Panic Button (7 page)

Gwen peered at the picture of the jar on her screen again, brow furrowed in confusion. “What
is
that?” she asked.

Dave gestured at his crotch.

“What? What is it?” Gwen repeated, making Dave laugh.

The image blinked away, replaced by the word ‘PROCESSING’.

“You have scored - zero, Max,” Alligator proclaimed.

“I honestly never bought that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dave teased.

“The correct answers are - one, you are still on Grade One having failed the exam seven times...”

Max shrugged indifferently as if to say ‘win some, lose some’, but Jo noticed he was still blushing
.

“...two, the profile you viewed most often belongs to Jenny Phillips, whose photo albums you
have
viewed 234 times to date...”

“Bloody hell, stalker alert!” Gwen exclaimed.

“...three, you ordered a jar of genital wart ointment soon after returning home from your trip to Poland when you were seventeen. Summary - a dirty mind likes yours attracts disease.”

Max held both middle fingers aloft into the cabin’s thin air, hoping that Alligator could see them.

“Rumbled mate,” Dave cackled, “Nasty.” He rubbed his crotch in mock-genital discomfort. Gwen’s nose wrinkled in disgust.

Max turned to Jo and held her gaze. “I didn’t buy it,” he muttered.

Alligator’s voice boomed from the speakers once more. “Gwen. Your questions begin now.”

Now she was under the spotlight, Gwen now looked unsure about the whole thing.

“I’m not sure I want to play. It’s all getting a bit too personal,” she said.

“To reiterate, please note the rules stipulate that in order to claim any prize, the game must be played out to the very end.”

Dave leaned forward. “Come on, you were happy enough to listen to our answers, weren’t you love?”

she
thought. Being
patronised
by Dave was beginning to rile her, but she’d dealt with guys like him before.
On and offline.
Right.
Instead of rising to his jibes, she decided she’d show him up and play the game. Whatever Alligator threw at her, she’d make damned sure she’d deal with it better than Dave had.

Gwen took a deep breath. Avoiding Dave’s gloating eyes, she held out her empty champagne glass, dignified as a princess. Looking smug, he refilled it.

“Yeah, yeah, all right. Go on then,” she said.

“Question one - having always been fascinated by the world of celebrity, which famous figure have you frequently been compared to by your friends on All2gethr?”

The question mark icon throbbed over the quiz show version of her profile page, above the rows of glamorous portraits of her in her photo feed. Dave took the opportunity to look Gwen over, his eyes devouring her. She tightened her silk scarf, shifting under the intensity of his tipsy gaze. She had to answer honestly to score points; she knew that from the previous rounds. Gwen thought hard and took a breath before responding.

“Hmmm... Kylie
Minogue
?”

She flashed a prim smile at the others, as though daring them to mock her. They remained silent.

“Question two - can you identify the young man in this picture?”

Gwen peered closely at the picture. “No, I don’t think so...”

“Yeah, yeah...” Dave said.

“No, I genuinely don’t
recognise
him.”

“Question three - who is ‘
Guardian_Angel
’?”

Gwen groaned, ran her fingers through her fringe, rattled.

“What is it?” Jo asked.

“Gwen?” Alligator prompted.

“All right, all right... She’s me. It’s just a username I use sometimes.”

‘PROCESSING’ appeared on-screen.

“Score - one out of a possible three.”

“Boo!” Max said, giving the thumbs down jokingly. Dave chuckled.

Jo looked a little relieved to hear Gwen’s score.
Not so perfect after all
, she thought.

“One - the celebrity you have been most frequently compared to is Katy Brooks, the glamour model...”

Dave wolf-whistled noisily over Gwen’s groans of embarrassment.

“...because of the eating disorder you developed when you were fifteen.”

Gwen looked horrified, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Alligator’s words were like knives, pricking away at her thin
armour
of defiance. She wanted to disappear into the layers of her clothing now, shrink away so no one could see her anymore. Gwen had spent most of her teenage years feeling that way, seeing herself looking so disgustingly obese in the mirror each morning and every night, no matter how many times she made herself sick...

“Two - the boy in the picture is Neil Harris,” Alligator continued, “You joined an All2gethr page dedicated to tormenting him when you were in school.”

Dave’s jaw dropped. “And I thought you were such a nice girl.”

