“Come on,” he said. “How well do you know me?”
“Well enough to think I should’ve brought some dollar bills.”
He winked. “Smart. But you can’t wear yoga pants and a tank top. I hung an outfit for you in the bathroom at the back of the bus.”
“There’s a bathroom on the bus?”
“Of course there is. It’s a traveling bar. Bathroom required. Now go change, so we can leave.”
After seeing what the Network had chosen for me to wear thus far, I felt a little like I was walking to my own funeral as I headed toward the back of the bus. When I closed the bathroom door and spotted the outfit, a sigh of relief escaped me. A little black dress, taken from the clothes brought from home, just in case; fishnet stockings I’d never seen before; and a pair of sky-high red heels, also mine. No bra, but that probably wasn’t an accident.
Quickly I changed, ran my fingers through my hair, pinched my cheeks to make them pinker, and rubbed my lips together. The blindfold had smudged my existing eye makeup, but with a little tissue and water, it looked good enough.
On my way back to the party, I grabbed a drink—something called a Fishbowl, naturally, a blue-and-green beverage in a globe-shaped glass that thankfully had a lid. Then I settled into a seat between Birdie and my mom. My mom passed me her compact, a travel-sized tube of mascara and a lipstick. I’d thought I looked okay before, but less than a minute later, I felt like a million bucks.
Everyone else got settled, and the bus started down the driveway. Despite my concern that we’d get “pulled over” and boarded by a stripper dressed as a police officer en route to our destination, the trip was uneventful. Before I knew it, we poured out onto the sidewalk in front of a building the news touted as “the current Los Angeles hot spot.” It must’ve cost the Network a fortune to book the place for even a few hours.
Inside the dark club, writhing bodies filled a large dance floor to the left, gyrating to the beat played by a band on a stage against the far wall. People with video cameras swarmed around, filming the party. On the right, pub tables lined the walls. Waitstaff circulated with trays carrying food and more alcoholic beverages.
My stomach let out a howl at the sight of the sliders being passed around the room, reminding me I hadn’t eaten in hours. Grabbing Birdie by the wrist so I wouldn’t lose her in the crush, I pushed through the crowd toward one of the tables. Every few steps, someone stopped us to congratulate me on the wedding. Madison was there and Danielle. I even thought I spotted Braden dancing across the room. Attending what should’ve been your own bachelor party seemed weird to me, but I supposed free booze was free booze.
Since it was too loud to talk, Birdie smiled at me gratefully once we reached our destination. A moment later, Mom settled onto the third stool and motioned for a server.
We ate brie and apple-stuffed puff pastries, tiny steak quesadillas, and the smallest tomato bisque portions I’d ever seen. Everything tasted delicious. All around me, people sipped the same blue-and-green beverage they’d offered on the bus. Not caring what was in it, I grabbed another. I was on my third drink, seventh tiny appetizer plate, when the music stopped. Bright lights flooded the room.
Logan’s voice blared through the speakers on the walls. “Jen? Jennifer Reid, where are you?”
I waved my arms. “Here!”
“Don’t just sit there. Come on down!”
The crowd parted, revealing Ed and Logan on the stage where the band sat when I arrived. Each of them held a microphone. An empty stool in the middle of the stage gave me the sneaking suspicion I was about to find myself the center of attention, right when I’d started to enjoy blending into the background.
Birdie and I exchanged glances, and she pushed my drink toward me. I tossed back the rest, and another magically appeared on the table beside me.
“You’re an excellent friend,” I said to her.
She winked at me. “Figured you could drink my share tonight.”
With no idea what the Network had planned, I grabbed the new glass like a lifeline before heading for the stage.
Logan’s gaze met mine as I strode through the crowd with my head high, trying not to show how confused I was. When I reached the stage, two muscular bouncers lifted me up without spilling my drink.
“Please have a seat.” Logan gestured toward the stool.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“You’ll see.”
Behind me, a screen lowered into place. A moment later, Justin’s face filled the screen. “Hey, beautiful.”
