Twisted Reality (Blind Reality #2)

by Heidi McLaughlin

  “But you did,” I stupidly remind him, ruining the moment.

  “It’s a mistake I’ll never make again.”

  While we dress for dinner, Josh gives me the rundown on what to expect. He says most of the paparazzi will be gone, having moved on to the next celebrity, but some will linger around, waiting for us to make another appearance.

  He asked me from the get-go if I wanted to order room service or venture out and I chose the latter. Not because I don’t want to be holed up with my husband, but because I felt like if we didn’t leave we’d never eat any food, and we’re both famished. We need food in our systems, good food at that, and room service isn’t always reliable when it comes to quality.

  I put on a simple blue dress with matching heels. It was hanging in the closet and Josh said the manager likely sent it up as a gift. It would be rude not to wear it. Josh dresses in relaxed jeans and a button down, rolling up his sleeves and showing off his arm-porn. He catches me licking my lips as he flexes absentmindedly.

  “We can stay in,” he reminds me, causing me to avert my eyes.

  “No, we need to eat and you know as well as I do if we stay here we’ll end up rolling around in our food and not eating it.”

  Josh comes to stand behind me, nipping at my neck. “And what’s wrong with rolling around in a little chocolate pudding?”

  “You’re insatiable.”

  “I am, and it’s all your fault. I can’t get enough of you and I don’t want to share you with anyone else.” He grinds into my backside, showing me just how much my words ring true.

  “Maybe we should go downstairs to the hotel restaurant. That way the manager will see that I’m wearing his gift. The last thing I want to do is upset him.”

  “I like that idea. Being in good graces with hotel managers is beneficial to us, especially when we want to escape. Plus, that means if we stay in, there will be no paparazzi trying to take our picture. I really like that idea, Mrs. Wilson.”

  My knees go weak when he refers to me as Mrs. Wilson. I lean my head back onto his shoulder, giving him ample space to continue his beautiful assault on my neck.

  “If we’re living in L.A., would we really escape to a hotel?” I’ve read the tabloid reports before—celebrities coming in and out of hotels and calling it a getaway—but if you live there, why would you need to?

  “Depending on what’s going on in your life, the media could be hounding you and sometimes you just want a break. Hotels offer security, seclusion, and other amenities you might not get at home. Most have state-of-the art gyms, spas, and other services.”

  “I guess that makes sense.”

  Josh stands behind me and we regard our reflections in the mirror. Aside from the obvious physical changes—like both our hair being longer and Josh sporting a nice scruff—we’re the same people that we were inside the house.

  “I think I could look at you all day and never tire of it.”

  “I think that would be creepy, but I’d still like it. That means our roles would be reversed. I will have gone from the stalker to the stalked,” I tell him, taking a jab at my own infatuation with him.

  “President of my fan club, remember?” He winks, reminding me of the job title that he bestowed upon me in the house.

  “Is this a paid position?” I ask, turning in his arms. I let my fingers drift along his cheekbones, tickling the pads of my fingers with his whiskers.

  “You don’t have to work, Joey. I’ll take care of you. I already told you earlier that I want you to travel with me. I don’t want to be one of those couples that are separated by distance and plagued by rumors. If we’re together, we’re stronger than being apart.”

  I hadn’t thought about not working, or needing to find a job in Los Angeles. His words give me a sense of relief all while making me feel happy. I want to be with him, and if that means living out of a hotel for however long it takes, so be it. As long as we’re together, I’ll be happy.

  As we touch down at the Jack-Edwards Airport, I figure now is the best time to let her know that Sweet Home Alabama wasn’t exactly filmed here. That has to be one of the hardest parts as an actor when it comes to locations. You read a script and the writers’ notes tell you where the film is based, you get excited and look up what the town is like and try to picture yourself as your character walking down the street, only to find out you’re not actually filming there, but one or two states away because it’s cheaper and the tax credits are higher. In Hollywood it’s all about the most bang for your buck.

