Daniel Abraham - Inside Straight

“We could take Curveball,” I suggested.

Tiff made a face. “Michelle, you and she have almost the same power. Why would we duplicate that? We’ve got to get someone who’ll work well with our team.” She leaned forward and touched my leg. “Taking DB will demoralize Hearts. It’ll break up their alliances. And if he’s got any showmances going, it’ll stop them, too.”

“Showmances?” Jetman asked.

“You know, when two people on a reality show become romantically involved for the duration of the show. Sometimes they stick—like Boston Rob and that joker chick from Survivor , what was her name?”

“Amber,” Jetman replied. “She looked like she was a big chunk of amber. She even had bugs stuck in her skin. It was pretty gross, but I guess you never know what’s going to float someone’s boat.”

Tiff gave Jetman a big smile. “They won the money because they had this amazing alliance. I heard one of the PAs say that Drummer Boy’s been making time with every willing girl on the show. Ever since Curveball dumped him, that is. And they may be getting back together after that little scene when we were taping.”

Aside from Curveball calming him down at the studio, I didn’t really see much going on. But, honestly, I’m bad about picking up on that who’s-doing-whom stuff.

“I just don’t get all this intrigue,” Jetman said. “I think Drummer Boy’s a conceited jerk.”

“He’s a big guy, though,” Tiff said. “He could probably be handy in a brawl. Besides, if we lose again, we can get rid of him instead of one of us.”

I had to admit, Tiffani’s plan sounded good, especially the last part. I hated the idea of one of the last three Diamonds going home.

Jetman was fixing breakfast in the kitchen the next morning. He’d started doing that after we lost our first challenge. His cooking was a bit uneven—and he couldn’t seem to make breakfast without dirtying every dish in the house.

He was just scooping eggs into a serving bowl when I came in. “Morning, Bubbles,” he said, passing the eggs to me. “You want pancakes or waffles this morning?”

I looked at the table. A stack of bacon and about twelve sausages were piled on one plate. A large bowl of fresh fruit salad sat next to it. There was a basket overflowing with pastries—croissants, cinnamon buns, kolaches, and muffins.

“Uhm, I think I can find plenty of stuff to eat. You really don’t need to make anything else.”

“Oh,” he said. I turned toward him and saw a hangdog expression on his face.

Crap.

“But you know I can’t resist your pancakes,” I said. Actually, his pancakes were really bad. But he brightened and pulled another bowl out of the cabinet.

I sat down, put the bowl of eggs on the table, and loaded my plate with pastries, bacon, eggs, and fruit.

“Remember, you’ve got pancakes coming,” he said.

“Herummm,” I replied around a mouthful of food. My wild card power made me fat, but otherwise, I could eat anything I wanted and stay skinny.

Tiffani straggled in a few minutes later. Her face was sleep-swollen. I thought she looked adorable. With her kimono-style robe wrapped around her, she appeared tiny and delicate.

“Pancakes, Tiff?” Jetman asked.

“Gah, no,” she said. “Just coffee until I can get my heart going.”

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

“And caffeine is my drug of choice. Don’t get between me and my fix.”

I poured her a cup from the carafe on the table, put three sugars and a dollop of cream in it, and then passed it to her. She took a long pull and smiled at me. I felt my stomach flip-flop.

“I’m glad you’re all up,” said Ink as she sauntered in with one of the mobile crews. “The producers think all the heroes need a break from the competition.”

Tiff took another hit off her coffee. “How about three days and four nights in Jamaica?” she said.

“No can do,” Ink replied. “We’re shooting ‘Diamonds Pick a Heart’ tonight.”

“So, what’s the ‘break’?” I asked, using my ironic air quotes.

“You have a choice,” Ink replied. “You can have a thousand-dollar shopping spree, a trip to Disneyland, or a spa day.”

“I’m guessing this isn’t an off-camera event,” I said.

“Nope. It’s going to make for some great footage. But you do get out of the house for the whole day. And, even better, no press obligations and no workouts.”

Jetman and Tiff both looked chipper at that. Neither of them liked working out.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Disneyland,” Jetman said as he ladled pancake batter into a pan. “I think I’d like to do that.”

Ink smiled at him. It was a great smile. “You’ll be getting the VIP treatment while you’re there. I think you’re going to have a wonderful time.” She turned toward Tiff and me. “And what are you two going to do?”

“I’d like to go shopping,” Tiffani said. “I’ve never even seen a thousand dollars in one place. But I don’t want to go alone.” She looked at me hopefully.

I was torn. I had plenty of clothes—even if most of them didn’t fit me anymore. And Disneyland sounded like fun. So did having a spa day. But Tiff gave me a pleading look, and I couldn’t resist. “I guess I’ll go with Tiffani,” I said.

Ink looked disappointed. I guess they hoped we’d each take a different “prize” so there would be more diverse footage to work with. “Be ready in half an hour.”

The Beverly Center wasn’t as swank as Rodeo Drive, or as trendy as Melrose Avenue, but there was a great variety of stores. We decided to start at Bergdorf’s and work our way through the mall from there.

“Oh my God,” Tiffani said, stroking a bright red cashmere wrap. “You’ve got to feel this.”

I smiled. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been that excited about shopping. After all the modeling, I’d started to hate clothes. I usually wore inexpensive off-the-rack stuff and some of the nicer pieces that the designers would send around. That was one of the perks of the job. I had loads of status symbol accessories that were only mine because some designer thought Jill Blow would covet his $500 sunglasses because she saw me wearing them in In Style magazine.

Tiff picked up the price tag and blanched. “It’s four hundred and fifty dollars. Every bit of clothing my sisters and I bought last year didn’t cost that much.”

Without thinking, I said, “You’re kidding.”

Tiffani rubbed the cashmere against her cheek. “Nope. When I said we were poor, I meant real poor.”

“I thought there was just ‘poor.’ ”

She laughed and carefully put the wrap back on its shelf, then ran her hand across the rainbow colors of the rest of the shawls. “We never went to see movies. They cost too much money. We didn’t go out to eat. We never had cell phones, or clothes that hadn’t been worn by someone else first. Or an inside toilet.”

I stared at her. “You’re kidding. How did you find out about American Hero ?”

She laughed. “Honey, everyone has a TV. Even the folks without indoor plumbing.”

We wandered over to the perfume counter. Tiff took a bottle of Joy 1000 off the tester tray and spritzed a little on her wrist, then sniffed. She held her wrist under my nose. The heavy aroma of jasmine and roses wafted up. “It’s okay,” I said. “It’s just not my cup of frothy cappuccino.”

Tiffani sniffed her wrist again. “Mmmmm, I think I like it.” She glanced around for a salesgirl. One rushed over. I think she noticed the camera following us.

The salesgirl gave us a bright smile. “How can I help you?” she asked.