Partner Games

  By the time we arrived in Fribourg, it was almost three in the morning, the streets were empty, and we were both yawning. Georgie drove, since she was the one with the stick-shift prowess, and I read the map by the light of a teeny-weeny flashlight.

  “We took exit 7, right?” I asked for what felt like the tenth time in a row in the last few minutes. “It should be just up ahead.”

  Georgie peered through the windshield. It was drizzling and the wipers were flicking back and forth. Add that to the dark and both of us were on edge. There was a cameraman in the car with us, but he offered no help, just creepily filmed the entire time and occasionally belched and forced me to roll down a window.

  “There!” Georgie said, pulling over to the side of the road and slamming into park. “I see it!”

  I clutched the seat in front of me, bouncing. “Jesus, Georgie!”

  “Sorry, not sorry,” she yelled as she sprung out of the car, all excitement. “Come on! We need to make up some time!”

  I raced out of the car with her. Sure enough, there was a bridge ahead, but it was tinier than I’d expected. Kinda looked like the small wooden bridge the couple had died on in the movie Beetlejuice. Great, that was a fun thought to have at 3 AM in the drizzling rain. I scooted after Georgie, who was bouncing up and down in front of a shivering Swiss lederhosen-wearing man who handed us a disk.

  “Good luck,” he said, and stifled a yawn.

  I still had my tiny flashlight in hand, so I shone it on the disk. “Your individual tasks await. One of you cuts the cheese, and one of you will strum a chord. Pick your task.” At the bottom of the disk was the envelope with individual instructions.

  “Which do you want to do?” I asked Georgie. She was the one struggling with tasks. I’d let her pick whichever sounded easiest so she wouldn’t flip out on me.

  She considered for a moment, and then pointed at the first task. “Cutting the cheese…probably Swiss cheese, right? Surely it can’t be about farting?”

  I giggled at the thought of Georgie having to fart on command. “I’m pretty sure that’s not it, no.”

  “Well, if it’s rolling cheese or serving cheese or even making cheese, I can do that. The other one sounds like music and you know I’m tone deaf.”

  She was. I grimaced at the thought. “Yeah, I’d better take the musical one.”

  We divvied up instructions and then parked the car in the designated race spot. There were several other cars there, but I wasn’t sure if that meant they were still doing the challenge, or if they’d just left their cars there and headed on to the next task.

  My instructions were to head down one of the cobbled streets of Fribourg, looking for a guitar shop. Once there, I’d be given my next clue.

  Despite the late hour, I was able to find the shop pretty easily. The instructions were super specific, and I sent up a silent prayer that Georgie’s had been, as well. The guitar shop had a cute little wooden hanging sign and was tucked between two other quaint looking buildings. I raced up to the front of the building where the clue disks were stacked and shone my flashlight to read it.

  Did you know that the city of Fribourg hosts an international guitar festival every year? Inside, you will find several guitars of all different makes, along with a sheet of music and an instructor. You must learn to play a portion of the song to the instructor’s satisfaction, and then you will receive your next clue.

  Learn to play a few chords on the guitar? Okay, I could do that. No big deal. I’d taken a few music lessons when I was a kid. Granted, they were for the flute, but music was music, right?

  I opened the door to the shop…

  And paused.

  Inside the tiny shop were too many people. In addition to the employees of the shop and the cameramen, I saw four other players. Green Machine’s Drew, Orange Team’s Annabelle, Bingo from Team Daddy (he was the son of the father-son team) and Swift.

  Sexy, sexy Swift.

  He stood at the front of the room, the guitar slung low on his hips. It looked like an electric guitar, whereas the others were playing more traditional wooden guitars. A quick glance around the room showed that one person was still with his instructor (Bingo), and everyone else was practicing their music. Annabelle had her tongue out as she fingered the guitar, a crease of concentration on her face.

  And Swift?

  Swift stood at the front of the room and the moment he saw me, he started playing. His fingers moved over the strings and for a weird moment, I felt as if he already knew how to play guitar. A moment later, that was confirmed as he moved expertly into the strains of a song.

