He grins as the crowd groans.

“So, let me give you a little taste of what we’re cooking here tonight. We have one room available at Casa de Jude and two people vying for a chance to be my roommate. Can you blame them? I mean, look at me.” He poses suggestively, opening one side of his cat-covered robe to reveal a surprisingly ripped chest.

Jeering laughter fills the yard and a masculine voice yells, “I’d do you!”

“I know, babies, I know. Calm yourselves. What we have planned here is a series of events spanning over the next two weeks, starting tonight. It will be Jude Parker’s Bedlam!”

There are some whistles and half-hearted applause.

“We have two competitors who will be engaging in a battle of will, brains, strength, and cunning to see who will qualify to live at this humble abode.” He gestures to the house behind him.

“You, my lovely babies, will be given the opportunity to choose who you think will emerge victorious right before each game begins. I will not be disclosing the details of each challenge until the betting books have filled so choose wisely. I’m glad you all showed up tonight because there will be only one chance, tonight, after our first match, to bet on who will be our ultimate champion at the end of all seven games. The winner will be determined here, in this exact spot, in exactly two weeks.”

He’s got the crowd interested now, everyone focused and alert.

“Without further ado, let me present our challengers. Front and center, we have our first competitor.” He points at me, and a blinding spotlight flicks on, pointed straight at my face. I cover my eyes but it’s too late. I sense more than see the eyes of the crowd swing in my direction since I’m still blinking away the brightness. Jude keeps speaking into the megaphone, like he’s suddenly turned into the “let’s get ready to rumble” announcer. “Standing at six foot two, 170 pounds of lean muscle, this fighter is a beast on the track and not too shabby in the classroom. Known for his perseverance and determination even in the face of unbeatable odds and questionable ex-girlfriends, I give you Mr. Fitz Moreland!”

There are some cheers and catcalls and once the sound peters out, Jude keeps going.

“In the north corner, standing in a bush over there, may I present the competition.” The light leaves my face and heads over to the hedges. She startles at the bright beam of attention and her face immediately flushes pink, but she stands straighter and crosses her arms over her chest. “Don’t let that meek demeanor fool you, babies. This tiny lady has a mind like a steel trap and a hidden, but emerging sense of self-preservation that may be the cinch in this race. May I present to you Ms. Reese Jackson, daughter of the famed Jackson artists!” Scattered applause and murmurs meet his announcement.

Reese’s parents are the Jacksons? They don’t show their faces very often, but everyone knows who they are.