Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Haley stuck close to me and parroted every instruction I was given. It was okay. I needed the reminders. Who fucking knew being a contestant on a game show would be so dizzying? But at least there wasn’t much of a script, aside from the structure and order of the show. I’d expected more to be fake. I mean, I’d read stories about others who’d been on these kinds of shows, and it was difficult to know what to expect. Some were insanely scripted and involved countless reshoots to get a reaction right.
The people around here had only encouraged us to elaborate on our answers and “be energetic.”
Me. Energetic?
Product placement played its part too, obviously. My ball cap was brand-new, as were my black tee and my construction boots. My jeans were my own, thank God.
“Five minutes!” someone yelled.
The host, Bailey Carver, entertained the audience, and a buzz rushed through everyone behind stage. That was when I spotted Roe for the first time in over three hours. We exchanged a quick grin and a chin-nod, and soon we were joined by Ezra and Tyler, whom we’d compete against.
Was it fucked up for me to hope we didn’t win? Winning meant coming back in a few weeks, and I’d rather not hop on a plane in Slovenia, go all the way to LA, tape another episode, then go back to Europe. Or wherever we would be at that point.
“Remember,” Haley told me, “you guys are doing the Hot Seat first, starting with you, Jake.”
I nodded in understanding and felt a little nervous. The Hot Seat would be…interesting. When it aired, that segment would take place somewhere in the middle of the episode, but everything was out of order for the taping.
“Get the contestants to their marks!” a woman hollered onstage.
Fucking hell. This was what my life had come to? I wondered how I would react if someone had told me, when I was freezing my ass off in a mountain pass in Afghanistan, that I’d be here today.
On that note, I hoped not a lot of questions Roe got about me centered around my years in the service. I wouldn’t call myself tight-lipped about that time, but I just assumed nobody cared. It wasn’t a topic that made me ramble.
Roe and I were ushered onto the stage, where the floor gleamed blue under the bright spotlights. Hot spotlights, I should add. And in the meantime, an actual audience coach got the people excited and gestured for more noise.
“This is nuts.” Roe spoke under his breath before we parted ways. He stepped into the booth, and I was ushered to a chair positioned in front of the booths, where I would face the audience and a rapid series of questions.
Bailey came over and chitchatted, but I couldn’t be as talkative with all those fucking instructions running through my head. I rolled my shoulders and took a couple deep breaths, and I was reminded once again about the rules of the segment. Just answer quickly. It was sixty seconds of questions about Roe, one point for each correct answer.
Not to be that guy, but I wouldn’t use this bit as a warm-up. It was like rushing into the most heated part of a competition right off the bat.
All right. Questions about Roe. I could do this. And fuck it, we should aim to win. While non-famous people competed for prize money, the so-called celebrities competed for donations to their selected charities, and Roe and I had our two go-to projects. The recovery project for California condors and a North Carolina-based foundation that helped war veterans get back on their feet.
Bailey returned to his mark, and seconds later, the taping began. I had to pretend I was already halfway into the show and sufficiently comfortable. Being good on-camera was what brought entertainment, so I had to lose the stiffness stat.
“We are back!” Bailey announced, holding his flashcards. “We have Jake in the Hot Seat, and he’s about to prove how much he knows about his BFF, Roe. Are you ready, Jake?”
“Not one bit, but let’s go.” I rolled my shoulders again and accepted a pinch of relief at the laughter I received. Everybody loved comedy. Comedy was a great place to hide.
“That’s the spirit,” Bailey chuckled. “Sixty seconds on the timer!”
Fuck me. The spotlights truly weren’t a friend of mine.
Deep breaths.
At least we knew the first three questions, because they were the same for every episode—and the only thing we could prepare beforehand. They called it warm-up.
“What is Roe’s favorite color?”
“He doesn’t have one,” I replied.
That earned me a faint ding for one point scored.
“The first CD he ever bought?”
“D’Angelo, Brown Sugar,” I said.
“Does he play any instruments?”
“My nerves,” I answered. “But no.”
Bailey chuckled. “His first vacation destination.”
Fuck. Fuck, oh, it had to be his grandparents’ place. They went there over the summers. “Uh, Chesapeake Bay, I think.”