Sweet Reality by Laura Heffernan (5)

More from the Guppy Gabber, Sunday:

 

Jen: Oh, of course this would happen. Why do I let the producers surprise me anymore?

 

Justin: Lived in Florida my whole life, never took a cruise. What’s wrong with me? All you can eat, lots of booze, no textbooks, plus Jen. This is the best vacation ever.

 

Ed: Hello, America. I’m back and ready for more fabulous drama! I can’t wait to see what the show has cooked up for us. Mystery? Love? Deception? No one knows! Isn’t this awesome?

 

Justin: I can’t speak for our roommate, but my bunk bed unfortunately won’t be used to recreate Ed’s child summer camp experience. I wish Jen and I were in our own room.

 

Ariana: Okay, fine, whatever, the baby joke wasn’t funny. I just wanted to break the ice and address the elephant in the room. No one gets me around here. Why do I subject myself to this?

 

 

When my butt slid off the stool and slammed into the deck, I prayed for the floor to open up and swallow me. No such luck. I’d be watching this scene on YouTube for the rest of my life. My fall would be a viral GIF before the first episode finished airing.

“Are you okay?” Danielle asked.

She reached one hand down to help me, but I ignored it and pulled myself up. “What do you care? I’m nothing but a home-wrecking liar, right?” I quoted directly from the interview she’d given to Talky Ted, the tabloid “reporter” who apparently never found any real news to talk about. He’d taken quite an interest in me, Justin, and Ariana during our summer on The Fishbowl and never quite moved on.

To my surprise, she turned pink. “I never should’ve said those things.”

The only thing more surprising than Dominic’s wife appearing on this ship in the first place was hearing her words, which sounded suspiciously like an apology. I must’ve broken my ears in the fall.

“Come again?”

“I’m glad to find you alone,” she repeated. “I’ve been hoping for an opportunity to talk to you.”

“Oh yeah? Calling me a slut and a home wrecker online and on TV wasn’t enough for you? You needed to insult me to my face?”

After The Fishbowl announced the cast, Danielle thrust herself into the spotlight, garnering not only some high-profile interviews but also her own reality show. It hadn’t been renewed after the first season, and until she sat next to me, I’d completely forgotten the show existed.

I didn’t need this conversation, especially so soon after my run-in with Ariana. I started to leave, but Danielle put one hand on my arm. The pleading in her eyes surprised me. How good an actress was she?

“Don’t go, please. I only came on this cruise because I knew you’d never agree to meet me face-to-face.”

“Fine.” I stopped and crossed my arms, waiting. “What do you want to say?”

She lit a cigarette, taking a long drag before blowing the smoke out over the pool.

“Are we allowed to smoke onboard?”

“Nope,” she said. “But the Network can’t show me smoking, so I’m securing us a private conversation before someone tells me to put it out. Let’s walk away from the bar.”

I followed her to the far railing, not speaking. To quell my nerves, I sipped my mai tai. Then I waited for her to fill the silence.

“You know Dominic and I are divorced now, right?”

“I think Ed mentioned it when your show aired, but I forgot. I’m sorry to hear that.” Kind of. Not really. But it seemed like the right thing to say.

“Don’t be. I’m not.” She waved one hand, keeping the smoke away from me. “Still when I found out my husband was cheating on me, it hurt.”

“Imagine how I felt,” I said dryly.

“I know, I know,” she said. “I handled things badly. The more I trashed you, the more attention I got. Getting support from outraged fans on social media made me feel better. The pain lessened. The Network set me up with Suddenly Single in Seattle, and the whole thing spun my head. I don’t know how you managed to stay so down-to-earth.”

“I was living off the grid. We didn’t get any news in the house. No internet. I didn’t know anything about the rest of the world until I left. Plus, our show aired mostly live. By the time I got home after leaving the show, most of the buzz about me had died down,” I said. “Besides, you went attention-seeking. Justin and I aren’t trying to make the news these days. We just want to live our lives and be happy.”

“That’s all I wanted, too. But I went about it all wrong. I imagine you didn’t watch my show?”

“My best friend tried to talk me into sitting through the first episode or so, but after seeing the ads, it hurt too much. Especially when they kept airing the dramatization of me finding you with Dom.”

