Hooked (8 page)

The day has finally arrived. A day four years in the making. Today I will marry my true love, soul mate, and best friend, Brandon Hart.

The planning has been more complicated than originally anticipated due to seemingly endless media interviews, magazine articles, photo shoots, and TV appearances. The wedding we originally planned, four years ago, would have been a simple, low-key affair; but apparently, it’s impossible to replicate that in the glitzy Hollywood spotlight.

Standing in the church, about to walk down the aisle, it hardly matters anymore. The planning is done. This moment is all that matters. In less than an hour, Brandon and I will be declared husband and wife, and the rest of our life together will officially begin.

I take a deep breath and smile to myself. The morning has been a little frantic with last-minute details, but for me it feels like being in the eye of the storm. My heart and mind are set on seeing Brandon’s face, and that is all I can truly think about right now. Focusing on that moment has settled a deep peace in my soul, and I spend my last minutes waiting for the ceremony to begin, basking in the feeling.

Through the white doors, I can hear the music swell and change to the music we had painstakingly chosen, specifically for this moment. A man in a black suit steps forward and gracefully opens the doors. I take one last look down at my beautiful white wedding dress, smoothing my hands over the intricate lace and beadwork, before someone places a bouquet of white and pink roses in my hands. I smile my appreciation and look up to watch my wedding party file into the church ahead of me, taking baby steps closer and closer to the entryway.

The music changes again and I look up to meet Brandon’s eyes. With a gasp of horror, I realize he isn’t standing there. The wedding party is completely in place, all smiling and beaming at me as I stumble into the softly lit room, my mouth agape with terror.

This can’t be happening. Why is everyone standing there smiling at me? Don’t they realize this is my worst-case scenario come true?

I am about to start screaming, when a flash of movement catches the corner of my eye. I flick my gaze to the right, but the room is dim, and I can’t make out anything other than the sea of faces—all wearing the same smile currently plastered on the faces of my wedding party. Even the preacher is smiling.

Suddenly I feel arms wrap around my waist from behind me and a voice whispers in my ear. “I’m right here!”

I jump and turn to see Brandon. He’s smiling and despite my obvious shock, he bursts into laughter and the whole room joins in as well. My head spins and I can’t breathe. This was all a cruel trick?

“Did you think I wasn’t coming?” he asks.

This time I do start screaming.

I wake with a start, my T-shirt completely drenched with sweat and my pillow stained with tears. LeeLee, starts barking, and as I move to silence her, a mountain of bridal magazines falls off the side of the bed. They land in a heap on the floor with a loud thud.

I dig my fingers into my tangled hair and flop back against my pillows.

“Charity? Everything okay in there?”

“Yeah, you can come in.”

The door pops open and my best friend, Ashley, steps in, a worried line creased between her brows. “What’s going on?”

“I had another wedding dream. Well, nightmare really,” I say before scooting off the bed to gather the magazines. “By the way, Ash, I don’t really think we need any more of these.” I hold up the pile.

She takes them from me and fans them out on the bed. “But they’re so pretty!”

“You know, for someone who is so anti-falling-in-love, you certainly love weddings.”

“I know, I know, I’m a walking contradiction. But enough about me, what’s up with these dreams?”

“Ugh. I don’t know. I mean, I guess it’s normal to have dreams about your wedding where things go wrong, but this seems excessive. I mean there was the one where my wedding dress turned green and I didn’t realize it till I got to the altar in front of everyone. And then there was the one with the clowns popping out of the wedding cake.”

“Okay, that was terrifying and I didn’t even see it!” Ashley shudders.

“Agreed.”

“My favorite was the one with the giant penis shaped ice sculptures!”

I roll my eyes, but we both dissolve into giggles at the reference. In one of the recent dreams, Brandon and I walked into our reception room to see that all the tables had ice sculptures that had clearly been intended for a bachelorette party. A really sick and twisted one at that.

Ashley had just about died laughing when I described that one to her.

