Love in Reality: A Contemporary Romance (The Blackjack Quartet) by Magdalen Braden Page A

trained Libby to stay on her feet for a long time.
    Libby shook her right foot, which had fallen asleep. She really regretted not eating more at breakfast. She was rotating her head to ease the ache in her neck when Jeremy Andrews appeared. He took the spot marked for him and stood facing the camera. The Fish would appear behind him in the shot. Someone did a sound check, and then before Libby even got used to the idea, studio lights came on, the cameras rolled and Jeremy was reading from cue cards.
    “Welcome to the eighth season of The Fishbowl . Behind me are twelve people convinced that they can swim like a shark, avoid getting hooked or fished out, and go on to win one million dollars—all while living in The Fishbowl !”
    After his intro had been taped a couple of times, he was positioned facing the new school of Fish.
    “Fish, you are about to start swimming toward The Fishbowl ’s million dollar prize! In a minute, I’m going to tell you to dive into what will be your home for the next two months—that is, if you make it all the way to the finale. But for someone, this week will be their only time in The Fishbowl . So get ready to do some strong swimming. Because before this week is out, one of you will be on the hook and fished out—and that will be the end of your time in The Fishbowl .”
    He paused dramatically, then announced, “But one of you is going to be the strongest Fish, last the longest—and be this season’s winner of The Fishbowl .”
    Were they expected to do something—cheer? Clap? Look greedy?
    Another long period of standing and doing nothing while the crew adjusted the cameras and Jeremy retaped his speech. Libby’s nerves had evaporated in the wake of stultifying boredom. Time to get inside the Fishbowl. Once they were there, the twelve of them could say what they liked. And sit down. Then, before she’d tensed for the start, Jeremy was yelling at them to start swimming!
    Libby ran with everyone else into the elaborately decorated set. She saw the hallway and ran immediately to the blue bedroom and plunked her bag on the bed along the far wall. She waited to see who got the other bed. Please let it be the gorgeous Native American woman and not the snotty-looking redhead. Then the baby-faced blond guy raced in and pounced on the other bed.
    “Hi, I’m Greg,” he announced.
    “Li—Lissa,” she said. She managed a smile. She was still aware of all the hidden cameras and the transmitter at the small of her back.
    “Where are you from?” Greg asked.
    “Philly. How about you?”
    “St. Joseph, Missouri,” he replied proudly. “Birthplace of the Pony Express.”
    “I didn’t know that,” Libby admitted.
    “Most people don’t,” Greg said. “I could not believe they picked me. You know? I’ve been super excited ever since I got the news. I just wish I could have done more touristy stuff before we moved in. It’s my first time in L.A. I kept thinking my band would get to the Rose Bowl, but it never quite happened.”
    “Your band?”
    “The Marching Mizzou.”
    “Ah.” Best not to tell him she knew nothing about college football. “Well, shall we go out and meet our fellow Fish?”
    “Sure,” he replied.
    Libby was tempted to wink. Greg looked like a younger brother, not someone who would pressure her into a strategic alliance with him. With his engaging smile and eagerness to chat, Greg seemed good company. One down, ten to go.
    As they left the room, Libby spotted the door further along the hall marked “Journal Room.” Finally, she could think it for real. Today she’d get to talk to Rand again.

Chapter Seven
     
    Rand watched the feeds in the director’s booth, ignoring Marcy’s frantic screeches about imaginary panics. When she left, she took a cartoon-sized weight of tension with her. Everyone exhaled as the door closed.
    He went back to the monitor with the best view of Lissa. Rand had watched Lissa snag the blue bedroom and get the Band Geek as her