Body Games (A Games Novel) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epilogue

  All of the Games books are available wherever ebooks are sold!

  From the Author

  ***

  Body Games

  By

  Jessica Clare

  Chapter One

  “I was excited to get the chance to play Endurance Island. Been sitting at home, recovering and doing leg exercises. I actually was so pumped that I dropped my damn phone. Screen shattered a million ways. I sort of missed everything after the whole ‘Want to play again’ question. Do I want to play? Hell yeah I do. I keep thinking of everything I did wrong in House Guests. I should have won. I played a good game and had no enemies. Unfortunately, I went up against someone who was as charismatic as he was underhanded, and he won. Moral of the story? The good guy never wins.” — Jendan Abercrombie, Pre-Game Interview, Endurance Island: Power Players

  “Aren’t you that girl from Endurance Island?”

  I mentally cringed as I put the customer’s water glass down on the table, but I kept my smile pinned to my face. No smile, no tips, and waitresses worked for tips.

  “What’s your name again?” The eagerly smiling woman seated on my left didn’t mean any harm, but I hated every time I got that question.

  “Annabelle. Annabelle Tucker. Season four.” I placed paper-wrapped straws on the table. “Nice to meet you guys. Y’all ready to order?”

  “Oh my God,” said her lunch date. “That’s right! You’re the—” He cut off, snapping his jaw shut before he could say the words, and then corrected himself. “You’re the girl that fell in love on the island.”

  “That was me.” It was getting harder and harder to keep the smile on my face. “Should I give you a few more minutes to look over the menu?” And give me a chance to escape?

  “Wow, you look different,” the woman said.

  I knew what that meant. You sure did look skinnier/tanner/better on the island. I heard it all the time. It wasn’t meant insultingly, I supposed. People just got used to seeing you hollow-cheeked and burned bronze by the sun. “Do I? Thank you.”

  “How come you’re waiting tables? Don’t they pay you guys to be on TV?” The man gave me an interested look that spent more time on my breasts than my face. Again, something I’d had to get used to, considering all of TV-watching America had seen me running around in a skimpy yellow bikini for two months.

  “You don’t get the big money if you lose,” I said, giving them my best sweet Southern drawl. “And I lost. Why don’t y’all take a moment more to look at the menu? I’ll just come back when you’re ready.” I beamed at them and hurried away.

  As I turned my back, I nearly ran into another server in my haste to escape. We paused, smiling awkwardly at each other, and as we did, I overheard a snatch of the conversation at the table I’d just left.

  “She’s the slutty one,” the man hissed at his girlfriend. “Remember, from last season? The one that kept making out with the guy?”

  “I know!” the woman said excitedly.

  Oh ugh. I hurried away, dashing off to hide in the kitchens of the bustling restaurant for a few minutes.

  After a year, I didn’t know why the comments still bothered me. I’d seen every episode of Endurance Island as it aired, despite the fact that I’d experienced most of it first-hand. I knew going in to my reality TV experience that it wasn’t necessarily ‘reality’ and that things would be edited to make a better story. I’d been warned about that by the producers and staff, and to not take anything personally.

  Of course, it was hard not to take things personally when you were edited as the Idiot Slut.

  I fully acknowledged that I hadn’t been the smartest player on the island. When I got out there, I was a fresh-faced college student who’d never been far from Alabama. Spending time on an exotic Caribbean island sounded like a great way to spend the summer, so when the casting department picked my application out of a pile, I was thrilled.

  And as soon as I got out to the island, I met Kip.

  Oh, Kip.

  He had rakish black curls that he wore long and brushing his neck, like some Game of Thrones enthusiast. He was tall, tanned, and beautiful. And he was a big, fat, lying sack of crap.

  I didn’t know that at first. So when we showed up on the same team and he began to flirt with me, I was instantly smitten. We teased and flirted for the first few days, and then it grew more serious as time passed. By the time the tribes merged, we were spending every waking moment kissing and cuddling.

  All of my private confessionals were about how happy I was to meet Kip, and how we were a team, and how I was in love.

  All of Kip’s confessionals - which I saw for the first time on television, along with the viewing audiences - were about how incredibly gullible and stupid I was. How he was playing me for my jury vote, and how all he had to do was kiss me and I’d do whatever he said.

  Everyone else had seen it long before I did. I’d been voted off with five members left, because at that point, I was too likable for Kip to take with him to the end. I’d been confused and miserable that I’d been booted, and my fellow jury members had tried to gently break it to me that Kip was using me. I’d denied it, and when Kip was at the finale with Bailey, an intelligent, charming med student, I’d steadfastly voted for Kip and lobbied for the others to do the same.

  After the votes were cast, Kip and I reunited. We had one night of sex in the lodge, and Kip promised to call me the next day. I went home, starry-eyed and in love, and not even upset that I didn’t win.

  But Kip never called. I tried calling him, and got nothing but his voicemail. It hurt at first, but I chalked it up to an island fling and moved on.

