“Chad. How are you? How has post-NHL life been treating you? Have fun in—Germany, was it?”
Chad stiffened—Robbie had clearly landed a hit, though Finn wasn’t sure how—and said, “Switzerland actually. Life has been good. Spending lots of time with my brother lately, working together. You know, those family bonds are so important.” He sneered.
Finn wasn’t sure exactly what he was getting at, but he imagined it wasn’t kind.
To Robbie’s credit, he didn’t take the bait. He just nodded seriously and agreed. “Family you can rely on is definitely worth keeping.”
Finn watched the byplay and mentally awarded a point to Robbie. Before he or Sophia could intervene and steer the conversation toward something less likely to incite violence, Chad cleared his throat and asked if they shouldn’t be leaving to check in with Production.
Sophia looked a little sad to say goodbye to Finn and Robbie, but Finn couldn’t claim similar disappointment about Chad.
But Sophia could take care of herself. She didn’t need Finn to rescue her by slapping Chad’s hand away from the small of her back as he followed her from the room. She could and absolutely would file a complaint with the production team if she felt the situation warranted it.
Or she’d just accidentally slice open his femoral artery while practicing a standing lift.
“Please tell me we can last long enough to beat Chad fucking Bush in this silly contest,” Robbie said, breaking the silence.
“Uh.” Finn considered. Chad wasn’t wrong—Sophia was good and had a knack for making her partners look equally so. Finn was no slouch, but he would have to adapt his style to play the opposite role than he was used to.
Backwards and in high heels, he thought hysterically.
“Because I cannot stomach the idea of coming in second to that dipshit,” Robbie continued.
“Uh,” Finn said again. “I’m sensing bad blood.”
Robbie shrugged. “Not really. But we travelled in the same hockey circles long enough for me to know three things: we were never going to be friends, because I’m better at hockey and he’s a bigot.”
“Yeah. I got that impression.” Finn pulled a face.
Robbie grimaced back. “He’s said worse.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
“No, but sucks to hear bullshit.” Finn checked his watch. “Oh man, we gotta get going—first trip in front of the camera.”
Robbie followedFinn’s shapely bottom to Makeup. Figure skaters also apparently developed prodigious glutes and quads. Robbie didn’t normally ogle—he considered himself a gentleman—but he challenged anyone to not noticethatperfection.
His displeasure over the run-in with Chad faded as Finn introduced Moira and Jan, the hair and makeup team.
“I don’t know what they expect me to do with this,” Moira sighed as Finn rolled his eyes in her chair. “It’s like painting overthe Mona Lisa. You couldn’t have aged at all in the years you’ve been off-camera?”
“I keep telling you, the secret is bathing in the blood of virgins.”
Unfortunately, Robbie had to stop eavesdropping, because Jan wanted to know about Robbie’s hair-care routine.
When Moira had condescended to cover the nonexistent bags under Finn’s eyes and apply false eyelashes, possibly just for fun but maybe to annoy Chad, and Jan had done whatever hair people did to Robbie’s locks to make him look like a supermodel, they switched chairs and Finn said, “So how much do you remember about what you signed up for?”
Robbie tried not to sneeze at the application of powder to his face. “You mean what my kid signed me up for?”
“Tomato, tomahto.”
“Look up,” Moira instructed, touching Robbie’s chin.
Robbie looked up. “Uh, basically nothing?” He couldn’t talk much since Moira needed him to keep his face still.
“Okay, so we’re obviously doing hair and makeup now. We’re mostly getting B-roll today, so just random stuff the editing team will use during voiceovers, but you’ll meet the host and the other competitors—officially, I mean—and they’ll set out the first challenge.”
