Two
H
arold nudged Alyn, and she made it onto the stage. King Kong continued to pound his chest, making ape noises. Harold bested him. He was charismatic, in a rooster sort of way. His challenging cock-a-doodle-do set him up as the contestant to beat. The crowd went nuts.
Alex Xander stood on their left. The main curtain soon parted, and a blonde in a silver satin camisole, black leather pants, and mile-high heels brought them each a wireless microphone. “My assistant, the beautiful Natalie,” he introduced her.
Natalie was gorgeous. And instantly into Harold. She openly admired the fit of his costume. He packed it tight. There was little left to her imagination. To anyone's imagination. The model tapped his beak with a red manicured fingernail. Flirting with him. His lower lip was visible, and he gave her a half-smile. One that was far too sexy for a man in a serious relationship. Harold would stray. No doubt about it.
Alyn cleared her throat loudly enough to gain his attention. “You're with me,” she reminded him. “Don't get distracted.”
His smile faded. “Possessive chick.”
The host looked into the camera and said, “Happy tenth anniversary show! It's Couples Day. Our prizes are huge. Twin Mercedes Benzes, a Caribbean vacation, Rolex watches, and fifty-thousand dollars. We welcome King Kong Carl and sock monkey Mary. Harold the Rooster and Alyn the Chicken.”
The audience applauded. Shouted out their favorite contestant. “Rooster” rose loud and clear. Harold pumped his yellow wing. Strutted in a circle. Crowed.
Alex went on to ask, “Carl and Mary, are you boyfriend/girlfriend, fiancés, or a married couple?”
Carl answered, “Boy/girlfriend.”
Alex next turned to Harold and Alyn. “Your status?”
Alyn had the answer on the tip of her tongue, but it was Harold who said, “Fiancés.”
Engaged
. Her jaw dropped. He was writing his own script. He dipped his head, and his beak stuck in her ear when he whispered, “We one-upped them.” That they had.
Alex kept the show rolling. “Carl and Mary, we all want to know, where did you first meet?”
Mary giggled. “At a University of Virginia football game. Go, Cavaliers!”
The crowd clapped and cheered. The state campus ranked high with them.
The host pointed to Alyn and Harold. “How about you two?”
They had met on the sidewalk outside Jacy's Java. The answer was straightforward and simple, yet Harold complicated the matter. “James River Stadium, a Rogues' baseball game.”
His response brought the audience to their feet. Fanatic baseball fans jumped and shouted. Punched the air. Harold poked Alyn with his rooster wing. “Nailing it.” He kept his voice low.
“Who's your favorite player?” Alex asked her.
Her breath caught in her throat. “Um-uh . . .” she faltered.
Harold curved his arm about her shoulders and once again spoke for her, “She loves Halo Todd,” he said. “Makes me jealous when she wears his jersey.”
“I cheer for the right fielder,” a gypsy in the front row called out.
“Me, too.” Women's voices rose in unison.
The rooster puffed his chest. Big and bold. Looking inordinately proud of himself.
What was that all about? Alyn wondered. Harold confused her. Made her uneasy. The man could exaggerate. Halo Todd meant nothing to her. Harold drew her deep into a relationship that didn't exist.
“Engagement ahead?” the host question King Kong and the sock monkey.
“Next month,” Mary was quick to say.
Carl responded more slowly. “Two years.”
Alex frowned for the camera. “Doesn't sound like they're on the same page.” He then prodded Alyn and Harold. “Your plans?”
Harold crowed, then said, “She only has to set the date. I'm there. Today, tomorrow, whenever.”
Woot-woot!
The audience liked his answer.
Alyn rolled her eyes. Marriage wasn't in their future. The man was a crowd pleaser. She couldn't take him seriously. She had one purpose: to win the grand prize. She needed to stay focused, which was difficult with a loose cannon for a partner.
Natalie collected their microphones. She winked at Harold and he winked back. Alyn felt like a third wheel. She wanted to kick him in the shin with her spiky chicken toes. Barely resisted the urge.
