Welcome to the life of the Wanted: a hot new reality show based in New York City, where Manhattan's most elite inhabitants share their daily lives including the messy scandals and relationships. When Bella Swan joins the cast, she finds it hard to separate the truth from the reality, especially regarding her new love interest Edward Cullen. AU / AH / OOC

AN: This idea came to me when I read LA Candy by Lauren Conrad a few years ago. I don't remember it all very well except the reality show premise. All I know is that it made me want to write something like this. I hope you'll enjoy. :D (You don't have to have read the book to know what's happening. Of course, about ninety-nine percent of this is made up and has nothing to do with LA Candy. Like I said, I don't even remember most of it.)

I don't own Twilight. I don't own Twilight-related profits. Stephenie Meyer and EL James, yo.

...

Chapter One

Bella Swan rolled over in her new king-size bed to be greeted by the sun harsh, bright. She rolled back to the other side, internally groaning – she was too tired to actually say or mumble anything – towards the framed picture of herself and her ex-boyfriend Mike Newton. She shot up in bed, now fully awake. How long had that been there?

"Dad?" she called. Nobody answered even minutes later so she shouted it again. "Dad? Dad!"

Then she remembered.

Bella had only been in the city for about six days, all of which had been spent settling into her new, uncharacteristically grand Upper East Side apartment. The picture of herself and Mike had most probably been put up sometime after her move, and she declared her missing home, missing regular people as the reason for that, though she couldn't remember actually doing it. It was March, and she would've suspected the sun was unseasonable. But there it shone, bright in the blue sky, like a constant reminder that she wasn't in Forks anymore.

Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.

Typically, as soon as she'd stepped out of bed, her foot connected with a stray DVD and sent her flat on her back. Ouch. She stood, rubbing her lower back and hoping that her father had packed into her suitcase some kind of back-targeting Advil. As always, Charlie Swan had been the sole-provider and caretaker for Bella so he was surprised when she'd announced her move to New York City. He had packed everything, so she felt sometimes like she was still living with her clueless but lovable father in Forks, Washington.

In the kitchen, she glanced inside her fridge hopelessly. As per usual, all the edible food was contained in restaurants, while her fridge held half a kiwi with green, white things on it, a peanut butter sandwich in a concealed wrapper which didn't seem to do much concealing – like the kiwi, the sandwich was coated in food mould – and a pizza box with two slices of pepperoni left.

Cold pizza it is, she thought. As soon as she'd bitten into a slice, the phone rang out loudly across the kitchen. She leapt over to it – party to quieten it, and partly to calm the excited bubble that rose in her stomach. Could it be?

"Isabella Swan?" a tough-sounding woman barked. Bella's stomach flipped.

A few weeks prior to moving to New York City – where she was attending NYU – Bella had, on a whim, applied to season two of a funky, fresh new reality show called Wanted. While it was based on New York socialites, elites who were richer than some of the people in Hollywood, had family businesses to fall back on and owned tons of land, apartments, houses all over the world, they were looking for a new small-town girl to fill a gap in the show.

Bella usually despised reality shows, but this one was so intriguing, so, well, real compared to the other shows that couldn't help but apply. And this woman sounded remarkably like Victoria, the woman who spoke to generations of teens in an advertisement asking the sixteen-to-twenty year old girl apply.

"Vic-Victoria Sutherland?" Bella wondered shakily. The woman on the other line grunted, cleared her throat and then sighed as though she was already through with the conversation.

"I'm calling about your application," she said. Bella nodded. Her application, a mocking essay about why she, just your average eighteen year old, should be chosen for the show's second season. Now she thought of it, the application, however mocking and silly, seemed almost humorous – and not in a good way. She bet they had a blast laughing at her when they'd read it.

"We think you'd be an excellent substitute for Jessica," Victoria continued. Bella was stunned into silence. Did that mean...? "As you probably know from watching the show, Jessica Stanley is leaving due to... personal issues." A few minutes had passed when she added, "So, are you up for it? Yay or nay?"

