Magic Mansion (30 page)

“They didn’t say we could do that.” John cautioned.

“They didn’t say we couldn’t.”

John didn’t like the risk. “Don’t give them a reason to disqualify us.”

“There’s no rule against it.” Jia scowled at the obstacle course. “And to do that whole circuit for just one damn point? I don’t think so.”

Kevin was running back with a one-point green peg in his mouth. John told Jia, “Don’t risk it,” and focused hard on the jump to the first platform. He was ahead of Ricardo now—Bev’s slowness had cost the Gold Team any advantage Sue’s speed had initially won them. Three jumps, through the hoop, roll the ball…and dare he take another brown? There were fewer brown pegs than the others…but not so few that it would be terribly suspicious of John to take a second brown. He seized the three-point peg from the top row with his teeth. That left one in place lower down on the board for Jia. It was tempting to simply point it out to her to keep her from spitting out pegs and costing the Red Team a potential penalty.

But since John wouldn’t be able to explain how he’d come by the information, he supposed he would need to let the cards fall where they may.

As soon as he spat his peg into the tiger’s mouth, Jia was off, and Ricardo, who’d been neck and neck before with John, was only now turning away from the Gold Team pegboard. He had a brown three-point peg in his teeth. He raced back as Jia leapt through her hoop and bit a peg from the Red Team’s board.
 

And spat it out.

“Crazy-assed chick,” Kevin muttered, through his mouthguard. “What she doin’?”

Jia spat another, and another, and finally settled on the fourth peg she’d chosen. She turned to run back, and John saw she’d decided to keep a two-point white.

John eyed Iain on the sidelines, a cellphone on each ear in a heated discussion with his unseen superiors. Evidently the producers weren’t the only ones who knew how to deliver a twist.

Jia returned and Kevin was off yet again as the timer ticked past the midway point. Over on Gold Team, Ricardo spat his brown peg into the tiger’s mouth, then looked up to watch Kevin bang through the hoop, while on his own team, Bev struggled across the platforms. Just as Kevin lunged for the pegs, a dry wind kicked up and engulfed him in dust. He doubled over, knuckling at his contact lenses, and Iain paused in his multi-phone conversation. “You need a medic?”

Kevin straightened up and blinked away tears, and then shook his head and barked out, “I’m good.” But the momentary lapse had allowed Bev to catch up to him. The hairs on the back of John’s neck prickled, and he turned to see Ricardo watching Kevin’s struggle with a self-satisfied smile.

At least this slip-up wasn’t as obvious as the mylar dove. Though calling it a slip-up was probably quite a stretch.

Kevin grasped a peg and turned toward his team. The peg was green. Bev began her laborious jog back to her tiger with a two-point white peg in her mouth.

“If they disqualify your pegs,” John told Jia, “then that’s it. We lose.”

“And how is that different from every other challenge?”

She had a point.

Bev was no sprinter, and despite the momentary reprieve the dust cloud had given the Gold Team, Kevin outpaced her easily. John glanced over at Ricardo, who was giving Sue a pep talk as she readied herself for her third circuit. Ricardo caught John’s eye and gave a slight shrug—busted. It was time for John to run again before he could come up with a response.

Jump, jump, jump, clear the hoop, roll the ball. Sue had grasped a peg and was on her way back, running hard, when suddenly she went sprawling. Monty’s voice, saying, “Sue is down!” rose over the collective indrawn breath of everyone who’d seen what happened, but Iain called out, “keep going,” and so John left Sue to the care of the medics, stepped up to the pegboard and located yet another brown. How suspicious would it look if he took a third brown peg? Maybe he should settle for green this time…but without knowing whether Jia’s pegs would count or not, could he risk losing yet another challenge? In John’s pause, Sue must have made it back to her starting line, and the sound of Ricardo leaping from platform to platform with unerring accuracy and speed rang through the yard.

John grasped a brown peg and ran back toward the tiger.

“That’s nine points Professor Topaz scored for Red Team!” Monty cried. So much for flying under the radar.

Jia was hopping the platforms as Kevin readied himself in case he might be able to make one more circuit—though the timer now had less than thirty seconds to go. Jia made it to the pegboard, spat out a green peg, and kept the second peg she’d chosen. John saw it was a brown.

Kevin looked back over his shoulder at John. His eyes were red. “Wanna tell me where the other browns are?”

John stared at him blankly.

