Page 40 of The Summer Show
The door opened. In came the pretty monkey. Her gaze landed immediately on Nick and she broke out in a big smile. Hair tousled and her costume grubby, she marched over, and without even looking at me, shoved her backside between us. Nick looked at me over her head.
Worm, I mouthed.
* * *
After all the contestants had fought their own personal battles, the judges decided who was going and who was staying. Nick and I were two of the first to be chosen to stay. He didn’t look surprised by either announcement. I might have done a little jump-clap. Pretty Monkey was also staying. So was Kostas, the boy who was a mountain. Gone were most of the older contestants, and both men who had been injured. There was no way the guy with the busted knee would be able to compete anyway.
Now we were ten. Tomorrow night we’d be back for our next tasks and elimination round. Another three thousand dollars for books.
But first there were celebratory drinks. I guzzled two bottles of Epsa lemonade while the Greek contestants—which was all of them except Nick and a bombastic German who kept talking about some kind of hellish beverage that he described as a cross between beer and cola—knocked back ouzo and Metaxa.
Nick selected a bottle of Mythos beer and carried it to the amphitheater’s steps, where he sat alone. Pretty Monkey tried to coax him into flirtatious conversation, but the more she fluttered at his side, the more the stone that was Nick Merrick hardened.
Funny thing, while he was listening to her, his eyes traveled around the arena until they found me, nursing my lemonade and wishing I had a cat or dog to pet, just for something to do until I could leave without being considered rude.
Once his gaze found me, it didn’t let go. At least not for long.
The argument could be made that my eyes were on him just as much. The view was amazing and he was the only person I knew here. He was a sort of safe harbor, a north star.
Maybe it was the same for him.
That or he thought I was a weirdo who read to strangers on planes, and therefore he should keep an eye on me in case I broke out a book. These TV folks might very well be traumatized by spicy literature.
Once his beer was empty, Nick excused himself and made his way over to where I was pretending to read news on the phone that had been returned to me after we were done filming for the night. Truthfully, nothing was sinking in, anyway. It was more of a security blanket, a distraction so I wouldn’t keep latching onto Nick.
He approached in what my brain processed as slow motion. Confident. Cocky, but not in an arrogant way. His muscles worked together to hypnotize me.
And it worked. I was hypnotized.
When he said, “How are you getting back to my sister’s place?” it took a moment for the question to sink in. I performed a little head shake to chase away the mist.
Good question. To be honest, I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Nera was touted as safe, so chances were high I would make it back to Ana’s place with my organs un-trafficked if I ventured out alone.
“Walking is looking like my only option right now.”
He tilted his head at the exit. “Let me walk you back.”
“It’s out of your way.” There wasn’t much conviction in my voice.
“After all that dancing, I need to wind down.”
As someone who could read anything, except maybe James Joyce, I was concerned that I couldn’t read Nick. Was he joking? Impossible to say.
“Was that a joke?”
“The dancing? Yes. Just ask the bears.”
sixteen
With the amphitheater and its temporary additions at our backs, we trekked down toward the main village in what little light the moon let us use. It was enough to keep us from tumbling down the gravel road.
“What do you think tomorrow’s event will be?” I had to make conversation. The tension was too high and I had to smash it before I wound up crushed.
“Don’t know. They’re unpredictable this time.”
“I wonder why.”
Nick stopped. Faced me. “I want to tell you something.”