A wave of longing hit me at the sight of him. “Hi! Where are you?” Please say you’re nearby. Or that you’ll be here soon. I miss you so much.
“Nowhere near Los Angeles, I’m afraid. But the Network was kind enough to set up this call so I could attend our bachelor-slash-ette party.”
“Jen, Justin, welcome to your roast!” Logan announced.
The audience roared, pulling my attention away from the screen. Now that the lights were on, I realized most of the people in the crowd had been on my TV at one time or another. The Network had pulled out all the stops, inviting all the reality show royalty in the area. The only Fishbowl costar not present, other than Justin and Ariana, was Abram, who was building houses for the poor with his kids in South America. I couldn’t exactly fault him for not flying back. Maria, the beauty queen from Texas, waved when I caught her eye. With a grin, I waved back.
Behind her, I spotted the Real Housewives star Chloe had mistaken my mom for when we were in Beverly Hills. I made a mental note to introduce them later. Then again, Evelyn wasn’t known for her sense of humor. She might not appreciate the story as much as I’d enjoy telling it.
I wished I could ask if he were still sitting at the airport. What he was doing to get here. “Thanks for coming. I can’t wait to see you.”
Before he could reply, Logan spoke into the microphone. “All week, we’ve been holding mini-competitions for the bridal party. Trivia challenges, centerpiece-making challenges, etcetera. Jen knew about all of those events and even participated in the centerpiece-making. What she doesn’t know is that we assigned points for each competition based on how well people did. Yes, even the zombie escape room.”
A pang hit me at the reminder of my “father” and the event he’d supposedly planned. My smile faltered. On the screen, Justin’s eyes flashed, but he didn’t say anything. We’d talked the day before about what happened, me hiding in the maze, Justin shouting over road noise in his car on the way to visit his parents. It hadn’t been a long conversation, but he definitely conveyed his opinion of the Network’s tactics. If he’d been on-site, I’d almost have felt sorry for the producers.
A scan of the audience revealed no sign of fake Patrick, so that was something. If he appeared at my bachelorette party, after everything, I might give up and head home.
Logan continued, “They weren’t fighting for things like spa days; they were actually competing for the opportunity to roast Jen and Justin!”
The audience laughed, and I suddenly understood why Joshua wanted to win these contests so badly. He hadn’t tried nearly so hard on The Fishbowl, preferring to cheat rather than put forth any effort. He couldn’t cheat at Jen and Justin trivia, though.
Confirming my fears, Logan said, “Up first, the winner of two attendant challenges, and receiving an impressive twenty points overall this week, from the first season of The Fishbowl, Joshua ‘J-dawg’ Adams! Come on up, J-dawg!”
Justin and I exchanged a look. My smile froze. I could feel the words his green eyes bored into me. Just go with it. Smile, laugh, go with it. That was the deal we made, and I could do it. Especially if I was drunk enough. I took a big gulp of my fruity beverage. On the screen, Justin blew me a kiss, then raised a flask to his lips.
The movement took my attention off his face, and I wondered where my husband was call
ing from. The background definitely didn’t come from either of our apartments. He didn’t appear to be sitting at the airport, either, although the Network could have set him up with a private room in one of the lounges. Why wasn’t he on his way to Los Angeles? Would he be picking up a flight in the morning? Before I could ask, Joshua bounded onto the stage, arms raised above his head in a V-for-Victory.
“Whaddup, losers? I told you the J-dawg was ready to play!”
The audience responded so enthusiastically, I wondered if there was an “applause” sign lit up behind my head. Or maybe they were all really, really drunk. I took another sip from my glass. Mmmm, boozy goodness.
“I’d take it easy on the alcohol if I were you, Jen. You don’t want to wind up puking all over Justin’s feet at the wedding. Oh, wait. That wasn’t you.”
I laughed at the reminder of the night we almost kissed for the first time. Almost, because Justin drank too much and wound up throwing up on my toes. On screen, my husband’s face reddened, but he laughed and raised his glass in a toast.
Joshua said, “Anyway, I had the pleasure of being present for Jen and Justin’s first kiss. He told her to go away, she grabbed him by the face. I guess that’s one way to get a guy to notice you. Kudos, Jen!”