Alex stepped to the center of the stage. “Let's get started.” The panels on the curtains swept back, revealing Midway at the Fair. “You'll face three tests. Funhouse Mirror Maze, Balloon Darts, and the Strongman. The ladies start with the mirrors, the men follow with the darts. You'll work as a couple, combining scores, with the Strength-O-Meter.”
The host looked to the audience, cupped his hand behind his ear, and said, “Are we ready?”
The crowd responded at the top of their lungs, “Go big or go home!”
“Ladies, take your places at opposite ends of the maze,” Alex stated. “The mirrors are tricky. Many of them are distorted and give unusual and confusing reflections. Some are humorous and others frightening. There are choices to make in direction. You may or may not pass each other. Whoever exits first wins!”
Harold tugged on Alyn's wing, pulled her close. He lowered his voice, said, “I've worked my way through mirrored mazes at state fairs. Stay left. Left,” he emphasized.
She took his advice to heart. She'd never faced a network of mirrors. They looked intimidating.
Cameras were anchored above the maze, Alyn noticed, to catch the competitors' progression, their attempts and failures, as they maneuvered through the narrow glassed pathways. Natalie returned to the stage and led the ladies to their separate entrances. Alyn drew a deep, steadying breath.
“On your mark, get set, go!” Alex shouted.
Game on!
Alyn felt a moment of panic as she wiggled her chicken body into the maze. She lost feathers along the way. Her sneezes were uncontrollable. Her eyes watered. Her whole body shook.
She found herself surrounded by mirrors. Her reflection made her blink. One mirror made her look thin, another blown out of proportion. Still another gave back an image of alien poultry. Very scary.
The paths split in several directions. She went left at every turn. She heard footsteps, and figured the sock monkey was coming her way. A loud bump, followed by a groan, indicated the monkey had walked into a mirror. Alyn pushed on. Encouraged by the audience's boisterous chant, “Chick, chick, chick!”
Seconds later, she rounded a corner and came face to face with Mary. “Out of my way.” The sock monkey tried to push past her. There wasn't a lot of room. Alyn grunted when Mary elbowed her in the gut. Hard.
Pushing and shoving ensued. Alyn refused to give ground. Playing dirty, Mary ripped the red wattle from the chin on Alyn's headpiece. Then worming around her, Mary grabbed a handful of her tail feathers in an attempt to hold her back.
Alyn retaliated. She seized the monkey's long stuffed tail and gave it a tug. Mary stumbled. The tail fell off. Alyn dashed away before the monkey recovered.
Left, she continued on. Only to face a path that split straight or right. What now? She went straight, and hit a dead end. A waste of time. She backtracked, looped right, and finally caught sight of a blinking green light reflected in one of the mirrors. Her exit! She raced as fast as her chicken legs would carry her. She burst through the door a split-second before the monkey rushed out. Carrying her tail. The curtain sealed shut behind them.
She had won!
Harold rushed to her. His hug lifted her high off the stage. The man was strong. Her spiky costumed feet dangled near his rooster balls. She was careful not to jab him.
Alex Xander clapped his hands and congratulated her. “Chicken deserves a kiss, don't you think?” he asked the audience. The applause was deafening.
Harold set her down, then swooped low before she could step back. There was a wicked glint in his eyes when he angled his head and touched his visible lower lip to the slit at her mouth. She expected no more than a peck. She got tongue.
The man was a sexual catalyst. Sparks flicked her nipples and her breasts tightened. Her skin prickled. Heat spread between her thighs. Her knees weakened. She clutched his forearms for support.
Whistles, cheers, rose around them.
“Get a room!” the talk show host joked, breaking them apart.
Harold straightened, in his own good time. A small feather tipped the corner of his mouth. Alyn swatted at the feather; it fluttered to the stage.
His smile curved, sly and full of mischief. He no longer looked like a rooster, but a fox who had raided the chicken coop. Popular and appealing, he played to the crowd. They loved him. Loved them. They were a couple. Fiancés.
“Rooster, Kong, you're up next,” Alex directed. “It's Balloon Darts.” The curtain swept back, revealing a large wooden backdrop pinned with dozens of multicolored balloons.
Anticipation built as the host explained, “Players are given twelve darts. You'll stand behind the yellow line, and have ten seconds to break balloons. The contestant to pop the most will win the second round.”
