Page 18 of Heart to Heart
Jesse Jermaine
Do you think you’re ready to find love? Is this show going to lead you to your soulmate?
Tristan Tate
(Chuckles) You know, I’m open to the possibility of finding love anywhere. That’s an appeal of going on the show. I’ve become acquainted with their selection process and found my opinions to be taken into consideration. We’ll see. I’m cautiously optimistic.
Jesse Jermaine
You say you’ve been involved in the selection process? Does that mean there’s someone or even someones you have your eye on?
Tristan Tate
You twist my words, Jesse. I didn’t say I was involved in the selection process. All I know is there is a very diverse, accomplished, interesting group of women who are all waiting to meet me. I’m a lucky man, what can I say.
Jesse Jermaine
I know a certain studio audience full of ladies who will certainly be heartbroken if you do find your match. But look, Tristan, everyone loves a redemption story, and I wish you all the best. I’ll be tuning in to this season with bated breath like the rest of the country.
I wanted to punch Jesse Jermaine in his smug face. One thing I hadn’t missed while taking a break from LA was all the fake people. At the top of that list was Jesse Jermaine and all the late-night jokes he’d made at my expense after my breakup with Jessica and the fallout thereafter. There had been no rooting for me then; there had been no empathy. Only cruel jabs, twisting circumstances for the sake of a punchline. But when he needed a boost in his ratings for his floundering show, who was his first call?
Wanda urged me to go on the show the first time Jesse called her. It was the one battle I’d ever won with her. I was in recovery and my focus was on recovering. Recovering from the excessive drinking I’d been doing since my last two movies tanked at the box office. Recovering from Jessica.
That recovery took far longer than my recovery from alcohol.
Wanda was going to be pissed. After going rogue at the production studio, she’d expressly told me not to screw the pooch on this one, complete with a wag of her finger. But mylittle slip of the tongue during that interview, I’m sure, fell under the screw the pooch category.
I wasn’t exactly sure what made me lose my mind when it came to Avery. She was so unlike any of the women I was used to dating, or any of the other women who applied to the show from what I’d seen. An innocent, girl-next-door persona who, because of me, was going to be thrown to the wolves. I just hoped she came prepared to do battle, or they would eat her alive.
My phone buzzed in the pocket of my sports coat. In a frustrated daze, I pulled it out to see, for at least the half-dozenth time since my involvement inHeart to Hearthad been announced, Jessica calling me. Another call I would ignore and another voicemail that would go unheard. She’d follow it up with a text I would try not to read as I deleted it. An intelligent person would block Jessica’s number. But as I said, recovering from Jessica hadn’t been easy. After all this time, I was beginning to wonder whether it would be possible.
The phone found its way back into my pocket as I reached the door to my designated dressing room. Waiting for me behind the door stood a fate I wouldn’t wish on anyone: Wanda. She stood glaring at me in the middle of the room, tapping her foot against the plush carpeting, none too pleased.
So, I decided to do what any responsible adult would do. I closed the door and proceeded to walk back down the hall and out of the studio.
CHAPTER 9
AVERY
I hobbled down the sidewalk,following Kiki, whose occasional snickering rang out with every groan extracted from me with each step I took. I likened it to having plastic squeaky toys shoved inside my shoes. Except, instead of cute squeaks that made Golden Retrievers excited, my squeakers emitted a conglomeration of “Jesus Christ, what have I dones?” and “When the swelling goes down, you’d better fucking run, Kikis”.
I was beginning to think the swelling would never go down and that my lady parts would resemble the runner-up to a slap fight match for the rest of eternity.
“You’re acting like I’ve put you through medieval torture,” Kiki called back to me as I very narrowly avoided rolling my ankle for at least the dozenth time since stepping out of her Alero in the ridiculous thrift store heels she’d urged me to buy. “I’ve had a more painful experience sitting through a lecture in Civics than I’ve ever had getting my hoo-hah waxed.”
“Yeah, well, my hoo-hah was a Brazilian wax virgin up until this morning, so please excuse her for being shell-shocked.”
“I’m honored to have been your first.” Kiki glanced at me from over her shoulder, throwing me a wink. “And may I add,yelling ‘Kelly Clarkson’ during the procedure was the real chef’s kiss, truly cementing your legacy on YouTube.”
“Kiki!” I yelped as angrily as a yelp could allow. Only another four blocks to the bar and my unofficial going away party for which Kiki had insisted I don a sash identifying me as aGreat Mate for Tate, which she’d assured me was hilarious when she’d had it custom ordered from Etsy after a night of tacos and margaritas.
I looked like the living embodiment of aYou’re probably wondering how I ended up in this situationmovie cliché, which, if played in a theater, would lead into a montage depicting my fall from grace. Yup, that’s me. A stumbling broke college student with lady parts that resembled the cat from theAustin Powersmovies. And then there was the matter of the tiara from Kiki’s high school homecoming queen glory days. Throw that in to complete the ensemble, and you have Avery, Princess of Dumpster Firedom.
This was fine. Everything was fine.
“Hey, hey, there she is,”Ethan pulled me in for a bear hug seconds after I stepped through the front door of The Thirst Trap, a bar popular with local college students. “Are you ready to celebrate your last days as a single woman?”
“I’m not getting married, Ethan.”