“No? You sure? ’Cos you don’t wanna mess wit’ me, old man.”

“It’s random,” John said calmly. But Kevin didn’t buy it. He gave a derisive scoff, then set off for yet another leap through the course as Jia brought home a brown.

Ricardo came in with another white, and Bev set off for her final circuit, but as Kevin grabbed another peg and pounded back toward the Red Team’s start line for all he was worth, she’d barely struggled through the hoop. Kevin’s hard-won peg was a low-scoring green. But he gave John a pointed look as he spat it into the tiger’s maw anyway.

The airhorn sounded to end the challenge. Bev spat the green peg she’d been carrying out on the lawn, threw her arms in the air, and slowed to a walk. “Good try, Bev,” Ricardo shouted. “Good try.”

“Everybody take five,” Iain called out. “Medic, go have a look at Sue’s knee. Jia—you’re a royal pain in my ass, you know that, don’t you?”

Jia tossed her hair.

Kevin dropped his spitty mouthguard into an assistant’s bucket, and said, “The two of you should leave the strategy to me.”

“And you should leave the comedy to Chip Challenge,” Jia said. “Your precious strategy is a joke. It hasn’t panned out once.”

John relieved himself of his mouthguards, and kept an eye on his opponents as Jia and Kevin squabbled. Gold Team was huddled together, hanging on Bev’s every word. No doubt she’d pieced together each team’s score.

And no doubt it all came down to Jia being disqualified or not.

Stylists came around to blot Jia’s brow and tousle John’s hair more attractively, and a medic brought Kevin some eye drops. The remaining contestants—only six of them now—were lined up opposite the scoreboard, three men in back, three women in front. John couldn’t say anything to Ricardo, even though they were standing side by side. Because the cameras were on him—and he was just as close to Kevin.

Once the crew cleared the set, Iain said, “Go ahead.”

“It was a very close race,” Monty said. “Let’s take a look at how each team fared. Gold Team—”

“Cut,” Iain said. “Marlene doesn’t like the way you pronounced ‘fared.’ Do over.”

“Faired,” Monty said, missing the R completely. “Faired.”

“Replace it with ‘did.’”

“Got it.”

“Go ahead.”

“It was a very close race. Let’s take a look at how each team did. Math Wizard Bev, you struggled through the circuit. If you had been able to complete your last run, you would have netted your team a total of four points. However, the clock ran out on you, and your final score was three.”

Bev nodded grimly. Monty wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know.

“Jia Lee, the luck of the draw was not on your side. The first peg you selected was green. And so you decided to take matters into your own hands…or, should I say, teeth. What was your strategy?”

“I could see the color of the peg once I pulled it out, Monty. And I wasn’t going to settle for another green.”

“Jia, with your unconventional methods, despite the poor start, you ended up scoring six points for the Red Team.”

Jia crossed her arms and nodded.

“Ricardo the Magnificent, you seemed right at home running that course. And you also didn’t end up with a single green peg. Your first run netted you a two-point white, your second run a coveted brown, and your third run another white. Your final tally is seven points.”

In John’s peripheral vision, Ricardo nodded. John didn’t dare turn to look and gauge his expression. Who knew how an on-camera “look” of any sort could be construed?

“Sue, you took quite a spill there.” Monty’s voice softened. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Monty. I’m tougher than I look.”

“Indeed. You picked yourself up and brought home one white peg and two browns, scoring a total of eight points for your team. Well done.”

Gold Team clapped. Kevin shook his head, fuming.

“Kevin Kazan, you were the only magician to bring four pegs back for your team. An impressive effort. Unfortunately, two of those pegs…were green. Your final score…is six.”

Kevin stared fixedly at the scoreboard and didn’t move a muscle. Neither Jia nor John commended him on his four complete runs. Jia, because she loathed him. John, because he was busy wondering how he’d gotten so carried away with the game that he’d given in to the temptation of pulling three brown pegs. Not one other contestant had drawn three pegs of the same color. Not one.

“And, of course, our big winner tonight with
nine
points is…Professor Topaz, our oldest remaining contestant at sixty-three years of age. Not only were you incredibly lucky with three brown pegs, Professor, but you sailed through that circuit faster than any other contestant. Our producers tell me you were an accomplished surfer in your day.”

As John admonished himself not only for choosing all three-point pegs, but for drawing the envy of every other player by also beating them in time, every handheld turned to him. And he realized he was expected to give a response. “Yes,” he said, searching for banter, and failing. “I was.”