Natalie appeared with two plastic boxes of darts. She handed Harold the red set and Carl the blue. The ape tugged at his furry headpiece, but Alex stopped him. “You'll throw the darts in costume.”
Kong complained, “The eye slits are narrow.”
“Rooster can't see any better than you can,” Alex stated.
Alyn held her breath. Harold had two strikes against him, she realized. Her partner wore rounded hand mitts with little flexibility while the ape's gloves had separate finger sheaths. Kong could easily clutch the game darts. The rooster could not. Harold's costume pulled tight across his shoulders. There was no give. Tossing the darts would prove difficult.
Despite his disadvantages, Harold was all barnyard strut and cocksure when he crossed to the designated line. King Kong was close behind. The ape beat his chest, grunted his challenge. Harold crowed, deep and daunting. A warrior rooster.
“Go big or go home!” Alex called out.
Contest on. Ten seconds passed in the blink of an eye. Harold somehow managed to throw all his darts, but he only popped eight balloons. Carl beat him by one pop. The ape screeched his victory. Harold set his jaw, and one corner of his lower lip curled. He wasn't happy with his performance. The curtain closed, and the crowd bemoaned his fate.
Returning to Alyn's side, he scuffed the sole of one athletic shoe on the stage, leaving a mark. “Sorry, I thought we had it,” he mumbled.
We
. He spoke of them as a team. She liked that. Even if he had lost. She patted his arm. “Round three. We've got this.” Or so she hoped. She crossed her fingers.
The producer cut to commercial, allowing those onstage to talk among themselves. Carl joined them. “We're tied.”
“Not for long,” said Harold.
“Think you're going to win?” came from Kong.
“Know it.”
“Don't count your chickens before they hatch.”
Mary laughed at her boyfriend's joke.
Alyn rolled her eyes. She didn't find him funny.
Neither did Harold. He made a rude noise.
Carl backed up a step.
The curtain soon swayed, separated, revealing the Strength-O-Meter. Alex Xander crossed to the tall vertical tower. “Which of you two is the Strongman?” he goaded the contestants as they stepped up and flexed their muscles. “You'll smash a red weight with a ten-pound rubber mallet to send a puck flying up the track. There are names and numerical values along the groove. Sissy Boy gets ten points. Ring the top bell, and Hercules receives one hundred. You'll each take a turn. We'll combine your couple score to determine the winner.”
The host gave the participants a moment to let his words sink in before adding, “You're competing for more than a kewpie doll or Chinese finger trap. Winners, we've put together the best prizes of the season. Losers, it's a long walk back to your seats.”
Natalie brought out the mallet. She presented it to Alex. “Ladies first,” he said.
The sock monkey pushed by Alyn. “I'll go.”
Alex handed her the mallet. “Go big or go home!”
Mary stood before the tower, and her hands visibly shook as she settled the long-handled hammer over her shoulder. She huffed and puffed. Shifted her weight from foot to foot. Nervous.
Harold nudged Alyn, and in a low voice said, “The most important factor is strike accuracy. Swing as you would to split wood.”
“I've never split wood.”
“Shit,” he mumbled before counseling, “Hold the handle as near to the end as possible with both hands. Draw the mallet head directly over your own head, then swing down. You have to hit the pad directly in the center if you want to ring that bell. Got it?”
More or less. She hoped to make a better showing than the sock monkey. Mary lost her balance with her downward strike. The puck barely rose two feet.
“Weakling, twenty points,” Alex shouted to the audience.
There were low moans of sympathy and pity.
The host motioned to Alyn. “Next.”
Her heart was beating so fast she was sure it would burst through her chicken chest. She shuffled forward. Mary passed her the mallet with more force than she'd shown in her swing. Alyn staggered backwards. Alex was there to keep her upright.
The crowd got behind her. They chanted, “Chick, chick, chick.”
The mallet was heavy, but nothing she couldn't handle. However seeing the launch pad proved a problem. Her eye slits tapered, and her rounded feathered stomach got in the way. She bobbed her head several times, gathering momentum, before she let the hammer fall. With all the power she could muster.