She turned back to Lois, polite but determined.
“I’m sorry but this is not going to work. I’m not wearing it and you can’t make me.”
Lois riffled through the sheaf of papers she was holding and thrust a few pages towards Jessie.
“Actually, we can.”
“What’s this?”
“It’s a complete copy of the rules, terms and conditions of the competition, which, in entering, you agreed to abide by.”
Jessie flipped through the pages, squinting at the dense print. “I never saw these.”
Lois shrugged. “Contestants were invited to send away for the full rules if they so wished. Have a look at Section Two, Part Four.”
Jessie read aloud. “The attire and accoutrements of the participants, aka competition finalists, shall be determined at the sole and total discretion of Quest Broadcasting.”
Jessie looked up and waved the rules at Lois. “I don’t suppose there’s any other little surprises in here that I should know about, is there? Any little clauses saying I have to sleep with Nick Garrett by any chance?”
Lois let out a fake laugh. “What you want to get up to on the island is entirely up to you.” She shrugged. “Of course something like that wouldn’t hurt the ratings.”
Jessie gave her a narrow-eyed look which didn’t appear to faze the producer in the slightest. “So,” she said brightly to Jessie. “I’m afraid you do it our way or not at all.”
Jessie looked back at the mirror, struggling with her decision.
She had long been an avid fan of Survive This!—the TV show where the charismatic presenter and survival expert, Nick Garrett, spent each week in a different situation. Whether it was wilderness or rainforest, desert or arctic, Nick showed the viewers how to find water, create fire, build shelters and subsist on the indigenous wildlife. And as if it wasn’t enough that he had all that skill and expertise, the guy was also charming and funny and just an all-round, total hunk.
In contrast, Jessie’s practical survival knowledge was nil. There wasn’t much call for a small-town librarian to go trapping wild rabbits, building rafts or knowing the correct smoke signals to attract search-and-rescue teams. That didn’t stop her from reading every book she could find on the subject or harboring a secret certainty that, should an emergency situation arise, she’d be able to acquit herself admirably.
When Nick had announced that they were putting together a special show whereby members of the public would be selected to enact a survival situation on a tropical island she’d realized immediately that she had no chance of being picked. But she’d amused herself by entering the competition anyway, sending off the requested essay, photograph, and biographical details. She’d nearly gone into cardiac arrest when Nick had reeled off her name on the program, along with the two other people that she would be competing against for the grand prize of a million dollars.
A flight to L.A., then into the offices of Quest Broadcasting and, after another flight to Tahiti, she had boarded the yacht that was currently speeding her towards an isolated, uninhabited island.
She couldn’t back out, not after coming this far. To spend a fortnight with Nick Garrett on a tropical island, even without the incentive of the prize money, was an unmissable opportunity. Both for the sake of an unforgettable adventure and also to see if Nick really was as funny and captivating as he always seemed on the show.
Okay, the fact that there’d be a camera following them around was a little unnerving but, up to this moment, hadn’t proved a sufficient deterrent.
Because, of course, she hadn’t imagined herself appearing on the nation’s television screens dressed quite like this.
She gave Lois one last beseeching look. “Are you sure you don’t have anything else I could wear?”
“That’s it,” said Lois impassively. “Take it or leave it.”
Jessie laughed weakly. “It’s going to look pretty strange wearing my backpack over this.”
“It sure is,” agreed Lois. “Which is why you won’t be. Attire and accoutrements,” she reminded Jessie. She pointed to a small purse on the bed. “You can take that evening bag. It matches your dress.”
“But…” Jessie faltered. “You mean I’ll have no equipment? No supplies? Nothing?”
Lois folded her arms and gave a sigh to emphasize how very patient she was being. “Look, I don’t see how I can make this any clearer. You know the premise. You’re on a cruise ship and it goes down in the middle of the ocean. You, Nick and the others are washed ashore on a desert island. Lucky for you Nick is a survival expert. You guys, however, are just civilians. I mean, let’s face it, anyone could manage if they were washed up with a bag full of survival gear, couldn’t they?”
Jessie felt herself wavering. She had to admit that Lois was making a good point. “I guess you’re right,” she said at last.
“Great,” said Lois. “Well, let’s get this show on the road. Or, should I say, into the water. You ready to go?”
“I just have to use the bathroom.”
Lois nodded. “Okay, then come straight up on deck.” She made for the door.
Jessie kept the smile on her face until Lois left the cabin but then she quickly replaced it with a look of determination.
She grabbed the sparkly purse and shuffled through the contents.
Perfume, lipstick, a compact and condoms.
Jessie rolled her eyes.
Keeping one ear cocked for the sounds of anyone approaching she rummaged in her backpack and pulled out some of the things that she’d prided herself on packing. Penknife, a mini compass, sunscreen; one by one she squashed them into the bag. A tiny sewing kit, she’d definitely be needing that. She opened the perfume bottle and, without so much as a blink, poured fifty dollars worth of scent down the sink. She rinsed the bottle and refilled it with something much more useful. She rolled up the lipstick and snapped it off at the base. Ten waterproof matches fit perfectly inside the tube. She put the perfume bottle, the compact and the lipstick into the bag and held the condoms for a moment, vacillating, before she eventually tucked them back in, too, reasoning that they didn’t really take up any room.
JESSIE HAD TO SHADE her eyes as she climbed up the narrow stairwell to the deck of the yacht. The sun was dazzling and the sky and sea seemed to be competing to show off how blue they could be. Jessie gasped as she spotted, looming on the horizon, a breathtakingly beautiful island. Green forest flowed down to the golden beaches and birds wheeled overhead.
There were about twenty people on deck and Jessie stood awkwardly, holding onto the handrail, trying to ignore the sidelong glances and startled whispers that her appearance had provoked.
Lois beckoned her over to the side of the yacht. After a pause Jessie let go of the handrail and tottered over on the spiky heels. She fell forward to grab the side-rail as she reached Lois.
“Good grief,” she complained. “These shoes are hazardous.” She lowered her voice and spoke plaintively to Lois. “I feel like an idiot.”
Lois waved her hand dismissively at the people milling around. “Oh, they’re just crew and staff, forget about them. This is who I want you to meet. Jessie, say hello to Kenny, our on-site cameraman. Kenny will be following you and the others with the handheld.”
Jessie smiled and looked with yearning at his baseball hat, sloppy jeans and checked shirt.
“Hey, that’s a great dress, man,” he said, greeting her with the kind of complex hand signal that she had only ever seen MTV presenters use.
“Er, yes,”