When boarding is called for first class, Lou tells me “that’s us”. Lou and I walk side by side. She’s carrying a laptop bag and pulling both our suitcases behind her. I have my purse. I feel empty handed and useless.
“Please, let me take this.” I put my hand on my bag and give it a slight tug. “I get that you’re supposed to do stuff for me, but your hands are full. I can do this.”
Lou looks around, as if someone is watching, and finally lets go of the handle. I feel better knowing she’s no longer overexerting herself on my behalf.
“Would you like window or aisle?” she asks when we walk onto the plane.
“I’m fine with the window.” I’ll be able to look out and take in everything I missed when I landed here the first time.
Lou sets her laptop bag down and puts our luggage in the overhead bins. She signals to the seat and I slide in. No sooner do we sit, does the flight attendant appear to take our drink orders. I order a cocktail, while Lou orders a soda.
“I’m going to confirm your appearances.” She takes out her laptop and quickly goes to work. We aren’t even off the ground yet and she’s busy. Once I have my drink, I suck it down. Leaning my head back I close my eyes, and all I can see is Josh standing there with his eyes locked on mine, asking why I’m flying and he’s not.
Watching Joey run away from me sends a sharp pain right into my heart. I thought I knew heartache before, when I was with Jules, but it was nothing like this. My chest burns while my heart beats a bit slower, making time stand still. This feeling is new to me and I can honestly say I don’t like it. I like how I feel when she’s in the room: comforted, peaceful, and loved. I know she loves me, even though she tries to hide it and I know that my attorney, Jason, has hurt her. It’s not just Jason, but her ex as well. Hell, even I hurt her while we were in the house. Fixing the situation is going to take some ingenious planning. Its times like this when I wish I had a sister, or a mother who gave a shit. I need some womanly advice.
It occurs to me that Joey mentioned flights and I assumed we’d be staying in LA. I dig through my packet and only see information on car services. The itinerary tells me what time the car will be at my apartment to pick me up. This doesn’t make sense. Joey clearly mentioned flights, yet I’m staying in California.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter under my breath. I have to know why they allowed Joey and me to be separated. I’m not buying this bullshit about Amanda and Gary. They’ve never done this in the past, so why now? Sadly, I wouldn’t put it past my I’m-starting-to-think-he’s-a-slime-ball agent, Matt, to have arranged this, and the more I think about him being with Jules, the more I’m starting to wonder if something is going on there. He wouldn’t be the first Hollywood agent to screw off his client, or screw his client.
I pull out my cell phone and call Matt. He’ll have Barry’s number. I know there’s a PA waiting for me, somewhere, but this is important. I have to know why they would send Joey someplace without me. I’m her husband, damn it. We’re supposed to be a team, a united front and an example that, it doesn’t matter who you are, love is out there. I don’t know where my last thought came from, but I like it and need to make sure Joey fully grasps that I don’t want this divorce.
“Matt, I need Barry’s number,” I tell him as soon as he picks up. There’s no need for pleasantries, he knows who’s calling.
“Why, what’s up?” he asks. Normally I’d have no problem telling him what my issues are, but right now I don’t trust him. He doesn’t need to know that Joey isn’t with me.
“Nothing I can’t take care of with a quick phone call.” I turn on the confidence factor and pray that Matt buys it. I don’t want his help, not with this. Matt is the perpetual bachelor and sees wives only as a trophy or a cover, neither of which Joey is to me. He hems and haws, makes a few unintelligible sounds before finally rattling off the name and number of one of the producers. I mutter a quick ‘thanks’ and hang up and recall the number from memory.
On the third ring I hear, “Yo, this is Barry.” I pause wondering, if this is his voicemail, but the voices in the background finally register causing me to clear my throat.
