Taken (6 page)

“All right,” Ashley pulls me to me feet. “Enough of this. Which one did you like the best?”

We peruse the rack with the dresses I’ve already tried on. And both smile when we reach for the exact same dress.

“This one.”

“Agreed.”

“So it’s settled, we will tell them this is the one you want and that’s that. Remember, this is your day. The cameras don’t matter; the opinions of others don’t matter. Well besides mine, obviously,” she says.

We laugh and I take one last look at the dress and it clicks. “This is my dress.”

“It’s perfect,” Ashley confirms.

***

Once my dress has been ordered, and all the measurements have been taken, I settle into one of the plush, pearl-colored chairs and lounge with a flute of champagne, ready to start looking at bridesmaid dresses.

With Ashley’s excellent fashion taste, we are able to zero in on one very quickly. Kira seems to realize she doesn’t actually have a vote and leaves the group to go handle the ordering. I sit back, basking in the post-wedding dress shopping glow. Actually, I think I just had one too many glasses of the complimentary champagne.

“Who are your bridesmaids? I heard that producer order twelve gowns,” my mom says, sitting in the chair next to me.

“What?” I ask. I try to figure it out in my head, but my mental processing seems to be noticeably slower and I don’t understand. “Kira? How many dresses did you order?” I call across the shop.

“You have twelve. You have your two friends, Ashley and Jennie, and for the rest, I’ve already hired extras,” Kira says, her tone easy, breezy.

I sputter on my champagne. “Extras?”

“Yes, pretty, height-appropriate, girls who can wear the dresses, smile, carry on, and act like they’ve known you for years.”

My head spins at the idea of complete strangers serving as my bridesmaids. I throw back another glass of champagne and promise my liver I’ll do some kind of cleanse when this wedding is all over.

I spend the rest of the afternoon in an alcohol-induced worry session about how tonight’s dinner with Brandon and my mom in the same room is going to go over.

In the end, it turns out all my worrying was in vain, because as soon as we get ready to go home, I get a text from Brandon that he’s going back to work. Apparently, the night before hadn’t gone well and a lot of footage needs to be redone. I sigh and shove the phone back in my purse without responding. I just don’t know what to say anymore. Part of me is annoyed that he won’t be at the dinner, because I just want to get it over with and rid myself of the anxiety cloud hanging over my head; another part is worried about his health and making sure he is taken care of; and the other part is really sad and hates how bad it feels to miss him like this.

“So, will Brandon be joining us?” my mom asks when we get ready to sit down for dinner.

Kira has instructed the crew to film our dinner—probably out of revenge for canceling the tea party—and my eye can’t help but catch glimpses of the cameras as they circle us at the dining room table.

“Um, no, actually he has to work.”

My mom makes some kind of “harrumph” sound that borders on disapproval.

“He is very busy with his next film project right now, a lot of long hours.”

“It must get lonely, hanging around this big house every day.”

Tell me about it. “It’s not forever; it’s just for right now.” I almost say it more to remind myself than to my mother.

“Well, until the next movie, I assume.”

Ashley perks up in her chair, and I can sense she’s ready to go to war. “Actually, I think it’s nice that Charity has some space. She’s come up with a ton of new recipes for her cookbook.” She turns in her chair to face me. “When will you get the pictures back?”

“Oh! I forgot to show you. Emelia actually sent some samples already.” I jump up from the table, completely disrupting the cameraman who had been hovering over me. He jumps back as I rush to the kitchen and swipe a large envelope off the counter. It’s the perfect distraction to get me out of this awkward conversation.

It works like a charm. For the next half hour we go through the pictures and my mother is so busy making ’suggestions’ on the book layout, she completely forgets to pick up her previous rant about Brandon’s absence.

Kira seems to get the hint that we aren’t going to be giving her anything juicy for the rest of the night, so she wraps things up and the house is quiet by ten.

I slip into bed, alone, and lay awake as I watch the bedside clock. My mind won’t shut down and I can’t stop thinking about everything that is happening. It’s all such a mess. I go through each day, just pushing forward. I can do it, but I feel so much better when Brandon is by my side and I don’t have to push through it all on my own.