"Um, yay," Bella responded, trying overly hard to sound professional, but a part of her was bubbling, flowing with excitement. She was going to be on the show! Her favourite, non-trashy, totally glamorous reality show that everybody loved. She wondered if Johnny Depp or Kate Winslet would know her name, if she would get invited to hot, amazing, legendary award shows – the Oscars, the Golden Globes, the Grammys.

Victoria cleared her throat again. "Don't get ahead of yourself, kid," she said huskily. "Jessica got in over her head with this. Are you sure you're ready for such a commitment?"

Bella thought this over: was she ready for something like this, something so big and frightening? "Of course. So when do I start shooting?" she answered/asked.

Victoria laughed throatily.

...

Bella struggled to pack her bag in time for the hour Victoria had asked to meet her. The list Victoria had spoken consisted of: a towel, a hairbrush and a change of clothes. For reasons she didn't know, that was.

It was almost six months since Victoria had asked Bella to be on the show, and just an hour earlier she had been exclusively flown in to an L.A. airport preparing to meet Victoria. However, a bodyguard named Laurent and a manager of some sorts called James had met her instead and had guided her towards a limo in the front parking lot.

She felt embarrassingly underdressed in her black, snug jeans and Converse sneakers. But there she was, in L.A., living the life, getting driven around in a limo with a bodyguard and a manager – even if they didn't say even one word to her the entire journey. She felt embarrassed, but also alive. How many people could claim they were driven around in a limo? Not many.

In her hotel room – which was even nicer than her New York apartment – she heard a knock on the door and paused. She looked down at her small, travel bag – she'd packed everything Victoria had asked, however sceptically. She wasn't sure if today would be her debut on the show but she hoped. It was a crisp day in the pre-Autumn season, with typically boiling L.A. weather and no wind. On that thought, she reached into her drawer and pulled out a pair of light cream shorts. If it was her debut, she wanted to look suitable.

She opened the door to a woman she didn't recognise. The woman didn't wait before she was barging in, taking Bella's bag in her hand and muttering something into a receiver attached from her ear to her mouth. "There's a limo waiting outside for you," the woman said, turning to Bella. "James and Laurent will be there to greet you and take you to today's location."

Bella nodded respectably, conformed.

She was led down into the large lobby, where the doorman smiled at her politely. Then the woman, who was busy chatting into her receiver, pushed her into the limo impatiently. Bella frowned. Still, at least she was heading to a set location. Excitably, she updated her Twitter status, even though she only had a minimal amount of followers to see it.

The limo pulled away, and she was fairly sure she saw a photographer hiding in one of the bushes. She smiled against the blackened out windows, causing James and Laurent to look at her suspiciously.

"If you want to wind down the window, you can," James said sultrily. Bella glanced at him. That was the first time she'd heard him speak.

Even though that's not why she was looking out the windows, she placed her finger gently on the touch-screen control to put the windows down. Immediately, the L.A. strip was full in view. Girls with blonde hair carrying small dogs in designer handbags walked past – she was fairly sure they were auditioning to be Paris Hilton's new best friend or even her doppelganger. Boys with spiked hair and tanned muscled arms spoke into BlackBerry phones. Palm trees set a shadow over the street. Large buildings with names of all kinds of networks, executives, production companies' names on them were crowded with people.

She smiled wistfully, blissfully. She could get used to this – even though the show was set in New York. Confused, she pulled her head back into the limo, just as it came to a stop.

"Hey," she called to James. "Where are we?"

The limo had pulled into a mass of cameras, production staff, and extras. If she didn't know she was there for a reality show debut, she would think she was on the set of a movie or the pilot of a new show – it was pilot season. James turned around, shrugged, and then walked away.

She noticed her surroundings. Smoke from a barbeque rose into the air and clouded her vision of beautifully trimmed hedges. The place the limo had parked was some kind of house though completely techno with cameras, film lights, staff everywhere. Men and women alike were standing in the background of a very familiar scene, eating hotdogs and burgers that looked too fake to be real.

