America's Next Reality Star

by Laura Heffernan

  Maybe I should have spent more time thinking about removing people like Dominic.

  “And don’t forget,” Birdie chimed in, “America saved Ariana last week. Would they turn on her so fast?”

  Unfortunately, this point hit on the most important fact available to us. For some reason, the fans liked Ariana—or, at least, they’d wanted to keep watching her. Probably because she was beautiful and caused lots of drama. Did they like her more than Maria? Why had they voted to put Justin up for elimination?

  If my thoughts whirled any faster, I might fall over.

  “Thanks, guys. You’ve given me something to think about.” I tilted my head and downed the wine in one gulp. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in the hot tub until lunch.”

  The afternoon dragged as I agonized over whether the satisfaction of voting for Ariana outweighed the risk of backfiring and sending Justin home. On top of that, my inability to get any time alone with Justin made me want to bang my head against the wall. I’d hoped for a chance to talk, just in case, but Ariana followed him everywhere.

  After lunch, I found her sitting in the small sitting room outside the School Room while Justin gave an interview. She pretended to be doing her nails, but she couldn’t fool me.

  I barely refrained from asking if she followed him into the bathroom, too.

  If he left, I’d have to say good-bye in front of everyone after the results were announced.

  An hour before the vote, Rachel found me jogging laps around the backyard. I was huffing and puffing away, face burning, hair stringy and sticking to my face, when Rachel pulled up beside me looking as if she’d stepped off the pages of a Lululemon catalog.

  Sometimes, I had to remind myself not to hate her. But, after spending the first two weeks of the show supporting Joshua and apologizing for him, she’d redeemed herself remarkably. I liked her more every day.

  Rachel fell into step beside me. Since she’d never joined me on a run before, I figured she had an ulterior motive. “What’s up, Rach?”

  “Okay, look. Birdie and Abram are voting for Ariana. They’re pissed she blew the challenge and, honestly, she deserves to go home. Mike is voting for Justin, because he’s a bigger threat. Maria is voting for Justin, because America might save Ariana again. Justin won’t say, but he’s not voting for himself. Ariana and Ed are voting for Maria. If you and I both vote for her, she’s leaving. No one thinks the viewers will save her, least of all Maria.”

  I have no idea how she managed to get all that out while jogging. I felt like keeling over at my nice, steady pace. Rachel’d raced halfway across the property, and she wasn’t even breathing hard.

  “But we both vote for Ariana, she’ll have four votes, Justin will have two, and Maria will probably have three, depending on what Justin does. That means Maria goes anyway, but we’re stuck with smug Ariana for another week. If we don’t agree, everyone could wind up with three votes. Then what?”

  Who gave speeches while exercising? I stared at her until my foot caught on a rock. Instead of risking injury, I slowed to a walk.

  “What happens if there’s a tie?”

  “Who knows? They probably make it up. Whatever boosts ratings.”

  “What if we’re wrong? What if America saves Maria?”

  “Unless Justin votes for Ariana, they’ll tie. And then, again, it’s anyone’s guess what happens. Voting for Maria is practically a guaranteed extra week with Justin. Ariana’s probably not going home either way, so there’s a low risk.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I want to beat the strongest competitors, and Maria isn’t one of them. In the end, I’d rather be standing next to either Ariana or Justin when they declare me the winner.”

  I’d seriously underestimated her. This wasn't the blond bimbo she played during the first weeks of the competition. She was smart, calculating—and right.

  “Okay,” I held out my hand. “You’re right. It’s a deal. I’ll vote for Maria. I’ll convince Birdie.”

  We jogged back to the house. I appreciated that, although Rachel could have easily left me in the dust without breaking a sweat, she kept pace with me all the way across the yard.

  Tuesday morning, I picked up my green glitter and surveyed the three fishbowls on the table. I wasn’t sure whether I was on board with the whole “fiercest competitor” thing—because, I mean, a win was a win was a win, right?

  That $250,000 would spend the same whether I beat Justin or Maria or Fluffy, the pit bull living on the next property.

