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MAVERICK

“Oh, hell no,” Hector said from the back seat of the Ranger Rover.

Maverick, at the wheel, could see Hector’s worried expression in the rearview mirror. His old friend ran a hand over his thick mop of dark hair, a thing he did when he was stressed, his doughy forehead moist and crinkled. Hector was often stressed. “That’s a hard pass, Mav.”

Maverick brought the SUV to a stop in front of a towering graffiti-covered sign very clearly warning them away. PELIGRO! DANGER! GO BACK!

“Aw, come on,” said Mav, looking back at Hector with a smile. “Don’t be such a baby.”

“Why is it that when something says danger or go away , you view that as invitation?” asked Hector.

Riding shotgun beside Maverick, Gustavo was loose and easy, tattered hiking shoes up on the dash. Gustavo laughed and held out a fist which Mav bumped with his. “Because he’s Maverick.”

“One of these days you’re going to get us all killed,” complained Hector.

It was their shtick, their routine. “But not today,” Maverick answered. Hector grinned at him in the mirror.

As they passed the towering sign and rounded the bend in the road, the abandoned hotel rose before the vista, windows yawning black, overgrown foliage leaking from the roof, deep fissures in the concrete walls. It was a great shadow looming at the precipice of a steep cliff overlooking a glittering volcanic lake.

The last light of the day glinted on the still water.

Maverick felt that familiar excitement, that electric current through his veins. His whole body vibrated with it.

The dark structure hulked, a huge concrete dare. Man, how he loved the broken thing, the jagged edge, the crumbling ruin. It thrilled him to see how things broke down.

“Holy shit,” said Gustavo, dropping his feet and leaning forward. He was lean and muscular, with a square jaw, and long black hair that he pulled back into ponytail, a bandanna over his head. That toothy smile, a wide arc of mischief and joy. It always connected Mav to his inner adolescent boy. “ This is going to be extreme, brah .”

“This is going to be nothing if we don’t get a permit from the town council,” said Angeline from beside Hector in the back seat, tapping on her phone.

“We’ll get it,” said Maverick. They locked eyes in the mirror. “Trust me.”

“Like Mav doesn’t always get what he wants,” said Alex from the too-small third row of the vehicle. He’d been mostly quiet on this trip, except to chime in with something negative. “In the meantime, he’s going to bankrupt us if we keep having to pay everyone off.”

“It’s not a payoff ,” said Maverick. “It’s a donation to build a library for the town. Just trying to grease the wheels.”

“Hmm,” said Alex. “Okay.”

Mav looked for Alex’s indulgent smile, the one that made him feel like everything was okay, but his friend was staring at his phone. Frowning. His vibe was off. Trouble at home, maybe. Alex and his wife, Lucia, had a new baby, and Mama was not too happy about this outing.

I can’t just pick up and go at a moment’s notice anymore, Mav , Alex had complained before the trip, which he had vigorously opposed.

And that was exactly why Mav was never having kids or tethering himself to a woman who wanted to settle down. Angeline had an adventurer’s heart. He glanced at her in the mirror again. She and Alex had identical postures, heads bent over their respective screens, faces glowing in the light. If Angeline thought about marriage and kids, she’d never said so.

He pulled the vehicle to a crunching stop and stepped out. The air was so fresh that it made his lungs ache, everything around him a dripping, fecund green.

Maverick held up his phone and tried to frame the view before him on the screen. But there was no way to capture any of it, its beauty, its drama. The deserted structure sucked in all the light. The mineral green of the water, the hyperorange and gunmetal gray of the sky, and the rolling mountains beyond were made flat and dead by two dimensions. Even his eyes could barely take it in. You can’t squeeze the whole world into that rectangle in your hand , his dad, who refused to carry a smartphone, liked to say.

That’s not what he was trying to do. The phone—it wasn’t a box. It was a portal. He was trying to give something to his followers, many of whom rarely left their gaming chairs.

“It’s perfect,” Mav said, the silence swallowing his words. But it wasn’t really silence. The movement of the trees, the wind, the calling of birds, the rustling of undergrowth wove a chorus of whispers, a landscape of sound.

No one answered him.

Angeline was on her phone again. Having exited the vehicle, she moved purposefully toward the tilting gate at the grand en trance. Her form was a slim shadow, tiny against the towering old-growth forest.

Though he had the urge to call after her, bring her back closer to him, he stayed quiet, watching her. Her voice, but not her words, carried on the night. She sounded angry. But then she was usually angry, or at least annoyed. As the chief operating officer of Extreme, she was constantly in the middle of his circus, cracking the whip. Making sure things worked, that the haters stayed at a safe distance, that his plans came to life.