  A familiar song.

  I stood in the doorway, wet from the rain, my hair sticking to my head, and trying to puzzle out the song. It took until he got to the chorus that it finally sunk in. I knew that song.

  He wasn’t playing the song they’d intended for us.

  He was playing Guns N’ Roses. Specifically, Don’t Cry.

  And he was playing it for me.

  He remembered that I loved GNR. He remembered that I loved that album. And as the lyrics swam through my head, I realized he was trying to comfort me. Even though we were in a race, even though he couldn’t stop to sit down with me and hash things out, he was letting me know that whatever was bothering me, he had my back.

  I burst into tears again.

  “That is not the song, I am sorry,” the guitar maker said, frowning at Swift. “Please try again.”

  Swift cut off the song with a sheepish look at me. “Right.”

  I smiled at him through my tears and then blew him a kiss. Actually, I wanted to fling myself in his arms and cover his face with kisses for the perfect song and the perfect moment, but the game was still on.

  I watched as Swift turned to the man and played through a different song, this one quick and efficient and unrecognizable to me. No Guns N’ Roses this time.

  When he was done, the guitar maker nodded and presented him with one of the game disks. “Very good. You have completed your task.”

  “Thanks, man,” Swift said. The others clapped politely, including me. Swift gave them a cocky grin as he put his guitar back in its place, and then sprinted over to where I stood, still in the doorway like an idiot.

  I gave him a watery smile. “You just finished? That’s incredible timing.”

  “Not so incredible,” he said, cupping my face and giving me a kiss on the mouth. “I stalled in the hopes that you’d show up. Figured as long as the others were sucking, I still had time.” He leaned in and whispered. “Guess I’m the only kid that was in a garage band.”

  A small chuckle escaped me. “Guess so.”

  His fingers brushed over my cheeks, wiping away my tears. “You okay? I hate to see you so upset. I don’t know what happened, but I want to fix it.”

  “You can’t,” I said softly. “But it’s sweet of you to offer.” I squeezed his hand. “We’ll talk more at the next stop, okay?”

  “Play well,” he said. “I don’t want you going home. Bingo has no music sense, so don’t help him, okay?”

  I nodded.

  He gave me another quick kiss and then zoomed out the door. I moved in and ignored the unhappy look that Drew was shooting in my direction. I hadn’t forgotten about his warning.

  But if there was one, Annabelle hadn’t paid attention to it. “Aww,” she drawled. “Y’all are so darn cute! I love it. Me and Jendan met on Endurance Island, you know.” Her fingers strummed the chords and she winced at a sour note. “I think the island was easier than this, though.”

  I sat down at the place that Swift had vacated, picking up the electric guitar. It felt a lot heavier than he’d made it look, and I spent a few moments awkwardly trying to adjust the strap on my shoulder.

  “You ever play before?” Bingo asked as the instructor left him and came to my side.

  “Not a lick,” I admitted. “But I’m going to learn this fast for my twin.”

  “Uh huh,” Drew said. “Your twin, or the
biker you were just sucking face with?”

  “Does it matter?” I said sweetly and studied the page of music on the stand before me like it wasn’t jibberish. “I’m still going to beat your ass.”

  I’d had it up to there with bullying men. Georgie had been bullied by men who were supposed to have her best interests. I wasn’t going to let this fuckhead bully me out of the race. Fuck him and his partner.

  Annabelle giggled at my strong words and then hit another sour note.

  And as I strummed the guitar and the instructor sat down next to me, I decided that if he was going to play hardball and try to get me and Georgie out because we were working with the guys?

  We’d just have to get the Green Machine out of the race first.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “I knew all those guitar lessons when I was a kid would come in handy. And man, I am going to get so much shit from the guys when we get home. Ugh. I just thought about that. Still, it was worth it.” — Swift, Team One Percent, World Races

  “That is correct,” the guitar instructor said as I finished the down-pick on my chord. He smiled at me and pulled half of one of the World Race disks out of his bag. “Here is your clue.”

