Blind Reality

by Heidi McLaughlin

  If my marriage weren’t ending in a few short weeks, I’d be rushing to buy a lottery ticket in town because the odds are definitely in my favor. They have to be.

  We drink in silence, watching as the men filter around the yard, not giving us a glance. It’s nice to stare and not worry about being caught.

  “How did we get so lucky?” Millie asks as she brings the glass to her lips. The three of us are on our way to getting drunk. Her eyes are so focused on the scene across the yard that her mouth is seeking the straw. I stifle a laugh before turning my gaze back to the man candy section of the backyard. Bronx is staring at us. Holy hell does my body sigh when I look at him and say his name. Time has been very good to Bronx. If I weren’t married to Joshua, I’d become Amanda and start making some moves, but alas, I have the better one out of the two.

  Josh hasn’t said anything to me since the competition ended and right now he’s over there with a beer in his hand talking to Gary and Cole, avoiding Bronx. He’s shirtless and laughing. It’s a far cry from the disposition he was showing earlier. The whole freak out over the pink thing was a bit ridiculous and definitely something we’ll have to talk about later.

  Rebekah sits down, but doesn’t pour herself anything to drink. Give her a week and she’ll be guzzling right off the bottle. You sort of need the liquid courage to keep up with the drama and stress of living with people you don’t truly know, not to mention the marriage part. And she’s not even looking at the guys. I mean come on, two very hot guys, one good-looking and one who is definitely working himself to make his wife happy, are standing outside shirtless. You’d have to be a saint not to take advantage and look at them.

  “They’re all freaking shirtless,” I say, reminding the girls of the obvious. “You know, even Gary isn’t looking that bad these days.”

  “He’s definitely trying,” Millie adds as she passes me the pitcher of strawberry daiquiri. I top off my glass and pass it onto Amanda.

  “But look at Bronx,” Amanda sighs as Millie and I turn to look at her. “What?” she shrugs. “It’s not fair. First you with Josh and now …” Amanda glares at Rebekah who is sitting at the end of our large couch. I’m not sure if she can hear us or not, but Amanda doesn’t care either way. “Why couldn’t I get paired up with someone like that?” She points directly at Bronx.

  “It all has to do with your application,” Millie tells her. I wouldn’t know since technically I didn’t apply.

  “Obviously, but what’s on my application that doesn’t match up with Josh, but makes me compatible with Gary?” Amanda asks as her frustration level grows.

  “I don’t know,” I say honestly. I don’t know what types of questions were asked, or how they were answered. I’m in the dark and chances are if I had answered my own, I’d likely be with Gary. If Josh and I win, I’ll have to buy my mom a new car because if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be here right now.

  The three of us sigh when Josh and Bronx both turn and face us. Gary and Cole are in between them and it looks like Gary is hanging onto everything Bronx is saying. The guys are far enough away that we can’t hear what they’re talking about, but Josh looks pissed. His hand, the one not holding his beer, is flying animatedly through the air. There’s a lot of pointing in Bronx’s direction, coupled with head shaking.

  “Excuse me?”

  Our heads move together as if they’re on a rope as we all stare at Rebekah, who has moved closer to Amanda. We don’t respond, but Amanda and I both decide drinking is acceptable in this moment. The sucky thing is, Rebekah is smiling, all soft, sweet, and very innocent looking in her flower print dress with half her long brunette hair pulled up in a ponytail and matching ribbon—she doesn’t have a clue that we don’t want her here. Or maybe she does, but was told not to care. We’ve been at this game for two solid months and as much as Bronx is welcome eye candy, they’re intruders.

  None of us speak, and even though the sound stage is loud and there are airplanes flying overhead, you can hear each of us breathing. Millie, Amanda, and I are just staring at her, waiting for her nose to grow and for her face to turn green. Yes, I know that’s a rude assumption, but she’s here to steal our money, and our fans. In the words of my eight-year-old cousin, ‘homey don’t play dat’.