The scene included the five season regulars: Emmett McCarty, a muscled, extremely aftershave-commercial attractive man with soft dimples and a playful grin. Alice Brandon, a hyperactive pixie-looking girl who was so optimistic the audience loved her. Jasper Hale, her long-time boyfriend and best friend of Emmett, who was brought onto the show in the second episode at his twin sister's birthday party. His twin, Rosalie, a bitchy, bombshell, goddess-looking blonde with angelic, innocent features and a soft, often menacing voice. She was the one the audience loved to hate. Then there was Edward Cullen, a golden-haired, pallid, lanky boy who the audience had all fallen in love with the moment they saw him emerge from a shower – at none other than Rosalie Hale's house.

Bella sucked in her breath. They were all so much more beautiful than they seemed on television which was saying something. Suddenly, she felt awkward and untrained – what would she say? What would she do? How would she, a small-town, average girl, fit in with them, the new hottest teens in America?

Victoria bounded up to her with her flaming hair fanning behind her back and her witchy features pulled into a tight smile. "Isabella!" she intoned. "Finally, you're here. We're shooting the new live episode today. The audience are going crazy."

Bella stopped short. Live episode? Huh? "Um, Bella," was all she thought of saying. Victoria rolled her eyes; she didn't care. Then she clapped her hands once.

"Alright, everybody! Your break is almost over – we're going live again in two minutes!"

Bella suddenly felt sick. She clutched her stomach, unbelievably insecure and lost. Was this her debut? For the first time that day, she hoped it wasn't.

Victoria turned to her and said, "We know it's soon, but we were hoping you would make your debut in this episode. Tomorrow, we'll be back filming in New York. Today is a one-off because Rosalie was asked to host a party here. Isn't it fabulous?" Bella nodded numbly. "I mean, we made it live because that's what everybody is doing lately." She rolled her eyes, trailing off.

Bella took note of her vexatious attitude. She'd known her all of two minutes, but she was already growing tired. Suddenly, a production member yelled out a countdown – "In 3... 2... 1..." and Bella gasped.

Victoria winked and bent down to whisper in Bella's ear. "Just walk on set. It'll be totally natural and real – the audience will be so intrigued." She took her foot and nudged Bella's knee so she was forced to step forward. The camera had started rolling, but she tried to steer clear of it. A few members on set glanced warily at her, and then suddenly she was walking, feeling sick to the stomach, shaking all over, right into the filmed party.

Emmett and Jasper were talking about girls when Bella appeared, walking awkwardly past the barbeque and towards a separate table. Trying not to look at the camera, she made friends with a bagel at the little snack table, cursing that she was so clueless towards this. Her mind was running with all different things – how did she look? Why didn't a make-up team start powdering her as soon as she'd gotten there; isn't that what happened? What did the others think of her? Did they even know she was coming?

Jasper stopped, intrigued. The camera followed him as he ambled over to Bella, followed by Emmett. "Hey!" he said, sounding completely natural and real, just like Victoria had promised. Bella turned, eyebrows raised, mouth dry. "You must be Isabella. We've heard so much. You're from NYU, too, right?"

Bella was fairly sure Jasper Hale didn't go to NYU, but she nodded shyly despite this fact. "Yeah. I actually just landed. I heard about this... great party," she said, managing a smile. "And it's Bella. Just Bella."

"Well, Just Bella," Emmett started. Bella turned on him, amazed at his appearance. He was bigger than she'd imagined, and his voice was deeper, too. He showed off his famous dimples in a welcoming smile. "Do you need somebody to show you around?" He winked, and Bella was surprised that a blush formed on her cheeks.

"Excuse me?"

Bella's jaw fell open. She'd heard that sweet-and-sour voice many of times on her television, and it was somehow scarier in person. Emmett rolled his eyes. Bella was too scared to turn around.

Rosalie Hale appeared anyway, standing right in-between her brother and his best friend. Her flawless face formed a grimace, and the drink in her hand shook angrily.

"Rose," Emmett reasoned, but it was too late.

