Blind Reality (5 page)

T
here’s a knot in my stomach. It appeared as soon as the door shut, and we were sealed in for the next three months. Joey separated from me the moment we walked in, which I know is for the best. I know we’ll have to be allies, but anything more will just complicate things for her. My emotions are shut off, the wall is up and nothing can bring it down. I have one focus: the end. I have to win this game for my foundation, to help give them a fresh start and to save face after my drunken ass landed myself here.

I press my fist into my gut, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure. I can’t be sick. It won’t be good for either my game, or Joey’s. Being sick would sideline me and delay our opportunity to woo the viewers. They need to believe that Joey and I are … well, not in love because my fans would be pissed, but that we’re fighting for the same cause.

Joey needs to be on board with fighting for my foundation. She needs to tell the viewers that she supports me one hundred percent in donating our winnings because technically we don’t need the money. Except she probably does or she wouldn’t have signed up for the show. I already promised that she’d get her half, regardless of what she says on national television. We’ll get the sympathy vote as well, but we need to convince the viewers that we’re sincere and falling for each other. I mean that’s the idea behind the show—to actually fall in love.

Joey is nowhere to be seen when I realize our next step in my game plan. I’m standing in the middle of the room with my fingers pulling at my lip. I’m too deep in thought and that’s not good. The other houseguests will know I’m plotting. I should be by Joey’s side as she tours the house, but instead I’m showing the viewers that I don’t care about her.

My change of plan starts now. I have to show them that I’m sensitive and interested in her. The interested part shouldn’t be hard because she’s a beautiful woman and will make her next husband very happy, I’m sure. I’m just not him. The annulment will be easy, though. It’ll be as if our marriage never existed and since we’re not having sex, there will be no lasting repercussions. It hasn’t escaped my notice that I have to remind myself that Joey and I aren’t having sex. It’s slowly becoming my mantra.

Wandering through the house, I find Joey in one of the bedrooms. The walls are painted dark red with black furniture. The producers know what they’re doing with this room. Red is for passion, courage, and romance. This room screams sex. They’re trying to ignite the couple that stays in this room.

It’s working, and I don’t want it to. I need to keep my focus on the prize and not worry about a romp in the hay, especially when this one could cost me a fortune in the end. Watching Joey walk around the room, oblivious to the fact that I’m standing in the doorway taking her in, stirs something inside of me. She doesn’t fit my normal mold. She exceeds it, and that scares me. I can already tell that she has the right attitude for Hollywood. I have no doubt she’d fit in if we had met under different circumstances. Sadly, that’s not the hand we’ve been dealt.

“I like this room,” she says, catching me off guard.

I clear my throat. “It’s nice. How’d you know I was standing here?”

Joey shakes her head and continues her exploration of the room. Before I can ask her again, Gary and Amanda come running into the room. The somber mood that Joey is in quickly turns and she smiles before coming over and standing next to me.

“Oh, I love this room,” Amanda gushes as Gary chases her around with his eyes. I feel sorry for him. I think Amanda is out of his league and it’ll definitely be interesting to see how they get along. Cole and Millie, the third couple, seem close. I suppose you have to have an open mind when you’re doing something like this. I stealthily slide my hand into Joey’s. She tenses, but doesn’t pull away. Like I said, she’d be perfect for Hollywood.

“You’re so lucky.” Amanda’s smile fades when she speaks to Joey. Gary’s shoulders slump, and I instantly feel sorry for him. He probably came on the show to find a wife to love him and that might’ve been possible if I weren’t here. I have to make it clear that I’m only interested in Joey. That means no staring or acknowledging the passes the wives might make. It also means I have to talk a good talk when it comes to Joey and me with the guys.

“We’re both lucky,” I say while staring at Joey, who’s trying not to blush. She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. I lightly tug her hand and motion for her to follow me; she does so without hesitation. We walk down the hall to the next bedroom and go in. There are three bedrooms; two on the main floor separated by a communal bathroom, and the master suite, which we’ll compete to move into weekly, is upstairs. That’s where every couple wants to be as it has the most privacy and the video camera is off at night so you can get your business done if you so wish. It’s going to be hard to stay celibate for the next few months, especially when I’m pretending for the viewers, but I’ll get it done.

This room is accented in all white, which gives off the feelings of freshness, innocence, and newness. They’re trying to convey a new start. It’s a nice room, but I like the red one better.

“It’s too clean,” she says as her hand runs over the white comforter. Her fingers dance against the fabric and for a brief second I wonder what they’d feel like against my skin.

“We should talk, Joey.”

She shakes her head and looks over my shoulder, pointing at the camera. I nod, understanding her meaning. Joey steps closer and places her hands on my hips. I like that she’s nearly my height.

“We can’t speak freely, at least not the way you want unless we’re in that room,” she whispers in my ear before resting her head on my shoulder. I know what she’s doing, and I follow her lead by wrapping my arms around her.

“You’re smart and I love it, but I don’t want to win this first competition. We already have my fans behind us. We don’t want to come off as greedy.”

