On the Groom Cam, Friday:
Justin: Hey, America! I’ll be joining Jen in California in a few days, but until then, the Network gave me a camera so I can keep you posted on what’s going on here. My trial is moving right along. We’re on track to finish with the evidence early next week. With any luck, I’ll be on the five o’clock flight out of Miami on Wednesday, ready to enter the Fishbowl and start filming. I’m excited. I’m marrying my best friend.
Dominic Rossellini to Jen Reid:
I’m so honored to be invited to your wedding, Jen! Thank you! I wouldn’t miss it for the world.
Jen Reid to DO NOT PICK UP:
You’re not invited.
Dominic Rossellini to Jen Reid:
Am too. I talked to Janine.
Jen Reid to DO NOT PICK UP:
You will attend this ceremony over your dead body. You are not welcome here. I don’t care what the Network offers you.
Forward from Jen Reid to Danielle Rossellini:
Um… What the heck is this message? He’s not coming, is he?
Danielle Rossellini to Jen Reid:
Oh, noes! I’m sure he’s just trying to get a rise out of you.
Jen Reid to Danielle Rossellini:
Thanks. Will I see you at the wedding? You’re actually invited.
Danielle Rossellini to Jen Reid:
Of course! Can’t wait to see you two. :-*
Dominic Rossellini to Jen Reid:
After receiving a phone call from my ex-wife’s lawyer, I’ve decided that I am unfortunately unable to travel to Los Angeles next weekend, after all. I wish you and Justin every happiness.
**message deleted**
Driving in and out of the Fishbowl without a blindfold felt super weird after my first stay. Turned out, we weren’t as isolated from the rest of Los Angeles as everyone thought. And I wasn’t positive, but the house from America’s Next Top Drag Model appeared to be about four blocks over. Maybe I should invite the cast to the wedding. They’d look fantastic in body paint.
The first thing I heard upon reentering the house was my favorite Midwestern drawl, floating toward me from the kitchen.
“The Network said I could bring a date,” Rachel was saying. “They didn’t put any stipulations on who that date could be.”
My stomach gurgled at her words. I had a sneaking suspicion I knew who she wanted to bring, even without hearing the rest of the conversation. I crept toward the kitchen door, well aware that cameras followed my every move. Inside the room, Ed stood at the island, chopping something, while Rachel sipped wine, her back to me. Ed winked over her shoulder.
Loudly, he said, “Of course they didn’t. The Network is here to put on a show, and part of that show means fireworks. They’d stack the guest list with neo-Nazis and Jewish people if it weren’t for the cost of insurance. That doesn’t mean Jen’s going to be on board with this.”
That was my cue. I entered the kitchen. “On board with what?”
Rachel squealed upon seeing me and raced into my waiting arms. My face broke out into a huge smile. Rachel was tall, muscular, pretty—basically every girl’s dream. She’d even been head cheerleader and class president. The last time I’d seen her, we’d both shaved our heads after losing a bet on Real Ocean. Since then, she’d dyed her natural blond hair a vibrant red and kept it close-cropped. She looked amazing. Her brown eyes danced when she greeted me.
“Oh my gosh, I love your hair! Why didn’t I think to get extensions?”
“Because you look like a model no matter what?”
“Shush, you.”
Ed followed, only half a step behind her. My friend still had the goatee he’d worn during our cruise, and the wavy black hair he’d shaved in solidarity had grown into a buzz cut. No matter what he did to his hair, with his perfect body and easy smile, Ed was one of the best-looking guys I’d ever met. When we’d first met, I’d thought he looked exactly like Rodrigo Santoro from Lost.
The three of us jumped up and down, hugging like we’d won the NBA Finals. I’d missed my friends. Being locked in a house with strangers for weeks created strong bonds, and our week on the cruise only solidified our friendship. I was ecstatic that they’d been able to come on such short notice, not just for the wedding, but to spend ten days with me.
“I can’t believe you’re all here,” Ed said. “This is so much better than Braden and Amanda’s wedding would have been.”
“You were going?” I asked.
“Of course. You weren’t?”