  The numbers worked out, though. In life, trusting the math had rarely let me down. Finally, I sprinkled my “fish food” into Maria’s bowl. The others were right.

  I peeked in the bowls, looking for other glitter, but the crackling of the speakers made me stand upright.

  “Arm’s length sprinkling only,” a disembodied voice warned me.

  Damn. I’d thought I was so sly, pretending to trip and catch myself on the edge of the table. Good thing I never wanted to be an actor.

  But, more and more, I wanted to be a reality show winner.

  At the end of the day, Rachel’s plan worked. Maria got the most votes and was eliminated. We looked appropriately sad for the cameras, but no one expressed any surprise. My sad face didn’t have to be faked: being stuck with Ariana for another week caused great disappointment.

  We lined up to say good-bye to Maria, who accepted her elimination with grace. She stood in the hall, laughing and joking with Ed.

  I hugged her. “I want to let you know I’m sorry to see you go.”

  “‘Cause you were hoping for Ariana?”

  “Well, sure. But it would’ve been nice to get to know you.”

  “It’s all right. I know it’s part of the strategy. No hard feelings. I’m glad to have made it this far.” To the rest of the group, she said, “Later, y’all! Happy swimming!”

  With a wave and a smile, she walked out the front door. Four down, seven to go.

  CHAPTER 14

  Jennifer in The School Room, Week 5:

  You know, when I signed up for this show, I wanted an adventure. But I had no idea how much fun it would be. Trampoline trivia dodgeball? Awesome! And we rocked the scavenger hunt. I like how the challenges combine mental and physical abilities, so people like Abram and Ariana can’t pound the rest of us.

  Well, yeah, if it were only about winning, it would be better for me if the challenges were only mental. But the physical aspect is fun. I’m doing well, and I’m excited to see what happens next.

  I’m sorry to see Maria go. She was quiet, and maybe not the most exciting person in the house, but she’s also reasonably neat and pleasant. In the long run, she would’ve been easier to beat than Ariana—clearly, since she’s gone and Ariana isn’t—and I like the idea of sending the stronger players home as early in the game as possible. Of course, I suppose the fact that it’s hard to send them home is what makes them strong players.

  Wait, that’s stupid. Don’t tell anyone I said that. Can we reshoot?

  On Wednesday morning, the alarm roused everyone when the sun peeked over the horizon. I hadn’t managed to put on my workout clothes yet. That meant, unfortunately, I was going downstairs to be televised in my Seattle Mariners boxer shorts and a thin V-neck T-shirt. I supposed it could have been worse, though. Ariana wore some sort of practically see-through lacy teddy.

  Having seen her movies, I knew she had no problem being filmed naked. In fact, she’d probably donned that outfit for the purpose of feigning dismay that she was “caught” on camera (with perfect hair and makeup). I had a decent figure, but what I wouldn’t give for her self-confidence.

  As I headed for the stairs, Ed grumbled on the landing below me. “I hate when they call us before I get coffee. It’s so hard to smile and look pretty for the cameras this early.”

  When I got to the living room, I climbed past Ed on my way up the couch tower and planted a kiss on h
is cheek before settling on to the top level. “Never fear, Sleeping Beauty. I’ll make you coffee when we’re done.”

  He smiled and patted my knee. “You’re a true friend. Don’t forget the cream and sugar.”

  Leaning his head against the side of the couch, he promptly went back to sleep. I envied people who could do that.

  A moment after we were all settled, Leanna entered. “Your hostess is sleeping,” she said with a yawn. “We’ll dub her in later, looking fresh and beautiful. I don’t have to look fresh or beautiful, so you’re stuck with me for now.

  “This morning, we have a challenge for you all. Anyone who successfully completes the task will receive a benefit at tomorrow’s elimination challenge.” She paused for effect. “If you fail, you may find the consequences a bit blindsiding.”

  That didn’t sound good. I nudged Ed to make sure he was awake.

  Leanna held up two plastic fishbowls and shook them. Something inside rustled.

