Twisted Reality (Blind Reality #2) (14 page)

“Baby, come on, please open the door,” I beg as I slide down the door, defeated. My elbow bangs against the door in a last ditch effort to get her to open up. I keep trying until the ache in my arm is too much to bear.

When I wake, my clothes are stacked on the table and the bedroom door is wide open. I rush in, looking for Joey, only to find that she’s not there. I call out her name, but know in my heart she won’t reply. Her missing suitcase confirms my worst fears, but still hanging in the closet is her wedding dress. The one she bought so we could have our dream wedding.

I search for my phone and find it sitting on my pile of clothes. Thankfully, it’s charged and I dial her number immediately.

“Hello,” she answers right off.

“Why did you leave me? You promised you wouldn’t leave me, Joey. I wake up and you’re gone.”

“Josh, I’m doing laundry.”

“What?” I ask as my chest heaves. I’m close to hyperventilating.

“Take a deep breath. I’m downstairs doing laundry.”

I do as she says and try to labor my breathing.

“I thought it would be better if I did our laundry instead of sending it out. I don’t really trust anyone right now.”

“Oh God, babe. I thought you left me. I thought you gave up on me.”

“I promised, remember?”

I sit and try to calm myself down. Tugging at the ends of my hair, I fight back the rush of tears. “Why’d you lock me out last night?”

She sighs and I can hear her moving around, hopefully to get some privacy. “I needed space, Josh. I think we’re at an impasse where Bronx and Jules are concerned. I trust him, you trust her, and we don’t trust either.”

“He wants you, Joey, you’re too blind to see it.”

“Josh, he’s happily married to Rebekah. She was there when we were talking. He’s my friend and right now I need all the friends that I can get.”

“I know. I’m so sorry that we’re going through this.”

“I know you are, Josh. We have to find a happy medium and deal with it.”

“How long until you’re done, baby? I really need to see you before I go to work.”

Joey is moving again and the noise from the laundry room is getting louder.

“The timer is about to go off. I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

“I’ll be waiting. I love you, Joey.” I don’t want for her to say it back before hanging up. I use the opportunity to jump in the shower quickly and wash off yesterday’s events. The make-up artist is going to have a field day with the bags under my eyes.

By the time I’m out, Joey is walking in. As soon as she sets our clothes down I tackle her onto the bed.

“Josh, you’re wet.”

I shake my head, making sure she’s getting the water droplets from my hair.

“Isn’t that my line?” I ask, winking at her.

Rolling her eyes, Joey pushes me off of her. I don’t go willingly, but move aside so she can sit up.

“Is that what you’re wearing today?” She’s dressed in sweats that are pulled up to her knees and a tank top. Her hair is piled high on her head with a crazy bun that makes her look taller.

“Excuse me?” she says, looking down at her clothes. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

I stand and pull her to me. “You’re going to work with me. I’m not risking anything. I don’t want you here by yourself.”

“I thought I wasn’t allowed on set?”

Even though she put clothes out for me, I take what I need from the basket she brought up. “You’re not, and if they want to fire me they can. I’m going to have the driver stop at the store for you to pick up some books or whatever and you can bring your laptop. My trailer is small, but you’ll be on set and protected from the media.”

“I need to change, give me a few minutes.” Joey takes a pile of clothes and disappears into the bathroom. While she’s changing I use the time to call the Blaze PR. They’re a company I’ve used for public relations work and ask them to send someone out for me. They let me know that they’ll send a contact over right away. I can’t trust Matt, let alone use him to get my stuff done, so a PR company is my next best thing. Besides, they’ll be able to issue press releases for Joey and I, saving us from interviews.

My next call is to the director, letting him know that Joey will be with me as it’s a matter of security. He balks, but finally agrees considering we only have a few days left. It’s not like she’s going to watch filming; she’ll be holed up in my stuffy trailer. It’ll be boring as fuck for her, but at least she’ll be there … for me. And finally to the hotel manager, asking him to make sure there is security downstairs for us.

When she comes out of the bathroom, my mouth falls open. Standing before me is my wife, who’s completely changed the way she looked. Gone are the sweats—replaced with some stylish pants and a sleeveless shirt—and her hair is down and straight. Light make-up accents her tanned skin, making her picture perfect ready.

“Wow.”

“Actor wife presentable?” She spins in a circle with me nodding the entire time.

“Let’s go to work,” I tell her, reaching for her hand. She stops and grabs her sunglasses, sliding those on as we leave the hotel. As soon as we exit the elevator I slip my sunglasses on as well and make sure she’s right up tight to me.

