Page 17 of Ex Marks the Spot
“Don’t you get it?” Her arms fly out as she whips her head toward me. “Youwere my once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Courtney. Me choosing not to go to Italy was the easiest non-sacrifice I’d ever made, which you would’ve known if you’d actually talked to me.”
I stare ahead and force myself not to react to the sting of her words.
“And besides, his explanation leaves out one very important detail,” she says to Wendell.
“And that is?”
“The woman he brought to the gallery.”
“I already told you that’s not—” I release a long sigh though my nose. “You know what? Never mind. It’s not like you’re going to believe anything I say anyway.”
She fires a contemptuous smile at me. “Finally, something we can agree on.”
CHAPTER 5
HARTLEY
Day 1—Dallas, Texas
They weren’t kidding about doing multiple takes before the race started. The last few hours have been a craze of booms and jibs and Steadicam shots from every angle imaginable. Thankfully, I didn’t have to talk to Court for any of them.
The other bonus is that I’ve had a front-row view of Xtreme Quest’s extremely hot host, Paul Rutherford. Corrina joked that getting to meet him was the only reason I applied for the show. She’s not entirely wrong.
“Good afternoon and welcome to downtown Dallas, Texas, and season seventeen of Xtreme Quest!” Paul says to the contestants and the crowd of onlookers flanking the lawn of the Giant Eyeball. Everyone cheers, but this time there’s an undercurrent of excitement buzzing through the atmosphere because it’s the last take. When he says “go,” the race will officially start.
“In just a few moments, you’ll begin an international race across thousands of miles for a chance to win one million dollars. But to do that”—he gestures to a massive Xtreme Quest curtain about a hundred feet down the Astroturf—“you’ll need your first clue.”
The curtain opens, revealing eleven waist-high plexiglass cubes filled with multicolored plastic balls. For obvious reasons, this is the only part we didn’t shoot earlier during filming.
“Each ball pit contains one thousand plastic footballs.” Paul accepts an example ball from a crew member and holds it up. “Nine hundred ninety of them say Xtreme Quest, and ten of them have the name of your university or college. When I say ‘go,’ one person from your team will run down and climb into your assigned box. When you find a football with your school’s name, bring it to me in exchange for your clue.”
“It’s too bad they won’t let me keep the football and leave you with Paul instead,” I say to Court through a camera-worthy smile.
“You mean leave meandthe football and take Paul instead, right?”
“That works too.”
Paul lifts his arm. “Good luck, have fun, and I’ll see you at the first checkpoint. Go!”
Court surges forward as soon as Paul’s arm drops and quickly takes the lead, vaulting into our ball pit several seconds before the other teams. I want to be irritated that he took off without discussing it with me first, but one, that seems to be his MO, and two, the ball pit looks to be about four feet high so sending the tallest teammate in is the logical option.
While he hunts for our football, I grab our backpacks and move up closer to Paul. Less than a minute later Mitchell from Dixon University hollers, “Found it!” and sprints back up to the starting line. His teammate, Kennedy, meets him with his pack, and after a quick detour to Paul, they run off to the side with their film crew to read the clue.
Worry doesn’t set in until the fifth team turns in their football. By the eighth team, I’m livid. The remaining alums are still shouting encouraging messages to their teammates, but all I can muster is, “Use your eyes, Courtney!” and, “Did you forget how to read?”
That one makes the sound guy laugh.
Just as I’m about to go down there and force him out of the box so I can take over, his fist shoots in the air. “Got it!”
“Took you long enough!” I don my backpack and shove Court’s into his chest when he gets back to the Giant Eyeball. “Are you blind?”
“Shut up. That was a lot harder than it looks.”
“So’s your head,” I mutter as he slings his pack over his shoulder and exchanges our football for a clue. Per our earlier instructions, we move off to the side and read it aloud together.
Fly to San Jose, Costa Rica. When you arrive, make your way to Juan Santamaria Park to find your next clue.
For one millisecond, we pause our feud to share a smile because HOLY CRAP THIS IS IT! And then I remember I’m stuck with him twenty-four hours a day for the next three weeks and mentally curse the casting department all over again.