The obvious question is, where did my mind come up with that stuff? I’ve chosen to ignore that minor detail.

While most of the dreams have been harmless and even provided some good breakfast entertainment for Ashley and me, there have been a few that have shaken me and thrown a shadow of doubt over an otherwise happy season of life.

“Let’s go get coffee and you can tell me the new one,” Ashley says.

I drop the last of the magazines on the bed and follow her downstairs. LeeLee follows along, and practically trips me when she takes off at a run to go jump on Maci, Ashley’s dog. Ashley corrals them both outside while I start the coffee pot, since Ashley got a head start and already drained most of the first pot that is set on a timer to brew each morning.

“Well it’s not the first one where he doesn’t show,” Ashley says after I recap the nightmare. “It does seem a little more…malicious, than the others though.”

“It was weird. It felt different this time.” I set my coffee down and rub my temples, wishing I could erase the unsettled feeling pressing down on me.

“Not to throw more problems at you, but today, we have bigger issues to tackle.”

I groan and put my face down on the table. “Do we have to?”

“Sadly, yes. I don’t even want to try and imagine the crap storm you would have to deal with if you played hooky from Valerie’s baby shower.”

“I know. I know. Do I have to tell them about the engagement?”

“Well I think the rock on your finger might do some of the talking.”

It’s been about two weeks since Brandon asked me to marry him, and up to this point, we have kept it a secret from everyone except for Ashley. It’s in our best friend pact that I tell her things like this immediately. Brandon has been dying to tell his family, but we decided to wait and do it in person when he comes to visit this weekend. So, the plan has been that I will tell my family today when I see them for my sister, Valerie’s, baby shower.

I look down at my beautiful engagement ring and feel a burst of excitement shiver through me. I still can’t believe it sometimes.

“It’s cute how you get all gooey looking. And by cute, I mean nauseating,” Ashley says.

I laugh and give her a playful shove. “I can’t wait for the day when you fall in love and I get to heckle you!”

“Never going to happen. Love is for suckers, no offense.”

I ignore her and start humming Someday My Prince Will Come.

“La-la-la! I can’t hear you!”

I roll my eyes.

My ringtone interrupts our banter and I rush to pick it up, hoping to see Brandon’s name on the screen. He’s been busy on the set of his new movie, so our communication has been severely restricted. Being separated would feel awful no matter what, but it’s especially annoying as we are trying to bask in our newly engaged glow.

I see the caller ID and my heart sinks.

“Who is it? Valerie?” Ashley asks.

“Worse…it’s my mother.”

“Hello Mother.”

“Charity, dear, we have an emergency!”

Of course we do. I expect nothing less.

The ironic thing is that she and Valerie have virtually ignored me since my move to California. I’ve been copied on all baby shower-related emails but that’s it. No text messages, no phone calls, nothing. Not until the day of the party do I get a phone call, and it’s because they’re in crisis mode and need someone to talk them off the ledge.

Enter Charity, stage left.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, closing my eyes to brace myself.

“The bakery that
you hired
can’t deliver the pastries and cake. Charity,
you know
that cake is the centerpiece of this whole event! Valerie is hysterical. You need to call them and fix this!”

I try my hardest not to scream.

“I’ll handle it.” I hang up before she can say anything further.

“Why is everything always such a fucking disaster with those two?” Ashley asks, apparently having overheard the entire thing.

“Personally, my theory is they have some sort of crisis addiction. The problem is that they’re more excited about announcing the crisis, instead of solving it.”

“That sounds about right.” She drains the rest of her coffee. “It’s completely insane, but accurate.”

I nod in agreement.

We don’t talk much as we spring into action. Ashley starts getting ready, because although she wasn’t technically invited, she’s coming anyway, for moral support. I make a quick call to the bakery and the salesperson I speak with clarifies that they can still make the delivery; it will just be late because their van isn’t starting, but someone is working on it. To my mother and Valerie, late is the same as never, so I offer to pick up the boxes on my way to Valerie’s house.