The audience laughed, and I chuckled good-naturedly while raising my glass toward Joshua. If that was the best he could do, I’d have no problem handling this roast.
The producers must have warned him about how I felt about body-shaming, because he didn’t call a single person fat during his entire two-minute spiel. Instead, he focused on my now-famous burnt chocolate-chip cookies from my audition video, the time I choked on Justin’s engagement ring (which Rachel must have told him), and the time I got stuck with my ex in Jamaica. Nothing I couldn’t handle. At least half his jokes had been told in different forms on late-night talk shows, blogs, or Twitter. Some of them by Ed.
As Joshua spoke, I focused on Justin instead. My eyes never left his. When he mouthed “I love you,” the crowd awwed. Joshua stopped mid-sentence, tilted his head at Justin, then shook his head at me. “Really, guys? Save it for the honeymoon. If you can even figure out how to get hitched while in different states. Did anyone explain to you how this marriage thing was supposed to work? Or did Justin figure getting stranded was a great way to back out without looking like the bad guy?”
His words rolled past me like water off a duck’s back. Surely, the Network had some plan to get Justin here or he wouldn’t seem so relaxed.
In the crowd, Skye and Mike, also from my season of The Fishbowl, laughed so hard they held on to each other for support. Raj stood nearby, snuggling with a guy I didn’t recognize. They’d all probably be at the wedding. Even though I wouldn’t have invited Skye or Mike, I didn’t care. As long as Justin made it in time and everyone had fun, nothing else mattered.
When Joshua finally said thank you and exited, Ed appeared in his place. He hesitated at the edge of the stage. He looked nervously at the ground, then beamed up at Justin. He turned to the crowd and shrugged, looking confused. As he moved toward center stage, Ed gnawed one thumbnail and smoothed imaginary hair back out of his face in such a perfect impression of me, I almost fell off my stool laughing.
“Hi, I’m Jen,” Ed said, his voice unnaturally high. “I really, really like Justin, but I don’t want to tell him, and I don’t know if he likes me. What do I do? It’s so hard being thin and pretty and incredibly smart!”
The audience laughed. Justin let out a wolf whistle, which made everyone laugh harder.
When Ed finished his routine, he whipped a hat out of his pocket and put it on his head sideways. “And what’s a roast if you can’t poke a little fun at everyone! Yo yo yo, ’sup! The J-dawg is here y’all, and it’s gonna be tiiiiiiiight.”
By the time he left the stage, tears streamed down my face. I could hardly breathe. Next up was Rachel, who curtsied and addressed the audience. “Good evening, y’all. I’m afraid I’m not the funny one in this cast, and I’m not good at making fun of my friends, so I thought I’d share some of my dad’s favorite jokes. What does a thesaurus eat for breakfast?”
The audience went quiet. Someone yelled out, “People?”
“No, not a dinosaur, a thesaurus!” Rachel said. “Anyone? Okay, y’all—it’s a synonym roll!”
A good-natured groan went through the crowd, punctuated with a few chuckles. Rachel blushed prettily. “Hey, I said they were Daddy’s favorite jokes, not the funniest ones.”
She told a few more jokes, all with the same corny humor, than thanked everyone for listening. On her way off the stage, Rachel handed off the microphone to someone I hadn’t expected to see here: Braden, from The Marrying Kind. That had been him in the crowd. Oddly.
He took a bow, nearly falling, and introduced himself to the audience. “You know, this was supposed to be my show. I should’ve been getting ready to marry Amanda. This should be our party, our roast.”
His words slurred. I shifted uneasily on my stool, wondering how much he’d had to drink and where he was going with this.
The crowd stared back at him. You could’ve heard a pin drop. At the back of the room, Logan looked stricken. He started toward the stage, but got caught in a throng of girls in pastel minidresses. Whether they were admirers or plants by the Network intended to stop him from pulling Braden offstage, it would take time to get through them. I hesitated, wondering if I should jump up and take the microphone.
