Twisted Reality (Blind Reality #2)

by Heidi McLaughlin

  He picks up our joined hands and kisses mine, then places them back on his lap and continues to navigate to the parking lot. “We spent ninety-days locked in a house together. I hope by now you’ve come to terms that this is real and I want to be with you.”

  “But you hate marriage,” I blurt out without thinking. His aversion to marriage has never left my mind. In fact, thoughts of him deciding this isn’t for him plague me. Will I wake up one day and find his bags packed by the door with a somber expression on his face, telling me he’s leaving? Or better yet, will he cheat because that is the example his parents set for him? My parents have a happy marriage, but it’s not without trials and tribulations. I remember them fighting a lot when I was younger, but they never seemed to stay angry at each other for long and I always went to bed with the image of my mom wrapped in my dad’s arms.

  After turning off the car, Josh angles his body as much as he can to look at me. His fingers caress my cheek and a shy smile plays along my lips as he does. I can’t help but lean into his touch and wonder if this feeling will ever go away.

  “I did, and I probably still do, but you make everything seem effortless. Maybe it’s the newness of being in love or the fact that you and I connected on a different level. I don’t know, but I don’t want this feeling to go away. When I try to look at the future, you’re standing by my side. There were many nights that I laid awake with you sleeping on my chest, and wondered what it was going to be like outside the house with you not next to me. Each time, my heart ached, Joey. And that was something I didn’t like feeling.”

  He leans toward me and I meet him halfway. When our lips touch, it feels like it’s the first time again. Everything I felt on stage comes rushing back and I find myself holding him to my lips longer, afraid of letting the memory go. The rush of excitement, the lights and the audience are on instant replay as his lips move softly along mine.

  When we break for air, he whispers, “Wow.” And I know he felt it, too.

  He kisses me again, quickly, before exiting the car and running in front of it and to my door. It’s funny, I never expected him to be a gentleman, especially considering he has people that do these things for him, but he is and I like it a lot. When I was with my ex, he didn’t hold the door or rush ahead to open it. He lagged back and waited for me to open it. I was annoyed at first, but grew accustomed to just doing it myself. I suppose that should’ve been my first sign that we were doomed.

  With his hand held out to me, he helps me out of the car. Josh plants a kiss right on my lips, out in the open for everyone to see.

  “I’m going to go check us in,” I tell him breathlessly. Maybe we should’ve stayed in the hotel for another day before venturing outside. I like the idea of being wrapped in his arms, but I also like the thought of being outside and frolicking in the water with him.

  Once we are checked in, the cabana boy—no, that’s not his official title—takes us to where we’re going to be staying. It’s private in the sense that no one can see into our cabana unless they’re walking by, but definitely wide open in the aspect that the beach is public. Josh thanks him and gives him a tip.

  “Do you think he recognized you?” I ask as I set out our beach towels on the chaise lounges.

  “If he did, he won’t say anything. Most places like to keep their reputation of being a place celebrities can visit. It’d suck if I posted something negative.”

  “Would you do that?” I inquire. I’m curious to know if it’s something he’d do if our location were outted.

  “Depends. Here, probably not. We’re out in public and it’s to be expected, although not from an employee. If we were somewhere private, yes, I’d expect complete anonymity.”

  “Should I expect the same?”

  “Absolutely,” he says, pulling me into his arms. “If you decide to go to the spa, I would expect them to treat you better than they treat me.”

  My fingers play with the ends of his hair. It’s surreal to think that his name gives me any sort of power in the circle of Hollywood. I don’t even know how I’d go about using it for something like that.

  “You’re my wife and everyone knows it. When you call to make a hair appointment, or schedule a manicure, these places aren’t going to tell anyone. They’re used to keeping their client lists to themselves.”

  “It’s so strange.”

  “You’ll get used to it, but what you won’t get used to is this.” Josh suddenly scoops me in his arms and an errant squeal escapes through my parted lips. I expect him to toss me onto the chaise, but instead he takes off running toward the ocean.

  “Josh, put me down,” I demand as my grip on his shoulders becomes deadly. I close my eyes, fearing what is about to come. As soon as I hear the splashing, I brace myself by holding my breath.

  If I’m expecting for him to launch into the water, I’m surely mistaken. Instead, he submerges both of us, never letting me go. The water envelops me and while it’s cold, being in his arms is all the warmth I need.

  “You surprise me every day, Joshua.”

  “Good, I don’t want to be predictable.”

  We stay in each other’s arms, or within arms’ reach, splashing each other until other beachgoers arrive. It’s nice that they’re focused on their own tasks instead of looking at us. I know it’s only a matter of time before he’s recognized, but hopefully when it happens they will leave us alone.

  When we finally head back to our cabana, strawberries and champagne have been delivered. The note on the platter reads, “Welcome, Newlyweds.”

  “They know who you are,” I say to Josh as I hand him the note.

  “No, they know who we are, Joey, and it’s time that you accept it. We’re a package deal. You spent three months on a television show, people recognize you now. Reality stars are big news. It’s not like you had little airtime or were only shown for five minutes of an hour-long show. With or without me, you’re recognizable.”

