Love in Reality: A Contemporary Romance (The Blackjack Quartet) (28 page)

“What’s going on?” she asked, when he finally turned to take her in his arms.

He kissed her before answering. It was a long time before he could remember why they were there.

“I suggested to Marcy that you might sue the company for Dylan’s assault last night,” he said, still pressing kisses on the side of her mouth. “She took some convincing, but finally acknowledged it wouldn’t be a good thing if you sued, so I said I would talk to you. I pointed out it would be better if there was no mike on.”

She grinned widely. “You are absolutely brilliant.” She started to put her arms around his neck, but he stopped her.

“Are you okay? I saw the tape—I’m stunned they let him stay on the show, but Marcy only cares about the ratings.”

“Rand, I work in a bar,” she said soothingly. “Dylan was drunk. Apart from his waking me up—I’ll admit that never happened to me at the Cork—it wasn’t particularly scary. Just unpleasant. And it’s better now that I’m rooming with Kai and Susie. So net win for me, even before this little ruse of yours.”

He curved his arms around her gingerly, his palms flat against her back. “I had to make sure,” he breathed into her hair. “I wasn’t even here when it happened.”

“Well, yeah, I’ll admit I missed you. I might even have shed a tear as I fell asleep alone,” she teased.

He felt his heart jump at the image. “You’re manipulating me, I know, but I hate that I’m comforting you nearly a day later.”

“All this talk of comforting, but where’d my kisses go?”

“You’re awfully pushy for someone who’s devastated by what happened to her,” he said.

“I’ll push you,” she joked, and twisted him around so that he fell onto the sofa. She climbed on top of him and kissed him. His lingering worries evaporated fast as her delightful weight pressed against him in just the right places. He put his hands on her hips to see what would happen if he moved her like—

“Ah,” she said. “Do that again.”

He had no objection. Then he remembered—no condom. And that reminded him where they were.

He broke off their kiss to say, “I don’t want you to go.”

She leaned back, which did delightful things for him but he could tell that wasn’t why she moved.

“You mean the game,” she said.

“Yes.”

“But I’ll be in the Holding Tank.”

“I can’t get to you there. It’s in a gated community, and I’ve no reason to go there.”

“Right.”

He wanted to say more. He wanted to tell her how he felt, if he could just figure out what to say.

“But it’s less than three weeks now, right?” she said.

“Uh-hunh. That’s what I was thinking. In fact,” he began carefully, “I was wondering if you have to go back to Philly right after the show ends?”

She frowned. “Not right away, I guess.”

“Because we all get a ton of vacation after the show wraps. I was thinking we could get away, you and me, I mean.”

She didn’t say anything at first. She pushed herself off his lap and sat down at the far end of the sofa. He shifted his legs and sat up. What happened? They were talking, then he offered to take her on a holiday, and—

“Oh, I see,” he said. “You want to see your sister and family, the people at the bar. We could do that, if you would prefer.”

“That’s not it,” her voice came to him. With the lights off, she was a dark shape to his right. “I mean, yes, I want to see everyone. It’s a very kind offer,” she added politely.

“I want to be with you,” he protested. Why was this so hard? They got along great, the sex was good and could only get better once they didn’t have to sneak around in the middle of the night, and she had nothing holding her in Philly.

“I want to be with you, too,” she said. “I love being with you. I do. It’s just…”

“Is this where you break up with me?”

“That’s not it either. It’s complicated,” she cried.

Her voice pleaded with him to understand. Understand what? He was confused by her anguish, which didn’t make any more sense than the rest of this conversation. Had Dylan hurt her more than she wanted to admit? He considered asking that question again but couldn’t see the point.

“Lissa, just tell me—do we have a chance after the show ends or don’t we?” he asked in a level tone.

“I can’t—”

Oh, lord, she was crying. He passed over a handkerchief.

“Thanks,” she said.

“Take your time,” he said. He felt hollow, but he believed in getting everything out in the open.

“It’s this show. It distorts everything. I don’t know who I am anymore,” she said.

That was a start. It didn’t make any sense, but it was an opening. “Okay.”

Her breathing slowed a bit. He heard her sniff and take a deep breath.

“I really thought I knew who I was before I met you,” she began. “I thought I knew exactly who I was and where I was going.”

