Partner Games

  “Us?” I snorted. “That’s a crap threat. We’re already in last place.” I sounded more confident than I felt. This dick was blackmailing us.

  “No. Your little boyfriends. Don’t think the rest of us haven’t noticed you sucking face with Swift. And Georgie’s all over the big one. So if you don’t stop working with them, we take them out. The other teams are with us, too. Whoever gets to the team delay will delay those two.”

  Foster leaned in. “Two birds with one stone. We get rid of them, you girls are gone without their help.”

  Oh please. Not only was this insulting, but it was really douchey of them to try this. “I see.”

  “I’m glad you do,” Drew said with his smarmy grin. “It just works out better for everyone if you guys go solo on this. It’s fairer.”

  “Right. I’ll talk to Georgie.” And I’d tell her what dicks these two were. Upset, I tried to force a smile to my face as they left. As soon as they did, I crammed more pastry into my mouth and chewed resolutely, thinking. There was no way on earth that I was going to abandon the guys. Not when they’d had our backs every round. I didn’t care if the other teams didn’t like it. If it was against the rules for us to share info and help each other, the producers would have said something. But they hadn’t, which told me that Drew and Foster were making this up to scare us. Either that, or we needed to have a heart to heart with the other teams…

  Nah. Scratch that. Other than Jendan and Annabelle, I didn’t really care about any of the others on the race. Team Daddy? The Red Hats? The Doctor Moms? Nope, nope and nope. Screw ’em.

  I was finishing off the last bite of a particularly yummy Danish when Georgie dropped onto the bench next to me. I gave her a wary look, because she had the same determined expression on her face that Drew had just a moment ago.

  “So,” Georgie said as I finished my breakfast. “Can we talk?”

  “We definitely need to talk,” I agreed. I was going to tell her what the Green Machine had just threatened. My cheeks heated at the memory of their words. Your little boyfriends. Was I so obvious as to how I felt about Swift? Probably. Which made it doubly embarrassing.

  Georgie drummed her short nails on the wooden table and glanced around. Then, she leaned in. “Not going to talk here. Somewhere private?”

  My eyes widened. Oh God. She must have heard me and Swift making out last night and wanted to give me the Big Sister speech. “Um,” I said, hating how strangled I sounded.

  She gestured off to the side of the hill. “That way, maybe?”

  “Okay.” I licked my fingers, glanced around to see if anyone else — okay, Swift — was around. Everyone seemed busy with their own thing, and over in the corner, I could see Jendan and Annabelle poring over a map of Europe and laughing quietly amongst themselves. I didn’t see Plate or Swift anywhere, which I supposed wasn’t a bad thing. So I nodded at Georgie and stood. “Lead the way.”

  The Swiss countryside was idyllic and lovely. Green grass meadows full of tiny flowers and fluffy clouds overhead made the place feel like paradise. Add in tiny cottages and mooing cows and I felt like I was in The Sound of Music. If Julie Andrews came over the hill in the next moment, I wouldn’t have been surprised.

  Georgie gripped my hand tightly – so tight that I was a little worried about her. What had happened between now and last night that was setting her off? Had the Green Machine approached her, too, and that was why she was so upset?

  Or was she mad at me because Swift and I had, um, gotten a little cozy last night? She’d been snoring, so I’d thought she was asleep. Maybe I’d been wrong about that.

  She clutched my hand and dragged me over a waist-high wooden-post fence, then into a field nearby filled with small flowers and verdant grass. Cows wandered in the distance, and up ahead I could see the slopes of the gorgeous mountains. I was panting, breath short in the high altitude. “How much further are we going?”

  She glanced around. “I guess this is fine. You want to sit?”

  I peered at the grass, hoping I wouldn’t find any cow patties. When it looked safe, I sat down and curled my legs under me. Georgie sat down across from me instead of next to me, and she hugged her knees tight. For a moment, she looked lost and lonely and incredibly sad. My heart thudded in my chest at the sight of this expression on my twin’s face. “Georgie, what’s wrong?”