Rachel shook her head. “I wasn’t. Only met Braden for about thirty seconds on the cruise. I told him I was pissed he hadn’t picked Molly, and that was it.”
“Justin and I didn’t want to take time off without knowing how long we’d be gone for our own wedding and honeymoon,” I said.
Before I could ask what they’d been talking about when I walked in, Birdie entered the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. Rachel and Ed rushed to exclaim over her enormous pregnant belly. Finally, we all settled back at the island, Rachel and I sipping wine while Ed cooked.
“It’s so great to be back here,” I said. “Just like old times.”
The only change was Birdie, drinking a glass of water rather than an alcoholic beverage and sitting on a stool instead of helping.
“Funny you should mention that,” Ed said, with a sideways glance at Rachel. “Did you want this to be exactly like old times?”
“It can’t be exactly like old times. Ariana won’t be here.”
“No, she won’t,” Ed said. “I never thought I’d say it, but I’m sorry not to see her.”
We sat in silence for a minute, remembering our costar. Ariana was the dark-haired bombshell who pretended to fall for Justin during The Fishbowl. She’d done everything to keep us apart. When she’d popped up on the cruise in November, we expected more of the same, but she swore she’d turned over a new leaf. After I blamed her for the Network’s nearly breaking up me and Justin, I learned Ariana had a terminal illness. She wanted to make peace with everyone. She hadn’t been involved in the Network’s shenanigans. We’d made up, sort of.
Justin and I had planned to invite Ariana to our wedding, but she passed away a couple of weeks before Connor called me. Instead, we asked the Network to prepare a tribute to air during the first episode. Something that would’ve made her toss her hair and smirk at the camera.
“Poor Ariana,” Rachel said. “Her life was much too short.”
“Poor Ariana,” Birdie agreed. She lifted her glass. “To living life to the fullest, without regrets.”
“To forgiveness,” I added.
We all clinked and sipped quietly. Rachel turned to me. “Speaking of forgiveness, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
I was already pretty sure I knew what she wanted to say, but for the sake of the cameras, I drew it out. “You forgive me for asking you and Sarah to be co–maids of honor when she’s not here to do half the work?”
“No, I do not!” Rachel’s words came out indignant, but her brown eyes danced with amusement. “We’ve been friends longer!”
“Technically, that’s not true. I met her at the audition.”
“You talked for three minutes. That doesn’t count,” she said. “But I’ll let it go, if you say I can bring a date.”
“New boyfriend? Tell me more!”
“Oh, she’s not looking to bring a new boyfriend,” Ed said.
“What’s the big deal? The invitations gave you all a plus-one, right? Except Ed, because he and Connor were invited as a couple?”
“I got a plus-one,” Birdie said. “Shockingly, I even had people offering me money for it. Turns out there are people who want to escort an eight-months-pregnant woman to a wedding, if said wedding is going to be on national television.”
“How much?” I asked, in
trigued.
“Let’s not get distracted from Rachel’s news. It’s not that she wants to bring a date,” Ed said. “It’s who she wants to bring.”
“Rach? Did you sell your plus-one on eBay?”
Of course, she wanted to bring Joshua, the jerk from The Fishbowl who insisted we all call him J-dawg. The second week of the competition, the house had unanimously voted to eliminate him after he got caught cheating. He and Rachel clicked instantly for some inexplicable reason. She’d been his only friend in the house and the only one excited for him to return to the show after Justin and I left. They’d stayed in touch.
There wasn’t any part of me that wanted to see Joshua ever again. But the guest list was out of my hands. Although the desire to tell her I already knew made my lips twitch, Rachel needed to drop her bombshell for the viewers. I sipped my wine to keep a giggle from escaping.
“Oh, this is no fun at all,” Ed said. “She totally figured it out.”
“Well, I am the Smart One,” I said, referring to the way the Network billed us when introducing the show’s cast. “And I don’t care if you want to bring Joshua as your date. I’m still not calling him J-dawg.”