An odd thing for her to say. Bartending wasn’t a career choice. He didn’t argue with her, though.

“Then you showed up, and I didn’t want to do the show. Then my plans fell through and I…I like you. Which is a silly reason to do the show but it’s worked. I’ve loved that part of the summer,” she assured him.

“So what is it then?”

“I don’t know. I’ve behaved this summer in lots of ways that surprised me. It’s just that there’s no time to sort it all out. No time to figure out what’s really me, what’s being with you and what’s being in the damned Fishbowl.”

“So you need some time?” he ventured.

There was a long silence. “I think so. It’s not what I want. What I want to do is say yes to anything you suggest, go with you anywhere you want me to go. But that feels just as artificial as the game does. We barely know each other in some respects. We’re a good fit, I think, in here. What would it be like in the real world?”

He waited, but it hadn’t been a rhetorical question. What would it be like in the real world? He barely knew what the real world looked like, not since he’d been hiding inside this studio.

“I don’t know,” he whispered.

“Me neither,” she whispered back.

She was looking at him. He could feel her waiting for him to have an answer. “I don’t know what to say,” he admitted.

“Rand, it’s okay. We don’t need to know everything right now,” she said. She sounded calmer, as though she was reassuring him. She moved to snuggle next to his side.

Rand felt emptied out. Lissa was entitled to be confused—reality TV seemed to addle everyone’s brains. What was his excuse? When had he planned to talk to her about the future?

He should say something. Something tender and passionate, something lyrical about how she made him feel, something of his feelings for her. None of that fixed anything. He’d deceived her. When did he plan to mention that?

“We still have time, right?” he asked finally.

“I think so.”

“Okay.” He could make it work out. He would.

He had three weeks.

* * *

That evening, Susie and Dylan stayed up in the Shark Tank. Kai and Libby stretched out in the garden, curled up in the hammock.

“So was that unscheduled trip to the Journal Room about our buddy Dylan?” Kai asked her.

“They wanted to make sure I wouldn’t sue.”

“Were you even thinking of that?”

“Of course not,” Libby said.

“Didn’t think so.” Kai changed the subject. “One of us is going home this week, you know that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Lissa, I’m serious—if you have a chance to win the Get Off The Hook, I want you to take it.”

“What are you talking about?” Libby stalled.

“Not all of us are that stupid, you know, Liss. It’s obvious that you pick and choose which competitions to win.” At Libby’s expression, Kai raised her hands in surrender. “I know you’ve lost some you wanted to win, but I have seen you deliberately lose others. To me, even. That’s why you’ve never been the Shark, right?”

“I guess. Clearly not a winning strategy, though.” Libby joked.

“Hmm.”

Libby let the silence lengthen—she didn’t really want to talk strategy. She’d succeeded in her real goal, which had always been to stay in the Fishbowl as long as possible without winning the money. Had she done the right thing?

Her conversation with Rand still upset her. She should’ve told him she was Libby not Lissa. Trouble was, that seemed a much clearer distinction six months ago. Back then she had all the answers: law student, devoted sister, decent temporary bartender. Then Rand walked into the Cork, and Libby discovered a flirtatious, fearless side to herself. She followed her heart here, and found more than she could have dreamed of in return. She’d fallen in love, but until they got out of this artificial situation, how could either of them know what was real?

What upset her most was her fear that she didn’t know who Rand was. He didn’t talk about his career, his hopes and dreams, even how he felt about his job. She’d never seen his apartment. She hadn’t met his parents. She wasn’t sure who his best friends were. Their relationship was like Swiss cheese—defined as much by the holes as by their feelings for each other.

Well, she’d be fished out this week, and there were only two more weeks to go after that. They would undoubtedly see each other after Jeremy announced the winner. She could tell Rand about herself then, away from the studio and the fun house distortion of a TV show. He had to understand why she did what she did—she’d done it for Lissa and Barney originally, and then to see more of Rand. He might be annoyed, but he couldn’t be insulted.

“Hey, are you in a trance?” Kai asked.

Libby was about to respond when Susie wandered out to the garden.

“Dylan’s really sorry,” she told Libby.

Of course he is. And pigs can fly.
“Okay,” Libby said.