  She inhaled and glanced around, still considering. Then she looked at me, and I could tell that she was fighting to remain calm. “I’m having a hard time, Clemmy.” Her voice was a small whisper.

  No shit, I wanted to say, but I didn’t. I reached out and squeezed one of the hands she had on her knees. “You haven’t been acting like yourself. What is it?” When she hesitated, I felt a stab of hurt. “I’m your twin. You can tell me.”

  She nodded, as if bracing herself. “I just…it’s difficult.” Her hand went to her shorter hair and she raked her fingers through it, agitated.

  I was silent. If she couldn’t bring herself to tell me, it must be a really bad secret. My stomach knotted as a thought occurred to me. “Is it…is it about Swift?”

  “What?” She looked surprised. “No. It’s about me.” Her entire body trembled.

  The knot in my stomach grew. “Say it, Georgie. I won’t judge you.” I was her other half. I’d never judge her. In my eyes, Georgie was never lacking. Sometimes unpredictable, but only because I knew her so well that when she acted out of turn, it shocked me because I knew her like I knew the back of my hand. It was one reason why Georgie’s irrationality was so disturbing to me.

  She sniffed as if fighting back tears. “So…I quit modeling.”

  That wasn’t what I’d expected to hear. “You what?”

  “I quit. About a month ago.” She shrugged and glanced away, staring hard at the cows at the far end of the pasture.

  “But…why? I thought you loved it!” God, Georgie was famous and swimming in money. Men all over the world worshipped her. She’d been on the cover of Sports Illustrated. Her career was in full bloom…or so I’d thought. Why had she quit?

  She swallowed hard again. “So…remember when I got that new agent two years ago?”

  Vaguely. My sister had changed agencies and her career had skyrocketed. She told me her new agent was really well connected and that was why things were suddenly falling into place. “What about him?”

  “Scott knew everyone in the industry. The big photographers, big studio guys. You name it. Thing is…” She swallowed again. “You had to be what he wanted if you were going to get anywhere.”

  “What he wanted?” I echoed. The sick feeling in my stomach continued. “I don’t understand.”

  “See…” Again, she raked a hand through her shorter platinum hair, so different than my own. “You had to do what the clients wanted. You dated them. Hung out at their parties. If they wanted you to wear something a little skimpy, you did it. And that got you jobs. It’s all who you know, right? Well, they’ll remember you if you make a good impression. Or so my agent told me.” Her expression grew distant again. “And I guess I didn’t realize he was playing head games with me for a long time. You know he kept telling me I was too fat for regular jobs, right?”

  “He did?” Georgie’s at least fifteen pounds lighter than me, and I’m lanky. She’s a beanpole. There was no way she was too fat.

  “Yeah. He told me the only way I’d get work was to be friendly. Real friendly.” The look of shame on her face told me everything.

  “Oh, Georgie,” I said softly.

  Tears spilled out of her eyes. “I tried not to let it get to me, because I was getting work, you know? And everyone was suddenly demanding Georgie Price.” Her fingers swiped the tears off her cheeks. “So what if I had to give someone a hand-job after a modeling shoot? There were girls that would be jealous of where I was, right? I kept telling myself that, and kept trying to like myself afterward. You know how hard it is to look yourself in the mirror after you gave a sixty-year-old man oral in the hopes of w
alking a runway?” She laughed, but it turned into a choked sob. “It wasn’t until last month that I figured out that I wasn’t much more than a hooker for these guys.”

  This was the worst thing I’d ever heard. My poor Georgie. No wonder she was so fragile, so emotional right now. I squeezed her knee. “What happened last month?”

  “Oh, the usual.” Her smile was bitter. “I got invited to a party boat for a few actors and big industry names overseas. I went and it was little more than a pussy auction. They were just handing us out like we were trophies, and we were dumb enough to go along with it. Just fucking blow-up dolls. Model Barbie, that’s me.” She shook her head. “The guy my agent gave me to? The guy he swore was going to get me the big jobs? That it was going to be my breakthrough to Hollywood and the next rung of my career?” Her expression went flat. “He raped me. I said no and it didn’t matter. He raped me and then let his bodyguards rape me. And I told my agent, and you know what he said?”