“Really? You don’t care at all?” Rachel wrinkled her nose, as if she’d been gearing up for a fight. She probably had, since the Network’s fingerprints were all over this invitation. And for that reason, I refused to argue.
“Not a bit. As long as he doesn’t try to rap a toast at the reception.” For some reason, as part of his reality villain routine Joshua had decided to always speak in rhyme. It was so weird. I assumed he didn’t do it in real life. No one had yet corrected me on that.
“Of course not. I’ll be rapping the toast,” Ed said. “Here comes the bride, taking the Network’s free ride. There goes the groom, who’s never used a broom. Peace OUT.”
I giggled. “What about, ‘A toast to the happy lovers. Jen, I hope Justin don’t steal the covers.’?”
“Sorry your friend’s date’s a jerk, but the music’s playing, so everybody twerk!” Ed said.
Rachel smothered a laugh behind her glass. “You guys are the worst.”
“You’ve got to let us have a little fun,” I said. “Since you’re bringing someone Justin and I can’t stand to our wedding.”
Birdie blinked into her glass several times. “Are you drunk? You’re okay with J-dawg, of all people, coming to your wedding?”
“See, that’s the reaction I was expecting,” Ed said.
I laughed. “Guys, it doesn’t matter. I get to spend the whole week with some of my favorite people. Justin and I are getting married, and we get to share our happiness not only with you, but with the viewers who helped make it all possible. Bring Joshua! Bring whoever you want. I’m just glad you’re going to help us celebrate.”
“You mean that?” Birdie asked. “Because I’d like to volunteer to personally remove J-dawg from the premises when he arrives, if you’re kidding.”
“She’s been possessed,” Ed said. “Or she doesn’t remember J-dawg at all. Quick, someone roll the tapes from our season.”
“Seriously guys, it’s fine.”
“And you’re not taking any medication?” Ed asked.
“Not a thing.”
“Who are you, and what have you done with my friend?” Rachel asked. “Not that I’m complaining, but…”
“Let’s say being a bride agrees with me.”
Nothing was going to ruin this week for me. Not even the return of my incredibly obnoxious former costar. Justin and I had a Plan, and I was sticking to it. The Network could do their worst. They wouldn’t faze us.
* * * *
After dinner, Ed, Rachel, and Birdie went to the salon for “wedding day prep,” whatever that meant. Instead of going with them, the producers called me into the living room to meet my wedding planner.
In this case, the planner was more than someone who put the wedding together. The planner worked for the Network. The producers couldn’t just follow me around looking at fabric samples and reading catering menus for a week. So instead, I had a guide, someone who walked me through all the decisions—and who would spoon-feed me information the viewers needed. Part wedding planner, part host, part shit-stirrer, as Connor explained it. But it was all part of the deal. We let the Network turn our wedding into a drama bomb, Justin kept his job. Totally fair trade.
Well, not really, but there was nothing we could do about it.
For some reason, I expected to meet some sweet old lady, or maybe David Tutera. Instead, when I entered the living room, Logan Cassidy sat on the couch.
Five years ago, Logan was a celebutant, famous for being famous. He flitted between Southern California and New York without a care in the world, spending money inherited from his mother’s hotel fortune while generally contributing nothing to society. He prided himself on dating celebrities, courted paparazzi, and manufactured scandals everywhere he went. But a few years ago, his mother had drawn the line when he allegedly had a threesome with his friend’s eighteen-year-old sister. At twenty-five years old. Legal, but gross. Logan revealed that he suffered from drug and alcohol addiction and went into rehab. When he finished treatment, his mother cut him off until he could prove he’d changed.
After disappearing for a couple of years, he had his own reality show, Love with Logan, where he helped rich people plan ridiculously extravagant weddings. Shockingly for someone who’d never shown any aptitude for anything but causing trouble, when sober, he had a knack for calming bridezillas and organizing napkin-folding.
When Logan spotted me, he rose from the couch and extended a hand, flashing the smile that dropped a thousand panties. Chestnut hair cascaded to his shoulders in waves I’d have killed for. He wore exactly enough scruff to make him think he looked manly, which tended to annoy me but seemed to work for him. When I moved closer, his eyes sparkled even brighter than on television. He had to be wearing contacts. A person could lose themselves in the ocean of his eyes.