  At least, I moved on until Endurance Island: The Caribbean started playing on TV.

  Then, I watched with dawning horror each week as I was humiliated and publicly destroyed.

  Kip had thought I was an easy piece of ass. Every glance toward the cameras was him rolling his eyes at me, and I’d been edited to seem like a stupid bimbo, blinded by hormones. The only times I showed up on TV, I was made to sound like an idiot, and when I wasn’t, I was busy sucking face with Kip. Every make-out session was then punctuated by a sound-bite or two of how Kip was using me to get further in the game.

  It was awful. Really awful. The worst part of it was that I’d had no idea the entire time. I’d thought I was falling in love.

  Guess that made me pretty gullible.

  By the time the Endurance Island cast was called to New York City for the big finale and reunion, I was getting recognized on the streets as ‘that dumb slut’ from Endurance Island. Editing had made it look like I’d slept with Kip constantly, when I’d only slept with him once - at the loser lodge - and I regretted that bitterly. The other contestants had given me sympathetic looks and silent support during the finale. They knew I wasn’t the horndog TV had made me out to be, but it didn’t matter.
<
br />   A dumb bimbo slut falling for Kip’s stories made good TV.

  I wasn’t surprised to see that I was the only one that had voted for Kip. Bailey won by a landslide. I didn’t mind; I was relieved that the dick hadn’t gotten the prize money, and when Kip tried to hug me at the reunion show, I’d avoided him. I left New York City on the earliest flight possible and returned to college. Well, for about a week. After that, I couldn’t stand the comments and leers from the guys on campus, so I dropped out for a semester or two. Just until things died down.

  Of course, that meant that my student loans were catching up with me, so I took a job waiting tables to pay the bills. Most times, customers didn’t recognize me. I wore enough make-up and dyed my hair brown instead of the island blonde I’d been, and I flew under the radar.

  Some days - like today - there was just no way to hide.

  Steeling myself, I gripped a stack of menus and took in a deep breath. I exited the kitchens and headed back out to the table where the couple was sitting eagerly, waiting for me to return like a pair of jackals hovering over a kill. My smile pinned to my face, I beamed at them as I re-approached the table. “Y’all ready to order now?”

  “Sure,” the woman said, smiling. Instead of looking at the menu, though, she grinned at me. “Can I ask you something, though?”

  My heart sank. “Of course.”

  “What happened between you and that Kit guy? You two were pretty hot and heavy on the island.”

  “You’d think that with the way it looked on TV, wouldn’t you?” I made my tone light, as if the question didn’t bother me in the slightest. “Kip and I are just good friends, though. Nothing more.”

  “It looked like more than friends out there,” her date commented.

  I clutched the menus to my chest tighter. “Just friends. I haven’t talked to him since the finale. Can I recommend the special of the day? Chicken fried steak with pepper gravy, and some fresh corn. It’s really good.”

  ~~ *** ~~

  Karma was against me that day. Maybe Mercury was in Retrograde, because all the Endurance Island groupies came out to the restaurant to see bimbo Annabelle and her slutty McSlutterton boobs. I had no less than four tables that night that asked about the show, and one guy even wanted to pay me to pose with him in my yellow bikini. I turned it down. Yuck.

  By the time I’d cashed out my tips for the evening, I never wanted to hear the words ‘Endurance Island’ ever again. Ever. Again.

  “Better check your phone,” my friend Patrice warned me as I headed to my locker. “I heard it buzzing all night long.”

  “Oh?” At the restaurant, we weren’t allowed to carry our phones with us out on the floor, which sucked. I normally came back to a few silly texts from friends, and the occasional dirty picture from my friend Norah. I opened my locker and pulled out my phone. Tonight, it seemed I had voicemail. Huh. Listening to messages, I headed to my car.

  Two messages from Norah, two calls from debt collectors (those student loans were REALLY starting to rack up), and two voicemails from a number I didn’t recognize. I put my phone to my ear, listening as I started the engine.

  “Hi, Annabelle, this is Judy with Endurance Island casting. We’re putting together a returning players season and would love to know if you’re interested. Can you give me a call back?”

  Judy had left a similar message two hours later. This one sounded more desperate than the last one. “Hi, Annabelle, it’s Judy with Endurance Island casting again. I hate to keep bothering you, but I wanted to make sure you got my message. We had one of our players fail a physical and now we’re looking for a replacement that can fly out on short notice, and your name came up in casting. Please give me a call back, even if it’s just to tell me no. I’d really appreciate it.”

  She sounded stressed. I felt a note of sympathy even as my stomach clenched at the thought of going on Endurance Island again. No freaking way. Going back on Endurance Island was the last thing I wanted to do. Public national humiliation, round two? No thank you. I’d learned my lesson the first time. Annabelle the Island Bimbo was retired.