  “Thank you,” I said, slinging the guitar off of my neck and returning it to its stand with trembling fingers. It had taken me three tries but I’d gotten it right…which was more than anyone else could say. Behind me, I could still hear Bingo and Drew hitting sour note after sour note. Annabelle stood in the corner with her guitar, waiting to try again. She gave me a happy thumbs up even as Drew scowled at me.

  I was ahead of Drew. That was all that mattered. But I paused and realized there was another way I could get ahead of Drew. I went to Annabelle and adjusted her grip on the guitar’s neck. “Move your hand here after the second chorus. You’re getting the chord wrong.”

  Recognition dawned on her face and she nodded. “Thanks!”

  I winked at her. “Just beat Drew,” I whispered, and snatched the clue, then raced out of the shop.

  The clue itself was nothing but cut-off letters. The other half of the disk would fit with mine and then it would be readable, but until then, I had nothing. So I raced back to our car, tailed by our camera man, and hoping Georgie had finished her task quickly.

  When I saw the car, my twin was waiting, dressed like the Swiss Miss girl. I giggled at the sight of her, her chin-length bob caught in the world’s saddest short braids. “I know, I know,” she said, and then held her short skirt out and did a curtsy. “I look ridiculous. But I’m done! How did your task go?”

  “It took a bit but we’re still ahead of the others,” I told her, holding out my clue. She matched hers to mine and I held the flashlight over it as we peered down at the disk.

  HEAD TO VERZASCA DAM AND GET A TICKET.

  “Sounds easy enough,” Georgie said. “I guess we’re driving there, too?” She pulled the keys from her tiny embroidered bodice. “You got the map?”

  I pulled it out and with the flashlight, we scoped out the map of Switzerland until we found the dam in the mountains near the border to Italy. “Long drive,” I told her. “Let’s get started. Back to Bern we go!”

  ~~ * * * ~~

  We stopped for gas and coffee and directions at some point, and by the time we made it to the dam, it was super late and Georgie and I were both yawning and dragging ass.

  We pulled into the parking lot and Swift and Plate were both leaning against their car, arms crossed. Another car was in the parking lot with them, but I didn’t see the passengers.

  Swift sat upright as we pulled into the parking lot and I waved happily at him. The moment we got out of the car, he was standing there waiting for me, and I flung myself into his arms. Every mini-reunion felt massive, and I clung to him, so glad to see him again.

  “Yo, we can cuddle later,” Plate said, gesturing at the walkway up to the dam. “The girls need to get their ticket before another team comes here.”

  “Right. Come on, Clemmy,” Georgie said, grabbing my hand and pulling me off of Swift.

  We raced up the marked path, flashlights in hand. Ahead in the darkness, there was a World Races sign with the logo and several tabs that were numbered. Those had to be the tickets. We grabbed number three. It had a time on it – 8 AM.

  “You’re only fifteen minutes behind us,” Swift said, giving my shoulder an awkward pat.

  Plate gave a whoop and grabbed Georgie, flinging her around. “Hell yeah!”

  I froze.

  I knew Plate. I knew he meant well. But all I saw was a big guy grabbing my twin, and my brain exploded.

  “Don’t you fucking touch her,” I yelled, flinging myself at him. My fists slammed into his shoulder.

  “Yo, Tiny, what the fuck?” Plate said, trying to move out of the way of my flying fists. I felt Swift grab me around the waist and I began to kick.

  “Let go of her,” I screeched. There was a red haze of anger in my mind that blurred out all thinking. No one was going to grab at my twin again. Not while I was around to protect her. Georgie needed protection and this time, I could fucking be there for her. “Don’t touch her!”

  He set Georgie down, his eyes wide, even as one of the camera-men came racing forward and put himself between me and Plate.

  “Guys, calm down,” he said, putting his hands up. “No getting physical with the other teams! You know the rules.”

  “He grabbed my twin!” I yelled.