  I felt like ice. I wanted to shut her up, but I needed to know. I needed to let her tell me everything. “What did he say?”

  “He said that the man complained. That I was a lousy fuck and if I knew what was good for me, I’d try to have more fun next time.” Her bitter smile crumpled and she began to sob.

  I pulled her into my arms, stroking her hair. Oh, Georgie. My poor twin.

  “That’s when I had to get out,” she cried onto my shoulder. “That’s when I needed to start over. That’s why I wanted to go on this race. But I’m fucking it up, aren’t I?”

  “No, of course not,” I soothed her. Truth was, I suddenly no longer wanted to be on the race. Not after hearing that from Georgie.

  I wanted to be anywhere but here.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “When did one person’s smile become so damn important to me?” — Swift, Team One Percent, The World Races

  “I’m sorry,” Georgie said to me as she lifted her head and wiped her eyes. “I hate that I told you and brought your mood down.”

  I grabbed Georgie’s shoulders – noticing just how thin she was – and gave her a little shake. “Don’t be ridiculous. You are my other half. I love you more than anyone else in this world. If you can’t tell me what’s bothering you, who can you tell?”

  Truth was, I was more than a little hurt that she didn’t tell me until now. I shuddered inwardly to think of all the times Georgie had been abused by those dickheads and had put a smile on her face like nothing was wrong. To think that I’d had no clue. My stomach churned when I remembered that Georgie’s modeling had paid for my doctorate schooling. I’d trapped her with those abusers because I’d wanted to get a shiny ‘PhD’ behind my name.

  My belly clenched, and I barely held back the urge to vomit.

  Georgie hugged me again. “I just…wanted you to know why I am having such a hard time sometimes. Most of the time I’m fine, but then someone says something that makes me feel like I’m stupid, or I shouldn’t be here and…” she hunched down, her shoulders drooping. “It makes me feel like less than nothing. And I freak out. Like I’ll never be more than just a moderately pretty face. My agent always told me looks faded fast, and I needed to make hay while the sun shone.”

  “If I ever see that asshole, I’m going to punch him in the dick,” I told her viciously.

  Georgie looked startled, and a giggle escaped her. “I love you, Clemmy. You’re the best sister a girl could have.” She hugged me against her, and then pulled away. “You know, I feel better now that you know. Not so alone.”

  I managed a smile and touched my twin’s cheek. “I’m glad. You know you can always talk to me, right? I’d never judge you.”

  She nodded shyly and then flung her arms around me, hugging me again. “You want something to eat? I’m starving all of a sudden.” She hopped to her feet and stood, stretching. “We should probably carb-load for tonight’s tasks.”

  “You go ahead,” I said. “I’ll catch up.” I patted my stomach and came up with a lie. “I’m a little under the weather this morning and thought I’d make use of the field restroom.” The hut was charming, but there were no real toilets, so it had been rather…improvisational.

  She giggled and made a face. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

  I waved as she left, and then when I could no longer see Georgie’s long, lean body as she walked back down the side of the mountain, I let myself go.

  Hugging my knees to my chest, I wept. I wept for my twin, and for the happy, joyous person she’d been. I wept because Georgie was my other half, and she’d been abused by those she trusted.

  And I wept because now her burden was also mine. I felt as if I’d aged ten years in a half hour.

  ~~ * * * ~~

  I hid out for several hours after that. The afternoon was surprisingly peaceful, and I didn’t want to leave the hillside. The cows left me alone, and Georgie didn’t return. Maybe she sensed I needed some time to myself. Whatever the reason, I appreciated the downtime. I didn’t want to see anyone. I didn’t want to talk or be social. I just needed to be alone with my thoughts about my twin, and the sense of utter failure that I felt. I should have known my twin was in danger and protected her. At the very least, I should have been there for her when she needed a shoulder to cry on.

