Page 9 of Alice Chen's Reality Check

CHASE DE LANCEY:And I’m great in bed.

ALICE CHEN:Chase!

[Alice buries her face in her hands.]

INTERVIEWER:What makes you think you can beat the competition?

CHASE DE LANCEY:We’re amazing together. Alice just gets me.

ALICE CHEN:Our relationship is solid. A perfect equation.

INTERVIEWER:And what makes the two of you think you’re a good fit for this show?

CHASE DE LANCEY:Oh, that’s easy. We’re winners.

Chapter Three

Hell Is a Best Friend Who Wants the Tea

My best friend, Cindy Kuo, may be just shy of five feet tall, but she’s got a tall personality. And the full force of that personality is being directed at my front door as she rings the doorbell over and over again. It’s been a scant twenty minutes since I texted her asking if she could apartment-sit for me, and she’s already here on my doorstep.

“Alice Chen, you bitch!” she says, spilling into my foyer when I open the door. She kicks off her shoes and tosses her scarf and coat on the nearest chair.

“Come on in,” I say to the empty hallway, closing the door. She throws herself on the couch and sets a cardboard tray of three boba drinks on the table. I grab the taro one. She has the decency to wait for me to take a sip before she starts in on me.

“You can’t just ask me to water your succulents while Chasewaters your succulentsonreality TV! Idemandcompensation!”

“I’ll Venmo you,” I say. I take another sip, and oh, man, this hits the spot.

Cindy takes up her own drink—jasmine, half sweet, full ice, with extra honey boba, of course—and levels the stabby end of the straw at me. “I don’t want money. I want gossip! Details! Tell meeverything!”

“It’s not that interesting,” I protest.

“I thought I taught you better, Alice,” she says, a perfect parody of my mom. “Let’s start with the obvious question. Are you going to benaked on live TV?”

“No.”

“IsChasegoing to be naked on live TV?”

“God, I hope not!” I laugh.

“What are you packing? What are you wearing? When exactly do you leave?”

“I haven’t packed yet, but I’m making a list,” I say. “I’m tackling things one at a time. Like my plant babies. Can you take care of them for me?”

“I don’t know, can I?” Cindy asks and stabs her straw into her drink viciously.

“Okay, fine. I’m going on a show calledDawn Tay’s Inferno.It’s a reality TV competition that tests the strength of a couple’s relationship. Chase and I will be a team, and we will be competing against other couples.”

“I get the picture. I think Tara wants to watch it?” Cindy whips out her phone, and I just know that she’s texting her girlfriend about the show. Still typing, she says, “And what brain transplant did you have to make you sign up for this?”

“The prize is one million dollars.”

She nods and looks skeptically back up at me. “Yup, okay, everything makes sense now.”

“I have a fifteen-step plan for preparing and winning,” I say, holding up a yellow legal pad. “Cindy, I need the money. And I’m good at winning. I can do this.” My gaze goes to my trophy wall, which, okay, maybe it’s a little childish to still have all of my trophies and medals from high school and college on display, but I worked hard for those.

“Wow.” Cindy shakes her head. “Way to flex on me.” She eyes a small medal for second place. “I’m surprised you didn’t toss that one. You hate losing. Who was that guy you were always competing with in high school? The one you loved complaining about?”

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