  “Are you always so perky?”

  I had a feeling Amanda would be the first one to crack, and bravo to her because I’m not sure I would’ve done it. I don’t want to know Rebekah. Millie and I are friends and will keep in touch once the show is over. Amanda and I, we may meet each other for lunch if we happen to be in the same city at the same time, but it’s not as if we’d go out of our way to meet up. I can’t see myself ever seeing Rebekah outside of this house. She’s not part of the original three.

  “I have a very positive outlook on life,” Rebekah says as she juts her chin out.

  “Is that why you married a stranger and came onto a reality show to win money?” Amanda blurts out as I stifle a laugh. It’s not funny, it’s what we did, but I’m not sure any of us had a positive outlook on life except for Josh.

  I glance quickly at him as he and Cole grill the streaks for dinner. The sun was blazing today and the night air isn’t much cooler. I wouldn’t mind a dip in the pool with Josh later, but that’s not likely going to happen if he’s angry with me. We still need to talk about the arrival of Bronx, which I have a feeling won’t go very well. My eyes travel over to Bronx, who is looking over here. Is he staring at his wife, or the three of us?

  “Why are you here?” I ask, barely tearing my gaze away from Bronx, and when I do Rebekah is still smiling sweetly at us. Her hands are clasped and resting on her knee, showing off a dazzling rock. I tuck my hand under my leg and square my eyes at her, waiting for her answer.

  “I’m here, just as you are, to win,” she replies as she stands, presses her dress down, and walks across the yard. Amanda begins to mimic her until she sees Rebekah talking to Gary. That alone is enough to get Amanda off her ass and over to where Gary and Rebekah are now in deep conversation.

  “I’ll be back,” Millie says as she gets up and disappears into the house. I continue to suck on the straw that feeds me my delicious ice-cold cocktail while I lounge sloppily on the couch. Bronx is walking over to me and I know this isn’t going to be good.

  “Hello, Joey.”

  I start to sit up, and am assisted by his warm hands on my back and arm helping me into a decent position. Putting my drink on the table, I sit back and appraise him: no shirt, sun-kissed skin, and beads of sweat pebbling his chest. Everything in me is telling me to stop staring, but I can’t. Having him and Josh in the same general area with the freedom of touch, in the non-creepy way, should be a sin, a sin that I’d be willing to commit over and over again if forgiveness was easily given. To the hell with forgiveness, this house has two of the hottest up and coming actors and I want to sin. Badly.

  “You’re staring like you’ve never seen me shirtless?”

  “I haven’t. I mean, not really. Watching you play pick-up and having you sit next to me are two very different things. And you’ve changed … a lot.” I give him a once over before forcing myself to avert my eyes.

  “Have you missed me?”

  “Eh.” I shrug. I have, but haven’t. It was one semester of fabulous studying. “You’ve done well for yourself.”

  “I try. Are you happy I’m here?”

  I glance at Josh, who seems worried. He shouldn’t be. “Like I said earlier, it’s nice to have a friend in the house. Are you happy to be here?”

  “Oh I’m very happy to be here,” he says, leaning closer to me. I can smell his cologne as it wafts over me. He smells like the sun and ocean. I’m temporarily mesmerized until he laughs and leans back.

  Bronx takes my hands in his and starts to trace the lines in my palm as I fight my body’s need to shiver.

  “This line here says you’ll have a long life.”

  “Did you learn that from one of your movie roles?” I already
know the answer, but only realize it after I’ve blurted out my stupid question. His mother is some spiritual guru and his dad is a banker. Bronx’s parents are still married, making his life vastly different from Joshua’s.

  “No, my mom—”

  “I know what your mom does and your father, too. We’ve spent countless nights studying, remember?”

  I close my eyes and pull my hand away when I finish that sentence. I’m such an idiot and need a filter for my brain. I half expect Bronx to get up and go find Millie so he can impress her, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t even slide back to his spot, opting to stay next to me. When I open my eyes, I’m reaching for my drink, taking a long pull through the straw until the glass is just about empty. I really need a refill.