  I’d failed her.

  I was still miserable and moping when I returned to the campsite sometime later. It was getting close to dinner, which meant a lot of the teams were about to leave. I felt a twinge of regret that I hadn’t been able to spend the day cuddling with Swift, but I squashed it immediately. How could I possibly think about myself in this situation? From now on, my focus would be Georgie first. Georgie above all.

  Romance could wait.

  As I returned, I saw that the camera crews were in place near the mat, and a few teams were prepping their bags. The tents were broken down and Georgie sat on a picnic table with Doctor Moms, idly chatting. Our bags were at her feet.

  Plate and Swift were on the mat, holding their next clue. I’d missed the chance to talk to Swift. He looked up as I came into camp, and his gaze devoured me, then lingered on my face. I was sure my eyes were puffy from crying, but I met his gaze steadily.

  He started to step off the mat toward me, only to have a producer grab his arm. “No, you can’t leave.”

  “I need to talk to Tiny,” he said, handing the clue to Plate, who looked less confused and more exasperated. He shoved it back into Swift’s hands.

  “Now’s not the time, bro,” Plate said. “Save it for the next stop.”

  “We have a very tight schedule,” the producer said as he tried to come over to me again. “You have thirty seconds before things start.”

  I just gave him a faint wave. “We’ll catch up later.” I tried to give him a cheery smile but it wobbled and turned into more tears.

  That broke him. Swift shoved the clue into Plate’s hands and stormed toward me. When he got to me, he cupped my face in his hands and gazed into my eyes questioningly. “You okay?”

  “Fifteen seconds,” the producer snapped. The team next up was twitchy, waiting for their turn on the mat.

  I nodded and forced a smile to my face despite my tears. “Go and race,” I whispered.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I shook my head. I did not want to talk about it. Not now. Maybe not ever.

  He gave me one last anguished look, then pressed a kiss on my lips and sprinted back to the mat.

  “And filming!” The producer said the moment his feet touched the mat, and the race was on again.

  ~~ * * * ~~

  Georgie and I had to wait around, since we were once again the team in last place. We said goodbye to each team as they headed onto the mat, our hands locked in a tight grip of solidarity. Georgie, for her part, was handling her confession a lot better than I was. She was all smiles, her expression light and happy. Maybe because she’d finally shared her burden, she felt free of it.

  I felt as if all the weight had been
transferred to my shoulders.

  I couldn’t even be mad about that. How could I? I was more upset that it had taken Georgie so long to confess to me. My heart was broken on her behalf.

  When it was our turn, the sun was setting into the mountains, and the producer waved us forward. Everyone looked tired, and we hadn’t even touched the mat yet. It was going to be a long night.

  Georgie squeezed my hand as we strode forward to our spot. “You going to be able to do this?”

  I nodded. She wanted to win, so I’d do my best to win for her. To show her she could be a winner. To help her rebuild her fragile confidence.

  I tried not to think about the fact that Swift was trying to win the money for his cancer-stricken father’s medical bills. We all needed the money, right? So that couldn’t be a factor.

  But I still thought about it. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  “And go,” the production assistant said, and pointed at us. They’d started filming, which was our clue to jump into action.

  Georgie looked at me.

  I nodded again and she flipped over the clue. Then, we both bent over it and began to read.

  “Drive yourselves to Fribourg with the car provided. There, you will be given your individual tasks. Search for the Bern Bridge and look for your next clue. Good luck!”

  Georgie tucked the disk under her arm and reached for my hand. “Ready to go?”

  “Born ready,” I said, faking determination. The last thing Georgie needed was for me to be a sad, mopey sack while she was trying to keep her chin up. “Let’s do this.”

  Our packs on our shoulders, we started down the trail back to Gstaad Palace in the dark and in last place once more.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Man, I hope he gets laid. Like, a hundred times. Because at the rate we’re going? We sure aren’t getting the million.” — Plate, Team One Percent, World Races