“Jen, hi!” Logan said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve been rooting for you and Justin since the first episode of The Fishbowl.”
His statement threw me, as the guy I’d seen on the entertainment blogs didn’t seem like a reality TV connoisseur. “You watched the show?”
“Absolutely. Just like you never miss mine, right?” He winked, then leaned forward and whispered. A lock of hair fell across his blue eyes, which twinkled mischievously. “It’s TV. Lie. No one will ever know. They’ll cut to me coaching you.”
When he straightened back up and fixed his hair, I continued shaking his hand, which I’d now been holding far longer than appropriate. I hoped he didn’t notice how sweaty my palm was. But I needed to follow his lead before pulling away. “Logan Cassidy! I can’t believe it! I’m your number one fan! You’re even better-looking in person.”
“That’s what my grandma says.” Man, was he laying on the charm. But instead of coming across as smarmy, his act somehow endeared him to me. It was like the two of us were playing a huge joke on the rest of the world. “Why don’t we sit down and have a chat about your dream wedding?”
“I’m a simple girl, really,” I said. “I know people might not believe it, since we’re doing this dream wedding show, but our original plan was quiet and small. This whole thing happened pretty suddenly. Justin and I were expecting a small, intimate gathering with our families.”
“When you’re a reality star, the whole world’s your family, am I right? I mean, you’ve had millions of people following your relationship from the beginning. It’s only natural they want to share in your ‘big day’.”
“That’s why we’re here,” I said. “I’m so grateful to all the loyal viewers who will help make our wedding special.”
“Absolutely! I completely understand. Wait until you see what I’ve got in store for you: the gown, a horse-drawn carriage ride
the morning of the wedding, the hedge maze rearranged into a heart shape, the ice sculptures, the string quartet…” Logan trailed off with a happy sigh. “It’s going to be amaze-balls. I can’t wait for you to see everything!”
As he went on and on about his plans, an uneasy feeling grew in the pit of my stomach. Everything had already been decided. Justin and I spent most of Thursday going over what we wanted with the producers, but they hadn’t listened to a word of it. We didn’t have an iota of input here. I’d known the Network called me and Justin at the last minute because they were in a bind, but I was starting to get the feeling we’d be standing in at Braden and Amanda’s called-off wedding. We’d be lucky if someone gave the officiant the correct names.
I mean, okay, sure, we’d already gotten married before leaving Florida, but the Network didn’t know that. Justin and I didn’t even tell Ed because he sucked at keeping secrets. He’d have pouted around the Fishbowl, complaining loudly that he missed the “real” wedding and asking that I explain for the seventh time why I let Sarah attend in her work pants. No, thanks.
When Logan started to wax poetic about a gluten-free, all-natural vegan cake, I found my voice. “Hold on a sec. I’m not eating flavorless cardboard cake. I want eggs and sugar and flour and butter—all of which, by the way, are natural ingredients. Sugar’s a plant. Flour comes from wheat, which is a plant. Butter is from cows. All natural. And tasty.”
“Your cake is going to be totally organic. Free-range, homegrown goodness.”
My back teeth ground together as I silently reminded myself to keep my voice even, my smile pleasant. No drama here. “That doesn’t even make sense. It’s cake. Cake should taste good. People eat it because they like the sugar. I don’t care about the calories.”
“Your guests will.”
“Which guests? My friends and family won’t eat vegan ‘cake.’ We eat real food at weddings. Everyone is expecting to get to try Sweet Reality’s signature caramelized banana chocolate cupcakes with peanut butter frosting.”
One of the reasons Justin and I agreed to go on Real Ocean was so I could get a cupcake recipe from one of the other stars. That turned out to be a total bust, but we also judged a bake-off aboard the ship. Madison, star of Deaf Teen Mother, had made these amazing Elvis-inspired cupcakes. When she realized I was in a bind with my own bakery, she gave it to me.
Reality Wedding Page 6
