Page 60 of Ex Marks the Spot
“It’s not a complicated order.” More like she’s impossible to forget, but I keep that to myself.
A few minutes later, I deposit our mugs on the table. “Your coffee, madam, and”—I retrieve two bananas from my pocket—“the goldilocks of fruit because oranges are too hard to peel and apples are too hard to chew.”
Hartley breaths out a soft laugh. “The hangover breakfast of champions. I haven’t needed to use that trick in years.”
“Figured if it worked for a hangover, it would help with exhaustion too.”
We drink our coffee and eat our hangover bananas in comfortable silence, except that I can practically hear Hartley thinking. She confirms this a few minutes later when she wraps her hands around her mug and takes a breath.
“There’s something I want to talk to you about before we get mic’ed up.”
“Okay, what’s?—”
“Hey guys!” Padma approaches the table carrying Bobby’s bag while he trails behind on crutches. They’ve been at the back of the pack since he injured his knee in New Zealand, and yesterday’s pedal boating only added to it. No one was surprised when they came in last place at the checkpoint.
The women exchange a hug while I offer a handshake and conciliatory smile to Bobby.
“What’s the word on your knee?”
“They’re thinking an ACL tear. I’ll meet up with a doctor once we get to our hotel to figure out the plan, but it looks like I won’t need surgery.”
“That’s great news,” Hartley says. “Have they told you where Elimination Island is?”
“Not yet, but they promised sunshine.”
“And a pool,” Padma adds.
Ever the optimist, Hartley says, “There could be worse places to relax and recuperate. We’ll miss you though.”
“Don’t you two get any ideas about joining us,” Bobby says, pointing a finger at Hartley and me in mock sternness. “The only place we want to see you is when you come in first at the finish line.”
“We’ll try our best,” she says, smiling.
“Anyway, we’ll let you get back to your breakfast. Good luck, guys!” Padma says.
After another round of hugs and handshakes, they head for an open table in the center of the dining room.
“So . . . the thing I want to talk to you about.”
“Right.”
“I had a lot of time?—”
“Wait.” I lift my palm, then gesture to a table about ten feet away. “Do you see what I see?”
Hartley cranes her neck. “People eating breakfast?”
“Also that. But more specifically the Wise Guys at the table next to the group of tourists.”
“Okay.”
“Look what DeAngelo is holding.”
Her eyes squint, then bulge. “That’s a cell phone. How does he have a cell phone?”
“No idea.” I scan the room for anyone from the crew but come up empty. I’m just about to go find someone when DeAngelo passes the phone to a woman at the tourist table, who drops it into her purse. “Damn. False alarm.”
Hartley sighs because while Xtreme Quest contestants are prohibited from bringing smart technology of any kind, we’re allowed to borrow phones or computers from people we meet during the race.