Paul stepped out and they started walking to the elevator. “You look terrific.” He kicked himself for not buying flowers.
“Thanks. So do you. I like your jacket.”
Maybe this date would turn out okay.
Paul tried to like Camille’s friends, a couple in their mid-thirties who both worked as consultants, Michael in finance and Brianna in marketing. But they were sleek and smug and seemed to do their best to exclude him from the conversation. They chatted about social engineering, market speculation, and when the economy might rebound. Brianna even complained about the “unsightliness” of the homeless people and the lines in front of the soup kitchens every day.
Paul grew bored and irritated, distracted by the restaurant’s ridiculously high prices and tiny portions. Who even liked sushi? And was he supposed to pay for Camille’s dinner even though she’d invited him? He knew he should offer, so he did, but she waved him off.
They parted company with the power couple in front of the restaurant, and Camille exchanged hugs with both. Eager to be alone with his date, Paul was relieved to see them walk away.
In her car, an expensive new electrical, Camille asked, “Did you like my friends? You were kind of quiet.”
“They’re fine. I’m just a little shy with people at first.”
She laughed. “They can be rather intimidating.” Camille started the car and exited the parking lot. Paul wished he were driving. He worked up his nerve to make a suggestion. “Should we stop at a club for a drink?” He hadn’t set foot in a club in a decade.
“Maybe some other time. I’m tired and I have early plans for tomorrow.”
Paul wanted to ask what they were, but Camille started talking again. “I made the changes you suggested to my resume, and I sent the new version to Thaddeus Morton. He said he’d keep me in mind.”
“That’s terrific.” Paul didn’t understand her fascination. “What is it about the employment commissioner’s job that attracts you?”
“Are you kidding?” She stopped at a traffic light and turned to stare. “First, there’s the power of brokering all those deals for jobs around the country. I would love that. Then there’s the Gauntlet with its global audience and the most amazing week of programming all year.”
Suddenly, she leaned over and kissed him on the mouth, pressing into him with passionless intensity. Rockets flared for Paul, but Camille pulled back just as quickly as she’d leaned in. “I want the job, Paul. You need to get me on his replacement list. I know you can do it.” She squeezed his thigh, gunned the engine, and raced down Columbia Road.
Aroused and confused, Paul didn’t trust himself to speak. If he understood correctly, she’d given him a taste of what she had to offer if he made things happen for her. Paul knew he was being used and didn’t care. He wanted more of Camille. “I have an idea,” he said finally.
“What is it?”
“I can’t tell you yet.” He was a little smarter than she gave him credit for. “Let’s talk about something else for a while.”
On the rest of the drive home, they made conversation, but neither had their heart in it. Paul kept thinking about Camille naked and on her knees. He suspected she was thinking about doing the commissioner’s job and making important announcements on the Gauntlet program. Paul visualized them having sex in front of the broadcast cameras. He realized she’d asked him something. He shook his head to clear it. “What did you say?”
“I asked if you had any family bedsides your foster mother who died.”
“No. That’s the tragedy of the foster system. You often lose everybody before you reach adulthood.”
“That’s sad.” Camille turned down his street and pulled up in front of the tall building. “I like you, Paul. I think we could be good for each other.”
Paul boldly leaned in and kissed her again. Their embrace was deep and lingering and he didn’t want to stop. Camille seemed to enjoy it as well. At the exact moment when they were both about to shift into a frantic needy passion, Camille pulled back.
“Good night, Paul.”
Chapter 22
Wed., May 10, 9:25 a.m.
Too energized from her turn in the Puzzle to go back to the hotel, Lara hung out in the lobby with other contestants. A few teasingly asked her to give them tips and she laughed it off. Sharing details about the arenas or Gauntlet phases was strictly forbidden, as well as stupid.
No one had been caught cheating yet, and it didn’t surprise Lara. In addition to the jobs and huge grant money awarded to the winner’s state, the victorious contestant took home a cash prize of ten thousand dollars and received offers from companies for commercials. Lara had no interest in being a spokesperson, but the cash would be welcome.
If she won, she planned to give half to the family she’d inadvertently harmed. More than that, she wanted to help her state. She wanted to put police officers and teachers back to work. Even more, she needed redemption. She couldn’t ever bring back the innocent life she’d taken, but if she made thousands of other lives better, she might hate herself a little less.
Lara watched as the scoreboard updated and her name appeared at the top of the list with 114 points. Yes! She’d earned 25 points for getting out of the cube and another 22 bonus points from the viewers. If she held the fastest time in the Puzzle, she could earn another 50 points for winning. The final prize was starting to feel tangible.
“You kicked ass.” Jason Copeland walked up and raised his bottle of juice in salute.
“Thanks. I’m a little stunned, but very pleased.”
“You still have to beat me in the Battle.”
“No problem.”
“The odds of us being paired off in one of the rounds are pretty high.”
“We’ll see.” Lara looked him over. He was younger and more muscular than her, but she had more training. She wanted to beat him just to wipe the smugness off his face.
“A woman hasn’t won both her rounds of the Battle yet. You won’t make into the Obstacle.”
“Whatever you have to tell yourself.” The Battle required hand-to-hand combat with various weapons. Lara counted on her extensive training, her speed, and her leaping ability to get her through.
“I’ll bet money on Lara.” Makil Johnson stepped up to the scoreboard. He still had to work the Puzzle later that afternoon.
“Thanks.” Lara grinned. She didn’t know if bet was just an expression or if the contestants had a pool going. Why wouldn’t they? Viewers around the world had betting pools set up.
Jason laughed and clapped Makil on the shoulder. “We all need to be worried about Sam Duggar from Texas. Have you seen that guy?”
“I don’t know how he made it through the tunnels,” Makil said.
“Let’s hope he doesn’t survive the cube,” Lara added. The point of the Puzzle was to ensure that brute strength and endurance alone couldn’t earn the final prize. AmGo had insisted the Gauntlet have an intellectual component and had done everything possible to make the competition gender-neutral and fair. Some bloggers still complained that men had a physical advantage. Lara wanted to win and shut them up.
Her euphoria fading, she nodded at her competitors and crossed the lobby, scanning in both directions for the blond man. Outside, she caught a shuttle back to the hotel. Alone in the van except for the driver, she drank a can of ProFast and planned her next move. She had free time until the Battle tournament started in the morning and decided she’d better look at the footage in the auditorium where she’d seen the shooter.
At the hotel desk, she asked the clerk to contact Thaddeus Morton. Lara figured he had to have a suite or office at the hotel during the competition. After a moment, the clerk wrote something down and handed her a small piece of paper. Lara read: Suite 440, at the end of the hall on the fourth floor. Be discreet.