  “Oh,” I say, unable to form a coherent sentence after his rant.

  “You’re Joey Wilson. It’s time to embrace it.”

  “So does that mean I get your credit card?” I start to laugh immediately after the words tumble out of my mouth. I didn’t mean it to sound like I want to spend his money. I don’t. I can earn my own and still plan to.

  “Yes, but it will have your name on it. I’ve already ordered it.”

  “You did? When?”

  He motions for me to sit down, but instead of sitting across from him, I sit next to him so we can face each other.

  “Before I asked you to marry me again.”

  “What if I had said no?”

  He shrugs and instead of answering right away, he gives me a glass of champagne and brings a strawberry to my lips. I bite, taking my time to push through the sweet fruit. Josh lets out an audible growl, causing me to laugh.

  “Even if you had said no, I had no intention of filing the paperwork until we had a chance to spend some time together. I knew how you felt about me … hell, how you feel about us, and wanted to fight for a chance with you.”

  I take a drink of the champagne, letting the cool bubbly liquid tickle its way down my throat. “I wouldn’t have spent your money.”

  “I know, but it would’ve been there for you if you needed it.”

  The fact that he did this isn’t lost on me. I know I’m entitled to his earnings—maybe not what he’s done prior to our marriage, but everything coming up—and knowing that makes me ill. I would never take advantage of him like that. If he were to file for divorce, as he originally planned early on, I would’ve been fine. Albeit, heartbroken.

  “Do you want me to sign a pre-nup?”

  Blanching at my question, he shakes his head. Josh downs his glass of champagne and finishes mine for me also. I want to balk, but the seriousness I see on his face tells me I shouldn’t say anything.

  Josh kisses me; his cold tongue tastes fruity, and it’s very inviting. Before I realize what’s happening, we’re
on our sides with my leg between his and our lips moving aggressively against each other’s.

  “What’s mine is yours. Tonight when we get back to the hotel, I’ll show you everything. You can see all my earnings, and what I have in the pipeline.”

  “Josh, I don’t need to see all of that.”

  “You’re my partner, Joey, and I’m going to want your opinion on scripts. Plus, you need to know how much to spend when looking for a house for us.”

  “A house?”

  He shrugs. “Or maybe a condo. I’m not too keen on the idea that I’ll be on location and you’ll be home, waiting for me. Selfishly, I’d rather have you in a hotel waiting for me to come back every night.”

  “I’ll be wherever you want me to be.”

  He smiles before kissing me into oblivion. I don’t want this euphoria to go away, but know deep in my heart it will if we’re not careful.

  Being on set right now sucks. It’s not that I hate my job because I don’t. I love what I do and am blessed to have a talent that pays me well. It’s just that I want to be someplace else and making this movie is the last thing I want to be doing right now. The timing is bad, but I had no idea that spending my summer in a house, married to someone that I’d fall in love with, would put a wrench into my plans. I want to whisk Joey away to some island, where her and I can just be us and not worry about anything, but I can’t. I’m filming back-to-back movies and it’ll be months before we’re able to go away and spend quality time with each other.

  The worst part about this whole situation was leaving Joey’s warm arms at the crack-ass of dawn and walking into a hot and humid trailer. I didn’t even bother anyone with a hello when I arrived on set, I just yelled out asking why the air conditioner wasn’t on because I was angry that my life isn’t going the way I want it to right now. It’s not even that hot, but between the thicker air and my frustration of having to end my honeymoon, it’s the only thing I could think of to let people know I’m not happy.

  Without any more provocation on my part, the AC was flipped on, even though I probably could’ve done without it at four in the morning. I’m not sure what the director is thinking, starting us off on a sunrise scene, but whatever. They get paid the big bucks for their creative vision, not me.

  “Sit here,” an overly eager and far too peppy woman with a headset on, who appears out of nowhere, barks orders at me. I’m willing to bet she was the one who flipped the switch on the air conditioner, as she’s the only other person in my trailer. She’s telling people what to do through her microphone and pointing in every direction even though there isn’t another person in sight. To my knowledge I’m the only one in here right now unless I’m sharing. And if that’s the case, Matt and I will be having words very shortly.

  “Here’s your schedule for the day, along with your lines broken out per scene. You need to be in make-up in five.” With that she storms out, slamming the door behind her, and continues to yap into her headset. I go over the stack of papers, rereading the lines that I’ve already committed to memory. Even though I know them, I’ll refresh my memory before every scene because I know I’m likely to forget since my head isn’t in it right now.

  As soon as I step outside, I wish for the cool air in my trailer. People with the same disgruntled look that I’m wearing, filter around mumbling incoherent sentences as they hustle to do their jobs. I’ve always said that one day I want to do each job on a movie set, but I never get the time and no one ever takes me seriously. Most A-list stars think I’m crazy when I say that, brushing me off as if I’m trying to prove something. I’m not. I’m trying to learn the craft because my good looks will only get me so far until the next young stud comes along. I need a backup plan. Everyone has to start and even finish somewhere, and while some were born into the industry, or happened to hit it big with one movie, I’m paving my way with each movie I’m in.

