Read Virgo's Vice for Free Online Page B

okay as long as it wasn’t matches or a lighter. My extra two items of clothing are a T-shirt and underwear.” He blushes and holds up a pair of bright red boxers.
    A couple of people laugh.
    “I would have preferred to have brought extra shoes.” He sits back and stares at the woman to his left.
    “Lela Sukhova,” the big blond woman says, with her strong accent. “Model and interior designer.” She has definitely been poured into her designer jeans, and that tight boob tube doesn’t leave much of her hidden. She obviously spends a lot of time in a tanning booth. The skin on her bared stomach is perfectly tanned, except for a pink rose tattoo around her navel. She throws a look at the redhead, almost like a challenge. Andy is staring at her the same way he stared at the redhead—like he’s hungry. I can’t help glancing at his left hand. There’s definitely a ring on his finger.
    “I brought underwear, of course,” the model says, pulling out two pairs of tiny, almost non-existent black lace panties. A laugh bubbles up inside me, but I don’t let it out. She has one chance for a little extra comfort and she brings those.
    “And my survival item is this.” She holds it up with a self-satisfied smirk on her face. “It’s a Swiss Army Knife. It has a—how you say?—c ompass, a whistle, a nail file, two knife blades, a bottle opener, and a pair of scissors.”
    The tough woman in the khaki shorts and a brown T-shirt, with brown work boots, is next. “Sam Fillwood, trucker, thirty-one.” She’s average height, a little overweight, and her dark hair is cropped short. She opens her bag and holds up a curved hunting knife. “You never know when you’re gonna need to defend yourself.” The way she says it makes me wonder if she’s talking about the wild animals or the other players. She takes out a pair of denim shorts and a T-shirt and lets me film them, then stares at the Asian girl.
    “My name is Eve Li. I’m twenty and I manage a restaurant.”
    “Let me guess,” says the nerdy dude, “a Chinese restaurant.”
    Everyone chuckles except Eve, who ignores him. I make certain I record her satiny black pants and a shiny yellow sleeveless blouse.
    “You might think my shoes were a mistake,” she continues, “but I chose them and I will be comfortable in them.”
    I pan down to her yellow sandals.
    “My emergency item is this.” She holds up a flashlight. “I’m not scared of the dark, or anything. I brought as many spare batteries as they would allow. As for my clothes, underwear and a sweater.” She doesn’t hold them up, and I film what I can of them inside her bag.
    “Kelli Gannon,” the redhead wearing the short black cocktail dress says. “I’m twenty-five, an educator, and I’m still mad at myself for being duped into wearing these clothes.” She’s pretty . “I brought this.” She holds up a roll of bright neon pink duct tape. “I would have brought W-D40 if it was allowed,” she said. “Every woman should have both. Duct tape if it moves and shouldn’t; the other if it doesn’t move and it should.”
    Everyone laughs, and I think I detect an expression of envy from Billy, the cowboy. Or is it approval? Or is he thinking she’s hot?
    “Good call,” he says. “The color, too. It means we can use it to attract attention from an aircraft if we ever need to.”
    My stomach clenches suddenly. What does he mean? Surely the Old Man will be here in three days. He said he would. But . . . what about the sat phone? He also said there would be a sat phone. It must be in the other trunk.
    Kelli’s extra clothes are underwear, a bra and panties. I bet she wishes she had brought jeans and a T-shirt or tennis shoes. I pan across the faces of the others, and get distracted. Is that a bulge in Jared’s shorts?
    Everyone turns their gaze to the tall, skinny exec woman, and I remember what I’m supposed to be doing and turn my attention back to filming.
    “Faith Frith is my name,”