I practically fly upstairs to get ready. As I put the finishing touches on my make up, I catch a glimpse of my ring out of the corner of my eye. After a brief mental debate, I slip it from my finger and drop it into my jewelry box.

I’m just not in the mood.

The tabloids will probably get wind of it any day now and be blasting it all over the internet. They can find out that way. See if I care.

It takes an hour of driving—well, pretty much flying—to make it to the bakery in Seattle. Ashley called in a favor to one of her brothers who let me borrow their full-size car, since my car is back in LA and Ashley drives a tiny thing that’s great for gas, but not so great for hauling stuff around. I follow behind as Ashley circles the block a few times, looking for close parking spots for us. But downtown Seattle parking on a Saturday isn’t easy to come by so we end up having to park down the block and run up the hill to the shop. I am suddenly thankful for all the extra workouts I’ve been able to squeeze in over the past weeks.

We both gasp as we walk in and see the racks and racks and racks of pink boxes, all tied with pink ribbon. My head spins as I try to calculate how we are going to fit everything into the two cars.

I don’t have too much time to worry, as everyone springs into action to help haul the baked goods. It seems like only minutes later when the staff—I’m pretty well convinced that magic was involved—somehow loads up the mountain of boxes into the cars. The final box, Valerie’s special cake with the intricate sugar figurines, is carefully lowered onto the floor of my passenger side and we are ready to go.

Ashley goes in front and we start weaving our way through the city, each curve and bump in the road giving me a mild panic attack. Luckily, it’s a relatively short drive to Valerie’s house, and since it is a Saturday, the traffic isn’t nearly as vicious as it normally is this time of the morning.

We’re about ten minutes away from Valerie’s house, where the shower is being held, when a car pulls out in front of me from a side street and I am forced to slam on the breaks.

Everything slows down and a scream rips out as I watch my purse launch off of the passenger seat.

A sickening crumple seems to echo around the car as my purse hits the top of the box. I blindly reach over and grab my purse and toss it by my feet and force my eyes on the road ahead, not daring to look at the wreckage. I drive in silence the rest of the half hour to Valerie’s house, pleading with the cake gods that it’s not that bad.

I pull up, and Ashley’s car is already being unloaded by a fleet of people in catering waiter uniforms.

Okay, moment of truth. I force myself to look to the right and fully see the huge dent in the top of the box. I carefully unravel the ribbon and open the lid, holding my breath as I pull it back.

“What the—”

I jump at the sound of Ashley’s voice. I hadn’t heard her come up behind me.

“Shhhh!” I say.

“What happened?” she asks, lowering her tone, leaning in through the back of the car, and peering over my shoulder to survey the damage.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!”

Great, now I’m hyperventilating. Well at least my mom and Valerie can’t lecture me if I’m unconscious.

“Incoming. Crazy pregnant lady at three o’clock,” Ashley says.

“Charity! Let me see! Let me see!”

I slap the box closed and loosely retie the ribbon.

“No way, Val!” I plaster on a big smile. “You don’t want to ruin the surprise. Besides, hugs first!”

“Ya might want to back it down a step there, Miss. America,” Ashley hisses under her breath. However, Valerie doesn’t seem to notice. She leans in and hugs me, complete with air kisses, yuck.

I swear we are from two different planets.

“I’ll be right inside and will bring it out once it’s on the platter with the flowers and everything. I want it to be perfect for you.”

Valerie does her best pouty face, but after a few seconds she is whisked away by one of the caterers to talk about something of ’pressing importance.’ I’m sure they’re off to discuss world peace. Or spinach puffs. Whatever.

“That was terrifying and yet, impressive at the same time,” Ashley says.

“Thanks. Now help me get this thing inside before someone sees!”

“Only if you promise to be Charity and not Miss. Washington for the rest of the day.”

“Deal.”