“That was a long time ago,” Gwen said, eyes glistening wet now.

“Three - you answered correctly. ‘
Guardian_Angel
’ is your moderator username on the All2gethr Helping Hands
counselling
forum.”

“You’re a
counsellor
?” Jo asked, a note of surprise in her voice.

Gwen nodded uncomfortably, wiping her eyes and toying with her fringe again.

“Summary - you are a hypocrite, because you should take a little of your own advice before preaching to others,” Alligator concluded.

“He’s right there...” Dave muttered.

He had clearly hit a nerve. Mortified, Gwen stared at her lap. So much for showing Dave how the game was played - she felt as though she’d endured a whipping.

The Alligator’s voice continued, upbeat as ever.

“That concludes Round One. Remember, some amazing prizes are up for grabs. Thank you all for playing along.”

. The animated grinning green face faded away from their screens.

But for the steady drone of the jet engines an uncomfortable, leaden silence had descended on the cabin.

Max was the first to break the tension that had clouded the cabin.

“Cheers!” he exclaimed, raising his glass.

The response from the others was subdued. The party atmosphere had been well and truly
depressurised
by Alligator’s opening Round.

“Come on guys, you know it’s just a game,” Max continued, “It’s obviously meant to challenge us.”

 
“Not sure I want to play another round like that to be honest,” Jo said, “That was way out of line.”

Gwen sighed, reclining her seat. “These prizes had better be really bloody good.”

Max nodded, smiling in agreement. “I guess we have to ‘pay to play’.”

“I’d like to know where they got that photo from,” Dave grumbled, “I definitely didn’t put that on my profile, I know that much.”

“Bet you didn’t,” Max teased. Dave tried his best to ignore the comment.

“They’ve really done their homework on us, haven’t they?” Jo said.

“Got to be in it to win it. Let’s have another drink, yeah?” Max rose and strolled over to the bar.

Popping the cork of another bottle of champagne, he filled fresh glasses and handed them out.

“Not for me thanks,” Jo said, “Is there any water?”

“You sure?” Max said.

“Please.”

Max found some bottles of mineral water. “Sparkling or still Madam?” he said, emulating Dave’s waiter act.

“Sparkling,” Jo replied.

The bottle hissed as Max twisted the cap off. He handed the mineral water to Jo.

She took it gratefully, and hoped he wasn’t somehow disappointed in her. She remembered how much of a stick-in-the-mud she’d felt when she’d first gone out with her friends while on the wagon. After that she’d started making her excuses and it had only taken a little while for them to stop inviting her out at all. Any pride Jo had about not drinking was tempered by the feeling that sobriety had made a social outcast of her. Watching Max offer more drinks to the others, she hoped the same thing wouldn’t happen here on the flight. He was so determined to get the party started again and she began to think that maybe she was a stick-in-the-mud after all.
Perhaps I should take his advice
, thought Jo,
‘got to be in it to win it’
.

 

“Gwen? Go on...”

Max held out a fresh glass of champagne, beaming. Gwen accepted the glass from him with a flirtatious smile. She took a sip and looked up at Dave, who was standing and stretching his legs by his seat.

Jo watched Gwen, disapproving of the way she was clearly trying to play the two men off each other. In particular, Jo could not deny the fact that she didn’t like how Gwen was flirting with Max. Despite the revelations of the quiz game, Jo felt Max was a genuine, stand-up kind of guy. Knowing that Gwen was a
counsellor
meant that she knew how to manipulate people. Given half the chance, she’d surely take advantage of Max’s kind nature. Buck yourself up girl, Jo thought. How many times had her own rehab
counsellor
warned her that low self-esteem had triggered her drinking problems? Jo had lost count. She vowed to herself not to fall into that trap again.

A mischievous look crept across Gwen’s face. “So, Dave... tell us about getting... down there pierced?” she ventured.

Dave tried to hide his surprise at Gwen’s ribald question, but only succeeded in bumping his head on the plane’s curved ceiling. He clutched his bald spot painfully, cursing under his breath. Laughter filled the cabin once more.

“It was... yeah it was great,” Dave replied, still wincing from the blow to his head, “Until one got infected. Hurt like hell!”

More riotous laughter rocked the cabin.

“Nasty,” Max whispered. He was looking delighted that the mood had lifted.

“So I had one removed,” Dave continued.