  “It’s okay, Clemmy,” Georgie said in a soothing voice, moving to my side. Her long arms wrapped around my neck and she hugged me. Blinking back angry tears, I hugged her back, squeezing her tight against me. “It’s just Plate. He’s safe.”

  Plate’s big face scrunched up. “Safe? What the fuck does that mean?”

  But Georgie was busy soothing me. “It just means that she doesn’t need to worry. You’re not my type.” Her hand stroked down my back. “It’s cool, Clemmy. Really.”

  Plate reeled as if hit. “Not your fucking type, huh? I guess it’s okay to hang off of me and take my help when you need it, just because I’m a big dumb ugly bastard, right? Who cares if I have fucking feelings.”

  Georgie pulled away from me and shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. I—“

  He threw his hands up and walked away. “I can’t believe this.” He turned around and pointed at Georgie. “I fucking worship you, Georgie Price. You may not get that from your regular ‘type’ but I would fucking wreck this town if you asked me to. So maybe you chew on that for a while.” He turned away and stormed off.

  “Oh, shit. That did not come out right,” Georgie said miserably.

  “He’ll get over it,” I said, patting her back. “I’m sorry I freaked. I just…snapped.”

  “Yeah, so…” someone drawled behind me.

  Oh damn. Swift. Flinching, I turned to look at him, apology in my eyes. “Swift—“

  “Hey, it’s okay,” he said, moving forward. Georgie released me and Swift came to my side, cupped my cheeks in his hands and gave me a light kiss. “I’ll go cool him off. He’s a good guy. He just…probably thought things were different. That’s all.” He shot Georgie a look and then kissed me again. “We’ll have to save our snuggle time for some other race leg. Do good, okay?”

  “Okay,” I whispered, hating that he was leaving. We had hours before our ticket time. I wanted to spend them curled up with him.

  Instead, Georgie and I had just pissed off our alliance. Damn it.

  “Everything cool now?” The cameraman asked, arms still spread as if to keep us separated. “Do I need to call in production?”

  “We’re good,” I said. “It’s just a misunderstanding.” I watched miserably as Swift jogged down the trail back to the parking lot to catch up with his partner.

  Georgie moved to my side. Her arm went around my waist and she gave a heavy sigh. “I really fucked things up, I think.”

  “You are just fine,” I told her stiffly. I was not going to let her beat hers
elf up over this. “It’s probably good that we separate for a few legs, because Drew and Foster are going to try and turn everyone against us if we ally.”

  “Mmm,” she said, then looked at me. “So. He just kissed you like it was nothing. Did I miss something here? Or did you guys make out while we were in the tent and I slept through it?”

  “Uhhh,” I said eloquently, and my cheeks burned with embarrassment. This was awkward. What could I possibly tell her?

  Yeah, right before you destroyed me with your confession, I sucked face with the hot biker. Is that ok?

  “Can I plead the fifth?” I asked, my voice squeaky.

  “No, you absolutely cannot,” Georgie said, leading me down the path to the parking lot. “Spill. We’re twins. We don’t keep secrets, remember?”

  Damn. She’d shared her horrible secret with me. I supposed I had no choice but to share the news of my makeout session with her.

  Chapter Twenty

  “What is it about me that makes me so fuckin’ unlovable to someone like Georgie Price? I’m strong. I’m tall. I can change a flat. I can hold my breath for at least two minutes solid. I’ve got a big dick. What more do girls want? Manly tears? I mean, damn. Throw a brother a bone already.” — Plate, Team One Percent, The World Races

  “Sucks for my bro, but I’m kinda glad it was him getting the nad-shriveling takedown and not me. I’m already losing man-points for the guitar thing.” — Swift, Team One Percent, The World Races

  “I’m pretty sure I messed things up back there.” — Clementine, Team Beauty and the Geek, The World Races

  “I’m pretty sure I messed things up back there.” — Georgie, Team Beauty and the Geek, The World Races

  We sat in the car with the windows rolled down as we waited the hours until Verzasca Dam was open. There were still several to go before sunrise, and we wanted to see which teams also pulled up to get their tickets in what order.