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

roommate. Based on their body language, there was no sexual tension between them.
    Shit. He might have thought about Lissa hooking up with someone in the ’Bowl before now. Rand looked at the master list on the wall. The Jock was probably too young, but the Boy Next Door and the Hunk were around Lissa’s age.
    Rand went back to the monitors. Everyone was milling around the living room, so it was hard to get a handle on who was saying what to whom. He hadn’t memorized Debbie’s contestants yet, but he recognized them by their call-sheet labels. Easy to spot the Cougar, for example. And props to Debbie for finding a Vixen with red hair.
    Rand checked to see who ended up together in the other bedrooms. The Jock, the Codger, the Hunk and the Vixen were in the largest bedroom. The Sophisticate, the Country Bumpkin and the Cougar were in a third bedroom, which left the Boy and Girl Next Door in the final bedroom with the Goth, who was already scowling darkly at anyone who talked to her.
    Charlie wandered in, having checked that the stationary mikes were working correctly.
    “Worst part of this job. Waiting for them to get to know each other well enough to fight or scheme or something. Instead, they limit themselves to anodyne platitudes. They all still want to be liked,” he said.
    “‘Anodyne platitudes?’” Rand said. “Have you been reading the dictionary again, Charlie?”
    “Word-a-day calendar. My wife got it for me. It pisses her off when I actually use the words, so you know—”
    Rand nodded. “Yeah, you gotta use the words.”
    They watched the camera feeds for a while. The Fish looked awkward and uncomfortable. “I call it the mix-and-meet period,” Rand said. “The only time I can stand them. This game is like a disease that causes them to break out in scheming and petty jealousies. They’re infected, only they’re not symptomatic yet.”
    “Yeah,” Charlie said.
    A tiny amount of this “getting to know you” dance would be spliced together for the first episode, making it seem the Fish were already conspiring and colluding. Another illusion for the viewer. Jeremy was brilliant at the breathless voice-overs explaining who everyone was, carefully modulated to sound like he was imparting confidential information gathered during the first day or so in the ’Bowl. Actually, the contestants had filled out lengthy questionnaires, coughing up all sorts of incriminating crap long before the show started. Rand’s scripts for Jeremy’s first episode voice-overs had been written weeks earlier based on how Marcy wanted the audience to think about each Fish.
    Marcy walked back in. “What do you think?” she asked, waving vaguely at the monitors.
    “The Goth—what’s her name?” Charlie asked.
    “Hell, I don’t know,” Marcy said.
    Rand checked his notes. “Joanna, but she insists on being called Jo.”
    “Ri-ight,” Marcy drawled.
    “Well, she’s already in a foul temper. Oh—look at that,” Rand said, pointing at the feed from Camera Six, aimed at the huge kitchen. The Goth, Jo, appeared so angry her purple-tipped fauxhawk was quivering.
    “Wow,” Marcy said. “I think she’s set a new record. It usually takes people a couple hours before they lose it. Turn up the sound in the kitchen,” she said to the director.
    On screen, Jo was screaming at Lissa, “You must have cheated. What about the bedroom thing, hunh?! You act all innocent, but c’mon, admit it. You had to know which bedroom to run to.”
    Rand felt his blood go cold. He couldn’t believe this—and with Marcy watching intently. He waited for Lissa’s response.
    “Um, I’m sorry? I just ran to the end of the hall. I mean, don’t we all know you have to grab a bed right away?” Lissa looked to the Band Geek for confirmation. Rand released his breath in relief. He was so proud of her—she was doing the Ditz thing perfectly.
    “Yeah,” the Band Geek chimed in, rounding on Jo. “What’s this about, anyway? It’s