Gustavo and Hector already had the gear and were moving toward the open corpse of the hotel, laughing, their voices echoing. Gustavo Bello, or Tavo as they mostly called him, with Hector’s reluctant help would rappel down the empty elevator shaft to inspect the foundation. Extreme’s social-media director and main sidekick, Tavo could and would climb in or out of anything with agility and grace. As thin and powerful as a galvanized-steel cable, his body was seemingly not beholden to the laws of gravity that others had to obey.

Hector Cruz’s role—his official title at Extreme was producer—was to stay on the sidelines telling them to be careful, identifying potential threats, managing safety. He was the one holding the rope, pulling them out when things went FUBAR.

Alex Tang, number cruncher, was still in the vehicle.

“You coming?” Mav called.

But Alex gave him a wave, pointed at his screen. Maverick pressed down a rush of annoyance, their last conversation—fight, really—still lingering.

The numbers don’t work, Mav. We’re in major trouble.

It’s your job to make the numbers work, isn’t it?

I’m the CFO, not a fucking magician.

Mav hesitated another second, then followed Hector and Tavo, watching the beams of their flashlights dancing around the near darkness.

When he was closer, he spun around and flipped the camera so that it was his own face he saw, turned to put the hotel and the vista behind him. He knew that he should tell Angeline that he was going live, but instead he just pressed the button.

“Hey, guys.”

He was supposed to say folks or y’all . Guys was misogynistic or at least neglectful of the fact that not everyone in his vast following was male. Though, most were. Most were boys to be honest, teenagers, young adults. But he had his passel of teen girls, too. Apparently, he even did well with the ClickClackers who skewed a little older. According to Tavo, who knew about all things web and social, the ClickClackers were hot for Mav.

The likes and comments started streaming in.

ManSplain: Mav, where are you dude?

Kittycatxxx: You’re so so hot

Fairywings: I luv you mav

Glittergrrl: Marry me

Joshwuzhereyo: Douchebag

“Behind me you see the shell of what used to be Enchantments, a resort here on beautiful Falc?o Island that sits in an archipelago the middle of the Atlantic.”

That wasn’t the actual name of the hotel. It’s original name was Esperanca. But Mav kept stumbling over the right pronunciation, so he changed it—against Angeline’s wishes. But no one would care, right? The hotel went out of business long ago, and there was barely anything about it online. The word Enchantments sounded better to Mav than Esperanca , which meant hope . And that had clearly died here long ago. It was depressing. Enchantments was optimistic, magical.

Pokemaz69: Looks like a dump

Climbergirl: Holy shit that’s scary

Bloxman: What are you doing there, man?

He usually didn’t read the comments, too distracting. But lately he’d been keeping his eye on them, looking out for one person in particular. Someone he kept blocking but who kept popping up under different accounts.

Maverick went on, walking backward, the hotel growing larger behind him.

“Built in the 1980s, this place was supposed to be the epitome of luxury, an isolated, hundred-acre paradise for the very wealthy with a grand ballroom, spa, stunning suites, private casitas, trails, tennis courts, three swimming pools.”

He paused, panned the camera around so that his viewers could catch the whole vibe—dusk, the decrepit hotel, the isolation. He lowered his voice an octave.

“But because of outrageous debt and poor management, the inaccessibility of this tiny island, and a series of, um, unfortunate incidents , Enchantments went out of business in under five years. So this place has stood empty for four decades. Ravaged by time and by looters, Enchantments is a ghost of its former glory.”

There were ten thousand people watching now. He watched as a flood of hearts streamed up the screen, name after name, a full rainbow of comments from praise to trash-talking. The whole mess of humanity scrolling by. It wasn’t long before he saw the comment he was waiting for. This time it was MavIsALiar with three skull emojis. Formerly it was MavSucks or FUMav . That’s how Maverick knew: those three skulls with their gray, menacing faces and holes for eyes.

MavIsALiar: Liar, liar.

He ignored it and continued.

“This is the location for my next challenge. The contestants are already on their way, and the game begins tomorrow. The winner will walk away with—wait for it—one million dollars, our biggest prize EVER.”

Alex was in his head again.

Mav, we do not have a million dollars to give away. You can’t promise people that.

We’ll have it when the challenge is a success. Trust me, brah.

We’re running on fumes.

But Mav shook off the negative vibe. He knew something that Alex didn’t seem to. Money was magic. You could manifest it from the universe. If you asked it to come, it would come. And he was asking.

