Blind Reality (4 page)

S
omeone pinch me
. No, that’s not good enough. Someone needs to slap me across the face, repeatedly, so I can wake the hell up. This can’t be happening. I’ve dreamt of meeting him, of shaking his hand and having a photo taken with him. Those are my daydreams. At night, this is the man that I’ve fantasized about, the one I have wet dreams about, the one I play The SiMS with on the computer and have wild monkey sex with over and over again. He’s sitting next to my sprawled out body, running his hands through his hair and telling me its surreal being married to a stranger?

Um, I’m married to Joshua freaking Wilson. It doesn’t get any more surreal than that!

I try to sit up by myself, but no, he has to touch me. Why is this happening to me? I know this has to be some sort of joke, right? Am I on some sort of
I feel sorry for you, so I’m going to marry you
game show? Joshua Wilson does not need to come on
Married Blind
to find a wife! He has a girlfriend. I always see her in the tabloids and I hate her. She’s pretty and perfect and everything I’m not.

I’m trying to focus, but I can’t. My eyes are moving from his eyes, to his hands, his jaw, smile, fingers, chest, oh God, his arms … he’s going to think I’m a freak. Closing my eyes, I count to ten twice. Nothing is working.

“We have to leave in a few minutes for the house. Are you going to be okay?”

I nod then shake my head. He laughs
. Great, now he’s laughing at me
.

“How did you end up on this show?” I ask the question that is plaguing my mind.

Joshua sits back, but not far enough away that he’s out of my personal space. I know I like him in my personal space, but I also know this isn’t real.

“Yeah, about that,” he says, pushing his hand through his locks. “I suppose you get the shit end of the stick by being married to me, but I got drunk, lost a bet, and signed the contract.” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. It probably isn’t to him, but to me it’s everything. “I never expected Barry to call me out on it and make me hold up my end of the deal.”

“Barry?”

“One of the producers.”

My head moves up and down as I bite my lip. I won’t cry and admit that my dream guy just crushed my already broken heart into a million tiny pieces and lit them on fire. No, that would be admitting defeat in the man department, and I’m not there yet. Give me three months when life and reality come crashing down on me.

“Anyway, I figured we’d win and we’ll split it down the middle, except I’ll pay your portion of the taxes.”

I’m going to need some extensive therapy after this is all said and done.

“Right, so at the end we go our separate ways. Makes sense,” I say through a broken voice. I know I shouldn’t have the emotions that I do, but it does sting a little knowing he’s not committed. I mean, we just got married, and he’s already put an expiration date on it. It’s Hollywood, right?

“I want to win, Joey, and I think we can. I saw those other guys and am pretty confident I can beat them in most of the competitions. I studied how the game has been played the previous two years. I think we can do it.”

“Okay,” I agree because what else am I going to say? He should’ve just paid the producers to make sure he married his girlfriend. At least then, he’d be able to win this game and actually act like a husband to someone. But nah, I’m weak, heartbroken, and madly in love with the man sitting in front of me … in the fantasy sort of way.

“Great. This went easier than I thought.”

Of course it did. You’re Joshua Wilson, the most sought after twenty-something actor. I’m putty when it comes to you. You could tell me to jump off a cliff, and I’d be like “okay!”
… duh. I know I’m being childish, but I can’t help it. I have a feeling there’s going to be a lot of eye-rolling coming from me in the next few months. I hope America is ready for it.

The loud knock on the door followed by a shout of ‘five minutes’ is our sign that we have to go. I’m not allowed to change out of my dress even though I so desperately want to. Joshua takes my hand in his and leads us out of the room, down the hall to the exit where a limo is waiting for us. Another assistant hands me a bouquet of flowers, and I realize that this is our “leaving the church” moment. As soon as we step outside, viewers have the opportunity to throw birdseed at us, as if we’re a normal couple.

Joshua doesn’t ask if I’m ready; he just barrels through the open door to the massive cheers and a few jeers from the crowd, dragging me half running behind him. He’s pulled on by grabby hands, but hangs firmly onto my hand. The door to the limo is open, and he steps aside, picks up the train of my dress, and helps me in the car. Once inside, he pops open a bottle of champagne as if we have something to celebrate.

Of course, I take the flute that he offers and guzzle down the fizzy liquid. I’m going to need a lot of liquid courage to get through these next few months. I’ve seen the show before, but I’m not a fan. I know that we have to compete for luxury dinners, household prizes, and the master suite each week. In the past, the “master suite” was the only room where the video cameras were turned off at night to afford the winning couple some privacy. You’d think that with the video cameras always rolling, it would actually deter people from having sexy time in the house. Not so much. Granted, viewers can’t watch what goes on unless they purchase a subscription to
After Midnight
. Then it’s a free for all, per our contract.

I won’t be getting any action, so I have nothing to worry about.

The limo drive is relatively short since we haven’t left the studio lot, but it’s enough time for us to polish off the bottle of champagne. Liquid courage is great and all, but we’ll have to take part in a competition in about an hour or so.