Joey nods and starts swaying. I hold her a little tighter and pretend that I’m on the set of a movie; soon the scene will cut and we’ll move onto something else. Except the only thing we’re moving toward is somehow sleeping in the same bed without touching.

“Newlyweds, in twenty minutes please move into the backyard for your first competition.”

Rubbing Joey’s shoulders, I kiss the top of her head. I don’t know what possessed me to do that, but I enjoyed it.

“We should probably change.” I step back and look at our clothes. We’re still in our wedding attire, this being our reception. Maybe that’s why she was swaying earlier, giving us the wedding dance that we’ll never share. Last year’s couples didn’t make it. Two of them called it quits before the show was over and the last, shortly thereafter. Joey and I will be that statistic. We’ll be headline news for the next three months and the fairytale romance that we’ll build here will all come crashing down. My image will take a hit, but I can bounce back.

Joey and I opt to change in the bathroom, unaware of where the other couples are. Our bags were all lined up in the hall so it’s easy. When she steps out, she’s dressed in running shorts and a tank top. We look at each other and laugh. I should’ve known that the show would add to our wardrobes so that the couples matched. Now that Joey is out of her dress, I get a good look at her. I already knew her arms were toned, but so are her legs.
My wife works out
. I shouldn’t call her that. I need to be careful and refer to her, especially in my head, as Joey. When I’m talking out loud for game purposes, it’ll be okay to slip, but keeping myself separated from her in that way is what’s best.

“Do you like to workout?”

“Yes,” she answers without looking up from tying her shoes. “It helps me focus.” She stands, almost chest-to-chest with me. Stepping back, I put space between us. We should be able to win any endurance challenges we face as well. The more I think about our chances, the better I like them.

“We need to go outside,” she says, walking away from me. I groan as I watch her sashay out of the bathroom. The temptation is there and if she makes a move, I’ll be hard-pressed to deny her. I have to remind her—and myself—that this is a game, and we can’t cross that line because we aren’t going to be married once this show ends. All I can think of right now is,
Why couldn’t we have met outside this show?

I follow her outside and start taking in everything around me. There are three stations set up, each with our names. Joey steps behind
Joshua and Joey Wilson
and my heart stops beating for a moment. Seeing my name like that, tied with hers, makes me anxious, in a good way. It also makes me nervous that I like seeing our names together. Marriage isn’t for me, at least it shouldn’t be. I don’t have any good examples to follow.

Joey slips an apron over my neck, and I stop her from tying it behind my back. I’m barely holding on to the resolve I have now. I don’t need an excuse to touch her. I’ll be making plenty of those later.

I step in behind Joey and she slightly steps back, erasing the gap between us. Her neck is at the right height, allowing me to get a good dose of her perfume. It’s stronger than I remember.

“When did you put on more perfume?”

“In the bathroom when I changed. I wanted to smell good.”

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter.

“What?”

I shake my head even though she can’t see me. “You smell nice, Joey.”

“Newlyweds, it’s time to play ‘Name That Pie’. I’m going to show you a series of ingredients for a certain pie and the first one to chime in with the correct answer scores a point. The first team to seven wins the master suite for the week. Are you ready to see how domesticated you are?”

“Yes, Patrick,” we say in unison.

“Remember, let someone win,” I remind Joey. She doesn’t acknowledge me, giving me the impression that she’s as stubborn as I am.

The first ingredient appears: Celery.

I cringe. “Who puts celery in pie?”

“Potpie, haven’t you ever had one?” she chides me.

“No, can’t say I have.”

“I’ll make you one.”

No, you won’t,
I want to say, but my stomach growls, and now I’m really looking forward to having a potpie with Joey.

The next ingredient appears: Carrots

“I know this,” she says.

I set my hand on her hip and apply a little pressure. “Let them win.”

She nods and writes something on the board and chimes in.

“What’s your answer, Joey?” Patrick calls out over the loud speaker.

“Mushroom Pot Pie.”

“That is incorrect. You and Joshua are out of this round.”

“That was brilliant,” I whisper into her skin. She reacts, unwillingly I’m sure, as her skin pebbles under my touch. She nods and tries to step away from me, but I hang on, not allowing her to move.

I’m lost on all things Joey right now, and it’s only when I see Cole and Millie being congratulated do I realize we’ve lost and the game is over. Cole looks excited and Millie looks nervous. I don’t blame either of them. Millie is a pretty woman, but she doesn’t hold a candle to Joey.

Holy shit, what the hell is wrong with me?
I need to stop thinking like that. She’s a friend … just a friend.

I
have never felt so much anger toward anyone that I can imagine his or her head exploding until now. Visions of my mother’s head popping off and bursting like a watermelon appear each time I close my eyes. Not even when I found Tony and my former best friend slash maid of honor playing doctor, did I feel this much anger. How can a mother do this to her daughter? I know she had no idea that I’d be paired with my celebrity crush—the man I have imagined doing wicked things to—that
Joshua Wilson
would end up being my husband. I’m sure she’s sitting at home just waiting for the scenes to play out where Joshua Freaking Wilson and I fall madly in love and have wild and crazy monkey sex.