  “What’s it like being married to Wilson?”

  “In my mind, perfect. I’m a fangirl ya know.”

  “Oh I remember when you threw a party in your dorm for some awards show.”

  “Shut up, you came and loved it.”

  “Yes I did,” he says as he puts his arm around me. Any other time, any other place, and I’d snuggle right into him.

  “How does Wilson like you being his stalker?”

  “Oh I’m not a stalker,” I say, as I shake my head. “I’m factual in knowledge.” It’s a crock of shit, but I’m not going to admit to stalking anyone. Besides, stalking would indicate that I know where he lives, and I don’t. I’ve never been to Hollywood and somehow I doubt he’s on the bus tour that takes you to all the stars’ houses. They only show you where Hugh Hefner or David Hasselhoff lives.

  “Well enlighten me, Joey. What makes you a fangirl?” Bronx leans in, his cologne inviting me to nestle into the crook of his neck. I back away, not wanting to give him the wrong idea, or for me to actually lean in and a take a whiff. How embarrassing would that be? The answer is extremely, not to mention wrong on so many levels. I’m a married woman.

  “What are you going to do with the money if you win?” I ask, changing the subject.

  “I’m not sure. I haven’t really thought about it, but winning is pretty much guaranteed.”

  “Is that so?” I look at up the sound of Josh’s voice. He’s scowling, not at me, but at Bronx. I’m surprised when Josh reaches for me before he sits down and taken back when his lips pepper kisses on my cheek and neck. He’s putting on a show and I’m not sure if I like it or not. I’m pulled into his side as his arm locks around my shoulder. I can’t move, even if I wanted to.

  “Why don’t you just piss on her?” Bronx snarls in Josh’s direction.

  My mouth drops open, but Josh is quick with the comeback. “You should probably worry about your wife before you worry about mine.”

  Bronx scoffs, but doesn’t say anything. After a moment of awkward silence, Bronx gets up, leaving us alone. I use this time to my advantage and test Josh by letting my fingers dance over his bare chest. We really needed to win, and failed at doing so. I’m not sure I can get freaky in the room knowing the cameras are on. The shower is one thing, but the live feed scares me.

  Dropping my hand I nestle into him. “Why do you think they’re here?”

  Joshua sighs and relaxes into the couch. My stomach rumbles, knowing there’s food to be eaten. “Should we go eat?”

  “No, I want to know what the sigh was for.”

  Josh groans as he runs his hand over his face. “Bronx and I … let’s just say we don’t get along.”

  “That’s been obvious since he walked in the door, but tell me why.” I don’t want to assume it’s because of Jules. The last thing I want Josh to think is that she’s all I think about when it comes to us.

  “Tell me why’re so chummy with him.”

  “Bronx was my study partner my first semester of college. We had classes together, so it just made sense. I had a crush, but never did anything about it because he was a friend. One day, he says he’s leaving for Hollywood and that was that. Never heard from him again.”

  “And you just welcome him with open arms?”

  “Sure, why not?” I shrug. “He followed a dream. No one can fault him for that. Now tell me why you don’t like him,” I ask as I thread my fingers through his hair.

  “Ugh … I know I should’ve told you this the first night we talked, but Bronx is my competition and in more ways than one.”

  “What does that mean?” I ask as I turn to face him. I push his hair out of his eyes and smile softly at him. “You can tell me.”

  When he looks at me, his eyes are pained and confused. “You’ve read my interviews, you know about Jules, but what you don’t know is that at one time I was in love with her, then Bronx came along and she … well, she thought she wanted to love Bronx, too. Since then I’ve forged a battle with him for every part we’re both being considered for, and now I see him making moves on you.”

  I shake my head. I want to tell him that my heart belongs to him, but the pain that comes with that is too much. So instead I tell him I’m sorry.

  “Don’t be,” he says as he leans in to kiss me. “But please stay away from him.”