  The same can be said about book adaptations. They’re never the same. People are either going to love the book and hate the movie or vice versa. Personally, I love both, especially when they’re different.

  Walking through the airport without a security detail is risky, but I figured no one here would really care. I was wrong. Maybe it’s the drawback of first class. Sure, we get on first and get free cocktails, but getting off the plane first in this situation is backfiring. It didn’t take long, maybe a minute or less, for someone to recognize … Joey. Not me, but my wife. And while I filled with pride and my ego swelled because Joey is fucking gorgeous, I feared the onslaught that was about to ensue.

  Within seconds we were swarmed, stranded out in the middle of the concourse, surrounded by restaurants without a desk agent in sight. Even as I held her tight and tried to push my way through the crowd we weren’t getting anywhere.

  That’s when we were saved by the airport transit who all but ran people over in order to get to us. Once we hopped on, the fans groaned in unison, making it sound like they were growling. Growling! Who the hell growls at people in the airport?

  “Thank you,” I say to the driver.

  “No worries, man,” he replies in a thick Jamaican accent. Hearing him speak gives me another idea for a vacation with Joey. We need a real honeymoon at some tropical island where no one can bother us. I want the seclusion of a private beach without prying eyes and a damn camera.

  “Is it always like that?” Joey asks as she nestles into my side. I can feel her heart beating rapidly and mentally kick my own ass for not thinking things through.

  “No and that’s my fault. I forgot about the show being recently aired and didn’t think we’d need any security. It won’t happen again.” I pull her closer, angling my body toward her, and kiss her on her forehead. Even now that we’re on the transport, people are taking videos and pointing at us.

  Once we get to baggage claim, airport security is there to meet us, as well as our driver. Of course, the sign welcoming me to Alabama isn’t helping matters. Maybe it’s time I develop an alias and start traveling under that. If I do, I want something cool that makes people do a double take.

  We’re taken right out to the car, with our bags already secured by security, and finally closed in once the door slams shut. The quiet is somewhat comforting, but the agitated state my wife is in isn’t.

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “It’s fine, Josh.” Placing her hand on my cheek, she pulls me into a kiss. “I wasn’t mentally prepared and I should’ve been. I’ve seen the crazy pictures coming from LAX. I guess I didn’t think it’d happen at all the airports.”

  “Can I point out that it was you that got us noticed? Not me!” I jab myself in my chest to send the point home, but all she does is laugh.

  “Does that make you jealous?”

  “Hell no. I only worry about how you’re going to react.”

  “I got this,” she says, gracing me with a beautiful smile. “I knew what to expect, and now that I’ve seen it firsthand I’ll be more prepared.”

  The driver pulls us into the car rental location and helps us with our bags. At the counter, we hand over our driver’s licenses and wait.

  “We need to change yours,” I tell Joey.

  Joey looks at me with the most serious expression I have ever seen. “What if I don’t want to change my name? The producers never even asked if I wanted to take my ‘husband’s’ l
ast name. I mean can you imagine if you had the last name Hoey and now I’d be Joey Hoey?”

  “Are you saying you don’t want to be Joey Wilson?” As much as I try to hide the hurt in my voice, I can’t and it’s stupid. I never wanted to be married in the first place, but now that I am, now that I’ve had her in my life for the past four, almost five months I want her to be a Wilson. I want the world to know that she’s mine.

  Her face morphs into a huge smile causing my heart to beat faster. “I’m just giving you a hard time. I think once I have a permanent address I can get my license changed.”

  Draping my arm around her shoulder, I shake my head. “I have a feeling you’re going to keep me on my toes.” Maybe that’s the key to a happy marriage: the jokes, pranks, and reminding ourselves that we can’t take everything so seriously.

  When we’re finally on the road and heading toward Daphne, I drop the bomb. “So you know how you love Sweet Home Alabama?”