“Oh, yeah.” She laughed. “That woman was the worst actress I’d ever seen in my life.”

“It was Ariana,” I said. “She starred in The Fishbowl with us.”

“Did she?” Danielle blinked at me. “Small world, I guess. I didn’t recognize her in the wig she was wearing.”

“Whatever. I couldn’t watch the show, and I’m not sorry I missed it.”

“I understand. And I’m sorry. I never should’ve agreed to do it in the first place. In one of the later episodes, I apologized for everything. I did another interview where I retracted all the nasty things I said about you. You’ll never believe Shocking Entertainment News Online didn’t post my change of heart on their homepage.”

I grinned at her, willing to play nice now but also making a mental note to find the article when we got home. “No, I guess they wouldn’t have. Thanks for letting me know.”

She glanced over one shoulder. Following her gaze, I spotted a couple of people walking toward us. Their headsets and clipboards identified them as members of the production staff.

“We’re running out of time,” Danielle said, dropping her cigarette into her now-empty cup. “Let’s get a big hug on tape for the viewers.”

She opened her arms, and I fell into them, marveling at how much she’d changed since our first meeting. Then again, finding out your husband is cheating because his mistress walked in on the two of you about to have sex would come as a shock to anyone. Danielle was as much a victim of this as me. Originally, anyway. I supposed I couldn’t blame her for reacting badly.

I pulled away, and she brushed a lock of hair from my cheek. She leaned in, kissing my cheek. I opened my mouth to remind her about personal bubbles.

Her breath touched my ear, so light I could’ve imagined it. “Keep smiling, okay?” I nodded, and she moved to the other cheek, European-style. “Dominic’s onboard. Ariana brought him as her date.”

* * *

The chill running down my spine had nothing to do with the cool sea breeze. Shock waves hit me, intense enough to freeze my smile in place.

“Wh-h-wh-ow?”

Danielle confirmed with a glance that the producers had moved away and lit another cigarette. Genius. I vowed to take up smoking ASAP.

“I don’t know why or how. His lawyer emailed me last night to let me know he’d be here,” she said. “It was too late to do anything before departure, but I wanted to catch you as soon as we got onboard.”

“Thanks. I wish I’d known early enough to think about canceling the trip.”

Would I have? Probably not, all things considered, but now I’d never know.

“No need,” she said airily. “Our divorce agreement requires him to remain at least twenty-five feet from me at all times. His lawyers upgraded me to one of the balcony suites near the top of the ship. And you and I are about to become best friends, so he can’t get too close to you.”

What an amazing offer.

An amazing, unbelievable, much-too-good-to-be-true offer.

“Why would you do that for me?” I asked.

She counted her response on her fingers, a stream of smoke punctuating each sentence. “One, because Dom screwed me over, too, and I’m not about to help him play kissy face with the girl he cheated on me with. Two, you were young when you met him, and I’m thirty-five years old. I can’t blame you for my marital problems anymore. Three, like I said, I feel bad. I was an unforgivable ass last year. Consider this my way of making it up to you.” Then she added, “Besides, I’m in a generous mood. His job doesn’t pay shit, but my lawyer got me half of the trust his parents left him, so I’m living well. Let me spread the joy.”

The producers reappeared across the deck. They were good. I hadn’t yet spotted the cameras out here, but they must be set up somewhere. Danielle dropped her second butt into the cup and deposited the whole thing in the nearby trash can, where it hopefully wouldn’t start a fire. Just what I needed on Day One of this new show: Jen Reid, the Pyromaniac’s Assistant.

Justin and Rachel appeared at the top of the stairs, so I left Danielle to make excuses to the producers and went to fill my friends in.

“Wow, hello drama,” Rachel said. “You have a knack for stumbling into it.”

“But I don’t want drama,” I grumbled. “Why did I sign up for this?”

“Do you really need a list?” Justin asked.

“No, that was rhetorical.”

Justin sighed, raking his hand through his hair. “It’s all about the ratings. You know that. The Network wants more viewers. And the people who watch this type of show like to see love triangles. Or a love square, apparently. The best thing we can do is avoid Dominic and Ariana.”

“I’ll drink to that,” I said.