Eventually I must have dozed off because I wake up and several hours have passed. “Cherry, you awake?”

My heart flutters and I fling myself into Brandon’s arms, as he gets into bed next to me. “I missed you,” I mumble against his bare shoulder.

“I missed you too.”

Eventually he loosens his hold on me, and we snuggle down into the covers. In the silence, I debate telling him everything he missed: the dress fitting, canceling the tea party, the awkward dinner. But in the end I stay silent, and before too long I hear his breathing change and know he’s fallen asleep.

***

“He should be here by now. We are on a tight schedule!” Kira whines.

Kira, the crew, Ashley, my mom, and I are all seated in the consultation room of a very fancy bakery, waiting for Brandon to arrive so they can begin filming the selection of our cake. After this, we are scheduled to be at the florist for the better part of the afternoon to go over bouquets, boutonnieres, centerpieces, and who knows what else. And then the final stop is dance lessons to learn our choreographed first dance.

I need a quad-shot espresso just to conjure up enough energy to even think about it.

Somewhere along the way, the paparazzi seem to have gotten a hold of our schedule and a whole pack of them are standing outside, waiting. It’s weird to think there is a market for pictures of us being filmed for a show that’s going to be on TV in less than a month.

I check the clock on my phone in five-minute intervals, waiting and watching. Half an hour past the time we were supposed to start, I get a message from Brandon that he’s down the street and coming on foot. I quickly fire back a message to let him know about the flock of ’vultures’ in front of the bakery.

It’s a quick “WTF” followed by an “IDK" kind of exchange.

I spot him before the photographers do, as I pace back and forth in front of the large shop windows. He’s jogging down the street and seems to fly right past them before any of them even know what’s happening. Once they do spot him, the cameras explode. I’m temporarily blinded as a flash hits me right in the eyes, before Brandon is able to close the door behind him.

“Finally!” Kira practically pounces across the room. “Let’s begin,” she says with a nod at the baker, who has been standing off to the side of the room.

On cue, two assistants come into the room, each carrying two trays of tiny, ornately decorated cakes. They set the trays on the table before Brandon and me and instruct us to begin the sampling.

Brandon dives in like a caveman, and I can’t help but giggle as I watch him devour a whole plateful of the baby-sized cakes. I realize that it’s probably been hours since he’s had anything to eat. I pick at the cakes in front of me and don’t make much progress. Anxious thoughts of fitting into my wedding dress hold me back from really enjoying everything.

As we taste and sample, the baker tells us all about what we are eating, the ingredients used, and we also look over pictures to decide on styles. As usual, I get more comfortable with the cameras and relax a little. It feels nice to be with Brandon again and to be making decisions together.

Once the ordering is done, we take a small break and Kira gives us her feedback. “I’m having a thought for a moment here,” she begins. “Brandon, why don’t you feed Charity a piece of cake, like you’re practicing for the wedding, and then Charity, you can give him a piece and squish the cake on him a little. I think that would just be adorable!”

“Oh yeah, totally adorable,” Ashley says, making gagging gestures behind Kira’s back.

I roll my eyes at her. Kira looks upset, and I realize she must have mistaken my eye roll as being directed at her.

Oops.

“Sure, it could be sweet,” I say, hoping that will smooth things over.

We reset and Brandon offers me a bite of cake and I do my best to block out the fact that I have a camera zoomed in on my face as I eat. I let Brandon have a piece, but he grabs my hand and guides it to his mouth before I can smash it on his face. He eats the cake and then kisses my fingertips slowly, his eyes locked on mine, full of suggestion.

Whew. Someone must have turned on the oven, because it is getting hot in here!

Kira is practically bouncing up and down off to the side.

While Brandon is distracted, I grab another sample with my other hand and smash it in his face as payback for purposely getting me all hot and riled up on camera.

We both laugh and he grabs my wrists and kisses me before it can turn into a full-fledged food fight.