  Her eyes light up, instantly making me feel like a dick. “Yes, such a sweet second chance love story and Josh Lucas …” She sighs, making me feel about ten inches tall.

  “Do you have something for actors named Josh?”

  “Yes, but just one mostly. Wilson’s his last name. Have you heard of him?” She winks and I can’t fight the shit-eating grin that spreads across my face. I’ve never felt this way before when receiving a compliment from a beautiful woman. Maybe it’s because I always thought there were ulterior motives and they were only saying these things to get something from me. It’s not like that with Joey. Every time she compliments me, it feels genuine.

  “You’re a smooth talker, Mrs. Wilson. Anyway, your favorite movie wasn’t exactly filmed here. There are a few scenes, but most of it was filmed in Georgia.” I try to watch for her reaction and notice that her mouth drops open and shuts quickly.

  “Hollywood is such a lie.”

  I laugh because it’s true. “I know. I’m sorry that I’m killing all the magic for you.”

  “Eh, it’s okay. So you’re filming in Daphne, which is where my movie was ‘filmed’, but where is yours based out of?”

  “Some coastal town in Texas,” I tell her, trying to recall from my script.

  “Unbelievable,” she says, laughing.

  The drive is only about an hour from the airport to the hotel, but it ends up taking us almost three. We decided to drive along the coastal line as much we could, stopping in as many towns as possible so we can sightsee, capture memories on our phones, and make out under the Spanish moss covered oak trees like the newlyweds we are.

  When we finally pull into our hotel, we’re both tired from traveling. I shouldn’t be staying in Daphne, but I want to be close to Joey and the thought of having to drive or be driven an hour or so away to some ritzy ass hotel doesn’t appeal to me. It’s my hope that our location can remain on the down-low so we can enjoy our time together.

  “Don’t feed the alligators?” Joey slams the car door and points to the sign, her eyes wide with a mix of terror and ‘what the fuck’.

  “You’re in the south. Stay out of the water unless it’s a pool and you can see the water clearly.”

  “But alligators, Josh? Come on? What if one comes ashore and tries to eat me?”

  I laugh. “The likelihood is rare. Alligators only attack if provoked. If you stay out of their habitat, they’ll leave you alone.”

  Joey checks us in while I hang back in the shadows. We’re hoping that because the room has been booked under her maiden name, no one will recognize her. Once she has our keys, we take the short elevator right to the third floor where we have booked one of their larger suites. If we’re going to live here for a few months, we need some comfort. Sadly for me, my idea of comfort doesn’t seem to match that of the hotel.

  “Well this isn’t fancy,” I mutter, dropping our bags on the floor.

  “It’s perfect.” Joey walks past me and goes right to the window. “We have a view of the alligators. It’ll be a joy watching them,” she says sarcastically.

  When I come and stand behind her, I immediately spot one in the water. I don’t know if she sees it or not, and I’m not planning on pointing it out to her. “You know,” I begin as I kiss her neck, “I won’t be working every day and my hours will shift, so we can do a lot together. You won’t always be by yourself. And as long as you’re not pretending to be Captain Hook, you’ll be fine.”

  “If I’m Captain Hook, are you my Peter Pan?” she asks, turning in my arms.

  “I’d rather you be my Tinkerbell,” I tell her as I capture her lips.

  Whenever I’m on vacation, or even when I’ve just finished a film, I like to sleep in. It’s a luxury that I often don’t have. When I’m not working, I’m still up early and hitting the gym to stay in shape.

  But as the sun rises and Joey sleeps in my arms, I’m staring into the morning sun. In our haste last night, we forgot to close the blinds and now I’m paying for it dearly. Tilting my head, I see the red digital number displaying a six and that’s enough to tell me it’s too early to even function. Next week my first call time is at the crack of dawn to film a scene on the beach. The thought of having to change my sleeping habits is enough to make me groan internally.