“Me, too!” Rachel said. “As soon as I find a mudslide. Why are we standing around talking? Free drinks at the bar, remember? And did you know there are poker tables downstairs? I’ll catch you later.”

We stopped by the bar so they could pick up drinks. I ordered another mai tai, having downed most of mine while talking to Danielle. Rachel went off to play cards, leaving strict instructions not to bother her unless she didn’t reappear in time for the meet-and-greet. With one eye on Danielle to ensure I didn’t stray from her limited protection, I led Justin to the railing.

He put one arm around my waist, and I leaned against him. As I took in the view and breathed in the salty air, the tension slid out of my upper back and neck.

“Alone at last,” he said, raising his glass.

“To a fabulous vacation where we’re surrounded by frenemies and not allowed to sleep in the same room!” I gave him a rueful smile to take the edge off my comment.

“Don’t worry about that,” he said. “I’ll talk to Ed. If anyone knows where to get some secret nookie, it’s him and Connor.”

“How about some not-so-secret nookie?” I pulled him toward me for a kiss.

On the show, we’d been so concerned about keeping our relationship private, about not having our first kiss on camera, and it turned out to all be for nothing. At the airport on the way home, every newsstand offered a wall of newspapers and magazine plastered with a picture of us, taken in the driveway of the Fishbowl, bodies locked together.

After getting over my embarrassment, I’d bought three. Then I signed a fourth for the cashier.

How many people are lucky enough to have their first kiss with their true love caught on camera? I’d also asked the show for a larger copy and framed it, before Sarah got the idea for the bakery.

After doing our best to give America a good show, Justin and I stared out over the glittering blue water, watching the shoreline get further and further away. Despite my earlier concerns, the motion of the ship didn’t bother me one bit. Either the pills they gave me helped, or my nervous stomach related more to fear of seeing Ariana than any motion the ship might make.

After our rough morning, Justin and I decided to eat in relative privacy up on deck rather than joining the others in the dining room. When we finished, the producers had scheduled us for a Q&A session with fans of the show. We separated briefly to shower, change into regular clothes, and for me to reapply my makeup, then met again in the auditorium.

The enormous room sat mostly empty, leaving me both nervous about speaking in front of a large audience and concerned that no one would show up. Sure, I’d done television, but in TV, if no one watches, you read about it later. We couldn’t see out through the cameras to the empty living rooms. Heckling also was never an issue on the first show. What if the “fans” secretly hated us? What if everyone who showed up wanted Justin to pick Ariana? My palms sweat.

Bright lights already pointed at the raised stage, which held a long conference table. With those shining in my eyes, at least I’d never know if no one else showed up. A quick scan showed Rachel, Ed, and Ariana already sitting on the stage. Danielle was nowhere to be found, which meant Dominic might wander in at any second.

That kind of thinking wouldn’t get me anywhere. The only way to enjoy the week was to stop glancing over my shoulder every five seconds. Dominic would show, or he wouldn’t, and Justin and I would enjoy ourselves either way. I straightened my shoulders, took a deep breath, and plastered a smile on my face.

“Are you okay?” Justin asked. “You’re a bit green.”

“Sorry,” I said. “These events make me nervous. I’m glad I have you by my side.”

Hand-in-hand, we approached the stage and settled into the two open seats on the far end, next to Ariana. A glossy stack of my favorite photograph sat between two pens, one green and the other blue. We were apparently signing joint autographs.

“Look at that,” Justin said, pointing. “Jen and Justin. Justin and Jen. Always together. If I hadn’t chased after you, no one would remember my name.”

“That’s not true!” I said. “Plenty of people cheered you on. Most of them fifteen to forty-year-old women. You had lots of fans.”

“No, I didn’t,” he said. “Not like Rachel or Ariana or Ed. People watched to see who I’d pick.”

“Well, people only watched me because they thought I was a home-wrecking liar. At least you had more fans than I did.”

He laughed. “When you put it that way, I’m surprised anyone wanted to watch either of us.”

“We’re like Nutella. Better combined than chocolate or hazelnuts on their own.”

“Mmmm, Nutella.” Leaning over, he kissed my cheek. “Thanks. Things are always better when I’m with you.”

“I think so, too,” Leanna said behind us. “That’s why there aren’t any solo pictures of either of you. Make sure to talk to fans together, sign together. You’re a team. Got it?”

