Page 7 of D’Vaughn and Kris Plan a Wedding

Story of a Girl

I had no expectations.

Not when it came to the person I’d be paired with to plan a wedding while also convincing our families that we were madly in love for the next six weeks. The party had been fun, like hanging out with a group of friends from high school after not seeing them for ten years, but I wasn’t sure if I really connected with anyone. There were a few women that I found attractive, but I didn’t go there expecting to make a love connection. I saw the event for what it was: a chance for the producers to scrutinize our interactions and pair us off. Because of that, I spent an equal amount of time speaking to everyone, even the guys, and kept my flirting to an almost nonexistent level.

It was strategic. I wanted the people behind the scenes to have to put in some real work when they chose for me. The first two seasons of the show had some odd pairings; couples who likely never would have crossed paths ordinarily. Despite that, each season had at least one couple that made it all the way, yet they all chose the money instead of marriage when it came down to it. I wanted to do something different.

Before the party came to a close, each of us was issued a handheld sports camera with instructions on how to record ourselves the following morning. To keep the integrity of the “reality” portion of the show, Instant I Do used a combination of external and internal footage, with larger events where family needed to be involved being captured by camera people, and a set amount of filmed hours submitted by the contestants weekly. I was no stranger to a camera and already knew the best areas in my home to get the best footage, so I wasn’t put out by those instructions at all.

When there was a knock on my front door at nine the morning after the party, I had a pretty good idea of who it was. The same courier who’d delivered my initial paperwork handed me a slim envelope before smiling and disappearing down the walkway that led to my front door. I watched as he hopped into the passenger side of a Smart car just before it took off soundlessly down the street. Closing and locking the door, I carried the envelope with me back into the kitchen, where I’d been having breakfast with my older sister, Rhea.

“Who was that?” Rhea asked, cutting into her omelet and taking a bite as she zeroed in on the item in my hands, one eyebrow lifted in curiosity.

I slid into my seat and placed the envelope on top of the empty place setting to my left. I was both eager to see its contents and skeptical about the name I would find inside, so I decided to finish eating first.

“The delivery guy for the show,” I responded nonchalantly. If he wasn’t a courier, he was definitely on staff for the network.

Rhea stopped chewing and swung her now wide eyes from me to the envelope and then back to me. Facing my plate, I kept my eyes on her as I resumed eating, lips twitching, but laughing internally as the excitement on her face grew.

“You’re not gonna open it?” she finally asked, after more than a minute of me not saying a word had gone by.

“Of course,” I responded breezily, scooping the last of my scrambled eggs into my mouth. I took my time wiping my mouth with my napkin and taking a sip from my glass of orange juice before finally picking up the envelope. It was all a show because I wanted to rip into the letter to see what it held, but I wouldn’t be a younger sibling if I didn’t needle her when the opportunity presented itself.

“Me vas a volver loca, lo juro,” she muttered as she rolled her eyes.

“If I haven’t driven you crazy after all of these years, a few minutes of waiting won’t do the trick,” I chuckled, using the handle of my fork to slice the top of the envelope open.

I made a show of shaking the envelope and widening the hole to peer inside before eventually reaching in and retrieving two sheets of paper. My eyes flew across the first page. It held the address to a restaurant that wasn’t far from the home I shared with Rhea, and told me what time to be there. It was the location where my fiancée and I were supposed to meet for the first time. The meeting would be filmed, and after an hour and a half of me and my fiancée getting to know each other over lunch while a camera captured the moment from a distance, a member of Instant I Do would join us and give us an overview of their expectations. The second page was of more interest to me. At the top left was a headshot paper-clipped to the sheet. I removed the picture and stared at it, a slow smile creeping onto my face.

I’d been paired with D’Vaughn Miller.

I remembered her clearly from the night before. It might have been my strategy to appear uninterested in anyone, but I’d definitely noticed her, and not just because she’d had a coughing fit as soon as I’d arrived. D’Vaughn was freaking gorgeous, and from the way she dressed, she absolutely knew it. It’d been obvious at the party last night, with the light green dress she’d worn, which accented her bust and flared around her hips, to the forest-green platform heels that made her legs seem longer than what they were. Her skin was the color of canela or cajeta, and that made me think that she probably tasted sweet as well. Unbidden, my thoughts took a nosedive into the gutter, and I dragged a hand down my face as if I could wipe them from my mind.