Kai wasn’t buying it, though. “That’s so bogus,” she told Susie. “He threatened to kill Lissa. He hasn’t even come forward to apologize.”

Susie looked away from Kai’s anger and shrugged. Not her problem, Susie’s body language said.

“Fine,” Kai huffed. She flopped back against the pillows, making the hammock swing.

“Chris is putting you two on the hook,” Susie said.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Kai said. It was so funny to hear Kai swear that Libby wanted to laugh. She caught Kai’s eye and the older woman flexed an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I know,” Susie said. “Look, it’s a game, right? He—Dylan—takes it too seriously. You guys freak him out. You don’t look like you even care,” she said, nodding at Lissa, then turned to Kai. “And you act like you’re better than us.”

Libby started to laugh. Kai’s haughty expression collapsed into surprisingly girlish giggles. Even Susie chuckled.

When they were wiping their eyes and catching their breath, Libby asked, “Hey, Susie, what do you do in Amarillo? If you told me, I’m afraid I don’t remember.”

“I start dental school in the fall,” Susie said. “I work for a dentist and she encouraged me to get my bachelor’s degree and apply to dental school.”

Libby was impressed. “Do the producers know?” Libby asked. Rand would have mentioned it if he’d known.

“I didn’t get into Baylor until after I applied.”

Hunh. Another Fish who wasn’t quite what she seemed. Libby wondered how many people omitted key facts when applying to be on the show?

* * *

Kai failed to win the Get Off The Hook competition, which was a shame from Libby’s perspective. Susie won and declined to save either of the other women. The night before the live elimination, Libby was called last to the Journal Room. She wasn’t surprised to hear Rand’s voice. He was back on the night shift. When the ratings went up, Debbie had demanded Marcy return to the old schedule.

During her tape piece, Libby talked about her assumption that she’d be going home the next day. “Dylan will vote against me, and I’m sure he’ll convince Chris and Susie to do the same,” she said.

“How do you feel about that?” Rand asked in his impersonal interview voice.

“How do I feel about getting fished out? Truthfully? I can see the mistakes I made along the way. I could have formed an alliance with Kai and Jim earlier in the game, but as I never voted against either one, I’m not sure that would have changed things. So I’m not happy, but I can see how my choices got me to this point.”

“Do you regret the way the summer has gone?” he asked.

Was that a scripted question, or did he want to know for himself? Libby could only answer honestly.

“I’ve had a great time in
The Fishbowl
,” she said firmly. “I’ve gotten to know some wonderful people I would never have met otherwise. I will never forget them, ever.” Her voice trailed off at the end, and she fought the urge to cry.

There was a pause, then the door opened. Rand beckoned her into the Control Room. “We only have a few minutes,” he said. “Marcy’s still here, and I can’t be sure she won’t catch that your mike feed isn’t being recorded.”

“It’s okay,” Libby said. She stared into his face, which she had come to love over the past two months. She would miss it so much, even just for the two weeks she was in the Holding Tank.

“I’m sorry about the other day,” he said.

“I don’t know why you’re apologizing. It’s this situation. Until the show’s over, we can’t be honest with each other, can we?”

“Promise me you’ll stay in L.A. after the show wraps?”

“I’d like that.”

“I was going to whisk you off to someplace special, but I get it now. We need something normal.”

Libby smiled at that. “Normal would certainly be a change of pace for us.”

Rand’s phone buzzed. He checked the text. His face fell, and he pointed to her mike. “Live,” he mouthed.

Libby nodded, kissed him silently, and left.

On the day of the live show, Libby felt surreally calm. She hung out with Kai and Susie, who told them that Chris had taken responsibility for keeping Dylan occupied in the Shark Tank until after someone—meaning Lissa—was fished out.

When they were summoned to the living room for the live vote, Libby felt a huge sense of relief. She couldn’t wait to be fished out and officially off
The Fishbowl
. She could tell Rand the truth, maybe not right away, but she’d feel less dishonest once she’d lost. He’d understand why she’d lied, why she’d kept the truth from him, why he couldn’t know. In the meantime, she’d miss him but it was only for two weeks. Plus, they had books and music at the Holding Tank. That was something to look forward to.