The medics took our blood pressure and listened to our hearts, placing a freezing stethoscope on my skin, causing me to nearly jump from the chair. “Yikes,” I squealed. “Maybe some warning next time?” I added.
“Wait till they put it on your nut sack,” Drew teased, causing two of the male medics to burst out laughing.
“Doubt they’ll find yours,” I wisecracked, causing even more laughter from the team.
“I can see you two numbskulls have made a bond,” a producer in tow stated. “The footage is golden, Drew. The test audiences are eating you guys’ banter up. The first broadcast is next week, and we’re expecting huge numbers. Really good material, boys, so keep up the shenanigans. The executives are loving it.”
“It’s all Erik,” Drew praised, laying his large hand on my knee. “The kid is a natural and he makes me look good.”
All I heard was the part where he referred to me as the kid. Apparently that was how he saw me. His teasing and flirting was all part of his master plan to be the first three-time winner.
“Whatever you guys’ schtick is, keep up the act,” the producer repeated.
The guy I figured as gay muttered under his breath, and Drew didn’t take to it kindly, as it was obviously aimed at him. “You got something on your chest, dude?” Drew asked, making a point to lock eyes with him.
“I said, nice work if you like the gay baiting,” he stated, writing a note on a clipboard, ignoring Drew.
“Who the fuck are you?” Drew asked, looking from crew member to crew member, suddenly pissed and wondering who this clown was.
“I’m the assistant director is who I am. Bryce Swift to be exact.”
“Get this straight, asshole. I don’t gay bait. That’s not who I am so I suggest you retract that comment,” Drew said, standing and moving a step closer to the guy, who by that time had everyone’s attention.
That didn’t shut the guy up. “I’ve seen the footage. If what you’re doing isn’t gay baiting, then tell me exactly what an assumed straight king of the jocks is doing playing to the camera concerning your camp mate here,” he replied, gesturing toward me.
“Is that how you see it?” Drew asked. “How about you keep this under advisement, buddy. I’m the star of this fucking show and you get a paycheck because of me.”
Bryce rolled his eyes and laughed. “Is that right?” he responded. “Rumor has it your fan base isn’t too happy with your latest role, big guy.”
Drew moved directly in front of Bryce, towering over him and leaned into his face. “Nice to hear the gossip, suit. What’s got your panties in a flutter anyways? You wishin’ it was you sharing a tent with me?”
“Hardly,” Bryce muttered, blazing red. Drew had called him out on his shit.
The rest of the crew remained frozen in their places as Drew and one of the brass went at it. Drew found his camera angle and motioned with a wave of his hand for the crew to step back. “Hello there, audience. You heard him,” he began, pointing at Bryce. “Apparently, I’m pissin’ a few of you off, huh? Well, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” Drew extended his hands to me and pulled me out of my chair. “What are you doing?” I whispered.
“Hold my arm and follow along with me,” Drew said. He stepped back, pulling me with him. “You and your crew can get the fuck outta my face, douchebag. You think I’m gay baiting? Well, you better hold on tight because you ain’t seen shit yet.”
* * *
Day Thirteen
Because Bare Naked was filmed live with no retakes, and broadcast nightly with only a two-week delay, Drew and I were notified that the entire interaction two days ago was the lead-in story for Hollywood Tonight’s top headline yesterday. Excerpts of the exchange and Drew addressing his fans was broadcast on America’s number one gossip show. Tongues were wagging all over the internet, but we weren’t aware of it because of our seclusion.
Drew appeared to be unaffected by the run-in with the assistant producer. What the hell was former Super Bowl winner, all-American stud, Drew Montana, up to with me, alone on an island, naked. Was he playing to the audience, or was he hiding a secret?
CHAPTER EIGHT: DREW
Day Fifteen
Ispent the day gathering wood that the river had deposited along the shore and then stacking it at the open end near the tree line of our makeshift tent. The tarp was stretched between two trees just off the beach using the rope included with the tarp I’d brought along as one of my items. The problem was that both ends of the triangle shape allowed cool wind to travel through it. Now that fall was in full swing and we were getting a bit of rain, it was damn cold in the tent.
Erik was down the beach scrounging for anything we could use that may have washed up on shore. I wanted to surprise him with the remodel and comfortable space I was attempting to provide us. Figuring out how to make a door for the front of our tent facing the river was harder than I thought. If we couldn’t close both ends, there was no need to do either one. It was necessary for us to block wind as well as keep the heat from our fires inside the cramped space.
A sudden yell from down the shore caught my attention, so I looked toward his location on the beach. He was struggling to hold up a large piece of plywood, and I hurried to him. “Holy smokes, buddy,” I exclaimed after arriving at his side. “I swear I was just wishing we had something like that. Where’d you find it?”
“In a junk pile around the bend in the river about a half mile down there,” he said, pointing east. “There’s a ton of trash and stuff we should rummage through before other teams find it.”
The rules of the game were that you could each only bring three items from home, but anything of use that you found around the area was available for teams to utilize. Erik had already found a bunch of tangled fishing line with three hooks we’d been using to catch fish.
