“You know you could leave, catch a flight somewhere.”
Ignoring Rob, I continue to pack. It’s a chore that I hate, but this time I’m taking my time to fold my shirts nicely, making sure my jeans aren’t rolled into a disastrous ball, and even separating my underwear and socks. I don’t want my new wife to think I’m a slob, even though the state of my apartment confirms that I am.
“What about a non-disclosure agreement?”
I shake my head, causing Rob to throw his hands up in the air in frustration. Matt and Jason are going to their graves prematurely.
“I see your acting lessons are paying off.” Rob is what Hollywood considers a B-list actor. He gets minor parts here and there, but hasn’t been considered for anything major. That’s all me. After one small part that turned into an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor, my career has skyrocketed. Matt Stokes is my agent. He’s older, sophisticated, and works amazing deals for me. Jason MacNicholl is my lawyer. He’s young, resilient, and a workhorse. He’s currently having a mild heart attack because I refuse to have my future bride sign a non-disclosure agreement. I can’t have one signed. We can’t do it before the ceremony because that will give away my identity and once we’re married, it’ll be too late. I’ve assured them both that we won’t be consummating the relationship, so there shouldn’t be anything to worry about.
“I’m trying to look out for you,” he says with a shake of his head. “I just don’t get why you’re doing this.”
I set down my shirt and sit on the edge of my bed. This all started late last fall. Rob and I had met for a few drinks and ran into Barry Barnett, one of the producers from the reality show. The more the drinks flowed, the more Rob started joking about me submitting my name for the next season. I laughed him off until Barry insinuated I didn’t have what it takes to compete. I didn’t take too kindly to that and Barry told me to prove it. I let it go, but the drinks continued to flow and then my on again/mostly off again girlfriend, Jules, showed up and started acting like we were together, which we hadn’t been for a while. She laughed when I told her I was going on the show to find real love, but stormed out of the restaurant once I took the pen from Barry. She never saw me sign on the dotted line.
I never thought in a million years Barry would hold me to it, but he has. I have a feeling that with my celebrity status they’d enjoy the rating increase, but having me on is a liability. Yes, they’re viewership could double or triple, but unless they follow me up with another celeb in the next season, they will lose that market.
I’m doing this for one reason … well, two actually. Aside from my contractual obligation, I’m going to use my time on television to talk about my charity. When I got my first big break, I helped revamp the community center where I grew up. Yes, I grew up in a community center. I had three meals a day, someone to help me with my homework, and people to listen to me when I needed them. I have parents, but until they divorced they did nothing but fight. What kid wants to listen to their parents fight every single day? Not me, that’s for sure. So each day before and after school, I biked over to Valley Hill Community Center. I thought after my parents split, things would get better. They didn’t. They both remarried and found new hobbies to occupy their time. They’ve both since divorced and remarried multiple times. It’s all I know. That’s why I can take this so lightly. Marriages, especially in Hollywood, are a dime a dozen.
“I’m doing this because being married for three months without any outside interference is going to be easy. This girl and I are going to walk away with five hundred thousand each and Valley Hill will be front and center on everyone’s mind. I’ll have ample airtime to talk about it, and maybe people in the community will see what a gem it is and help fix it up. Jason only lets me donate so much to them a year, so after I win, the Center will have enough for some major renovations.”
“You’re going to have a wife.”
“It’s a showmance at best.”
“She’ll develop feelings for you.”
Not gonna happen. “There’s no way. I’ll tell her the moment we’re off camera that this is nothing but a business transaction. Hell, for her it’s a chance to say she was married to an actor for three months and she made some money out of the deal.”
Rob turns to leave, lingering in my doorway. “Jules is flipping out. And you’re making your future wife sound like a gold-digging whore.”
“Jules has no say in what I do.” It’s been all too convenient that she’s been away filming and we haven’t been able to talk face-to-face about me leaving.
“Does she know that?”