  “In this bowl,” she said, shaking the bowl in her right hand, “I have the names of all of the female contestants. In this bowl”—shaking the other—“I have the names of all of the male contestants. I’m going to pair you up.”

  She gestured over her shoulder. “The bag behind me contains several scarves. You and your partner will be tied together for the rest of the day. Figure out how to do things. If either of you unties the scarf, for any reason before tomorrow morning, both of you forfeit the benefit of the midweek challenge.

  “For tonight only, the girls may sleep in the boys’ dorm and vice versa. I recommend adjacent beds, though, since sharing a twin may not be all that comfortable. Any questions?”

  Birdie raised one hand hesitantly. “#Shower? #Bathroom? #Changing?”

  Leanna smiled. “You have five minutes to get dressed once I announce the pairs. I recommend clothes that go on and off easily. The larger shower holds two. You can both fit in the School Room if you squeeze. As for the other stuff, be creative. If you don’t close the doors all the way, you’ll manage.”

  Huh. How interesting.

  I mentally reviewed my wardrobe. My swimsuit tied at the top and neck, so I could put that on to shower. And then, I had a stretchy tank dress. If I pulled one strap over my head and around my shoulders, I could shimmy in and out of it. Maybe. This could work.

  Leanna set the boxes on the coffee table. Then, she pulled slips out of the bowls. “Okay, let’s see who’s up first! Ariana—”

  Not Justin, notJustin, notJustinnotJustinnotJustinnotJustin, I prayed fervently.

  “—and Ed! Congratulations! Come get your scarves!” A noise on the level below me sounded suspiciously like Ed swearing under his breath.

  Ariana wandered up to grab a scarf, and Leanna continued pulling names. “Next, we have Birdie and Mike.”

  They glanced at each other and shrugged. Birdie already sat on the floor, so she leaned forward half-heartedly to get a pink scarf, which she draped around her neck. Leanna kept pulling names.

  “Rachel and Abram! And that means the final pair is Jen and Justin. Come on up, guys.”

  My pulse quickened at her words. I was about to spend twenty-four hours literally tied to the guy who made my heart go pitter-pat and my brain go, “What?”

  As soon as Leanna released us, I ran upstairs and put on my halter swimsuit. One of the production assistants bound me to Justin, who wore only swim trunks. I refused to let my eyes follow the trail of blond hair bellow his belly button. If I was already checking him out, how would I ever make it through the whole day?

  In the shower, Justin barely looked at me. We were alone, together, surrounded by sexy steam and soap bubbles, in one of the only places cameras wouldn’t record us, and it felt as erotic as showering with my brother. Disappointment flared within me. He really must be pretending interest for the audience.

  While I regained control of my emotions, I blow-dried my hair, trying to avoid blasting hot air in Justin’s face. When that fun ended, he stood outside the girls’ closet while I discovered I could not, in fact, put on my stretchiest tank top while tied to someone else. With a sigh, I shimmied the shirt down my legs and threw it in a heap on the floor. Justin allowed me to pull him into the room so I could rummage through the hangars. He stared at the back corner, although my bra and panties covered as much as my swimsuit.

  Not interested in me in the slightest. I knew it.

  Several minutes later, I pulled out something I’d forgotten I owned. “Wait a minute. What’s this?”

  A stretchy, soft emerald green wraparound dress. The straps wound around my torso to tie around my neck. I’d bought the dress on my shopping trip the day before leaving for the show. Until that moment, I’d forgotten about it, but it worked.

  “Can you get into that?” He sounded doubtful.

  “Sure I can—there’s nothing to step into or pull over my head. I just need help.”

  Justin averted his eyes while trying to follow my directions. I twisted and contorted myself into the dress. My skin tingled wherever his fingers brushed against me. Silently, I cursed myself.

  “You okay?” he asked, tying the top in a bow. “I know it’s not exactly perfect.”

  Better he think the problem was the clothing. “It’s close enough.”

  The dress wasn’t wrapped properly, but it covered what I wanted hidden and fit loosely enough to be comfortable, even when nothing else about this situation was.

