“How fun. We’re all different.” Trace clapped her hands in excitement. “I only sing country.”
“Wow, you sing?” I turned toward her. “I’m totally tone-deaf. I’d love to hear you sometime.”
Trace’s mouth dropped open and she whipped her head around, looking at us all. “What do you mean you’re tone-deaf?”
“Same here,” Rachel agreed. “Can’t carry a tune to save my life.”
“I’m not that bad. I can act a little, too,” Sofia said.
Trace looked between us all “Are you...are you not all here to sing? I’m so confused.”
“Sing?” Rachel balked. “I’m a dancer.”
I snorted. “I can’t do either.” Puzzle pieces flew through my mind, but I couldn’t connect them. “Uh, I’m a writer.”
“Then why are you on a singing competition?” Trace asked, bewildered.
“I’m not,” I said, panic rising in my chest.What the hell was going on?“I’m here for a writing competition.”
Rachel snorted. “I don’t know what you’re all talking about, but I’m here to dance.”
We all looked at each other, wild-eyed, before turning to Sofia.
She gave a dismissive flick of her wrist. “What? I’m just here to get famous.”
Ice ran down my spine. Something was seriously wrong.
Chapter Two
Before the paniccould completely set in, a tall woman waltzed into the room, trailed by a few cameramen. She had legs for days, poking out of a sweater dress. She stopped just by the hall entryway and was immediately mobbed by the hair and makeup team. They touched up her face and fluffed out her hair.
At the end of the couch, Sofia gasped. Rachel and I whipped our heads in her direction.
“Do you know who that is?” I asked.
“That’s Rita Marston,” Sofia squealed.
Rachel and I glanced at each other before I asked, “Who?”
“She’s reality royalty. She’s been onRuler of Love, like, four times,” Sofia said it like I was dense for not knowing.
Rachel and I still stared at her blankly.
“It’s a reality show about finding love,” Trace explained. “She must be the host.”
Gears turned in my head, yet still nothing clicked.
Rachel voiced my thoughts. “Why would a reality starfamous for doing a dating show be the host of a dance competition?”
“Writing competition,” I corrected instinctively.
Trace sighed. “I have no idea what’s going on, but something tells me I’m not here to sing.”
Sofia snorted. “Don’t be dense. This is clearly some sort of twist. None of you will be pursuing your little hobbies on this show.”
“Ten years as a professional dancer, but sure, it’s just somelittle hobby,” Rachel grumbled next to me.
This made absolutely no sense. Heat consumed my whole body as I sat there, bathed in anxiety. The adrenaline running through my veins shouted at me to get up—to do something—but shock and confusion had me frozen in place. While something obviously wasn’t right, I had no idea what that was.
