Playing Games(3)

Brodie obviously knew where my mind was going, because his arm tightened around my shoulder again. "I'm sure I could get the time off of work."

I bit back a sarcastic remark. Of course he could. Brodie was a waiter.

"If you make it on the show, you'll automatically be paid a salary of twenty thousand dollars per team. The winning couple wins a quarter of a million dollars."

My brain froze. Wait. We got paid to be on TV? Twenty thousand dollars - my share would be ten grand. Ten grand would let me buy a state of the art website and some key advertising. That would make up for the bank loan I hadn't been able to get to truly launch my business.

"Shall I mark you down as interested?" Clipboard asked. "We think the two of you would be perfect. You've both got that Southern charm, you look adorable in matching outfits, and we love the brother-sister angle."

"We're in," Brodie said automatically.

"Twenty thousand dollars?" I blurted, unable to help myself.

Clipboard chuckled. "That's right."

"Sounds good to me," I told her. "When do we go to Hollywood?"

"Next weekend, if you're free."

"Oh, we're free," Brodie told her, squeezing my shoulder so tight I was pretty sure I'd have bruises. "We're definitely free."





CHAPTER TWO





"Have to admit, I didn't see any serious competition in the other teams. Get to know them? No thanks. I'll let Tesla do that. She's the people person. I'm just the guitar." — Liam Brogan, Day 1 of The World Races











Six weeks later





My stomach was churning.

The sun was beating down overhead, my yellow shirt was blinding me, the backpack on my shoulders weighed a ton, and I was pretty sure I was going to throw up as one of the off-camera assistants pointed us toward the starting line.

"Here we go," Brodie said with excitement, shaking my arm. "This is it. Are you ready?"

"I'm going to barf if you keep shaking me," I muttered.

"You should have eaten something," Brodie said, not an ounce of sympathy in him. He put a hand to his eyes, shielding the sunlight, and watched for the other teams to arrive. "Think we're the fittest ones in the race?"

"Don't know, don't care," I told him. "We get paid the same if we come in second or dead last, except if we come in dead last, we get a three-week vacation in Acapulco." Apparently as you were kicked off of the race, you were sent to a private beach house in Acapulco so no spoilers would leak onto the internet. As soon as I'd heard that? My motivation to compete had pretty much disappeared. Money and the chance to lounge on the beach for weeks? Who wanted to sleep in airports when I could sleep in freaking Acapulco?

He shot me a nasty look, as if reading my thoughts. "Katy, you'd better race like you've never raced before, or so help me—"

I raised a hand. "I will. Just don't expect me to be excited right now, okay? The only thing I'm going to be racing for is some Pepto."

He was right, though; I should have eaten something that day. Of course, I hadn't counted on being quite so nervous.

We'd arrived for the casting call last night and had been sequestered in the hotel rooms given to us. No contact with the outside world for the next three weeks, according to our non-disclosure agreements. No cellphones, no email, nothing. I'd had to temporarily put my business on hiatus, and it rankled a bit, but I just thought of that twenty grand. I’d make it up to the customers I’d disappointed somehow.

As soon as we'd woken up that morning, we'd been dragged into a whirlwind of preparations for the show. A casting assistant had been assigned to us and had gone over our bags one more time, removing everything that might interfere with 'the experience.' No sunglasses. No hats unless approved first by the network. No clothing except the mandatory gear they'd given us. One backpack apiece. No food or drink, nothing that would set off airport security, and for me, no bright lipsticks. They'd even gone so far as to assign me a hairstyle - the two dorky pigtails I'd worn for the initial casting call. They wanted to create a ‘look,’ they'd told us. We were characters on a show, and characters needed a memorable look. It was in the contracts, and I'd had no choice but to comply. My look, unfortunately, seemed to be backwoods cowgirl.

That was probably my fault. Stupid pigtails at the audition.

Our clothing was not so bad. The show had an athletic sponsor, and so everything we wore was branded with the same logo, right down to my sports bra and panties. Each team was assigned several shirts with the name written across the back, and a color for their team. Brodie and I were yellow, and I had black leggings with a yellow racing stripe, a yellow t-shirt with KATY written in big letters across the back, a matching hoodie, and a puffy yellow jacket for colder climates.