  But still, I felt guilty. The woman on the other end sounded frazzled. I couldn’t stop thinking about it as I drove home. When I entered my apartment, I sat down on the couch and stared at my phone. Did I feel guilty enough to return her phone call?

  I did. After all, it was about seven at night California time. Judy wouldn’t be in the office. I’d leave her a nice voicemail thanking her for thinking of me, but no, I wasn’t interested.

  To my surprise, the phone picked up on the first ring. “Judy Gish.”

  “Um.” My mind blanked out. I hadn’t expected to actually talk to anyone except the machine. “This is Annabelle Tucker. I was just returning your phone call—”

  “Oh, Annabelle! Thank God! I’m at my wits’ end here!”

  “Listen, Judy, it was nice of you to think of me—“

  “Before you tell me no,” she interrupted, “Can I tell you a bit about the season? Please?”

  I chewed on my lip. I’d never been able to hang up on a telemarketer. Why had I expected to be able to hang up on Judy with a firmly barked “NO”?

  “Please?” She asked again.

  Sigh. “Okay. Go ahead.”

  “Great,” she said, bubbling enthusiasm through the phone. “The newest season starts taping in three days and we’ve had a few unexpected drop-outs that have cleaned out our pool of back-up candidates. So we’re going through the cast list of your season and your name came up. This season will be Endurance Island: Power Players. You’ll be coupled up with an old friend —“

  Couples? Old friend? “God, no,” I blurted. “I refuse to play with Kip again.”

  “Hear me out,” she said quickly. “We’re pulling people from several different shows. It doesn’t mean that you’d be paired up with Kip. That’s just the marketing gimmick.”

  “I still don’t—“

  “We’re paying flat fees to all contestants this year to encourage people to sign up,” she continued on merrily, as if I wasn’t trying to shut her down. “Since this is going to be a highly competitive season, everyone gets twenty-five grand just for being on the show, even if you’re in last place. Jury members make fifty grand.”

  I paused. That…was a lot of money. Last time I’d been on the show, they paid us $200 a day, and I’d been stoked at receiving a check for eight grand. Fifty grand was…crazy. “Why so much?”

  “As I said, it’s going to be a tougher season.”

  Like an idiot, I wavered. “I’m not exactly thrilled with how I was portrayed last season.”

  “New season, new villains,” she chirped. “Plus, don’t you want the chance to redeem yourself?”

  Boy, she knew just the right things to say to hit my buttons, didn’t she? I thought of the money. Fifty grand if I made it to the jury. That would make a huge dent in my mounting student loans. More than that, though…I could redeem myself.

  I’d play hardball this time. No Annabelle the Make Out Bunny. I was reasonably athletic, reasonably likable…why couldn’t I turn things around?

  Hell, I’d have to do better than last time. There was no place to go but up, really.

  Still, I wasn’t eager to jump right back on board. I’d lose my (admittedly not great) job. I’d be back on TV and back on the minds of everyone. With the exception of today, things were starting to calm down again. Going back on TV would put me back to ground zero when it came to the public forgetting about me.

  But…fifty grand.

  “Are you still there, Annabelle?”

  “I’m here. Just thinking.”

  “We’d really, really love to have you on this next season. You’re a strong player and a very polarizing one.”

  AKA, you’re notorious and you won’t fly under the radar. I was exactly the kind of player they loved, I supposed. If you can’t be great, be interesting.

  I wavered even more. Still, I had to know a few things first. “Is K
ip playing?”

  Judy sighed. “I’m not going to lie. He is.” Before I could protest, she hurried on. “But! I can put in a request that you be on opposite teams, and wouldn’t you love the chance to play against him?”

  More tempting words. And Kip was someone that definitely didn’t play under the radar, so he’d either end up running his team or getting the boot right away. I was hoping for the latter. How much would it stick in his craw if I lasted longer than him?

  A whole hell of a lot.

  My phone buzzed with an incoming text. I pulled it away from my ear and looked. It was from work. Deenie called in again. Can you cover her shift tomorrow? 11-9. Thx!

  Damn it. I’d worked seven days straight already. Endurance Island was starting to sound like a vacation. “Where is it filming?”

  “Fiji,” Judy told me. “A few private islands. Totally lovely. Totally not the rainy season, either, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

  Oh wow. Fiji for six weeks. I pictured white sands, blue waters…and fifty grand. “I have conditions,” I said after a moment.

  “Name them,” Judy said quickly. “If you want to be on this season, we need to fly you out tomorrow. Like I said, we start filming ASAP and I desperately need to fill this hole in the cast list.”

  “No Kip.”

  “Noted. What else?”

  “No slut edit.”

  She paused for a moment. “That’s not exactly in my jurisdiction, but I can pass it along.”

  Fair enough. I had no intention of giving anyone any sort of footage that would make me look questionable in any way. If I went back there, I was playing hard and rough. No more nice Annabelle. “And I want fifty thousand regardless.”

  “You get fifty if you get on the jury.”