“Got it,” Justin said.

He still seemed a bit uncomfortable, but the A/C being pumped into the rest of the theater wasn’t making it to the stage. Plus, being reduced to one-half of a couple rather than one full person was a bit degrading. It didn’t bother me, but I understood his frustration. There was just nothing we could do about it.

“We’re the best team I’ve ever been part of,” I said.

He leaned over and pressed his lips against mine. Tingles went down my spine. We were a very good team, indeed.

Beside me, Ariana said my name, so quietly I thought I imagined it. Then I heard it again. “Hey, Jen?”

Reluctantly, I broke the kiss, forcing myself to smile pleasantly for the cameras and the crowd. “Yeah?”

“I wanted to say I’m sorry about before.” She leaned around me and raised her voice. “You, too, Justin. Running into you brought up all these old emotions from the show, but I’m trying to turn over a new leaf. I should’ve resisted the temptation to mess with you. I’m sorry.”

Those mai tais must’ve been super strong, because it sounded like Ariana was apologizing to me. Or the show cast a very convincing identical actress. Key word: actress.

When The Fishbowl announced the cast last year, Brandon and I streamed all of Ariana’s movies. She played many bit parts, all of which seemed to be cast due to her boobage. None of which were well acted. She’d done a bit better with some of her lies on the show, but still. She couldn’t possibly be sincere.

Beside me, Justin spoke. “Thanks, Ariana. I hope we can all start over.”

I resisted the urge to grunt and roll my eyes. The cameras captured everything. She must have known that, and she probably counted on me to snub her. No such luck. Besides, I’d won, right? I walked away from the show with the second-largest cash prize (technically giving me second place, although the show named Ed the official runner-up, since I lost to Rachel in the finale). Plus I wound up with Justin. She got nothing but an offer for a minor role in the new Bond movie, pulled when someone more famous became available at the last minute.

I forced the corners of my lips upward into an expression that hopefully looked sincerer than it felt. “I understand. Let’s start this cruise with a clean slate.”

“That would be lovely,” she said.

She’d yet to mention bringing my ex onboard, and I suddenly wondered if Danielle made the whole thing up. Maybe my hostilities were aimed at the wrong target. After all, Dominic’s ex-wife had hated me as much as Ariana, and she’d already trashed me all over the media. But would she lie about something so easily disproven?

At the other end of the row, Ed gazed out at the audience, smiling and waving effortlessly. His Brazilian good looks made him a standout in any crowd, but he was completely in his element here in front of adoring fans. The quick wit that kept me laughing in the Fishbowl no matter what Ariana did or what the producers threw at us served him well on stage. In Los Angeles, Ed found himself rocketing through the local club scene. He’d even scored an audition for a series of guest spots on the Tonight Show.

Scanning the crowd, I noticed several people carrying signs. When I spotted one saying JUSTIN + JEN 4-EVA, I waved. Fans of Justin, Ed, and Rachel all got waves, too. I pretended not to see signs saying, ARIANA IS THE BETTER WOMAN and LONG LIVE J-DAWG!

Then I spotted my own face on a poster board, surrounded by a heart drawn in green marker. My favorite color, and my assigned contestant color on the show. The sign wasn’t too strange in and of itself (after being on TV, I mean. It would’ve been weird if someone did it when I was in college), but I kept returning to the image, trying to figure out why it caught my attention.

Finally, I realized: the picture on the poster wasn’t a promo shot from the show. It wasn’t a screen cap, either, or one of the photos from my public Facebook page or official Twitter account. The sign displayed a picture taken of me in the early morning, head resting on a pillow, gazing lovingly up at the man who’d taken it.

The man who cheated on me. Whose wife turned me into a villain, making it impossible for me to win viewer loyalty—which was key to remaining on The Fishbowl from one week to the next. The man with no business being on this cruise in this first place, since he did not qualify as a “reality star” by any stretch of the imagination. The man holding the sign? My ex-boyfriend, Dominic.

Even after learning Ariana brought him as her date, seeing him sent a shock wave through me. And what on earth was he doing holding a sign with my face if the two of them came here as a couple?

Justin leaned over, nodding in the direction of my gaze. “Hey, Jen. I think my roommate’s got a crush on you.”