Max hadn't left the studio since the decision to do the live stream. He decided that he needed to stay in the mindset of cocky television host. Plus, all hands on deck were required. Producers and stage hands were constantly in and out to help set up and test feeds and equipment, and yet, even with three weeks worth of work left to do in just two days, Max volunteered to help deliver the food to the holding cells for a day.
He slid open a serving slot, sliding in a tray of dry rice and a bottle of water. He heard his finalist jump out of bed and crawl across the concrete to devour the meal. "Your last meal will be soon. Be thinking about what you want."
The finalist took a moment from sucking down dry rice to catch their breath, "Eat my ass."
Max laughed and slammed the slot shut before turning back to his cart. There was one tray left. Rice and water. He wheeled it over to the final door before sliding open its serving slot. He quickly pushed the tray in, causing the water to roll to one side, flipping the tray and the rice on it upside down onto the floor. He spat through the slot onto the finalist who was lying on the floor beside the door before slamming it shut.
"Maxwell," a voice said solemnly from behind him.
"Kayla!" He smiled as he turned, "What a pleasant surprise! A couple days early though, don't you think?"
"Why did the finale get moved? Three days? You told me I had time to think!"
"Technically, it's only two days now," he began rolling the empty service cart back to the studio kitchen, "Either way, you stayed, didn't you? It seems to me that you made your mind up."
"I'm not one hundred percent sure that I can do this," she said as she followed him down the echoing hallways.
"You don't have to be one hundred percent. You can be ten percent. Plus, I told you, you don't have to do it. You can always choose to let him walk."
Makayla sighed, "I don't think I can do that either."
They both walked into the massive kitchen where Max parked the cart and flung open an industrial sized refrigerator, "The I guess you really are in a..." he reached in and pulled out a large jar, "...pickle."
"Why can't you do it?" She asked with desperation in her voice.
"Because one, I'm not his victim," he shut the fridge door, pickles in hand, and began heading back to his dressing room, "and two, I'm the host of this show. It wouldn't necessarily seem fair if I did it, now would it?"
"People love you, Maxwell! They honestly would probably rather see you do it!"
"That's not how this game works, Kayla."
They both entered his dressing room where Reagan was sitting on his couch scrolling through an article on a tablet. She looked concerned.
"To whom do I owe the pleasure?" Max smiled as Makayla shut the door behind them.
"Max, this isn't good." She stood and handed the tablet to him.
He read for a moment, his smile slowly melting away. He peered up at Reagan who stood with her arms crossed. Her eyes shifted to look at Makayla then back to him. He turned to his sister. "Did you do this?" His voice was soft with a grave tone behind his words. He passed the tablet over to show her the headline:
"Redemption Isle" Fan Favorite Revealed as Show Host's Father
Makayla shook her head as he began reading:
"Hit new television reality show 'Redemption Isle' pits twelve registered sex offenders against one mass murderer with the winner, or potentially multiple winners, being cleared of all charges, but nepotism could be playing a part with an anonymous source revealing to us that one of the fan favorite contestants is, in fact, the father of the show's host, Maxwell O'Healey. Could Mr. O'Healey be helping his father be cleared of the charges that he was found guilty of nearly twenty years ago?"
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Lone Wolf
غموض / الإثارةThirteen people wake up on an island with no immediate memory of where they are and how they got there.