“Barry, hi, this is Joshua Wilson. I’m wondering if you could tell me where my wife went? She was frantic after our meeting telling me that she had a flight to catch, but both of us are confused as to why I’m not flying with her.” The lie falls easily from my lips. Joey wasn’t frantic because I wasn’t going with her, it’s because she was trying to get away from me. She was doing everything she could to avoid the elephant in the room.
“Hey, Josh. Yeah, man, yesterday after the show your attorney called to tell us you had filed for a divorce and so when she asked for a separate room, we had to come up with a contingency plan to keep this out of the press for a bit. You guys were a fan favorite and we need to keep up appearances until the press tour is over. What you guys do after that is your own business, but you’re technically obligated to Married Blind until the media junkets are done.”
I stand in the hallway with people walking by me. My head is down so I can’t tell if they recognize me or not, and right now I don’t care because the words “your attorney called” are being repeated over and over again while I try to determine if I heard Barry correctly. Unfortunately, I did, but for the life of me I can’t understand why Jason would call them. I took the papers with me. They’re in my room right now and heading nowhere near the courthouse to be filed.
“I’m sorry, Barry, my attorney misspoke.”
“Glad to hear it, but uh … hang on one sec.”
He pulls his phone away from his ear and covers it. The voices in the background are muffled and I hear some clapping.
“So listen, if you’re interested we’d like you to make sure all the viewers know how much you love Joey …”
I stop listening when he says ‘love’. I’m trying not to think about being in love with her. It’s not that I don’t want to be. It’s that I don’t know how to love her without being a soul-sucking-piece-of-shit like my father. I watched him destroy my mother, and every consecutive woman after her. The examples given to me aren’t exactly ones I should follow.
“So what do you think?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m sorry, what? Can you repeat what you said?”
“Yeah, we want you to declare your love for Joey on national television. Really do it up. Talk about how great it is to be married to her, all the mushy shit you do in the movies.”
“Um …”
“It’s great, right?” I swear I hear him clap his hands in the background, but I can’t be sure. Everything coming out of his mouth is muffled.
“Um …” seems to be the only coherent word I can produce at the moment. I look up and notice people milling around. In the corner, there’s a guy in a black coat. He’s looking around as if he’s waiting to get caught. I know the minute I look away from him, he’ll be taking my picture or pulling out the recording device he’s hiding in his hand.
“I sense hesitation?”
“No, not at all just … indifference,” I tell him. I’d like to believe that if Joey and I were in a room together, I’d tell her that I was falling in love with her, or completely fallen. Thing is, I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like—to be in love. If it’s this ache I’m feeling, or emptiness, knowing I’m not going to see her for a few days, I must be in love. But to publicly declare it on national television without telling her first just seems wrong.
“Do you love her?”
And there’s the million-dollar question. Do I love her?
“I’ll do it, but on one condition.”
“What’s that?” Barry asks.
“You give me her number. We didn’t have an opportunity to exchange numbers after the show was over.”
Barry does what I ask and texts her number. Now I can at least talk to her and make sure she doesn’t forget me.
The sun has barely risen when the Town Car arrives a
t my apartment. Last night, Rob wanted to talk like a schoolgirl about the show, Jules, and Joey. All I wanted to do was sleep, or lie in bed and stare at the ceiling and wonder what Joey was doing in New York. Was she out on the town? Did her and her PA go to a Broadway show? Did her PA take her to Times Square so she could people watch? And what about Junior’s for cheesecake? These are all things I would’ve done with Joey to show her what else is out there in the world.
Yesterday, after I hung up with Barry, I called Jason and fired him. It was short, sweet, and to the point. ‘Your services are no longer needed. Thank you for the work you’ve done for me, but from this point forward we’re no longer associates.’ To say he was pissed would be an understatement. He went on and on about how he’s only protecting me from the gold-digging whore that Joey is. As soon as he said that, I knew I had made the right decision. I know I don’t know Joey outside of the Married Blind house, but I do know she’s not a gold-digger.
