Page 53 of Charlie and Her Sweet Escape
“The newlyweds!” He pumped my arm like he was hoping to retrieve water from it. He was quite a bit gentler with Charlie, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles. Red spread across her cheeks, and her face looked ready to split with her huge smile. “I’m pretty sure my wife would’ve resorted to cannibalism for sport if we’d done this just weeks after getting married.”
“The option’s still on the table,” a woman said, coming around him to give both of us a hug. Her wildly curly hair wastied back from her face with a red bandana. “I’m Sophie, the on-site physician, and married to this guy.”
“We met here when she had to stitch up that gnarly gash on my thigh on episode six,” Carson said, with affection in his eyes. “She couldn’t resist me.”
“Nothing hotter than a man bleeding out,” Sophie said dryly, but her eyes twinkled. I liked her. If everyone was this down to earth, it was going to be even more fun than I’d expected.
“We’re ready to begin,” a voice using a megaphone called out. Charlie and I turned to find Savannah, the producer we’d done our interview with, looking right at us, while nine other couples sat on the ground or on logs around her. She looked different in her camo jacket and hiking joggers. Why had I expected her to be in a suit even out here?
“You guys are the last to arrive,” Sophie whispered. “Good luck! I’m rooting for you.”
We made our way over to the group and found a clump of soft grass to sit on. Charlie’s knee bumped into mine as she excitedly leaned forward.
“Welcome toMarried in the Wild.” Everyone clapped and whistled in excitement. Savannah smiled as she took in the cheers. “We have chosen each of you for your unique abilities and stories. We have everyone from the couple who has been married for fifty years to the newlyweds.”
More cheers. I clapped and glanced around for the couple that had been married fifty years. I’d always been fascinated by people who stayed married for so long. I spotted what had to be them, two people in their seventies, sitting on a log, holding hands.
“We need to go over a few guidelines before we hand out gear and teach you how to use your cameras.” She paced a dirt path as she spoke, clearly one of those people who never stopped moving for a moment. “First, remember that above all, this isa show. When you get out there, it can be easy to forget that the cameras are always watching. We’ll send you with your own personal cameras, and once a week, our crew will come out for med checks and to set up for the obstacles.”
Nerves shot through me.In the Wildaways had a series of manufactured challenges the contestants had to go through—everything from zip lines racing through the forest to building a shelter with only certain materials—and we had no way of knowing ahead of time what kind of activities we’d be asked to do.
“This means,” she continued, “that you need to play everything up for the camera. I’m not asking you to manufacture drama. Our viewers are smart. They can see that from a mile away. Everything needs to be enhanced. If you’re upset, you’re nearly inconsolable. If you’re angry, you’re raging. If you’re kissing, you’re making out to an uncomfortable degree.”
“It’s like being on stage,” Charlie murmured to me quietly.
“What?” Savannah asked. “Did you have a comment, Charlie?”
Charlie’s eyes widened as she swallowed nervously, but she pushed up onto her knees and said, “It’s like being a stage actor. They have to exaggerate their expressions so people in the audience can see.”
“Perfect. We’re asking for exaggeration, not pretend.” She eyed Charlie for a moment, then went over the details of what to do if we got really injured (call them on our walkie-talkies), how often we needed to be filming and wearing our mics (at all times; we could turn the camera away while dressing or going to the bathroom), and what conditions would get us removed from the game (getting sick or badly injured, losing a challenge, or choosing to leave on our own).
“The show airs in two weeks, which means you’ll still be out here when it starts. This gives us a unique opportunity to seehow the public is connecting with you, which we will use for challenges, airtime, and the twist.”
The twist.
It was one of the thingsIn the Wildwas known for. Once it got down to the last few contestants, the show would invoke some sort of twist that would turn everything on its head. No one would know what it was until it happened. Charlie glanced at me with excitement.
Savannah finished her instructions, then said, “Charlie and Bennett, a word, please?”
Everyone looked at us curiously as we met her at the front of the open tent, and she walked us around the back out of the group’s earshot. She’d been understandably confused when we’d explained that we needed an updated contract with my name on it instead of Greg’s. Especially since I was the person who had done the interview as Greg.
“I heard about the fight,” she said. “What are the chances of our viewers finding out that you were engaged to someone else right before the show? We don’t want anyone thinking this is a setup.”
“Greg and I were together for a long time,” Charlie answered, sounding stressed. “All it would take is someone going to Winterhaven and asking around.”
“I don’t know why someone would do that, though,” I added.
“They might, if you’re winning. We’ll try to keep the network ahead of it. Play up that you’ve been secretly in love for a long time, and you had a ‘speak now’ moment.”
“That’s exactly what happened,” I said. “So it won’t be a hard narrative to weave.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Make sure the audience believes it more than I do right now.”
She walked off, and Charlie turned to face me. “I thought we were being convincing,” she whispered. “We’re holding hands.”
We both looked down to where I had her hand cupped in mine, my four fingers pressed together between her thumb and pointer finger. “I used to hold my dad’s hand like this,” she said thoughtfully. She slid her hand away, the friction of her palm against mine enough to make me nearly groan. She then interlocked her fingers between each of mine. It should not feel this intimate. This thought-stealing.
“That’s better.” She smiled in a casual way that said she wasn’t feeling her heart race in her chest like a teenager, that her thoughts weren’t scattered like seed pods in the wind. Her eyebrows furrowed. “Are you okay?”