Pokemaz69: Holy shit.

Wildonez55 : A cool million!

Byteme$$: I’m so there

Climbergirl: Where do I sign?

MavIsALiar: He never actually gives the money he raises for charity.

Truthteller09: Aren’t you being investigated for fraud? Unfollow this loser.

ExtremeHottie: Ignore the haters, Mav. We know you’re a good guy.

Violenceisblue: Love you, Mav.

Eleven thousand people now.

What a rush. He pressed a button on his phone, and people from all over the world tuned in to hear what he was saying. Him. A kid from New Jersey, a college dropout. He’d tried to explain that to his father. But the old man just didn’t seem to get it.

What’s a follower? his dad wanted to know. In his language, follower wasn’t a good thing.

Fifteen thousand people now.

“We have some sick sponsors for this event,” he said.

Over his phone, he saw Angeline marching toward him, tiny but mighty. A furious pixie with close-cropped jet hair and a face of hard angles: high cheekbones, arched brows, big heavily lashed dark eyes.

“What the fuck, Maverick,” she mouthed, lifting her palms. She wouldn’t screw up the live broadcast, though; he knew that. He gave her a grin, and she shook her head, put her hands on her hips.

“And I’ll be announcing those sponsors and our players soon.”

He moved in close, lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“This place is crazy , you guys. The locals say it’s cursed. And you know what?” He made a show of glancing around. “I think they may be right. The energy is electric, and this is the perfect place for Extreme Hide and Seek. More to come. Peace and love.”

He cut the live, but not before he saw the comment from MavIsALiar:

Keep playing, Mav. But you will pay for what you’ve done. Where is Chloe Miranda?

“I told you we weren’t ready to announce, Mav,” said Angeline when she knew he was done. He tried to shake off that last comment from MavIsALiar, but it had hit dead center, echoing one of his dad’s many wisdom sound bites: What comes around goes around, son .

He pushed it down deep, turned to Angeline. “Just getting people excited.”

She had the flush on her cheeks that she got when she was mad, that glint to her eyes. It was hot. Really hot. It gave him a little jolt when she was angry, all her attention trained on him and whatever thing he’d just done. He loved the fire in her.

“We don’t have permission from the island yet,” she said. He tried to take her into his arms, but she shifted away, lithe as a cat. She was frowning, but underneath it he knew there was a smile, just a little one. “They could kick us out of here tomorrow.”

She worried too much. Angeline and Alex, they were always on about what Extreme should and shouldn’t do. Always worried about money and what was right.

“They won’t,” he said.

“How do you know that?”

He blew out a breath, held up his phone to show her the post with all its views and likes. “Because the internet has turned us all into publicity whores. Every single person, entity, and destination wants a piece of what we’re offering. The guy from the tourism council was practically drooling.”

He heard his own voice: knew he had a gift for sounding confident even when he had no idea what he was talking about. Angeline just held him in that gaze, the one that saw through all his bullshit and cared about him anyway. Or maybe it was just because he paid her a fortune. And she cared about that. Whatever. She was out of his league in every way. He’d take what he could get.

He put a hand on her shoulder, and she softened, looked up at him. There she was. She let him snake an arm around her waist, pull her close. “Chill, Ange. It will all work out. It always does.”

Tavo, somewhere in the bowels of Enchantments, whooped with joy.

This place was his find. Gustavo spent time on Falc?o Island growing up and had always been fascinated with the hotel. During the summers he spent with his grandparents, the condemned building was forbidden ground. Haunted, cursed, the locals said. At the very least dangerous, parents warned their children away. But, of course, the kids were always sneaking in there—exploring, later throwing raves and getting high. Gustavo was stoked to be back here, though his family had all moved away.

“This shit is off the chain, Mav! Even crazier than I remember.”

The words echoed and bounced around the concrete, making Mav smile. Of all of them, Tavo was the only one who was—what? The same. Yes, the same as he had been when this all began. Wild. Always down for whatever, endlessly enthusiastic and optimistic. Alex had always been a bit of a nerd, but also a crack-up and a clown. Now all he cared about was money, how there wasn’t enough, how to increase revenue and cut expenses. Hector’s anxiety about their safety was reaching an annoying level. Angeline was hyperfocused on their charitable work.

Things were undeniably less fun than they had once been.

Life is not a game, son. His dad’s old lecture. Life is life.

What did that even mean? Mav preferred the quote from his favorite grunge rocker, Beckett: I’m gonna get my thrills before this crazy, spinning orb implodes.