The glass of champagne in Rosalie's hand flew straight onto Bella's face, her miserably plain outfit. Stunned, Bella stepped back, about to pull Victoria by her red hair to the floor and demand why that had just happened. What had she done wrong?!

Then a cameraman shouted "cut!" and everybody on the scene and behind it scrambled around fleetingly. Victoria skipped over happily, holding out Bella's gym bag. Tears rimmed in Bella's brown eyes. That was not what she was expecting to happen in her debut.

"You did pack a towel, right?" Victoria asked, almost accusingly. She pulled one out of the bag and said, "A-ha! There you go. Now, how was that? Sorry it was so short."

Bella wiped her face and tried not to cry. How was it? "I wasn't expecting that. Why did nobody tell me?" she demanded furiously, her voice cracking.

"What, did you expect Rosalie to announce that she was about to do that? Na-da, my friend, na-da." Victoria shook her red head. Bella raised her eyebrows and pulled the towel away from her face. Na-da?

"Excuse me," Bella said, pushing past Victoria and James and Laurent, pushing past the woman who had barged into her room earlier that day, pushing past the flawlessly mean cast members. She noticed somebody following her but she didn't stop or turn around. She wanted to go home. She wanted to go back to Forks.

The person who had been following her reached her as soon as she made it out onto the L.A. street. The place had lost its undeniably beautiful glow and had turned into Bella's worst nightmare. If that was what it was like on a reality show, she didn't think she wanted to go back.

"Isa – I mean, Bella?" a soft voice floated over the noise of traffic. She spun around, surprised.

What was Edward Cullen doing talking to her?

Up close, he was a lot more gorgeous than the show let on. His golden-bronze hair contrasted with his pale complexion. His nose was crooked, but intriguingly so – had he broken it as a child? His soft green eyes twinkled mischievously. His mouth was thin, pink and was flashing a crooked smile.

"I was just wondering if you were okay," he said softly, sticking his hands in his jeans pockets. "What Rosalie did in there... it wasn't fair and you don't deserve that. I'm Edward, by the way."

"I know," she said nervously. Her hair and clothes were still soaking wet. Edward slid out of his leather jacket and handed it to her. She took it gratefully.

"Thanks. Um, I'm Bella," she said. He nodded.

"I know."

She smiled easily. Edward was a lot nicer than his co-stars, and there he was, talking to her like he didn't even know them – even though they had been best friends growing up in Manhattan. She wondered briefly if Edward and Rosalie were still dating, and if not, if he was single.

"So, we should probably get back inside. The parties still going on and Rosalie will kill me if I'm not back," he told her and ran a hand through his hair anxiously. Was he just as nervous as she was? If so, why? There was nothing even remotely special about her that he should have been nervous about.

"Yeah, probably," Bella said, laughing. Edward smiled back.

"You're a nice girl, Bella Swan," he said. "I hope I get to see you again when we're back in New York. I'd die if we couldn't at least become friends."

Bella gaped at him. Oh my God, she thought. Not wanting to leave him hanging – or give off an impression that would scare him away – she nodded slowly. "Yeah. I would like that."

Had Edward Cullen just asked her out?

"Cut!"

Bella shrieked at the loud, booming voice. A light hit her in the face and she squinted, confused. "Sorry," an aging man with gray-blonde hair said, moving down the lighting board he was holding. All of a sudden, realisation dawned on her and she gasped.

"Wait! You were filming that?" she squeaked.

The director nodded slowly, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Bella glanced over at Edward Cullen, but he was already retreating inside, shivering, muttering something about the "freaking cold". For a second, he looked back at Bella, at his jacket and shrugged lightly.

Shock registered on Bella's face as the camera and lighting crew started pulling away their equipment into a van. That was... that was all just apart of the show. How had she been so stupid not to see the camera or the lights around her? She was just so invested in Edward, in his genuine-sounding words, that she hadn't even realised what was going on around her.

Tears formed in her eyes again. This time she did nothing to stop them. Not once in her eighteen years had she experienced anything like that, but then again, she wasn't in Forks anymore.

Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.

...

AN: Like it? Hate it? Leave me a line and let me know!