Oh, well, that was sort of chivalrous in a weird way. No, Arabella! It was chauvinistic. He’s a gorgeous, gorgeous chauvinist. “No,” I say, straightening my back. “No one coerced me. It was entirely my choice, and quite frankly I don't appreciate the assumption.”
“So, if you weren’t coerced, that either makes you extremely naïve or completely insane.”
“I am neither, thank you very much,” I quip. Don't cry. Do not cry, whatever you do. I dig my nails into my palms and lift my chin.
“Listen, Princess, you don't have the first clue what you're getting yourself into out there. This isn't like some luxury safari you may have gone on in the past.”
What an arsehole! “I know that.”
“Then … why?” he asks, throwing his hands up.
“To prove I can.”
He stares at me for a second, then shakes his head. “Look, I'm sorry I insulted you at my sister's wedding, really. I didn't mean any of it. I was jetlagged, and I had a little too much to drink, and I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I’m sure I implied people from your class are soft or … or something to that effect. And I was way out of line. Okay?” he says, every word sounding sincere. “Way out of line. But trust me when I tell you this is not the way you want to prove me wrong. It’s life or death out there.”
Life or death? That doesn’t sound very comforting.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness. I can’t let you do this. There’s no way you can handle life in the jungle.”
Okay, that did it. “You can’t let me do this? I’m sorry, but I seem to have missed the part where you were put in charge of my life.”
“That’s not what I—”
Holding up one hand, I say, “You don’t know me. You have no idea what I can do or where I’ve been. For all you know, I was raised in the jungle.”
“Were you?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.
I pause for a moment, then say, “No, but I’ve done … plenty of difficult things. Plenty of really … big, challenging things. So trust me when I tell you I can handle myself.”
He barks out a frustrated laugh, then turns and stalks back over to Dylan, who has a gleeful look on her face. The crew follows him, and I hurry after them.
“It's off,” Will says. “I'm out. There is no way I'm going out there with her.”
“Well, I have a contract right here that says you are.” Dylan waves a stack of papers at him.
The two argue quietly for a few minutes and I overhear words like giant rats and lethal spiders. Oh dear, he's totally right about this. I have absolutely no business being out here. I'm actually cheering for him to win this argument so I can go right home and forget all about this stupid idea.
Dylan raises her voice. “Would you like to hear the two options for show titles? It’ll either be A Princess in the Wild World, if she films with you, or it’ll be The Princess and the Bear because I can have Bear Grylls here by tomorrow morning. Either way, I get my show.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes. Really,” she says, crossing her arms.
“You called him? You called that hack to take over my show?”
Shrugging, Dylan says, “I always have a Plan B. And in this case, it’s ‘B’ as in Bear.”
Turning to me, he's says, “This is really what you want? You want to be out in the Congo with giant rats, venomous snakes, and spiders the size of your face?”
My knees are shaking. Literally shaking. Swallowing hard, I squeak out a yes which causes him to scoff.
He shakes his head. “Do you see that helicopter over there? The one with the ropes next to it?” He points at it, and my gaze follows his finger.
“You know what the ropes are for?”
“Obviously.” I shrug, when in truth, I have no idea what they’re for, and honestly, I don’t even want to know.
He smiles down at me—and it's not a particularly nice smile. “So, you’re keen to stand on that skid at two hundred feet above the jungle canopy and rappel to the ground?”
Oh, fuck me. “Definitely.”
“Good, because that’ll be the easiest thing we do out here.”
Shit fuck.
I'm going to vomit. Or pee. Or pee and vomit. This is really happening. The helicopter pilot, a wall of a man dressed in shorts and a white tee, just arrived. Now that he’s here, we’ll be able to leave soon. Oh, Lord in Heaven help me, I’m about to get into an aircraft with no sides and be dropped into the jungle. And that’s the easy part. How can that be the easy part?
Oh, I know. It’s because then I’m going to be stuck out there alone with a man who hates the very sight of me.
Will and the pilot give each other a quick man-hug. “Will Banks, my favorite crazy person,” he says, in a thick Zamundan accent.
“Idriss, my friend. How have you been?” Will asks. “Crashed lately?”
“Not since last time we were out here.”
The two laugh and I stand by, trying to figure out what exactly is so damn funny about crashing.
“We got lucky,” Idriss says, shaking his head. “Whew, that was a close one.” Glancing at me, he smiles. “Is this your leading lady?”
“Yup, I’ll be dragging her around the jungle.” Turning to me, Will points. “This is Princess Arabella of Avonia.”
Idriss smiles broadly and holds his hand out to me. I take it and we shake. “This guy, with the jokes,” he says with a deep chuckle. “Princess!”
Will shakes his head. “This time I'm serious.”
His face falls. “You're a real princess?”
“Yes, I'm afraid so,” I say with a polite smile.
He gives me a quick once-over. “Have you been out in the jungle before?”
“First time, actually, but don’t worry,” I answer, trying my best to sound brave. “I ate at the Rainforest Cafe when I was in the US.”
Dylan laughs like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “Okay, now would be a good time to go over the rules. Come on,” she says, leading us into the hanger where a table with supplies and a map wait. She picks up an envelope and holds it up to the camera dramatically. “This envelope contains all the rules of your adventure. Take it with you in case you need to refer to it.”
Will snatches it out of her hand, but she doesn’t seem put off by his attitude. She grins and shouts, “Are you ready to hear about your challenge?”
We both nod and I’m not sure which one of us is less enthusiastic. He’s beyond angry and I’m too terrified to pretend I’m okay.
“You’ll be dropped somewhere into the red zone marked there on the map.” She points at it. “Tosh, can you get a shot of this?”
He moves in closer while she continues. “You will need to get all the way from here to …” She moves her finger to a town on the edge of the jungle that looks really frigging far away to me. “Here. The village of Mbambole, taking only these terrific backpacks made by Bearz, the official line of outdoor gear by Bear Grylls, that have been packed for you. As you know, you can’t take anything from home. Only what we provide you with, and what you find, of course, so you’ll need to be resourceful.