“Mr. and Mrs. Wilson, I’m Johnny. Blaze PR asked me to step in until they can send someone to escort you for the remainder of your trip.” Johnny shows me his police badge and all I can think is that Blaze doesn’t fuck around when it comes to their clients. All I asked was for a rep, but some extra security works for me as well.

I shake hands with Johnny who is wearing a black suit that isn’t shy about hiding the gun resting on his hip. I introduce him to Joey and he tells her that she’ll be safe with him. This gives me a piece of mind, but she’s still going to set with me. I’m not taking any chances even if the threat is Jules. I don’t know how Matt is going to react after last night.

As soon as we step outside the noise level increases. Questions are screamed at us, some that I never want to hear again, and pictures are snapped. Not once did they ask us to look at them, just started slinging the dirt that will make me do more damage control. Even inside the car with tinted windows, they’re yelling at us, hoping that we’re actually going to answer them.

Pulling Joey to me, I kiss her forehead. “It won’t be so bad once we go back to Los Angeles.”

“That’s good.”

I pick up her hand and kiss her ring. “Maybe while I’m shooting today, you can look for a house, or condo? Something we can put a down payment on?”

She nods and smiles bigger than I’ve seen in the past twenty-four hours, giving me hope that everything is going to be okay once we get back to our lives.

L
os Angeles is where Josh is most alive. As soon as we left the airport, he started acting like a kid in the penny candy store. There’s a different vibe to him now that we’re back in his city and it makes me miss the early days that we spent in Alabama. He’s talking a mile minute to his newly hired PR rep while I stare out the window at the scenery passing by, although it’s not much to look at from the highway.

The last few days in Daphne were crazy to say the least. I couldn’t go anywhere, not that I really wanted to, but once I was given a bodyguard it felt like my life was suddenly a cage. A matter of hours after the altercation with Matt, he decided that Josh was no longer a suitable client for him and filed a lawsuit against him for assault. That ignited yet another media storm and the prompt hiring of another lawyer to countersue. Except it’s not Josh suing, it’s both of us. I never knew you could sue for such trivial things, but according to Josh what Matt did was unethical and against his agent/client code—whatever that means. Either way, I’ve been told not to worry. But that’s easier said than done.

It seems that our marriage is starting off very rocky. So far he’s had to fire his lawyer because of me, and now there’s the situation with his agent because of me. And I can’t forget Jules. No, there will be no forgetting Jules, ever. I can’t even count forward to eighteen years because she’ll never be gone. In my mind Josh and I are married forever and the realization that our forever will include Jules truly sucks. They will always have a bond that Josh and I won’t—and honestly, I’m not sure I can live with that. It’s a hard pill to swallow, knowing your husband’s ex is having his child and you’re not. Even if I thought about broaching the subject of having a baby, I know deep in my heart he’ll shoot the notion down. He doesn’t want children. I knew this at the end of our ninety days and still chose to stay.

“What do you think?” Josh asks, his voice full of eagerness.

“I’ve been here before,” I remind him with a smile that matches his.

“Yes, but now it’s different. We’re different.” He squeezes my hand before leaning over to give me a kiss. He’s right, we
are
different. When we left, everything seemed to be perfect. I was foolish to live inside a bubble thinking nothing bad was going to happen. I expected something from Jules, but in the way of tabloid fodder, a botched sex tape, or an exposé on how Josh broke her heart when he went on the show. Boy was I wrong on all accounts. Those I could’ve easily dealt with. I’ve watched enough Barbara Walters and TMZ to know what’s real and what’s not, to know when to laugh it all off and when to fan girl. Sadly, the fan girl in me is fizzling out because this Hollywood drama is too much to take.

We pull into an apartment complex that seems average. There’s nothing striking about it, no security or high walled fence with a passcode keeping people who don’t belong out. When I look over at Josh, he seems excited and I want to ask him if we’re picking someone up, except the driver has parked and is opening my door.

“We’re home … sort of,” Josh says.

“Sort of?”

He shrugs. “Until we find our own place.”

“Oh …” Is all I can say as the driver reaches for my hand to help me out of the car. I let him because right now my legs are shaking and I need all the help I can get. Between the three of us we carry our bags past the people saying hi to Josh, up the flight of stairs, and down the open-aired hallway. The only thing preventing us from falling to our death—or at least saving us from being critically injured—is a wrought iron railing.

Josh opens the door, walking in first. I follow and the driver steps in behind me, hitting the back of my legs with the luggage he’s carrying. He doesn’t apologize or even say good-bye as he turns and leaves. The thought crosses my mind that I need to go with him because as I look around I’m having a hard time fathoming that Josh lives here. I know he said his place was small and affordable, but the living room is as big as the bathroom from the hotel we stayed at and that wasn’t even a massive hotel.