Hector’s voice floated, echoing out of the darkness. “Okay, come on back up, Tavo. Did you hear that? That groaning noise? It sounds structural to me. And that’s a lot of water down there.”

Angeline frowned at that, opened her mouth to say more, but the rumble of an approaching vehicle caused them both to turn toward the entrance.

Overbright headlights cut through the night, moving closer.

Gustavo and Hector came up behind him, their laughter cut short as they approached. Alex, who hadn’t even bothered to leave the car yet, forever bent over that goddamn laptop, emerged from the back to join them.

The five of them stood as a beat-up old Jeep rolled up within a few feet and then came to a stop, sat idling for a moment. Finally, two bulky men clad in black cargo pants and tight T-shirts climbed out, door slams echoing in the night. They were armed, grim-faced, thickly muscled.

“Damn,” said Hector, with a nervous laugh. “What’s all this?”

Maverick could feel Hector’s anxious energy without even looking at him. Gustavo came to stand silently beside Maverick, his presence steadying, calming. His friend could always be counted on in a fight.

One of the big men opened the door for an older woman in robes, her face obscured by a headscarf. Short and wide, she seemed to glide through the darkness, followed by her tough-looking companions.

Mav felt a dump of dread in his middle. The armed men, the dark, their isolation. Bad things had happened before; they were still picking up the pieces.

The older woman pulled down her scarf, revealing a deeply lined face, haunting green eyes, a wan smile. She looked like a doll, a creepy doll that would sit on your chair during the day, come to life at night when you were sleeping.

“Angeline,” she said, her accent heavy.

Angeline met her with a hand outstretched, and the old woman took it in both of hers.

During their meeting in the church in town yesterday, where they’d negotiated for permission to use the Enchantments site for the challenge, the old woman had only spoken to Angeline, seeming to dismiss Maverick and Alex altogether. Hector and Tavo didn’t come to high-level meetings.

“What can we do for you tonight?” asked Angeline.

“I see you have ignored my advice,” the older woman said, her eyes glancing around.

“Not at all.” Angeline’s voice was respectful but firm. “We’re still just gathering information.”

Petra nodded, but her expression showed that she didn’t believe Angeline.

“Forty years ago, I stood on this very spot and spoke to a young man, told him that he was making a big mistake to build his hotel on this land. He laughed at me, called me a crazy old crone, said I was living in the past, afraid of progress.”

Petra lifted a crooked finger toward the hotel. “This place. It destroyed him.”

Wasn’t this like a thing? Wasn’t there always some old person telling you that you shouldn’t or couldn’t do the thing you wanted to do? Usually, it was his dad. How long can you go on this way, just playing these stupid games? he’d asked over pizza the night before Maverick left the country—on his private jet . Last year, Extreme had grossed more than his father had ever made in all his years working in construction combined . But that didn’t seem to matter to Mav’s father. Now it was this old woman, Petra Arruda, the town elder , whatever that meant.

“She’s a spiritual leader. The people listen to her,” Anton, the head of the tourism council, had told them. Everyone on the council had treated her with a kind of frightened reverence during the uncomfortable meeting where she withheld her blessing from their venture. Mav didn’t get it. What actual power did she have? Apparently none. Anton had assured him that permission was forthcoming.

Now the old woman was back on her soapbox.

“Over the centuries, people like you have come here to take . Land, resources, people. But this island doesn’t allow itself to be pillaged. The first European settlers left within a season. The trees, which have stood here since the dawn of time, refused to let themselves be cut down. The people refused to be enslaved or to sell themselves to corporations.”

Insert eye-roll emoji here. What was she even talking about? Angeline had told him a bit about the history of the island chain, but he hadn’t really listened. He wasn’t much of a student, and history was like a movie you’d already watched. Boring. Over.

Gustavo was always going on about its natural beauty, the laid-back community of climbers and adventure-seekers who had made the place their home because of its affordability and the plentiful jobs catering to active tourists since it had become a destination for spelunkers, hikers, kayakers, and divers.

Petra went on, “This island will protect itself.”

“We’re not hurting anyone,” said Maverick. He didn’t love how his voice came up an octave, making him sound like a defensive teenager. He consciously lowered it. “We’re not taking anything . We’ll be here for a few days, a week tops. And then we’ll be gone. And when we’re done, waayyy more people will know about this island, which will be great for tourism and good for your economy. It’s a win-win.”