I shrug, not caring how Jules feels. “She left me for someone else, and when he wasn’t good enough, she came back thinking I’m a revolving door. We’re toxic together, you know that.”
Rob stares at me for a minute before shaking his head. “Everything about this is bad for you. Take my advice and talk to Jules before you leave, get your head straight, and treat this new wife of yours with respect while you’re living in that house. Remember, your legion of fans will be watching and they probably have this crazy idea that you’re a stand-up guy.”
“I am a stand-up guy.”
Rob taps his knuckles on the doorjamb. “Anyway, I have an audition. I guess I’ll see ya in three months.” He leaves me sitting in my room with a lot to think about. I know a lot of gold diggers, most of them being my numerous stepmothers. My dad has no qualms about using my name to get a wife, and it only takes them a few months to realize that I’m the one with the money. He’s not. They fight, he borrows money for a lavish vacation, and they stay together only to break up months later. Boom, another divorce. My mom, on the other hand, marries rich and is happy until her husband leaves her for a younger version.
I pull out my cell phone, pressing the green phone button. Jules’ name is at the top for my most recent missed calls. Her name is actually in red all the way down my screen. I’ll have to scroll to see who else I have a missed call from. I contemplate calling her, but that ship has sailed for me. I’m only waiting for her to catch my drift and move on. Jules Maxwell is every guy’s dream girl, except for mine. She’s gorgeous, Italian-American, and has a rocking body. Her curves go on for miles. At first, I couldn’t get enough of her. That all changed when I missed two callbacks because she wasn’t answering her phone one day. I found out she was with Bronx Taylor, helping him prepare for a role that I was auditioning for. I was so consumed by her that I was messing up my life. We broke up only to sort of get back together. It’s complicated and messy.
I’m not nervous. I thought I’d be pacing the floor, counting the reasons why I need to bail, but I’m not. There’s no sweat dripping down the back of my neck, and I’m not pulling on my bowtie so I can breathe easier. I’m actually looking forward to this. I met the other two guys getting married today and one was sweating so bad his shirt was soaked. I made a mental note in the back of my head that he won’t fare well in competitions. I have to live with these guys, and from experience I know guys are slobs.
Listening to Cole Brooks—the non-sweaty bachelor—prattle on about how he’s here to find his soul mate, his destiny, makes me want to shake him. He needs a healthy dose of reality poured over his head. Soul mates don’t exist. My mom has found five of them in my twenty-seven years. My mom averages a new destiny every three and a half years. Good luck, Cole.
Gary Williams—the sweaty bachelor—is called first. The production assistant hands him a blindfold and before he can put it on, he’s retching in the trashcan. I make eyes with the PA, making sure he knows to get rid of it. Gary and Cole don’t know who I am. Not that I blame them. I can’t imagine they watch many chick flicks. I have a feeling once we’re in the house though, the women will know. I just hope my new wife at least likes my movies.
My name is called next. I stand and adjust my tux. The blindfold is handed to me, and I slip it over my eyes and tie it behind my head.
“Hold onto my arm, Mr. Wilson,” the PA says, placing his arm under my hand. When we came down the hall, I did notice that it was free of obstacles so I’m not worried about tripping on anything.
Loud cheers erupt when I walk on stage. The audience has no idea that it’s me under this blindfold, but I can tell by some of the murmurs they’re guessing. I suppose if they knew, then the women in the audience would be fighting my bride for her spot.
Truth be told, I sort of like how I’m about to get married.
The bridal march plays overhead and my nerves start to get the better of me until her hand is slipped into mine and a peaceful calm takes over. The announcer, who is also an ordained minister sanctioned by the state of California—it was in the contract—starts yammering on about the show and how everything works. He tells the audience that Married Blind will air twice a week and that viewers will be able to tweet us questions as well as vote on some of our competitions. This seems to please them, but they’re just following the prompters when it tells them to laugh.