Kira calls it a wrap and we get cleaned up while the crew packs up and gets everything ready for our next stop: the florist shop. I leave the bathroom and Brandon pulls me into his arms. I relax into him and rest my head against his chest.

“That was actually pretty fun,” he says.

“Not too bad, although you’re going to be all sugar high for the rest of the day. Your body probably doesn’t even know what to do with sugar anymore."

“I don’t know, with all the stuff you’ve been making lately, my tolerance has probably gotten much higher. I’m surprised you haven’t gotten a lecture from my director about trying to fatten me up.” He laughs. “What’s next on the agenda?”

“Florist shop.”

“Way less fun than cake,” he says.

Before I can respond, Brandon’s phone beeps. I close my eyes, willing it to not be work related.

“They need me back on set,” he says. “You can pick out flowers without me. I trust you,” he says, dropping a kiss on my forehead.

My heart sinks. But I know there’s no point in arguing it with him. “All right. But you have to tell her,” I say, nodding in Kira’s direction.

He grunts and then releases me to cross the room. He speaks in hushed tones, so I can’t hear the conversation, but I can tell it’s not going well.

“What about your dance lessons? This is the only time Ricardo is available!” Kira says, her tone frantic.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“But you HAVE to learn your dance!”

“I can’t. Don’t you get that?” With that said, he turns and leaves. I try my best not to take it personally that he didn’t even say good-bye, but it stings a little to watch him storm off alone without so much as a glance back in my direction.

Kira is seething. I’m pretty sure she is going to need a prescription for blood pressure medication after she is done dealing with us.

“Ugh! Charity, do something,” she instructs. “It’s almost like you guys don’t want your wedding on TV!”

“Ding, ding, ding,” Ashley says under her breath.

I hold up my hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m sorry Kira, but his work comes first.”

I swear I hear my mother “harrumph” again.

On second thought, I’m probably the one who is going to need the blood pressure medication.

“Let’s go to the florist. My mom and Ashley can help. You can film us. And if we can’t reschedule the dance lesson, then you can film Brandon and me practice dancing at the house. That would be better anyway—way more intimate, don’t you think?”

“Very impressive McAdams,” Ashley whispers.

Kira looks thoughtful for a moment, but then bounces right back to her cheery self. “That’s wonderful! Let’s pencil that in……” her voice fades off as she starts scribbling away on her list.

Crisis adverted…for now.

***

It’s well past midnight when I hear Brandon come to bed.

“Cherry, you awake?”

Sad how that’s becoming his standard greeting these days.

“Mmhmm.”

“Are you mad at me?”

I pause. Am I?

“I’m not mad at you Brandon, I’m just beyond frustrated with the situation.”

“I’m sorry I had to leave like that.”

I roll over and face him, just barely able to see him in the glow from the bedside clock. “I know it’s not your fault, but the rest of the day was exhausting. I needed you.”

“Ugh, don’t tell me that. It just makes me feel like crap.” He flops on his back.

“I’m not trying to guilt you or make you feel bad.” I chew on my lower lip, trying to figure out what to say. “Can’t you talk to the studio people? They’re the ones who want this show to succeed. Can’t you explain it to them that you need to have more time at home, just to get this done?"

“It’s not that easy, Cherry. There are a lot of other factors. Time is money and we are already over budget. Plus, seeing as how this whole wedding thing is actually a punishment, I’m not really in a position to be too demanding right now.”

“Our wedding is a punishment?” The words are barely out of my mouth before tears start falling.

“You know what I meant!”

“No, Brandon, I don’t know what you mean. When you say things like ‘our wedding is a punishment,’ it’s hard not to take it personally!”

“Damn it, Charity. I didn’t mean it like that and you know it. You’re being dramatic.”

“Dramatic? You want dramatic? Maybe we should just call the whole thing off. You know, that might work perfectly. A mysterious breakup is probably better at getting the media’s attention than a happy couple anyway, right?”

“I can’t talk to you right now. Not like this,” he says.

This time he rolls away completely.