But Petra wouldn’t even look at him. Even her thugs didn’t seem inclined to glance in his direction. He felt invisible, voiceless as a specter. Which he hated more than anything. Oddly, he suddenly remembered standing outside the door of his parents’ bedroom, peering into the dark and finding no one there. That feeling of being alone, abandoned, which used to make him cry, made him angry now. It was a tickling rage that started at the back of his throat and made him feel like he was breathing through a straw.

Then he heard Hector snigger behind him. Maverick turned to see Hector and Gustavo, who had dropped back, whispering to each other, laughing, and felt some of his tension release. Alex stood with arms folded, legs akimbo. He wasn’t huge, but there was an inherent steel to him. He’d never backed down from any fight that had come up, and there had been a few. The guys. Whatever their flaws, they were more family to him than anyone related by blood, except his mom.

Petra looked to Gustavo, who stopped laughing abruptly. “A native son. You should know better than to dishonor this land.”

Gustavo put a hand to this heart. “I have only love for this place,” he said. But she didn’t seem to hear him.

Petra was still holding Angeline’s hand in both of hers. “It’s too late for them. The sickness has already invaded their spirit. But it’s not too late for you.”

What the actual fuck? He felt the guys move in a little closer.

“We don’t mean any disrespect to you or this land. Truly,” said Angeline. The earnestness in her voice caused Maverick to stare at her. “Our games raise millions of dollars for charity. We’ve built schools and libraries around the world, helped folks rebuild after natural disasters. We’ve taken sick kids to Disney, helped their families pay medical bills. We have an ongoing initiative to clean plastic from the oceans. We’re doing good in the world. I promise you that. These games are just a means to an end.”

Angeline was good at that, making Extreme Games and Insane Challenges sound like a force for good in the world. She wasn’t wrong. They did all those things and more. Well, she did. Would he have done as much without her influence? Probably not. When all of this started it was just about him and Gustavo having fun, showing off, getting laid all over the world. He’d just started giving money away because his publicist at the time told him it was a good way to get tons more followers. And she’d been right.

Petra just smiled at Angeline as if she was a child trying to explain why she believed in Santa Claus.

“Cleaning up the damage created by others is a noble but ultimately fruitless act. Because the destroyers simply grow bolder, less accountable for their actions. They leave others to pay the price for their depravity.”

Ouch. That was harsh. He was a WeWatcher, a gamer, an influencer with millions of followers. He’d been called a man-baby, a douchebag, selfish, lazy. Destroyer seemed a little overly ambitious, like he was some Marvel villain looking to take over the world.

“Brah,” said Hector, drawing the word out long and low in disapproval. “That’s messed up.”

Finally, Petra turned that kryptonite stare Maverick’s way. He held his ground, stuck out his chin and his chest, but he shriveled a little inside. She saw him. All of him.

“You play your games. And people get hurt, isn’t that right?”

Tension jacked up his bad shoulder. It was almost an exact echo of the letter from one of the mothers suing him. A group had banded together to ruin him: MAM for Moms Against Mav.

Maverick stayed silent.

“And what about Chloe Miranda, the girl who went missing during your last misadventure?”

“That had nothing to do with us,” he said, his heart stuttering. “We have fully cooperated with police and been found not responsible.”

That phrase was directly from his lawyer, the thing he was supposed to say every time questions came up. The look she gave him—it was almost pitying.

“Listen,” he said. “All we want is to play the game and go.”

“And all the world wants from men like you, Maverick Dillan, is just to be left alone.”

A lash of anger.

“We’re not leaving,” he said, his voice a whip crack in the quiet. “And you can’t make us. Anton told us that permission was forthcoming from the town council, and we’ve been given provisional access while we wait. So for the time being at least, this site belongs to me.”

Another patient smile.

“ Nothing belongs to you,” Petra said quietly. She moved a little closer, and he had to fight the urge to take a step away. “A thing men like you never understand until it’s too late.”

She turned back to Angeline, leaned in close and whispered something in her ear. Then she turned, both the men behind her stepping aside so that she could walk between them, and they all returned to the vehicle. Once they’d climbed inside, the vehicle idled another moment. Then it spun around and roared out of the gate.

“What did she say?”

Angeline looked up at him. Usually, she was all fire, his biggest defender. But tonight, she looked tired and scared.

“She told me to save myself.” She wrapped her arms around her middle, looking after the disappearing taillights.

He blew out an annoyed breath. “From what ?”

Somewhere in the foliage a bird called, long and low. “From you.”

Maverick laughed, his booming voice echoing back at him from the trees, the building. Tavo cracked up, too. Hector and Alex less so. When he looked back at Angeline, she wasn’t laughing at all.

Enchantments loomed behind her, its windows like so many watching eyes.