All In The Game. Barbara Boswell

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of the brush through their hair, and the twins were ready to face the day—and the camera crew and the challenges to stay on the island till the end and win the million-dollar prize.

      That only one person could win, and that perhaps one twin might have to vote against the other, was an observation made frequently by the program’s host, Bobby Dixon, often referred to as Slick Bobby by the Victorious contestants. To his face. But while on camera, Bobby’s deep-dimpled smile never faltered.

      Ty filmed the next contestant who crawled out from the tent. It was Cortnee, a self-described “aspiring superstar,” who was using her stint on Victorious as a showcase for her singing and dancing talents. At twenty-two, blond, curvaceous Cortnee was the youngest contestant on the island.

      Next came Rico, charismatic, energetic and twenty-five, who also aspired to stardom. His singing and dancing talents equaled Cortnee’s. Often the pair entertained their fellow contestants with impromptu duets and dances.

      And for those viewers not enthralled by the performances, there was always Shannen’s stare of irritable impatience to look forward to. Ty always turned his camera on her during a spontaneous Rico and Cortnee number and lingered on her scowl.

      Her exasperated mutter, “On no, not again!” was on its way to becoming as much of a highlight as the act itself.

      The “evil twin,” “the cranky one,” Shannen was dubbed on the Web sites devoted to dissecting each episode and each person on the island. Lauren was the “good twin,” the nice, sweet one. Not that anybody could tell the sisters apart physically. But “Spitfire Shannen” distinguished herself from “Lady Lauren” every time she raised one dark brow, enhancing the power of her steely signature glare.

      Then there was muscular, handsome Jed, twenty-eight, who boasted a résumé including adventure guide, which he proved by excelling in every physical challenge. He spent most of the time in a minimum of clothing, keeping his sculpted body well oiled with the bottle of emollient he’d chosen to bring as his luxury item.

      And finally there was Konrad, the oldest of the group at thirty, a former convicted felon who’d arrived on the island sporting a shaved head with a tattoo of a snarling wolf spanning his back. He had other tattoos, on his chest and both arms, all of vicious animals or birds of prey. Konrad spoke in a growl and had never smiled once during the episodes filmed.

      His first remark in the first episode—“I paid my debt to society and I want to go straight. If I win, I will. But if I lose, well, I learned plenty in prison to become a world-class burglar. Good skills to fall back on”—had been widely quoted on the Internet discussion boards, drawing both disapproving and admiring responses.

      Ty withheld judgment, wondering if Konrad was actually serious. Was the burglary remark a threat? Or was he merely playing to the audience like Rico and Cortnee, though in a very different way?

      Everyone, including the crew, agreed that these contestants shared a definite chemistry. Viewers speculated endlessly about the off-camera goings-on based on the contestants’ on-screen behavior.

      Had the twins and/or Cortnee slept with Rico and/or Jed? Had Rico and Jed slept together? It was unanimously concluded that no one would get physical with Konrad.

      The crew did their own speculating about such matters, Ty sometimes joining in, striving for an air of nonchalance about the whole thing. His name was enough of a secret to keep around here; there was certainly no need to introduce his other secret, which would be even more significant to the Victorious crew.

      However, there was one person right here on the island who knew both his secrets.

      One word while the cameras rolled—while he made them roll!—and the horrible media circus that had propelled the Howes into the worst kind of fame could start all over again.

      And one word about his previous relationship with Shannen Cullen could probably get him fired.

      But Shannen didn’t give him away, and Ty began to think that perhaps she didn’t remember him, after all. It was a definite blow, particularly since he’d admitted to himself long ago that he would never forget her. Seeing her again after long years apart only affirmed her visceral imprint on him.

      It would be a fitting irony that she’d forgotten him, a Howe’s just desserts, Ty decided wryly. So he came to accept that when Shannen Cullen glared at him, raising that dark eyebrow of hers as he pointed the camera at her, it was nothing personal. Shannen glared at everybody behind the cameras. He wouldn’t delude himself that she was singling out him for any special animosity.

      But he couldn’t help singling her out. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her—nor could he keep his camera away from her for long. Luckily, she had a twin sister, which seemed to make the film time equal, since nobody else could tell the twins apart.

      Tynan had no trouble differentiating Shannen from Lauren. He knew “his” twin instantly, at first glance every time, whether the sisters were alone or together. There was no way to explain how, he just knew.

      Despite his determination to be different from the other members of his family, it seemed that he was as foolish and dysfunctional as any other Howe, Ty mocked himself. How like a Howe to develop an unhealthy fascination with the very person who could wreck the normal, productive life he’d worked so hard to create.

      But his unhealthy fascination with Shannen was not new. Worse, it was as urgent and powerful as it had been nine years ago. More so because now she had become the woman he’d thought she was, back when she had been just a girl.

      He’d wanted her then, but he wanted her more now.

      And he couldn’t have her. Not then and not now.

      Being chief cameraman had its perks, one of them being his own private tent in the camp. It was not as large as Bobby Dixon’s or Clark Garrett’s abodes, of course, but definitely more spacious than the tents that the assistant camera crew had to share. The editing team were likewise housed according to their positions, while the production assistants shared the most cramped quarters, befitting their slavelike status.

      The crew had knocked off filming early at eight o’clock tonight, on Clark’s orders. By the time Ty returned to his tent from the dinner provided by the catering service, it was almost dark.

      The sunsets in the region were nothing less than spectacular, and during his first days on the island, Ty had been dazzled as he filmed them. Now he scarcely glanced at the colorful sky as he called good-night to Reggie and the others.

      He’d passed on the invitation to play cards, to monitor the Internet, to watch TV from the satellite dish and all other group activities. He wanted to get to bed early; he was tired and hadn’t been sleeping well.

      Too many nights in a row he’d awakened from particularly vivid dreams of Shannen Cullen, dreams that left him frustrated when, technically, he should’ve been replete. It was humiliating to be betrayed by his own body this way. He was thirty-four, not seventeen!

      Spending hour after hour filming Shannen, watching her every move yet being unable to approach her, was taking its toll on him, Ty decided grimly. He was on his way to becoming unhinged….

      He spied the note on his pillow as soon as he entered his tent. It was written on stationery with the network logo imprinted on the top, and he reached for it, more than a little bemused.

      Nobody left notes for others in their tents; that was just

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