Inside Straight

American Hero has just become a popularity contest—and Jamal’s big problem is that, while Rosa Loteria annoyed the hell out of the other aces, she never played the race card.

Jamal and Rosa are forced to sit, smile, and react—knowing the damn director will be pulling extreme reactions from the footage—as the Candle arches his eyebrows as they watch the first challenge, aces against flames. (“God,” Rosa mutters, “I’ve heard about people being so gay they’re on fire, but give it a break.”)

He votes for Rosa. No justice.

Then the underwater safe under the lake—and Diver’s throaty laugh. She, too, votes for Rosa.

Then there’s a double whammy: Brave Hawk stands to vote, and the big screen reminds the world how Stuntman turned aside the Apache’s offer of an alliance. Jamal can’t help meeting his father’s eyes, it’s clear that Big Bill never saw this episode. He just shakes his head.

A surprise, though—Brave Hawk votes for Stuntman!

But that bright moment is followed by the darkest of all. Jade Blossom, clearly—if the hoots of the men in the audience are any indication—the most popular American Hero contestant of all—pointedly refuses to look at Jamal as she approaches the ballot box. Even as the big screen shows footage of them kissing (how the hell did Art and his team get this?) Jade Blossom votes for Rosa.

Toad Man votes—Stuntman! Then Pop Tart, Joe Twitch. Who did they go for? “Can you believe this? I’m losing count!” he says to Rosa.

“Don’t worry about what’s happening here,” she says, looking baffled herself. “This is only a few thousand votes. The audience is half a million.”

Jamal doesn’t even see the footage of the hostage challenge, or hear Dragon Girl, or have any idea how she voted. He sees one of the Jetboy statues looking down at him. Now, there was an American Hero—he didn’t ask for it, he just did the job that had to be done.

Jamal tries to look at the scoreboard for the audience votes, but can’t see it. Of course, Berman and his team don’t want the Terrible Two to know what’s coming. Jamal can only look sideways at Rosa, as Peregrine goes into a torturous spiel about how these votes are now being integrated with those of the viewing public, and offers a tortured word: “Congratulations.”

Then he hears Peregrine say, “And the winner of American Hero is …” Jamal knows this will be dragged out, as if time weren’t already stretching. It is that endless moment between the football leaving the quarterback’s hand and its descent into the receiver’s—the hour it takes for a curveball to sail, spin, dive.…

Suddenly the studio explodes with sound—clapping, laughing, cheering.

He didn’t hear the name!

But Rosa Loteria has her arm around him. “Congratulations to you, Stuntman. You played the game just right.”

He won! Jamal Norwood, aka Stuntman, is the American Hero!

The others are around him now, hands thumping him on the back (it can’t really hurt, can it?), the women kissing him (even Jade). He only registers a strange, slick, smooth hug from Tiffani before he is with Peregrine at center stage. “Are you surprised?” she’s saying. The crowd is still making noise.

“Yeah.” Feeling more awkward in public than he has since fifth grade, he can only blurt the word. But he remembers being at the school earlier today, talking about being a hero—and he forms a speech that will dedicate this award to the aces lost in Egypt.

But before he can speak, he sees Berman flinging his arms around like a child of six in midtantrum. “What do you fucking mean ‘we’re not on the air’?”

The information strikes Peregrine at the same moment. Frozen smile on her face, still conscious of the cameras on her, she turns to Eryka, the production assistant. “Did I hear that? We’re not on the air?”

“Look,” Rosa says.

On the monitor showing the network feed, the American Hero finale is gone. In its place a middle-of-the-night scene in some European city—the hot, young South African reporter from NBC standing in front of some ornate building.

“What the hell is that?”

“The Hague,” Berman says. He reminds Jamal of a tire deflating.

“What’s the Hague?” Rosa asks.

“Home of the World Court.”

The reporter is saying, “… brought the strong man leader of Egypt, Kamal Farag Aziz, and his whole leadership, here to the Hague.…”

“Who brought them?” Jamal can’t see or hear.

“Your friends,” Berman says. “Our discards.”

“Michael, what are we doing?” Peregrine says. “Do we start over?” Berman shakes his head. “Well, fine,” she says, completely flustered. “This was going live to the East Coast. What about three hours from now?”

“You think that’s going to be over? Look at it!”

On the screen a group of men in chains, with CIA-style hoods, is being marched right to the front door of the Hague. Suddenly the camera finds John Fortune, grinning like…well, to Jamal, like Tom Cruise. Harrison Ford. Jack Nicholson. And there’s Lohengrin, Bugsy.