Page 8 of D’Vaughn and Kris Plan a Wedding

Rhea shook her head, wiping her mouth with a napkin before sitting back in her seat. “I know that much. I’m asking you what your goal is. Are you gunning for the money, or are you still hoping to find the love of your life through the show? I mean...” She shrugged. “A hundred thou ain’t nothing to sneeze at.”

Knowing my sister, she wasn’t done speaking, so I quirked a brow and stared at her, waiting.

“I’m just saying,” she began, “are you still using this as a way to get a girlfriend?”

I rolled my eyes at her oversimplification. “Why are you trying to play me, Rhea? You know this isn’t about getting a girlfriend.”

“Remind me of what your goal was, because I distinctly remember it sounding basic as hell. You have hundreds of women in your DMs right now, but you think you need to go on a reality show to find ‘the one’?”

Groaning, I dismissed her words with a wave of my hand. “Man, come on with all of that. You know as well as I do that the women in my DMs aren’t there to find forever with me. It’s about the moment—the opportunity—and that’s it.” The tiny bit of social capital I’d stumbled upon via social media made me just another rung along the bottom of the status ladder. More women than I wanted to admit had tried to use me as a stepping stone to launch their careers as influencers, only to find out the hard way that no one of importance gave a damn about a random weight-lifting stud whose favorite pastime was eating tacos after the gym.

Shaking her head, Rhea stood from the table, her plate in her hand as she headed toward the kitchen. From my spot at the table, I had a clear view of the sink, and I watched as she washed the dish and set it on the wire rack on her right before turning back to face me.

“When you saw the casting call and decided to audition, I didn’t say anything because I thought it would be a dope idea. Now that you’re actually in, I can’t let you go on without at least voicing my concerns.” She shook her head. “I know you’ll do what you want, but I can’t be silent.”

I frowned and folded my arms across my chest. “Why do you sound so down about this? You’re talking as if this terrible thing is going to happen and you’re trying to keep me from danger. It’s a reality show, Rhea, not a train wreck waiting to happen.”

Her dark brown eyes bored into me, and I could see that she was thinking deeply. I was baffled by this. What did she think was going to happen?

“Man, listen. You know I get my feelings about things every now and then. When my intuition speaks up, I make sure to listen. Ever since you found out that you were selected, I’ve had this feeling that I can’t describe.”

“What am I supposed to do with that? You can’t even tell me what, exactly, it means.” I didn’t want to downplay her feelings, but this was exasperating.

“I want you to really think about what you plan to gain at the end of all of this. What if you fall for this girl and she doesn’t feel the same? What if she falls for you, but you realize that you can’t stand her? If you make it to the altar, are you going to try and force something that isn’t working just so that you can be the first to say I Do? Or are you going to take the money and call it a lucrative six weeks?”

I stared at her, torn between anger and frustration. Or maybe they were one and the same. Outside of the party, and the little footage of me opening the envelope minutes ago, I’d barely begun filming the show and Rhea was already turning on the sprinklers to delay the parade. It didn’t make sense to me, but I didn’t want to get into it with her. Rhea could go on for a while if I let her, and I had no intentions of letting her. So, I sighed, shook my head, and smiled at her.

“I hear you, Rhea. I’ll think about everything you’ve said.”

She narrowed her eyes at me, clearly skeptical at how quickly I’d acquiesced, but finally, she nodded.

“I know you’re not trying to hear me right now, but I’m just looking out for you.” Walking back to the table, she offered me her fist.

She was both right and wrong. Rhea was the more practical one of the two of us. She considered the bottom line and mapped out the most logical way for us to get from point A to point Z, while I was content to let the chips fall where they may. Because of that, she couldn’t wrap her head around the seemingly strategic move that participating on Instant I Do was for me. Beyond what it could do for our brand, my gut told me that I could find a love that had—until now—seemed elusive. Rhea was buggin’ because she didn’t understand the plan, but I didn’t have the words to explain that I was trying the least obvious route to love because the regular shit hadn’t been panning out. Or maybe I did have the words, but what I lacked was the desire to see her give me a disbelieving look since, in her eyes, I’d never lacked for admirers. The thing was, I wasn’t looking for an admirer. I didn’t need a reality show to help me find someone to fuck. What I wanted was someone who could make me feel even a fraction of the way my parents felt for one another, and if I could give some random chick in my DMs an opportunity to be that, there was no reason to turn my nose up at a reality show contestant who was closer to wanting the same things as me simply by being present on the show. I couldn’t expect Rhea to understand that though, so instead of trying I left it alone and dapped her up, laughing when she threw her arm around my shoulder and dropped a kiss on my temple.

“I appreciate you looking out,” I assured her, “but I can’t go into this thinking it won’t work because then it’s guaranteed to fail.”

She nodded again. “I get that.”

“Good.” Pulling out her grasp, I stood and carried my plate to the sink. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a date with my fiancée that I need to prepare for.”

Day Date

The restaurant was an unassuming place, with a narrow storefront that was tucked between a quirky consignment shop with vintage mannequins in the windows and a pet groomer. I’d walked right past it at first, not realizing my mistake until I reached the end of the block and had to turn around. The marquee was no bigger than a stop sign, hanging above the glass-paned door that opened to a steep set of stairs which led me to a half-filled dining room. Two people stood behind a counter near the door, smiling as they welcomed me.

I responded in kind before sweeping my gaze around the room. Just under a dozen tables were scattered around the room in a pattern I couldn’t decipher, more than half of which were occupied by patrons who carried on conversations over their meals. Two of the four walls were exposed red brick, and the remaining two were made of floor-to-ceiling retractable windows, letting in an abundance of sunlight which allowed me to scan each table. D’Vaughn was nowhere in sight.

Turning to the counter, I opened my mouth to give them my name when an impressive figure approached me from further inside of the restaurant and entered my peripheral. His eyes were trained on me and he wore a friendly smile on his familiar face which immediately put me at ease and caused me to smile in return.

“Kris,” he greeted, holding a hand toward me. “You made it.”

Nodding, I shook his hand. “You’re my e.p., huh? The one stuck with me for the next six weeks.”

Kevin’s grin widened and he took an awkward sort of bow while our hands were still clasped. “At your service, but don’t make me regret it.”

Chuckling, I pulled my hand from his. He straightened and gestured for me to follow him. There was a tiny coatroom off the entrance to the restaurant. It was March, so the room was mostly empty, save for a television setup which was clearly out of place. Perched on a stool in the center of the room was an older man with a salt-and-pepper afro that was mashed slight by a pair of heavy-duty, over-the-ear headphones as he stared at two monitors that sat atop a built-in counter. He looked up when we entered the room and immediately reached for the black rectangle sitting on his left. The device—which was the size of a box of playing cards—was attached to a long, thin cord which held a small flesh-colored ball at the end.

“This is Joe,” Kevin offered as he closed the door behind me and guided me over to the man. “He’s our sound engineer and makes sure that we can hear you even when we aren’t standing over you with a boom mic.”