“Why have us download an app if we can’t even use it?” beautiful Ava grumbles.
Logan perks up at the mention of the app. The app is by Frye Technologies, the Silicon Valley giant he shares a last name with. It’s part of why he wants to go into making apps. He feels connected already, like he’s destined to share that success.
But the woman waves dismissively. “Oh! The app. I forgot about that. It’s for after the competition, so don’t delete it. Gathering information, feedback, blah blah. Not my department. And I am sorry about the lack of service—I know how you young people like your phones!—but it’s actually one of the features that drew us to Asterion. You’ll remember your NDAs. Ox Extreme Sports is quite serious about those. They’re still in developmental stages on the tournament, so they need to control the flow of information. They’re considering selling it as a reality show.”
Half the bus citizens perk up, like dogs on a scent. Half sink down, like those same dogs after years of abuse.
“But of course nothing is decided yet. We reserve all rights. Now, I’m sure you’re hungry. The Star Diner is ready and waiting. While we’re there, I’ll brief you on today’s schedule.”
Mack slouches in her seat. She doesn’t have any cash.
“I can cover you,” Ava says. Apparently Ava still sees her more than she wants to be seen.
LeGrand clears his throat. His voice is incongruously deep for such a baby face, and the way he talks makes it clear he both knows how deep his voice is and is ashamed of it. “I was—um—I was told all meals would be provided?”
“Oh, of course, dear.” Their hostess’s lipstick has migrated to her front teeth, making her smile look bloody. “Breakfast is on us! And all your meals during the competition will be on-site. Now that you’re here, the only thing you have to worry about is not being found.”
LeGrand wilts with relief. Mack is glad, too. She doesn’t want to start on an empty stomach, and she doesn’t want to owe anyone anything. Especially not Ava.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” one of the men trills in falsetto.
Mack’s stomach turns. She might not be able to eat after all.
A computer. A tiny apartment in a run-down city. Nobody to talk to and nothing to do for the rest of her life but get by. That’s all she needs. She can do this. She has to.
They file out of the bus. As they go, their hostess hands them each a nicely bound, laminated packet. “What’s your name?” Rebecca asks her, settling further into her role as leader. She has that quality, that extra bit of charisma, that sets her apart. It makes everyone look closer, trying to figure out if she really is prettier than she seems. She acts pretty. Maybe that’s it.
Beautiful Ava shifts closer to her, then steps away, then steps closer. She looks back and makes eye contact with Mack. Rolls her eyes like they’re both in on some sarcastic observation.
Mack has no idea what it is.
Their hostess laughs at Rebecca’s question. “I’m Linda! I was going to introduce myself last night, but you all fell asleep so fast, I didn’t want to wake you.”
Ava makes a small, doubtful noise. Mack deliberately moves away from her, to the back of the group. LeGrand’s there. He stares down at his packet with an alarmed expression. Mack opens her own.
Legalese. She skims the terms. Limits of liability. A repeat of the nondisclosure agreement. Permission to be filmed. Release of rights to their own images. Agreements to do interviews and press and promo after the fact, if the company so chooses.
Mack will sign whatever she needs to. And then she’ll take the money and run. There’s no way her history won’t be used for something like that. But with $50,000, she can disappear. She skips past the dozen or so legal pages to the itinerary and schedule. The Star Diner is listed for the morning, along with instructions. Which are all in the packet. Oh, god. They’re going to have to sit there while Linda reads the entire packet aloud to them.
A rush of air-conditioned cool reaches out to claim them as they enter the diner. Out of his gas station but never out of his comfort zone when helping other people, Brandon holds the door for everyone, smiling and nodding at each of them, though most don’t notice. Rosiee, the woman with all the jewelry, smiles at him. His grin gets big and sloppy. It’s still that big and sloppy when Mack slinks past him. He frowns slightly, trying to figure her out. But LeGrand brings up the end of the line, and Brandon lets the door close, sealing them in the frigid diner with the AC and the permanent scent of bacon. Later that night, when Mack changes, she’ll still smell it, permeating her bra.