The game show stage was an egg-shaped, recessed pit surrounded by terraced seats for the audience. There were cameras on all sides of the pit, large and ominous, ready to capture any fault; the men and women behind the cameras waited with wan faces, hardly distinguishable in the blinding lights.
On one end of the stage was a huge screen lit with pulsing, colored tiles; on the other side were four high chairs.
I climbed into a chair and watched the staff bustle around until I saw Daniella squint her way across the stage. She didn’t notice me as we sat down.
“Hey,” I said.
“Oh, hi. This studio is amazing, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it’s something.”
“I’m Daniella.”
“Bebe.”
Two other people entered the stage: a tall African-American man dressed in a light blue button-up shirt and jeans, and a L