Rhea snatched the picture out of my hand as I read the second page. It told me what the picture already had. D’Vaughn had been chosen as my fiancée and we had to spend the next six weeks convincing our closest family and friends that we would be getting married, while simultaneously planning a wedding. All initial expenses for the wedding were to be covered by the network, but of course, no one would know that. The wedding was to take place exactly six weeks from tomorrow, and we would be given tasks to complete each week until we reached the wedding—if we reached the wedding.

Each couple had been assigned an executive producer who would stick by our side throughout the six weeks, guiding us through our assigned tasks, offering support, and monitoring how good a job we did at convincing our families that we were getting married. The e.p. was also our first cheerleader, taking weekly reports back to a panel of judges who made the ultimate decision on who stayed or continued on. I’d frowned a little when I got to that part in the contract. Although I’d watched other seasons of the show, that was new information to me. How could my future be determined by a handful of strangers—people who didn’t know my family the way I did? My papi was a stoic man, and even though I’d known him all of my life, I still had a hard time deciphering how he felt about a great many things. If he didn’t say it with his mouth, there was always a possibility that our assumptions about his feelings were false.

According to the detailed report, mine and D’Vaughn’s e.p. was Kevin Henderson. I’d met him briefly at the party, but we hadn’t spoken to each other beyond him greeting me at the door and telling me and Jerri to have a good time. Supposing that I’d get a better read on him once we had a chance to speak later, I shrugged it off and looked up at Rhea, watching her volley between reading the report and looking at D’Vaughn’s picture.

“She’s cute.”

Giving her a side-eye, I shook my head. “You know damn well she’s more than cute. Shorty’s bad.”

Rhea shrugged noncommittally. “I didn’t want to say too much, in case you weren’t feeling her.”

Laughing, I rolled my eyes. Of my four siblings, Rhea and I were the closest. Not only were we just ten months apart, but thanks to the finagling of our Tia Claudia, we’d been in the same grade throughout our years in school. Coupled with the features and body type that we’d shared up until recently, we’d had to deal with people thinking that we were twins for almost twelve years. It didn’t help that Mami had loved to dress us alike.

Rhea had always been my best friend, and it became clear that we were more alike than either of us had realized when she announced to our family that she was a lesbian when we were in middle school. The announcement had surprised even me, because despite how we would discuss everything under the sun, she’d never mentioned that. Never even hinted at it.

But neither had I.

She became my example of living as your full and true self, and seeing her dress in clothes that looked like they came from Raul and Raymond’s closet only solidified that for me. After Kiana had fallen asleep the night before my birthday, I’d dragged Rhea into the makeshift fort that we’d erected in the corner of the bedroom the three of us shared, and spilled my guts about the things I’d been feeling for a while. I came out the following day, just before my party, and was immediately carted to the store by Mami to fill my closet with the same sweatpants and sneakers she’d just purchased for Rhea. Mami wasn’t going to let a little butch lesbianism keep her from dressing her niñitas alike.

Without a doubt, I’d been blessed. At no point in my life had I ever felt alone, but beyond that, our parents never made us feel like something was wrong with us. They never turned their backs on us. Even Papi made a point to speak to us separately, and express to us that even though he didn’t fully understand, he still loved us. He went on to joke that he went from having two sons, to four, since both Rhea and I preferred baggy Wranglers and jerseys to the floral dresses and stockings that Mami dressed Kiana in. It could have been offensive, but at thirteen, I took it as it was—his acceptance. To have something so important from a staunchly traditional and religious man, it meant the world to me.

“So, what’s your game plan?”

Furrowing my brows, I gave Rhea a questioning look. “What do you mean? I’m in it to win it.” I’d been talking her ear off about this since I’d first seen the casting call, so she—more than anyone—knew what I was on.