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But she didn’t. Couldn’t. She hadn’t even told her husband what had happened back then. She hadn’t told anyone. Not yet. But why couldn’t she now? Why should this man be able to meander through life without facing a single consequence for his actions? And now he might win ten million dollars.
MarketingMama pulled her eyes away from the comments. The Best Friend was standing next to the hedge maze, her curly hair wild and tangled with bits of evergreen.
“I can’t believe I won,” she said into the camera. She held up the blue urn. “Apparently, a Super Clue is inside.” She reached in the urn and came out with a weathered piece of paper. She unfolded it and stared down at it for a long moment and shrugged. “It looks like some kind of family tree.”
She turned the paper to the camera. It was a family tree. An intricate one, with branches whose limbs were labeled with names or at least parts of names. MarketingMama caught an Irene and a Roscoe and a Lilibeth. She also noticed that there were gaping holes in the paper. One in the middle and one near the bottom.
The armchair detectives in the comment section were already theorizing. The family tree was that of some famous person and the puzzle was figuring out who it was. Others argued that it was the dates that mattered. One person told everyone to shut up, it was too early to know.
The video switched to the Executive, who was sitting on a stone bench outside the estate. MarketingMama held her breath. “Totally blindsided,” the Executive said with a tight grimace, his face suspiciously smooth. Even the sound of his voice sent a ripple of revulsion through her.
“This game is fucked-up,” the Executive said. “I can’t believe that old cowboy tased me. It hurt like hell.” He turned so that his bare back faced the camera. There was an angry red welt where one of the barbs struck him.
“I’m really going to have to up my game. There’s no way a soccer mom from Iowa is going to beat me. I mean, come on.” He ran a hand through his sandy hair. “If these people want to fight dirty, I can fight dirty. Bring it on.”
MarketingMama tried to steady her shaking hands. She knew this better than anyone.
“I did find one of these.” The Executive held up the small metal box. “One of the Game Changers. Hopefully this will help me put the redhead back in her place.”
The Executive plucked the red bow from atop the box and tossed it aside, looking around to make sure none of the other contestants were nearby. He flipped open the lid and pulled out a folded slip of paper before setting the box on the bench next to him.
“Huh,” he said, staring hard at the contents. “This was unexpected.” He tilted the box to the camera.
Inside was a slim, black metallic object. MarketingMama had no idea what it was until the Executive pulled it from the box, pressed a button and a sleek, silver blade shot out. She reared back at the sight of the sharply curved, glinting steel. A knife.
The Executive picked up the piece of paper next to him and began reading, his forehead creased in concentration. After a moment he looked up at the camera and held up the knife. “Well, this certainly makes things more interesting, doesn’t it?” he said with a grin.
MarketingMama’s stomach dropped.
TWELVE
THE BEST FRIEND
Then
Maire stood at the edge of the bluff and peeked down at the frozen mirror that was Tanglefoot Lake. Above, the light from a million stars poked through a black sky. The effect was dizzying and Maire scurried back to keep from tumbling over the craggy precipice and into the lake below.
Maire accepted a flask from Lina and braced herself before taking a swig of cheap whiskey. She fought the urge to gag as the caustic liquid seared her throat and lungs, landing hotly in her stomach. But it did the trick. Within seconds, she was no longer shivering, and her limbs were pleasantly warm, if a bit rubbery. That was fine with Maire. She didn’t want to be here anyway.
She preferred to be back in her dorm room working on her newest painting. Anywhere but hidden behind a cluster of towering pine trees nearly freezing to death on a secluded bluff that overlooked Tanglefoot Lake. Her roommate, Lina, whom Maire adored, made her come. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Come on,” she urged. “Classes start again in two days. Please.” She gave Maire her best lower-lip pout.
Maire had a hard time saying no to beautiful Lina with her silky dark hair, quirky sense of humor, and bell-like laugh. Lina was all fun. She never seemed to study and talked constantly. For the first four months they were dormmates, Lina harped at Maire to set her books and art projects aside to come out and have a good time until Maire finally relented.
It wasn’t that Maire was against having fun—she loved fun—but just didn’t love sitting around doing nothing but drinking in the freezing cold.
Maire’s goal was to get out of Iowa completely, to eventually get into the School of the Art Institute of Chicago and make a real living from her creations. She wanted to put her hometown of Calico in her rearview mirror forever. Lina, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have any particular goals and was determined to party her way through their four years at Tanglefoot University. Maire could resist, most of the time. But here she was. Again.
She stared at the group of six, five of whom were her friends, around the bonfire that hissed and crackled in the frigid air. The temperature had dropped dramatically over the past few hours, the rare, short-lived early January warm snap gone. Maire had met the six of them her freshman year and they were a ragtag group brought together more by convenience than anything else.
Figgy—no one knew her real name—was chatting up Damon, a junior on the hockey team who had a tongue as sharp as his slap shot. Figgy was Maire’s roommate the year before. A drama major, she seemed like the perfect match for Maire. Both had come from small Midwest towns, were creative and dedicated to their art. They bonded while navigating a new campus and trying to find their niche. For the first eight months of their freshman year, they were inseparable.
Then Maire came across one of Figgy’s psychology class papers and was surprised to find it was the exact paper Maire had turned in the semester before. The only difference was that Figgy’s name was typed across the top.
Maire confronted Figgy and even offered to help her write her own paper. At the very least, she hoped Figgy would apologize. No such luck. Figgy didn’t apologize. Ever. Instead, she laughed it off, saying it was no big deal. Maire threatened to go to the professor if Figgy submitted the paper. She didn’t want to get caught up in a plagiarism scandal, or worse, didn’t want to get expelled.
Figgy ended up turning in another stolen paper, got caught, and ultimately failed the class. Maire thought she was lucky not to get tossed out of school. Figgy accused Maire of turning her in. Not true. But suddenly a nasty rumor that Maire was sleeping with a married professor made the rounds. More than one person told Maire that Figgy was the source. Maire packed up and crashed on Lina’s couch for the remainder of the semester.
“I’m sorry,” Lina whispered in her ear. “I didn’t know she was going to be here. Damon brought her.” Maire shrugged as if Figgy’s presence didn’t bother her in the least. But it did.
