She should have read the back of the packet. All their names are listed. Shit. She doesn’t need this complication.
The toothpaste commercial stands up. Linda is outside, making final arrangements with a couple of men and a supply truck. Gary, thankfully, is back in the kitchen. “We should do introductions! I didn’t get to talk to everyone while we were waiting yesterday. I’m Rebecca Andrews. I’m an actress. I like long walks on the beach and ridiculous competitions. Though I’ll admit I’m disappointed that we don’t have more diversity in the group to reflect our beautiful country’s”—she reaches for a word, but ends up repeating—“uh, diversity.” She’s obviously disappointed in herself for not being more eloquent.
Ava and Rosiee, the only people in the room who aren’t white or white-passing, share a long-suffering look, but neither engages. Mack doesn’t blame them. It’s not like Rebecca would give up her spot here so someone “diverse” could have a chance.
A guy stands up next, wearing a polo shirt with an embroidered company logo and khaki pants. He looks like he should be holding a clipboard. “Christian Berry. Solar panel salesman, so let me know if you have a house and I’ll hook you up.” He watches the room hopefully, but no one speaks up.
It goes down the line. Some try to add a clever line or two like the toothpaste commercial. Some give only their first and last name. A slouchy guy with a beanie and a hoodie on despite the heat gives a single name.
“Atrius like the insurance?” the clipboard guy asks.
“No, like the—” He sighs. “Yeah. I named myself after health insurance. It’s social commentary. I can’t get insurance, so I became insurance.”
Ava laughs. Atrius looks at her gratefully.
A sallow guy with deep-set eyes—Mack remembers he spent the whole afternoon huddled over a notebook but didn’t seem to write anything—scowls, folding his arms. “I don’t know what the point of this is. We aren’t friends. We’re all here to beat each other. I don’t care what any of your names are, or what you do, or your hopes and dreams.”
“Aw, Ian, don’t be like that.” Brandon smiles. “This can be fun, too, right?”
“I’m with Ian.” Ava shrugs. “I wish y’all the best, but I also hope you lose. I’m Ava, by the way.”
“The other Ava,” beautiful Ava corrects. “I’m Ava, and—”
The guy with the muscles leans back, folding his arms. “I’m Jaden Harrell—”
“Like that dickhead Brent Harrell?” Ava interrupts.
“Who is that?” Jaden frowns, biceps twitching.
“The Supreme Court justice? The one who assaulted women in college and makes decisions for the whole country now?”
Jaden shrugs, obviously annoyed at Ava for interrupting and also for knowing something he didn’t. He tenses, the equivalent of a rooster puffing up his feathers to look bigger in the face of a threat. “Who the fuck cares? Anyway, yeah, I’m Jaden. But who is Mackenzie Black?”
“Mack?” Beautiful Ava looks at her. “That’s you, right?”
Mack’s food is gone. She stands and walks out of the diner. The heat greets her like an old friend, wrapping her in its embrace. Linda waves brightly but doesn’t come over. She’s checking things off a list from her folder. Mack’s duffel is a reassuring weight dragging on her shoulder.
The street is lined with summer-lush trees, each shaped as though it were modeling the ideal form of a small-town tree. The street is paved perfectly black, and the sidewalks meander like creeks around the islands of the trees. Each building facade is maintained and clean. Bright shutters, cheerful paint, decorative windows. It feels like a movie. Mack half suspects that if she went down an alley, there would be no buildings behind the storefronts, wooden beams propping them up, elaborate sets of lights, tables for craft services.
“It’s a vibrant community,” the bus driver says. He’s middle-aged but seems older, leaning against a nearby tree, eating a sandwich as though he’s sorry about it. “A good town. A safe town. No crime. Everyone is employed. Lots of businesses that create jobs all over the country. The world, even.”
“Can I get back on the bus?” Mack asks.
He nods. He’s still staring down at his sandwich, not looking at her. “Worth fighting for. Places like this. They’re special. Rare. Traditions, you know?”
She doesn’t. She gets on the bus.
* * *
—
“What state are we even in?” Jaden asks as he climbs off the bus.
Linda taps the side of her nose. “If you don’t know, I’m not telling you! The location needs to be kept secret. We may want to use it again, and we can’t do that if future competitors can Google for an advantage before the game even begins. It was in your NDA.”
“Right, yeah.” He stretches deliberately. Mack has never seen someone who wants to be looked at as much as he does. Not even beautiful Ava or the toothpaste commercial can compete. Everyone files out after him. They’ve driven a couple of blocks and stopped in front of an elegant, if vaguely out of place, building. In contrast to the idealized Americana feel of the main street, this building is pure white. Greek columns frame the front. A gravel walkway is lined with topiary and fountains with no one outside to enjoy them. Just like the main street. For all Mack can tell, they’re the only people in the whole town. Though she could have sworn she saw some faces peering out of windows at them as they drove past various businesses.
“What is this place?” the writer asks, frowning.
“A spa!” Linda holds out her hands, beaming. Several of the women and a few of the men clap excitedly. Mack feels dread. Ava sighs in annoyance. LeGrand takes a step back toward the bus.
“I’ll wait here,” he says, but the door is closed.
“Nonsense! This is a gift. The next week is going to be difficult. Let us pamper you first.”
“When are we going to meet the Ox Extreme Sports people?” the intern asks. (Mack wonders what someone would have to be like to introduce themselves as “currently an intern but ready for the next challenge!” in the middle of a diner with a bunch of clearly under-and unemployed people.) She’s wearing a blazer over pinstripe slacks. “Are they inside?”
“No, dear. Come on. They’re ready for you, and we don’t want to waste any time!”
“Then why are we going to a spa?” Ava mutters.
Mack wants to hang by the bus with LeGrand. But Linda swings back around and takes LeGrand by the elbow, steering him inside. Apparently this, like Mack’s fateful shelter meeting, is mandatory.
* * *
—