Sure, at a roast, the center of attention isn’t supposed to participate, but things could go bad fast if no one intervened. Desperately, I sought Ed in the audience, but couldn’t find him or Connor anywhere.
Braden pulled some index cards from his pocket, then turned to face the screen. His speech slurred. “Justin, my man! Kudos at stirring up a hurricane to avoid the ol’ ball and chain. If I’d thought of that, maybe we wouldn’t be here. It would just be my faithless bride sitting there on the stool while I talked about how much I loved her like some dumb-ass sucker.”
No one laughed. He looked at the audience, then dropped to the stage, the cards fluttering around him. “What am I even doing here, man? What’s wrong with me? Why doesn’t anyone love me?”
Justin tilted his head almost imperceptibly at Braden, and I nodded. Enough was enough. I stood and walked toward the poor guy, now sitting on the floor.
He turned toward me, scooting toward the far edge of the stage. “Oh, no. You took my show. You don’t get to take my moment in the spotlight.”
If he moved any further backward, he’d fall off the stage into the crowd. I froze, not sure if I should go back to my stool, walk away, or try to get to him before he hurt himself.
Before I made a decision, Ed rushed the stage, Rachel steps behind him. She put an arm around Braden’s shoulders, helped him stand, and coaxed him toward the exit, while Ed picked up the microphone from where it had rolled.
“Let’s all hear it for Braden from The Marrying Kind, everyone! Thanks for the lovely roast. May you one day find as much happiness as Jen and Justin, whether on-screen or off.”
“And thank you for making our big day so special,” Justin said from his spot on the wall. “We literally wouldn’t be where we are without you. At least, Jen wouldn’t. I would probably be in Florida, either way.”
From the side of the stage, Braden yell-sobbed, “Don’t do it, man! Marriage will ruin you. Look what love did to me.”
“We all appreciate your perspective, Braden,” Ed said into the microphone, “but I’m pretty sure our bride and groom are still planning to get married on Saturday. Personally, I can’t wait. Thank you everyone for coming out tonight.
“Let’s hear it for Jen and Justin!”
Chapter 16
Jen in the Chapel, Friday morning:
The bachelorette party was amazing! I’ve always known Ed’s super funny, but I loved the chance to see him
on stage. I just wish Justin could have been sitting beside me. We could’ve roasted each other.
This morning’s supposed to be pretty low-key, I think. Logan said something about working on decorations? I’m not sure. Mostly, I need to call Justin to see if he got a flight yet, make sure Sarah’s dress is being delivered, check in with the guests stranded in Atlanta, and see if we need to push the ceremony back a few days.
What do you mean, do I mind postponing the wedding? I can’t get married without a groom. It sucks, but it is what it is.
Friday morning after breakfast, Janine strode into the kitchen where I sat with Birdie, Rachel, and Ed. I immediately sat up straighter, not just because of the way she commanded a room, but because I’d barely seen her since my arrival. All key information thus far had been conveyed to me through Connor and Logan. The fact that she was in the house, looking for me, meant something was up.
With any luck, Janine came to tell me how they planned to get Justin to LA before Saturday. A private jet owned by the Network perhaps, a helicopter, or maybe they could get him a ticket out of another airport not far from Miami. Or maybe they had some news on the rest of my family.
Before I could ask what she wanted, Janine said, “You need to go get your marriage license after you’re done. One of the PAs will drive you over.”
As she spoke, my slowly filling balloon of hope deflated with a whoosh. Then I mentally shook myself. Of course she wasn’t here with good news. She wasn’t even here with a logical request.
“I can’t go get a marriage license today. Justin’s still in Florida. We’ll go when he gets here. Unless you have some way of helping him arrive sooner? Did he get a flight yet?”
“No, I’m afraid we can’t control the weather or TSA,” Janine said. “He’s been on standby all week, but there’s nothing we can do at this point. The courthouse isn’t open on Saturday, so it’s today or nothing. As far as I know, Justin’s not even on a plane yet, so I’m afraid you’ll have to go without him. You’re going early, in case there’s a line.”
Reality Wedding Page 16