***

By some miracle—thank you cake gods—it turns out that Valerie’s cake has barely been damaged. Some of the mini-cakes that had been in Ashley’s car didn’t fare so well. Let’s just say that Ashley beat me to the house by ten minutes and it wasn’t by teleportation.

Luckily, the catering staff has an extra set of spatulas and I set about smoothing over the frosting to make sure everything looks perfect before sending it out to the backyard where the guests are gathered.

I’ll give Valerie credit for getting pregnant at the right time of the year to take full advantage of the relatively warm June days here in Seattle. Originally she wanted to have the party at a hotel ballroom, but my mom talked her into having it at her house so she could parade everyone through the baby nursery she had custom built and decorated.

Even with some of the catering staff helping, I am only halfway through the repairs, when Valerie storms into the kitchen, demanding to know what’s going on and why the dessert table isn’t set up yet. Ashley tries her best to run interference, but it’s too late.

“What’s taking so long? The party is already started.”

“I’ll have everything ready soon, Val. Go enjoy the party!”

“This is getting embarrassing! I should have known you wouldn’t be able to handle this.”

Really?

Last straw, meet camel’s back.

“I don’t know what magical fairy-tale kingdom you grew up in Valerie, but news flash, you’re not a princess! It’s not all about you. I am doing my best to get all this shit under control, to make the day perfect for you! The least you could do would be to say thank you, but you’re too busy being the world’s most spoiled, ungrateful sister!” I shout, spinning around and waving a spatula full of frosting in the air. At the crescendo of my tirade, a huge glob of frosting flies off the tip and lands with a magnificent splat right on her cheek.

Valerie recoils, a look of absolute shock and horror on her face.

“Charity! What on earth has gotten into you?” My mother shrieks as she practically flies across the room to Valerie’s side. She sweeps up a wad of napkins and frantically dabs away the splatter of icing.

“That’s it; I’m done.” I drop the spatula and put up my hands in surrender. “I can’t deal with this anymore. I am here working hard to help, and all you can do is complain. In all this planning, neither one of you has ever thanked me for anything I’ve done. And we still haven’t even talked about how completely unsupportive you two have been with my relationship and moving to LA. I’m expected to act like my life revolves around yours, but no one even acknowledges that I have a life of my own. No one thinks to check in with me and see how I’m doing with all the changes. It apparently hasn’t occurred to either one of you that I might be having a hard time and need some extra support.”

“That’s not fair! You’re the one who up and left town with hardly any notice! How were we supposed to react?” my mom says.

“All you had to say was that you were happy for me! It might not have been what you expected, or even what you wanted for me, but you should at least be happy that I’m finally happy again. Sending my ex-almost-fiancée after me and basically ignoring me for over a month doesn’t really scream supportive.”

“Stop! Stop it!” Valerie cuts in. “This is my party and you’re ruining it! Charity, every choice you have made for the last month has been selfish, and we have all just gone along, keeping our peace, but this is ridiculous.”

If the past month has been ’her keeping her peace,’ I cringe to think what would happen if she were to ’let loose.’

“I want you to leave,” Valerie says.

I flinch, as if slapped.

For a moment, I’m too stunned to speak.

“Enough, girls. Valerie, your sister is not going anywhere. All our family and friends are here. Let’s not make this a bigger ordeal. We will solve this in time, in private.”

Leave it to my mother to be the unexpected voice of reason.

Valerie opens her mouth, but my mother silences her with a look, and ushers her from the room to go mingle with the other guests. Both of them instantly plaster on their happy faces and switch back to their sickly sweet ‘company’ voices.

“Are you okay?” Ashley asks when they’re gone.

I shrug, not trusting my voice enough to speak.

“Do you wanna throw a cupcake?” Ashley asks. “I think it would help.”

I burst out laughing as she picks up one of the dainty cakes and rolls it back and forth between her hands.

“After I just spent all this time fixing them?” I take the cupcake out of her hands and set it back on the tray. “I don’t think so. But someone should probably tell Valerie about the pink spot on the side of her nose. Food coloring stains are a bitch….”