You have every reason to make me look bad.”
With a resigned sigh, he pulled out his phone, scrolling until he found an old picture of me with a tan teenage boy at anEndeavorfan event, a photo of a photo, probably circa 2004. “I was going to show you this whenever you wrapped, but now seems better.”
“That’s you?”
“Luke, I came out because of you andEndeavor. You showed me how crucial it is to control your own story, what happens when someone makes you hide who you are.”
A pang seized in my stomach, as if anyone could label me the hero of that story. “Yeah, an asshole like me ruins your life. Bal hit the nail on the head.”
“I meant how Arjun kept your relationship in the closet, made you pretend. When you finally told your truth, it was messy, but it was honest. It inspired a lot of people, me included. That’s why I started working in reality TV, firstBeverly Blonde, nowEndeavor. Plus, uh, you were my first celebrity crush,” he said, blushing. Was he overplaying his hand now, doing what a producer did best and crafting a narrative? Sincere or not, he needed to think I believed him.
“Troy, that’s very flattering, but I’m—”
“Oh God! I didn’t mean—I have a partner back home! Going on seven years! I’m not throwing myself at a contestant, I swear,” Troy said, a throaty laugh escaping him. “What I’m trying to say is… I hope you go far. It’s the show I’d want to see.”
“Hartt’s going to make that pretty impossible.”
A grin broke across his face as he pocketed his phone. “My friend, nothing’s more compelling than the impossible.”
The combo of jet lag and my sleepless night was catching up to me by the time I emerged from the confessional into the midday haze of the cast partying. I noticed the only people absent were Imogen and Erika. Imogen was smart. She’d waited until the cover of the party to tell Erika, far from the maddening cameras.
Across the way, I noticed Shawn in the kitchen, engrossed in conversation with the Angel guys, drunk, charming, and oddly… luminous. I’d never radiated like that at his age, even before the accident. Thinking back to his kindness the night before and watching him now, there was something innately warm about him, a gentleness, adecencythat couldn’t be faked. He glanced in my direction, but I quickly went upstairs.
I shuffled to my bunk, sleep long overdue, my bleary gaze drifting to the photo of Andie and Wallace that I’d salvaged and stuck on the wall near my pillow. Something else was taped alongside it now. A folded pieceof paper bearing Imogen’s fluid handwriting, perhaps the only thing about her that had not changed: “She says you stay.”
A smaller blurb was beneath, as if written later, a separate entry: “I do too.” An arrow was drawn beneath this second sentence, pointing toward the photo of the kids.
I wasn’t delusional enough to think I’d been forgiven, but I’d received more than just permission to stay. I’d been given permission to fight.
After my nap, I repacked my freshly laundered, de-margarita-ed wardrobe in preparation for the Arena. If I lost, this inmate would not return to the asylum.
As I lugged my bags down the hallway, two doors opened simultaneously. I was trapped between Jiamin and PB, their eyes locked on each other. I recognized their expressions intimately, the paralysis that strikes when you see someone you adore and despise so equally you can’t speak. There was the answer: they’d been lovers.
Jiamin turned, abruptly seizing my bookbag. “Let me help you,” she said crisply, her stylish sandals clacking like gunfire on the tile stairs as I awkwardly followed past a stewing PB. I was stunned when she lingered with me below. “Sorry they threw you in,” she said.
“They’re Devils for a reason.”
“Worst-case scenario, you go home with a little money for your trouble.” She picked at her fingernails, and I noticed the skin there was almost raw, the lone crack in her otherwise unflappable veneer. “I want you to know I was furious your daughter’s frame got destroyed. That was unacceptable. I said as much after you left.”
“Thanks,” I replied. “That means a lot.”
“Look, you and I won’t be talking politics anytime soon, but I hope you win tonight. You’re at least competing for something bigger than yourself. None of the other men here can say that,” she said bitterly. “They’re pretty much all egomaniac narcissists.”
“Yeah, I’m not a big fan of those lately either.”
“Wow, guys! That scene was gold!” Troy suddenly materialized in the hallway, camera team in tow. “Could you repeat your last line, Jiamin, just for sound?”
She glared at Troy and lifted a middle finger in front of her face. I understood instantly: she was rendering the footage between us unusable. No one wants to see a blurred-out face, and despite the moment we’d shared, Jiamin still wasn’t itching to log camera time with me.
“Jiamin,” Troy groaned. “You’re too mature for that.”
“Good luck tonight,” she whispered before striding out, another middle finger raised solely for Troy’s benefit.
An hour later, I entered the Arena, trying to get my head in the game. A giant man-made tree with a handful of sturdy limbs was erected in the center, surrounded by a floor of stunt mats. The lowest branch was ten feet off the ground, and on the highest hung a golden apple, prolonging the motif from the snake Tribulation. This “Beast of Eden” Trial was clearly a variation on anEndeavorclassic: beat the shit out of somebody to retrieve a shiny toy.
I watched as both teams mounted the rusty stairs to the observation deck. Barnes always said the Trials were when everyone showed their cards, the cast’s applause indicating who they really wanted to go home. I certainly wasn’t expecting a cheering section.
“Okay, no punching, no choking. Anything else is fair game until you pass the first branch and start climbing for the apple,” Zara said, but my nerves were drowning her out.You almost played professional football, I reminded myself. Even in my mid-thirties, I had to be better equipped for this than an emotionally erratic influencer. Still, Bal had a sculpted build. If he got a foothold on the tree before I did, he’d take off like lightning… I could only exploit my weight advantage on the ground, and it had been eons since I’d put hands on someone.