Joshua doesn’t talk, and for that I’m thankful. I’m not sure how much more of his voice I can take. It’s not a bad thing. I love his voice, I always have, but hearing him in person takes my obsession with him to a whole new level. It’s even better when a microphone doesn’t muffle it. This level of crazy is going to buy me a one-way ticket to the psych ward. I’m happy he’s not talking because I don’t know if I’d be able to contain myself. I have visions of mounting him in this limo and begging him to talk dirty to me. His voice is smooth and calming. I’m like a dog in heat when he comes on TV. I can hear him a mile away. Yeah, it’s a good thing he’s not speaking because if he asked me a question I might start squealing like a tween girl at a Justin Bieber concert. No one needs to hear or bear witness to that. The fact that he’s sitting right next to me is causing me to clench my thighs in a wedding dress. It’s not an easy task, but one I’m gladly participating in.

The limo pulls up and more nerves start to set in. I have to pretend to play house with my celebrity crush for the next three months. We have to make viewers fall in love with us so they’ll vote for us for the finale.

I need to learn how to protect my heart. This is my dream come true. This is what every girl, who has a crush, dreams about, but reality is never taken into consideration. I’m not an actor, but I’m going to have to learn how to be one fast.

“Ready?”

Joshua doesn’t wait for my answer before pulling me out of the limo by my hand. Again, the viewers are there, lining both sides of the carpeted path leading into the sound stage where I’m assuming our house is. Everyone is yelling and screaming his name, plus a few things that I don’t want to repeat. I heard the jeers earlier when I was on stage and didn’t understand then, but I do now. They’re jealous. I would be, too. Just as we get to the door, Joshua scoops me up bridal style and turns in front of the crowd. They go crazy and even more so when I lift my bouquet up high and fling it into the masses.

When we get inside, the door closes, and he drops me almost immediately. I fall to the side when my heel doesn’t land flat on the ground, and it’s some man walking by who catches me, not Joshua. I have to get it through my mind, and fast, that he’s only here to win. I have to dig deep for my game face, shut off my heart, and only use my brain. And my brain is telling me that someone like Joshua Wilson, who has women throwing themselves at him—not to mention a beautiful girlfriend—would never fall for someone as plain and ordinary like me.

“Follow me,” a small pixie of a woman says to us, and we do. When she stops abruptly, I peer around her to see the set where the host is talking to the crowd.

“It’s now my pleasure to introduce for the first time, since he made his bride pass out, Joshua and Joey Wilson.” The audience erupts in cheers as Joshua grabs my hand and pulls us out onto the stage. The lights are bright again, and I feel myself getting dizzy. Of course, the embarrassment I feel has nothing to do with my overheated body or my spinning head.

This is the first time I’m getting to see the other couples. Joshua mentioned earlier that he saw the other grooms, but the brides weren’t together. We sit in the two empty chairs, forming a triangle. All eyes are on Joshua, but for different reasons. The men are staring because they’re pissed off that he’s here, or at least that’s what I assume. The women stare because he’s hot, and he’s famous. They’re about to walk around in their bikini-clad bodies in front of him, and they’re probably thinking the same thing I am: did I bring my cellulite cream?

“Now that we’re all here, let’s go over the rules.”

The host of this segment of the show is Patrick Jonas, a former boy band musician who turned his career into a television gig. He also hosts a few other shows on daytime TV.

“You will compete as a couple against each other weekly. The prizes and competitions will vary. At the beginning of each week, you’ll vie for the master suite.”

The crowd
aahs
.

Gross
.

“Each week there are two, sometimes three, competitions. Remember, you’re competing for not only prizes, but for votes from nationwide viewers. Don’t worry, newlyweds, you’ll have plenty of alone time to get to know your new spouse.” Patrick laughs and so does the audience.

Gag
.

I refrain from rolling my eyes because while the other couples can get their freak on, there will be a nice divider between my spouse and me. I’ll just have to continue to play out the wet dreams in my head or the shower where he’s not likely to catch me.

“Newlyweds, the time has come for you to enter your home. The first competition starts in one hour.”

I don’t move, allowing the others to rush to the front door. We have an hour to prepare; it’s not like the house is going anywhere. Joshua senses my hesitation and uses this moment to talk to me. The moment he leans down, the crowd quiets so they can hear what he says.

Rude
.

“I think we should let the others win first since we won’t be consummating our nuptials,” he whispers in my ear, but is completely unaware that he’s just caused a major eruption of goose bumps. Not to mention he’s effectively ruined what little self-esteem I had left. I mean, why would someone like him want to be with someone like me? Why would anyone want to be with someone like me? I’m the woman whose mother signed her up for a show in order to marry her off.

“I’m Patrick Jonas, welcome to the third season of
Married Blind
. This season promises to be explosive as we watch three couples battle it out for a million dollars all while trying to muddle their way through being newlyweds as America watches. Not to mention this year’s twist–one of our grooms is none other than Joshua Wilson, star of Finding Mister Right. Will Cole and Millie Brooks or Gary and Amanda Williams be able to obtain enough fan votes to beat the Wilsons? Find out on this season of
Married Blind
!”