Reality Bites

Chapter One

Is it too conceited to say we’re the greatest scientific minds of the twenty-first century?” Alec asks as he sifts through our findings spread out on the conference room table.

Cassie rolls her eyes. “I think Jane Goodall or Stephen Hawking would’ve had something to say about that.”

Alex scoffs but Eliza, who is supposed to be logging DNA samples, chimes in: “You couldn’t have even beaten them in a fistfight.”

Cassie immediately sides with Eliza. “Oh yeah. Peak Jane Goodall, living in the jungle, fighting off chimp attacks—she would’ve destroyed you.” She turns to me. “Grace, who would you put money on?”

Even though I’d definitely bet on Jane, it’s my job to keep them on task. Which usually involves bribes. “If I bring you guys that fancy coffee from Caffe Luxxe tomorrow, will you stop trying to hypothetically fight my departed heroes?”

This shuts them up and they get back to work. I look around our lab and smile, because Alec has every right to feel cocky. We just made a major scientific breakthrough that will save thousands of lives.

Of frogs.

When people picture a nature center, they’re usually thinking of a cross between a zoo and a natural history museum.

And sure, half of the Southern California Wildlife Center has interactive stations with pelts you can touch and rehabilitation enclosures with injured animals.

But the other half, the part that’s closed to the public, is where my amphibian lab is located and where the real conservation work is done.

And we just figured out a way to save a species of frog that was on its way to extinction. So we’re feeling pretty damn good about ourselves.

As the lab director and lead biologist, I handpicked my dream team.

Cassie, my closest friend since grad school, is my bleeding-heart veterinarian.

Eliza’s a biologist like me, but she’s also an unstoppable machine who does it all—research, grant writing, and fieldwork.

She famously left her sister’s wedding to save a hundred tadpoles from a forest fire and made it back in time for cake.

And then there’s Alec, our ecologist. Although I’d never admit it to him, his job is probably the hardest because of all the environmental factors he has to contend with: contaminated lakes and streams, wildfires, non-native fish species that eat too many endangered frogs, and his greatest internal conflict—cannabis farms. He loves weed more than anyone I know, but he loves protecting animals and their habitats more.

I knew Alec was too excited to stay focused for long. He turns to me and whines, “Can we at least go out for drinks to celebrate?” Cassie and Eliza look at the clock and perk up when they see it’s almost five.

“You guys should,” I say sincerely. “I’d love to join, but I have my monthly self-inflicted torture night.” Also known as Lambert Family Dinner. Eliza winces. She’s met my family—she gets it.

Cassie plays with her curly red hair and pretends to be nonchalant when she asks, “Is Matt going to be there?”

I roll my eyes. Cassie has a not-so-secret crush on my middle brother. If she weren’t so good at her job, I’d test her for a brain injury.

It’s not that my brother or the rest of my family are bad people.

I just have absolutely nothing in common with them.

I’m the only Lambert who finished college, has a job in STEM, and is not a mega internet influencer.

As if it weren’t bad enough to grow up in LA, I also happened to be born into a family where everyone else has an intrinsic understanding of how to go viral on the internet.

Alec grins. “I think what she means is, ‘Are Matt’s abs going to be there?’” Apparently Cassie’s not the only one with a crush on my brother.

Eliza takes in my long dark hair, olive complexion, and hazel eyes before announcing, “If you didn’t have your mom’s coloring and your dad’s eyes, I would think you were adopted.”

“Well, you’re not a geneticist, so there’s still hope,” I say as I start packing up for the day. “Great work, you guys, seriously. Here, first round is on me.” I hand them a couple twenties as my phone starts ringing with a call from an unknown number.

Motivated by free booze, they quickly gather their belongings as I step into the hallway to answer the call. “This is Grace.”

“Hi, Grace, it’s Kristina from Love Shack. I have great news. One of our contestants didn’t pass the STI test, so we have an opening. You’re on the show!”

“Sorry, you have the wrong number.”

But before I can hang up, the fast-talking woman laughs. “Your mom said you were funny. I’m such a fan of hers, by the way. Your brother too. What a hottie. Maybe we’ll get him for next season. Anyway, we loved your pics. A little buttoned-up, but we’ll make you look sexy on camera, I promise—”

“Hang on. You know my mom? Did she put you up to this?” My mom must be trying to get back at me for running out right after family dinner last month and not staying to learn a TikTok dance with her.