  When Joey stirs I roll us over so I’m lying on top of her. Her arms envelope me, making me feel secure. I can’t believe I almost lost her and all because of Jules, although she can’t be blamed entirely. I’ve always had a hard time saying no to Jules. That was until I met Joey and realized my future was a reality television show and the person I was partnered with lit up my life with a smile.

  “I want cake,” I whisper against her skin. She laughs a groggy, sleep-filled laugh.

  “You’ll have to wait until we get home.” Her fingers push through my hair, each pass almost lulling me back to sleep.

  “Home,” I say, and that’s when a light bulb goes off. I sit up as much as I can without leaving her arms. “We should buy a house.” My sleeping wife one-eyes me before trying to tug me back down to her chest. “I’m serious, Joey. I live in a small, two-bedroom apartment and you live with your parents. We need our own place without roommates, parents, and all the other riff-raff that comes with my baggage. We need something that is our own where we buy a hodgepodge of furniture and make love in every room.”

  This time she’s fully awake and looking at me. “Isn’t there some law that we have to have nice furniture for when People magazine comes to interview you?”

  “I didn’t say it wasn’t going to be nice. I just said we could be different. I don’t want a theme. I want people to come into our home and feel welcomed, like they can sit and not worry about ruining something. I want a home, Joey. Not a structure with walls and uneasy feelings.”

  She smiles brightly. “Okay, we’ll buy a house when we get back to Los Angeles.”

  “It doesn’t even have to be there,” I tell her, nestling back into her arms.

  “It needs to be where you are, Josh. I don’t want to be far from you,” she says quietly as sleep begins to find her again.

  “I feel the same way, Joey. I feel the same way.” I close my eyes and try to find a little more shut-eye before we start our first day as tourists. It’s my plan to see as much of the area as I can, or find a nice secluded place where I can make love to her all day before I start work and my days are filled with film crews, memorized lines, and acting like I’m in love with someone I’m not.

  After stopping in all the small towns on the way to Daphne from the airport, I suggested Josh take the highway to Orange Beach. I didn’t want to be tempted to stop again and really wanted to sink my toes into the sand and relax in his arms under our private cabana.

  The reservations were made under my name, as we’ve decided to use it as long as possible until people realize we’re here and start hounding him. Josh reminds me that I’ll be the subject of a lot of scrutiny once the media gets wind that I’m with him. I can handle it; at least I think I can. I suppose nothing
prepares you for people following you around taking your picture, or stopping you on the street and asking for a selfie. One thing Josh has promised me is that when we’re eating dinner, he won’t engage fans, but asked that I understand that when shopping or walking down the street with him it’s a different story. I get it. He doesn’t want to ruin the fan base, and if I saw him trotting along I’d be asking for a picture too. It’s in our nature, I think as a fan. As much as I love being with him, I know there are going to be times when I hate his career. Even as a fan I fantasized about being with him. Being there with the glitz and glamour, standing proud next to him as our photos are being taken. And now that I know him and have had a taste with the spotlight, I can’t see how the spouses don’t crack under pressure.

  Love conquers all, though, and that’s the motto I’m going to live by.

  Absentmindedly, my hand slips into his as I stare out the window at the passing cars. Young women, with the tops to their cute little cars down, are oblivious of the fact that I’m holding hands with Joshua Wilson. I have no doubt in my mind that if they could see through the tinted windows their phones would be out and all sense of responsibility would be lost as they try and snap a picture of him.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asks as he exits the highway. Right before my eyes is the most pristine waters I have ever seen. I know they’re not best, but seeing the white sands and the crystal blue waters is enough to make me catch my breath. I’ve always loved the ocean, but now it’s going to have a different meaning, being here with Josh on our honeymoon.

  “Nothing in particular.”

  “Must’ve been something because I saw you frown.”

  Did he? Was he paying that close attention to me while I was daydreaming?

  Glancing over at him, I smile. “I was remembering a time when I fantasized about being with you, like this.” I hold up our conjoined hands. “And now I’m wondering if it’s just a dream.”