  I realize as I walk into the make-up trailer I have no idea who my co-star is. The correspondence I had with Matt about this movie was that I refused to work with Jules. I never did follow up and see if the female lead was changed. I suppose once I find out who I’m working with, it will determine if I’m even staying on this film or not. For all I know Matt didn’t take it seriously and Jules is still starring opposite me.

  I grab the first chair I see and sit down, letting the ladies get to work. One does my hair, while the other focuses on my make-up. It’s a hazard of the job and one that I loathe. I don’t know how women do it every day when the constant feeling that something is on your face drives me crazy. That is one of the things I love most about Joey. She’s not afraid to go without make-up.

  “Well, you don’t need much,” the girl says as the brush moves over my face. “You’ve been tanning, I see.”

  “The sun does wonders.”

  “You should use sunblock,” she counters.

  “You’re right and I do, but even that doesn’t always help.”

  “Please take off your shirt.” She states it as if this is an every day occurrence for us.

  “Excuse me?”

  With a huff, she turns her back to me. I can see her reflection in the mirror as she looks down at her palette of make-up.

  “Your scene is shirtless. I need to make sure your skin isn’t blotchy.”

  I do as she says, placing my shirt on the counter in front of me.

  “What is that?” The make-up artist points to a red spot that sits on my pec. I look down and rub my hand over the spot, remembering very clearly how it got there. Joey and I had just finished parasailing and were back in our cabana having a little fun. One thing led to another and she ended up biting me hard, leaving a mark. I happen to like it.

  “An imprint of my wife’s teeth.”

  The soulless eyes of my make-up artist try to burn a hole through my head. The way she looks at me should be enough to send me into a mess of tears while cowering in the corner.

  “You have a shirtless shoot and you let some woman dig her teeth into your skin?”

  For the first time in my career I’m faced with having to bite my tongue. Or maybe I shouldn’t. No one should speak about my wife, in any way, ever. Often I’d hear people talk about Jules and it bothered me, but not enough to say anything. With Joey, it’s different. I’m different.

  “Let’s be very clear on one thing here, that woman is my wife and you will respect her whether she’s standing in this room or not. If she wants to leave her mark on me, then so be it. It’s your damn job to cover it up, and if that isn’t something you’re capable of doing I have no doubts you can be easily replaced.” I’m surprised by my tone. I never raised my voice, but made sure she understood me clearly. The hair stylist behind me never says a thing, even though she paused with her fingers in my hair. It’s slightly awkward, but I get it.

  “It’ll take time.”

  “Not my issue,” I remind her as I sit back in the chair and let them do their thing. If I thought she was going to be gentle, I was sadly mistaken. She took every opportunity to dig into my skin that she could, making sure I was well aware how angry she is that she had to work extra at covering up the blemish. Next time she should ask me if I care … not that there’ll be a next time for her on any film I’ll be working on in the future.

  “Hello,” I call out as soon as I open the door to our suite. Soft music plays from behind our bedroom door. I follow the sound to the bathroom and peek in. My wife is encased in bubbles with headphones on and her lips are moving to whatever song she’s listening to. All I can think about is how my life is playing out in the movies. I’m in Alabama where her favorite movie is based out of and she’s playing Julia Roberts in the bathtub like Pretty Woman, minus the hooker part. This better have a happy fucking ending because after today I’m going to need one.

  I contemplate letting her know I’m here or just start taking my clothes off. My dick is already straining against my pants, begging to be free and buried inside of her. The water splashing catches my attention and
when I look, she’s eyeing me.

  “Hey,” I say, stepping into the bathroom.

  Joey moves to the edge and pulls off her headphones.

  “Hi.” Her voice is sweet and soothing, something I missed all day. I thought I’d have time to call her, but I didn’t even have time to take a leak or grab food. Work was constant because my new co-star has to report to college for her last semester of classes so the director wants to get all her scenes done as soon as possible.

  Bending down on my knees, I capture her lips with mine. I’ve missed the taste of her mouth and how she makes me feel like everything is right in the world. The attraction I feel for her is surpassing anything I have ever felt before.

  Joey grabs at the buttons on my jeans and quickly works her hand inside my pants, pushing them down as much as she can over my hips. My cock jumps with anticipation knowing he’s about to get lucky.

  Slipping off my shirt and losing the jeans, shoes, and socks, I step into the garden tub. The water is still hot and slightly burns my skin.

  “How long have you been in here?”

  “Only a few minutes.”

  I pull her to me, unable to refrain from having her near me. Joey straddles me, the water sloshing around us. You would think that we’d avoid being in the tub or shower since this is the only place we could be alone while we were in the house, but yet here we are.

  Her breasts are covered in soapy suds, making it hard for me to see her taut nipples, and before I can do anything about it, she leans forward and moves her wet body along mine. In an instant I’m hard and wanting to be inside of her.

  “I missed you today,” I tell her, losing my fucking man card once and for all. All these emotions that she’s bringing out of me are hard to cope with, but necessary. With Jules I always felt detached, afraid to show her how I felt, but with Joey I can’t help it.

  “Show me how much,” she all but begs as she continues to slide up and down my body. I don’t have to do anything when she centers herself, except guide her hips.