After that phone call ended, I sought out a reporter. I was going to be the first to break the news that I fired Jason. Joshua Wilson fires long-time Attorney Jason MacNicholl for falsifying documents. When I saw this piece hit the web, part of me was excited. The other part, not so much because I thought of Jason as a friend and regardless of looking out for my best interests, when your client tells you he doesn’t want something you listen.
Rob was gracious enough to give me a rundown of the confession room drama. I didn’t really want to hear it from him because I had hoped Joey and I would watch the season together, but Rob couldn’t wait to fill me in on how Joey reacted in a few of them. When he didn’t see my expression change, he asked the same thing Barry did earlier: Do you love her?
“I think I do.”
I say those words over and over as the driver navigates early LA traffic. I’m like the Little Engine that Could except my uphill battle is three thousand miles away and has already been on national TV this morning with Bronx and Rebekah. She was so vague when asked about our marriage, making comments about how she really enjoyed the show and that I’m really nice.
Nice? That’s how she sees me? I mean, nice is great, but I’m her husband. I want her to tell the world how she felt about me inside the house and let me fix the rest. I want her to answer her phone when I call and not send it to voicemail the second she sees a California area code pop up on her phone. I’m banking on the fact that she doesn’t know it’s me calling and is avoiding any numbers she doesn’t recognize. I’m grasping at anything right now that will help me keep my sanity.
As soon as the driver enters the studio lot, the pressure starts to build even though I’ve done this for what feels like a million times. Questions will be asked about the show, the other couples, and of course Joey. Only this time when her name comes up, I won’t be able to help the grin that spreads across my face. Regardless of what’s going on, she makes me feel. She makes everything brighter and livelier. I knew from that first kiss we shared that Joey Mitchell was someone special and meant to be in my life.
The PA I’ve been assigned meets me at the stage door. She starts rambling on about shows, times, meets and greets—all words just going in one ear and out the other. The only show I care about is Helen. That’s the day where Joey and I will be in the same space, sitting next to each other.
My microphone is put on, my hair fixed, and the obligatory stupid powder spread all over my face during the commercial break. My PA is talking a mile a minute about things I need to be sure to say and cover during my interview with the ladies of The Chat. She also encourages me to bat my eyes and turn on my charm, which is easy because these hosts are great to be with.
I walk out on stage during the commercial break and shake hands with the four women sitting around the table, drinking coffee. My spot is at the end, facing the audience. I wave and they scream. A few of the audience members hold up signs professing their love for me. I’m in my element, but not having Joey here with me is upsetting. I wanted her to see me like this—to make sure she can handle it—before we get too far.
“Welcome back to The Chat. We are joined by America’s heartthrob, Joshua Wilson, who surprised us all by his appearance on the reality TV show, Married Blind this season. Welcome, Joshua,” Allison Avery says.
“Thank you. It’s good to be back here with you beautiful ladies.”
One of the other hosts, Beverly Blake, fans herself while the other three blush and Cindy Drew says, “Isn’t he to die for?” causing the audience to become louder.
“Tell us, what were you thinking when you signed up for Married Blind?” Hayley Gunner asks. She’s the focal point of the show and married to one of the network’s big wigs.
I smile toward the viewers and tilt my head slightly before looking at the hosts. “Honestly, I signed up so I could help the community center I grew up in to start a rebuilding effort. With the economy the way it’s been, funding for centers like this—ones that help the youth stay off the streets—is hard to get. I’m trying to pay back everything that was given to me.” It’s the same lie I’ve told a few times to save face from the drunken incident that landed me on the show.
“I sense a but coming,” says Beverly Blake.
“I fell in love,” I state before I realize the words are coming out of my mouth.
The ladies gasp, but it’s the audience members who catch my attention. I can hear rumbling amongst them and the last thing I need is for Joey to be on the receiving end of bad press from the fans.
“You guys are going to love Joey,” I tell them as if I need their approval. “She’s very excited to meet you all.”