“She didn’t tell you?” the voice on the other end asks, sounding skeptical. “Probably didn’t want to get your hopes up. We almost never recruit contestants as old as you—”

“I’m twenty-nine—”

The woman ignores me and keeps talking. “And you have no social media presence, which is usually a deal-breaker, but the rest of your family has so many followers, and honestly, we’re a little desperate.

Look, I have to run, but my assistant will send you the rest of the details and our legal team has a few things to go over with you.

So set up your socials—oh, and please tell me you don’t have herpes. ”

“Uh, no, I don’t, but—”

“Great,” she says, relieved. “Chlamydia and gonorrhea are fine, we’ll have you right as rain with some antibiotics, but I swear to God if I lose another contestant—”

“I don’t have an STI, but I’m also not really sure—”

“Great. Stay on the line for Legal. We’re so excited to have you. See you soon.”

I stare at my phone as Cassie comes over and whispers, “Who is it? You look shell-shocked.”

“I don’t really know. It’s either my gynecologist’s office or someone who’s a fan of my mom’s?”

Just then a deep voice gets on the phone and says, “Hello, is this Grace Lambert?”

“Yes?” I say tentatively, because at this point I’m not sure of anything.

“Hi, Grace, nice to meet you. I’m Andrew Benson, the studio lawyer. I just need to confirm your email so I can send over the liability forms and NDA before we start shooting next week.”

“Shooting what?”

“The third season of Love Shack,” he answers slowly, like this is something I should know.

I cover the phone and ask Cassie, “Do you know what Love Shack is?”

“The B-52s’ song or the reality dating show?” she answers.

“What?! A dating show?” I shout before I start spewing swear words.

“Yeah, it was huge in the UK,” Cassie explains, slowly starting to look excited. “It’s been on for a couple seasons here. It’s pretty dumb, but really sexy. Is that—”

Then I hear the lawyer’s deep voice. “Grace? I can hear you muttering ‘what the fuck’ under your breath.”

“Yeah, that tends to happen when someone is blindsided,” I snap.

He pauses. “What do you mean ‘blindsided’?”

“It means to be caught off guard in a negative context,” I say haughtily. Even though I don’t know this guy, he somehow seems to be part of the problem.

“I’m well aware of what ‘blindsided’ means—”

“Great, because I don’t have time for linguistics, I have to go murder someone.

” Before I realize what I’m doing, I hang up on the lawyer.

When I turn, I find Cassie, Eliza, and Alec watching me, their faces showing a combination of amusement and horror.

“My mom signed me up for a reality dating show. I am going to kill her.”

Alec and Eliza burst out laughing until Alec is finally able to speak: “You’ve never even seen a reality show!”

Eliza is still cackling. “Yeah, you hate TV. And people.”

“Especially the kind of people who are on TV,” I agree, looking to Cassie for confirmation, but she’s suspiciously quiet.

Alec wipes the tears off his face from laughing so hard. “And let’s not forget it’s a dating show.” This just makes Eliza start laughing again.

I don’t mind them laughing. I’m grateful they know me well enough to find this as ridiculous as I do.

Because I don’t date. Mostly because I have no interest in it, but also because the LA dating pool is the most depressing pool I’ve ever seen.

And I’ve studied tidal basins disrupted by toxic waste.

“Have you ever even gone on a second date?” Eliza asks.

I think about it and nod, turning to Cassie. “Remember that guy who lives downtown and works at a bank? He took me to the Cheesecake Factory?”

Cassie shakes her head. “That doesn’t count. It was only a second date because you forgot you had gone on a first date with him three years earlier. What was his name again?”

“Hell if I know. I couldn’t even remember his face.

He had a pug named Pickles, though.” I pick up my messenger bag, which I must’ve dropped when I realized what the lady on the phone was talking about.

“Anyway, Pickles isn’t the point. The point is, I may need you for alibis when I commit matricide. ”

They all nod in solidarity, trying to hold it together before they dissolve into laughter again about the improbability of me on a reality dating show. I give them a quick wave as I storm out of the lab to go confront my mother.