Page 6 of Taking the Heat

A few days later, I landed in LA for pre-production, which was all a bit of a blur. I didn’t have time for sightseeing—I spent most of my time sequestered in my hotel room so I couldn’t run into any of the other contestants. Production runners came and went, escorting me to interview rooms, bringing me food and relaying schedule changes.

The interviews were incredibly long and detailed:

‘Tell us about your first kiss.’

‘If you could sleep with any celebrity, who would it be?’

‘How is your sister doing?’

I did my best to answer everything, straightforward and unemotional. But whenever someone asked me about Ella, I could feel my reactions grow unstable and hot heavy tears always seemed to lurk close to the surface.

I wasn’t allowed any access to TV, magazines or internet, but I could take an occasional phone call, with an assistant in the room to chaperone. I checked in with my parents and Ella for the final time last night, just before I was stuffed on a chartered plane and flown here.

‘Here’ is an island off the coast of Fiji, and the only reason I know that much is because I recognised the airport code, NAN, on my luggage. We landed on the airstrip in the wee hours of the morning, where I was hustled from the plane to a helicopter. A forty-minute noisy transfer later, and I was here.

The chopper slowed and I looked out, bleary-eyed, into the dawn. Beyond the cockpit, I could see a red sun rising over a postcard-perfect dot of green. As we grew closer, the splodge morphed into a tiny isle, set against brilliant blue waters.

The pilot banked and circled around. Nestled in the lush rainforest, luxurious cabins and buildings with thatched roofs caught the early sun, and as we landed on the white beach, a flock of multicoloured birds took flight. It’s a pure paradise—the kind of place people dream of visiting.

As I stepped out onto the soft sand, the blades of the chopper drowning out every other sound, I held a hand to my throat, overwhelmed by the beauty. A warm gust caught the hem of my light green trapeze dress, lifting it Marilyn-style around my waist. I giggled, sleep-deprived and delirious, pushing it down and hoping no one saw.

It was about then I noticed the first camera crew, shooting me from shelter of the trees. A second crew approached, following a man I knew very well.

‘Hello Tara,’ said Miles Shield, world-famous celebrity interviewer and host of IonU, the biggest talk show on the planet. ‘Welcome to Erotic Island.’

Stunned, I shook his hand and followed him up the beach, into the open-air bungalow. Tall beams supported the thatched roof, and cane furniture with colourful cushions beckoned me to sit.

Miles sat across from me. Aside from the widescreen TV set up next to his chair, and the cameras shooting me from multiple angles, it was actually quite relaxing. The sounds of the birds and waves combined with the fresh morning sunshine and tropical breezes. I breathed deeply and smiled.

Miles smiled back at me. ‘You look happy, Tara.’

‘I am! It’s gorgeous here.’

‘Isn’t it! But, down to business.’ He leaned forward, expectant in his tropical shirt and expensive cargo shorts. ‘You’ve come here, not for sex or an experience, but for your sister. Isn’t that right?’

Dammit.Travel weary, I was at my lowest defence. Weepiness overtook me, almost immediately. ‘Ella is my world. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.’

‘I know,’ said Miles sympathetically. ‘Let’s watch.’

He indicated the TV, which burst to life. My face appeared, from the pre-production interviews. ‘Ella’s the bravest person I’ve ever known. I love my baby sister. I’ll do whatever it takes to come home with the million dollars.’

The screen changed, showing an old pic of Ella and me, smiling and holding hands, our blonde hair intertwined. My voice played over the top. ‘She’ll never have a normal life again. She’ll never know how it feels to rub her feet in the sand, or have a warm hand on her leg. She’ll never skip down a flight of stairs or go for a run in the park with her children. She may never be able tohavechildren. I can’t give all that back to her,’ the screen flipped back to my tear-stained face, ‘but I can do this for her. I can win the money that will allow me to look after her, forever.’

The TV faded to black, and I wiped at my face, trying to rub away the evidence of my impending breakdown. Miles handed me a tissue. ‘You’re such a good sister.’

I waved away the compliment. ‘No, I’m not. I’m just doing what she would do for me.’

I felt the cameras focused tight on my face, while another nameless production manager scribbled notes furiously behind them. The falseness of the situation caught up to me, and I smile weakly.

Miles patted my hand. ‘Well, no more tears for now, darling. You’ve got a luau-orgy to get ready for!’

Chapter 3

Yup. A luau-orgy. Not only is it hard to say, the name is quite deceptive. Nobody actually had sex as far as I know, although there were definitely some who came close. Then they hit us with the rules. Anyway, I’m skipping ahead again.

After my interview with Miles, an assistant led me away. As I followed him along the wooden boardwalk, I could hear another chopper approaching but the sound faded as we wound in between the tall trees. The path split multiple times, and even with the signage, I wondered how I’d ever find my way back.

We finally arrived at my bungalow. It’s like a gorgeous tree house, all pale bamboo and white draping. The view is incredible: the trees drop away around me and the ocean twinkles beyond them. I sighed and admired it for exactly ten seconds, before the huffy hair and makeup ladies practically threw me in a chair and set to work.

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