  Nothing is as it seems because as I look around the room, I feel like an outsider. Cole, a man who I’d consider a friend, is buddy-buddy with Bronx and in deep conversation with him at the kitchen island. It’s probably not a bad thing to get to know your competitor, but he hasn’t come looking for me today. Neither has Gary, Amanda, or Joey, the latter of which bothers me the most.

  I knew I screwed up last night when I asked her to stay away from Bronx. I didn’t consider her feelings or their past relationship and I put her in the same category as Jules, but without the commitment. I’m an idiot to think she’d listen. I’ve offered nothing but an end when the game is over.

  When she came to bed last night, I knew something was wrong. From the day we entered the house, we’ve always gone to bed together. Sometimes we’d fool around, but each and every night, even after I’ve been a complete ass, she’d let me hold her. Last night was different. When I told her I was ready for bed, she said she was staying up to read. I didn’t push the issue because I knew I had messed up.

  The dip of bed hours later, the sleeping in sweatpants and on top of the comforter told me everything I needed to know. And this morning when I woke up, the chatter of a late night game with Bronx hit me square in the chest. She spent time with him, instead of me. I get that they’re friends, but I’m her husband. Am I deserving of the title? No I’m not, but I’m trying to be.

  “Josh to the confession room.” I ignore the embodied voice that commands us to do things around the house because I’m not done observing. I’m not done watching everything I’ve built for the past two months slip away because some money hungry executive is afraid he’s losing his job and needs a rating boost.

  Instead, I’m leaning against the entryway that separates the bedrooms from the main living area. Everyone is either sitting on the couch, cuddling in the corner, or in the kitchen. No one turns to see where I am, to give me the ‘I’m sorry you’ve been called to the room’ look. It’s as if I don’t exist.

  I turn my gaze back to the cuddling couple and shake my head. It’s Gary and Rebekah, and while they may not be touching, they’re definitely what I’d consider too close for comfort. I’ve deduced that they know each other and I’m going to make it a point to figure out how and why Gary thinks she’s here and how she ended up with the likes of Bronx Taylor.

  Amanda is oblivious to where her husband is because she’s too busy making eyes at Bronx. First me. Now him. How come Gary isn’t enough for her? After everything he’s done to impress her, she tosses him away like yesterday’s news. Although he doesn’t seem to care right now, so why should I?

  “Josh to the confession room.” Linda speaks again and no one stops to see where I’m at or why my name has been called twice now. The one person who should care doesn’t. She’s too busy making a cake. This is just perfect. My bubble has been burst. It’s not even a pinprick giving me a slow leak. We’re talking
full blown pop.

  Pushing off the wall, I take the few steps necessary to the confession room. I try to slam the door behind me, but it’s on hydraulics and even I’m not that strong. My last few times in here have been with Joey, and we’ve used this room as our personal make out room. We both knew the viewers were watching, but we didn’t care and I’m stupid enough to believe that that was enough to show her that I care, but now I know that’s not entirely true. I have to find a way to let it be known that I want her, that I want to see how things go with us once the show’s over. I never meant to fall for her, but I also never meant to meet anyone like her. I’d be stupid to walk away.

  Sitting down, I rest my elbows on my knees and look into the camera. Do the viewers see my pained expression? Are the fans that Bronx and I share seeing what I’m seeing, even though he’s only been here for a day? Have Joey and I done enough to secure a victory?

  The red light blinks, my cue to start talking. There are no questions today, nothing fun. We’re in serious mode and the producers have seen what I was going through out there so the next logical step is to bring me in and confess my fears.

  “I’m a coward,” I say to the viewers. “My fear is that I don’t know what love is and my inability to recognize what’s going on in here.” I put my fist over my chest and pound once. “It’s going to be my downfall. How do you know when you’re in love? Is it when your body craves that person?” I’d say yes because when I finally gave into everything I had been fighting, and made love to her in the shower, I felt like a new person.