“I have to say, Josh, the chemistry between you and Joey was hot!” Allison Avery fans herself. “How much of that was acting?”
“None,” I answer matter-of-factly. “From the first kiss, I knew.”
“Well there you have it, ladies. Joshua Wilson is officially off the market,” Hayley Gunner announces, much to the displeasure of the audience.
As soon as the commercials are rolling, our microphones are shut off. Cindy Drew leans over and asks, “Are you legit married?”
I nod, and start removing my microphone. She shakes her head, tsking while doing so. “I think a lot of your fans were banking on this ending as soon as the show was over. We heard one couple has already filed.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” I say, as I stand. “But this is the real deal.”
The moment I’m off stage, my cell starts to vibrate in my pocket. It’s Matt, and as much as I don’t want to speak with him, he’s my agent, so I take the call.
“Hello.”
“You must’ve lost your mind.”
“No, my mind is fully intact. Do you have a new contract for me with a new co-star?”
Matt sighs, sensing that the topic of Joey and my interview is off the table for discussion.
“They want both of you,” he says.
I motion for my PA to follow me out the door and into the waiting car. The driver knows where to go and my PA works on my outfit for the next show.
“Not gonna happen, Matt. I don’t want to work with Jules, ever.”
“You’re really going to throw away a movie deal because of some mail order bride?”
I clutch my phone tightly and grit my teeth. “You listen to me. You work for me, not the other way around. I’ve already fired Jason. Don’t make me fire you as well. Joey is my wife and the shit that Jules pulled while I was on the show was deplorable. Jules and I are done, and I will not work with her. If the producers want me, find another female lead.” I hang up without giving him a chance to respond. My PA is staring at me wide-eyed, fear masking her face.
I toss my phone in the empty seat beside me and say, “All right, who’s next and what am I wearing?” as calmly as I can without scaring the shit out of her.
“Don’t be nervous,” Lou says as she grabs my shoulders. Nervous is an understatement. I’m about to go on The Tonight Show with Steven Freaking Rogers. Cue inner fangirl screaming mome
nt. Compared to the people he’s had on this show, Josh being one of them, I’m nothing. I’m small potatoes. I’m the tiny speck of pepper that lands where you don’t need it—the brushed aside piece that lives on the side of your plate until your plate is cleaned and the pepper is gone forever. That’s how I feel right now. Tomorrow, no one will remember me as Joey Wilson, instead they’ll know me as the desperate girl who went on reality TV to find a husband and got lucky and wound up married Joshua Freaking Wilson for three months.
My life is full of ‘freakings’.
I should’ve said no to this press tour and just gone home. At least in the comfort of my room, I can sit in silence and eat bonbons, not worrying if my butt is getting big. Yet, here I am, in New York City for the first time, appearing on TV. This is different from being in the Married Blind house, though. I can’t explain it. Even though we were shooting live and the cameras were always on, sitting down in front of a live audience, with people standing outside of the window with their signs, feels so different.
Lou is right, its nerves, but I don’t know how to get rid of them. Most of the questions I’ve faced on the morning shows have been easy: How was the show? What did you like? What’s it like being married to Josh? Those types of questions I was prepared for. What I wasn’t prepared for was karaoke with Steven. I know he plays games and does sketch comedy with his guests, but I’m just a mundane girl who went on a reality show and married an actor. At the end of the night, I’m still just Joey, a soon-to-be divorcee.
The media junket is a circus. Wake up before the sun—forget about being tired from jet lag and the press parties we’re required to attend—and show up at the studio. Lou has picked out a different outfit for each show, even though most are filmed on the same day, and has arranged for my hair and make-up to be done at each venue. The primping, prodding, and the occasional pokes quickly cause tension. I don’t know how Josh can put up with this day in and day out. I think I’d start batting hands away and demanding that I do it myself. This is my last appearance. I’ve been here almost a week and it’s time to head back to LA.
Blind Reality Page 24
