Page 40 of The Book of Luke

“Look, do you want to keep toting your metaphorical albatross around all by your lonesome, or would you rather have somebody to shoot the shit with?” he asked. “Because if I have to spend another week discussing the nuances of CrossFit in broken English with Aspen, I’m holding you responsible.”

How I prayed I wouldn’t regret this. “To the Alliance of the Totally Doomed.”

His eyes blazed as he clasped my hand. “Long may we be fucked.”

19

2015

SEASON 20, EPISODE 3:

“Cave of Blunders”

It’s because I’m gay, isn’t it?! That’s why they voted me in!” Shawn cried.

I was unclear how to manage this crisis. Shawn’s current meltdown made the night Greta demolished his suitcase look like a kindergarten picnic. “Angels? That’s a fucking joke! They’re all so full of shit.” His voice cracked. “I saved their asses today, then they do this?!”

“Dude, grow up,” PB interjected from the corner where he stood with Melange. We’d spirited Shawn to our room once he’d learned the bad news, Troy tailing us with a cameraman. “Why would your team piss off Fortune by selecting him? It didn’t matter if you sprouted wings and flew them out of that cave.”

Episode 3’s “Chain Gang” Tribulation had been Shawn’s showcase. Each team chose one person as their runner. The rest of us were imprisoned in various chambers within a dank and earthy-smelling cave. The runner would unlock their teammates using a byzantine collection of keys with only a headlamp for guidance. It was the runner’s game to win or lose, and the Angelshadwon—entirely thanks to Shawn’s work as runner—then put him on theblock immediately after. Mercifully I wasn’t his opponent; the Angels instead selected the Devils’ resident illustrated asshole/supermodel, Chase.

“This can’t be happening again. Last season my Trial was a disaster,” Shawn said, anxiously sitting on my bed, so close our thighs touched. I patted his shoulder, the red recording light of the camera burning into me.Just friends, I reminded myself.

“Then sack up and learn from before,” Melange insisted. “Beat that hipster catalog model tonight so you can help us blow the damn game up, because now we’ve all got clocks to clean.” She leaned over to Troy. “I liked that take. Was the sound clear?”

“Better than theSt. Crispin’s Day Speech,” he replied before what sounded like the cry of a grief-stricken mother erupted down the hall.Greta.Troy rolled his eyes and dutifully directed the cameraman out. No rest for the wicked.

Imogen appeared in the doorway seconds later, eyes only for Shawn. “There you are.”

“The queen descends from her throne,” PB said, earning a withering look from Imogen.

Erika burst in next, and I almost gasped. Her expression was so mischievous, it was like Arjun had joined us in the room. “It’s done,” she breathlessly told Imogen.

Shawn eyed them suspiciously. “What is?”

“Imogen had me hide Greta’s moisturizer,” Erika answered, glancing quickly down the hall. “She’ll be raging at least twenty minutes, so the cameras should be occupied.”

“Why no cameras?” I asked.

Imogen focused on Shawn, clearly disregarding me. “Because I don’t want you thinking this is fake damage control to make me look good.”

“You voted me in,” Shawn said sharply. “The meaning’s pretty clear.”

“The votes were already against you. Nothing I did was changing that,” Imogen said, the warmest I’d seen her since arriving in Cortona. “I pushed for Chase because youcanbeat him. We need you here, Shawn, so if I tell you something at the Trial, please trust I’m trying to help.”

Shawn brooded, too freshly burned to appreciate what she was offering, and I had to intervene. “Shawn, did Imogen ever promise not to vote for you?”

He frowned but eventually shook his head.

“So she’s never broken her word. She won’t start with nothing to gain,” I said. “And you trust me, right? So just listen to us both, because I bet we’ll be telling you the same thing.”

“Sounds like good advice to me,” Erika added from the doorway. The certainty in her voice made me blossom with pride, even if Imogen looked nauseous.

Everyone trooped out to the bus soon after, but Imogen lingered, blocking the door so I couldn’t leave. This didn’t bode well. “What’d I do now?”

“Shawn’s a good guy, no matter what Greta screeches from the rafters,” she said lowly.

“Obviously,” I whispered back. “I wouldn’t trust Greta with a dog I didn’t like.”