There was a long silence, and Iain made a “keep going” motion.

John said, “I’ve always been fond of the ocean.”

When Monty saw John had nothing more to add, he said, “Well, you’ve certainly kept yourself in great shape and given all the younger players a run for their money. You, Professor Topaz, have proven yourself a force to be reckoned with.” Meant as a compliment, no doubt, but the other players didn’t need him to keep fanning the flames of malice. “That’s nine points to the Red Team, thanks to you.” Would he ever stop hammering it home? “That means Red Team has won their very first challenge. Well done, Professor. Well done, Red Team.”
 

John did his best to appear satisfied when, in fact, all he wanted to do was groan. He inclined his head gravely.

The final score read:

TIGER TRAINER CHALLENGE

RED TEAM - 21 points

Professor Topaz: 3 − 3 − 3 (Total 9)

Kevin Kazan: 2 − 1 − 2 − 1 (Total 6)

Jia Lee: 1 − 2 − 3 (Total 6)

GOLD TEAM - 18 points

Sue Wozniak: 2 − 3 − 3 (Total 8)

Ricardo the Magnificent: 2 − 3 − 2 (Total 7)

Math Wizard: 1 − 2 (Total 3)

“Red Team, please step forward.” John, Jia and Kevin separated themselves from the Gold Team. John put his hand on Jia’s shoulder—not so much as a show of support, but because his knees were shaking with more than the fatigue of running the challenge. Jia reached up and placed her hand over the back of his. Kevin crossed his huge arms. “As the victors in the Tiger Trainer Challenge, the Red Team has won the opportunity to make an important strategic decision. This choice will affect the course of the rest of the competition, so use it wisely.”

Jia squeezed John’s fingers. John tried to steady himself with a slow breath.

“Jia…Professor…Kevin…you may continue this challenge as the Red Team…or you may dissolve the teams entirely, and proceed as individual competitors. Consider your decision carefully, because once the team colors come off, there’s no going back.”

The end of Red Team would mean John would be free to ally with whomever he chose.

The end of Red Team would mean he could take Kevin out.

But the end of Red Team would also mean there’d be nowhere to hide. John would need to play hard to stay in the game. Even though that meant drawing the caustic envy of the other players, and worse, all the other players’ supporters, onto himself. If he did that, though, he’d be deflecting the spite from Ricardo’s True magic. So that was what he needed to do.

Before John could decide whether he would need to use reverse psychology on Kevin to make him dissolve the team, Kevin took two steps forward and said, “Monty, it’s time to see what everyone here got. I say bring it. I ain’t scared of y’all. Y’all want a piece of me? Come and get it. Fuck Gold Team. Fuck Red Team. ’Cos I’m gonna win dis thing. Me. Kevin Kazan.”

The set went deathly quiet, except for the sound of the wind rustling the palms. Iain lowered his phone, and said, “That’s fine. Go ahead.”

“Red Team,” Monty said cheerfully, “or should I say, ex-Red Team…how do you feel about Kevin making that decision without consulting you?”

Jia let go of John’s hand, tipped up her chin, and said, “It wouldn’t be the first time, Monty. There was a reason Red Team lost almost every challenge. It carried its deadweight right at the helm. I say good riddance to the Red Team. I’m better off without it.”

“Strong words. And what about you, Professor?”

As diplomatically as he could, John said, “Now, it’s every man…and woman…for themselves. We’ll see how it all plays out.”

Iain called out, “Let’s get a shot of you throwing your medallions in a pile over there on that green patch of grass.” The magicians arranged themselves in a semicircle and did so. The red-ribboned medallions were pitched in first…but Sue, Bev and Ricardo couldn’t seem to let go of theirs. Sue sniffled back a tear. And then Bev stifled a sob. Soon Ricardo was hugging them both and kissing their hair, while Jia tapped her foot and Kevin Kazan rolled his eyes. Cameras circled them for a minute or two, but finally Iain said, “Come on, kids, chill out. Nobody died here. You’ll get to keep the damn medals.”

Sue shot him a disgusted look, but then she obediently stepped forward and dropped her gold-ribboned medallion into the pile. Bev pitched hers forward in an awkward underhanded toss. And Ricardo stood with his medallion in his hand one final moment, gazing at it thoughtfully. He kissed it, and dropped it onto the pile.