  Justin had no shirt he could pull over his head without the use of both arms, so a few minutes later, we went into the kitchen to make coffee. It took a couple of tries, and he poured water all over the counter, but we managed. We’d just flipped the switch and sat at the table when someone shrieked, pulling our attention to the doorway.

  Birdie stormed into the room, Mike trailing behind her with one arm outstretched. Wet hair streamed down her back. She wore only a bandeau top and a skirt.

  “God! You’re such a pig! What is wrong with you? #Creep.”

  Once he caught up, Mike leisurely walked to the table, pulling Birdie along behind him. He smirked but didn’t answer.

  Abram entered the room a footstep behind them, dragging poor Rachel behind him. “Is there a problem?”

  “No,” Mike said.

  “Yes,” Birdie said.

  Abram pulled himself to his full height of six-feet-about-a-zillion inches, then leaned forward and crossed his arms as best he could. He was so quiet and such a nice guy, I sometimes forgot he was freaking huge. He could snap Mike in half without breaking a sweat. He narrowed his brown eyes to slits and set his mouth in a hard line. He didn’t speak, he growled.

  “Birdie?”

  “That #cretin grabbed my ass when I was trying to blow dry my hair. Now it’s going to be all frizzy.”

  “She bent over right in front of me!” Mike protested.

  “That’s how you dry long hair!” Birdie yelled.

  My mouth dropped. I couldn’t believe he’d put his hands on Birdie without permission. And he wasn’t contrite. The bastard grinned, showing his teeth. Beside me, Justin gasped softly.

  “You know if I untie this thing, you lose, too, right? #Jackass.”

  “Touch her again,” Abram growled at Mike, “and Birdie will spend the rest of the day dragging your detached arm behind her. I don’t care if I get sent home. You will not touch an unwilling woman while I’m around.”

  “Or me,” Justin added.

  Rachel and I exchanged a look. “Or me,” we said.

  Mike flinched. “Look, man, I didn’t mean anything by it. She was there, her ass was right next to my hand. I thought it would be funny. I didn’t think everyone would freak out.”

  Abram did not break eye contact. “Apologize to her.”

  Still looking at Abe, Mike insincerely muttered, “I’m sorry, Birdie.”

  “Don’t let it happen again,” she said.

  “I won’t.” He finally looked at her.


  “I’m glad we understand each other.” Abram crossed his arms, still giving Mike a hard look.

  For a long moment, Mike glared up at him. Then, he took a step backward. “C’mon, Birdie. Let’s go.”

  He strode angrily out of the room with Birdie trailing behind.

  Later that afternoon, Abram and I sat on the side of the pool, swinging our feet in the water. Rachel and Justin floated nearby on rafts, their tethers stretching back toward us. Their feat impressed me, but it wasn’t a task I felt prepared to tackle. I was fine, sitting in the shade and watching.

  I lowered my voice. “Abram, that was decent, what you did for Birdie earlier.”

  He blushed and examined the ground. “I didn’t do anything. I have six sisters. If I stood back and let him maul her, even as a joke, they would all take turns removing my fingers when I got home.” He smiled, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “And then I’d have to spend my entire $250,000 on replacements.”

  “Well, then, that would certainly make this a summer not well-spent. How would you do construction with no fingers?” My eyes met Rachel’s over Abram’s shoulder. She mimed pulling Abram into the water, and I nodded. Silently, she held up three fingers.

  “Exactly!”

  One. “You better practice your synchronized swimming, then. Come on!” Two.

  “Wha—?”

  Three! Whatever Abram had been about to say was cut off. I grabbed his free hand and pushed off the side of the pool, slipping into the water. At the same moment Rachel, yanked on her scarf. He lurched forward, then caught his balance slipped out of my grasp, grabbing the side of the pool with one hand. With the other, he pulled back, sending Rachel topping into the pool. She found herself bobbing on the top of the water, suspended by a scarf. On the other raft, Justin rocked back and forth with laughter.

  “You realize I’m bigger and stronger than you and could leave you treading water all day?” Abram said to Rachel.