Page 124 of The Book of Luke

“Luke, the network’s gone crazy for the dailies they’ve seen of you all season, how vulnerable you’ve been. They even loved the confession to Erika. Troy lied about burying it to fuck with you. They’re going to pitch you multiple opportunities when—”

“I don’t want to be on TV after this.”

“It’s easy, steady money. We’re more valuable together. We always have been—”

“We are not together. Stop saying that word!’”

“We don’t have tobetogether,” he protested. “The show can be about me rebuilding my career while you start your new wonderful life. If all you want is to show up once an episode to tell me to fuck off, then do that! Just pop in with the kids—”

“You’ve lost your mind if you think you’re putting the kids on camera!”

“Do you realize how much money they’d make? A college fund three times over. Luke, you’d fully control when they filmed, and anyone you want can appear. Greta’s going to do it!”

“You aren’t actually participating in this?” I asked her.

“I mean, I’ll cameo.” She shrugged.

Barnes was lighting up now. “Think of the others! What happens when Imogen and Erika get too old to compete onEndeavor? Or if Melange finally gets fired from her inbred relatives’ shitshow? You want to make things better with PB? Get him an appearance fee! Luke, you could guarantee stability for all of them. Even Shawn…”

“Not everyone is as desperate as you. None of them would participate in this circus, and I’ve gotten all I need from reality TV. I’m done.”

“You haven’t gotten everything,” Greta interjected pointedly, andBarnes shot her a warning look. Somehow Greta Hendricksen was on my side, and she wasn’t wavering. “You think he’s exploiting you? Exploit him back… What doyouwant?”

I’d been a distracted disaster for weeks, but I instantly knew the answer. Still, was this the price to pay? Maybe not, but I’d never have more leverage than now. “Primary custody.”

“Luke—”

“You’ll keep seeing the kids on weekends.”

“Only weekends? You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t pretend you were going to give me better,” I fired back. “And no cameras when they’re with you. Ever.”

“I don’t care about the cameras. I care about seeing my children more than three days a week. The past two months of living like that’s been hell. Luke, how can you be so cold?”

“And I want an 80/20 split of your $2.5 million salary.”

“That’s not fair!”

“More than $50,000.”

He flinched, biting back a comment. “But you’ll do the show?”

“I will… in whichever location I choose.”

I couldn’t tell if he was relieved or disappointed, but he nodded, extending a hand. “So we cross the finish line together today?”

I turned the sentence over in my head. And leapt. “Yes.”

“And you’ll play fair from here on out?”

“It’s the only way I know how to play.”

The helicopter shot across a sapphire bay ringed with forested cliffs, landing on a soft knoll by the shore. Ecklund waited by a carved sign that read UNHOOK, and reluctantly Barnes unclipped me and Fortune. “Well, this is quite the threesome,” Ecklund joked before catching my glare. “Sorry, too soon. They’ll edit that out.”

He pivoted nimbly. “Welcome to majestic Milford Sound and the final stage of your journey! Retrieve your last key, then follow the flames to thebridge that only you—and anyone tied to you—can cross.” He stepped aside, revealing the game. “And don’t trip…”

Individual tabletops hung waist-high before us, suspended from a canopy of rigging. Atop each one were stacks of dominoes—devils on one side, angels on the other—that we’d assemble along a marked line to spell (what else)ENDEAVOR. The last domino would trigger a switch, releasing our key for the gate ahead. The rub was a tight grid of calf-high pipes welded to the tables underneath. Knocking into any pipe would send the whole tabletop shuddering, ruining whatever progress had been made.