Bellamy's Redemption

by Holly Tierney-Bedord

  “We’re not prisoners,” said Vanessa. “This isn’t a war. We can do anything we want.”

  “We’re not criminals,” Alanna added. “Let’s get the fuck out of here!” She polished off her champagne, handed the glass to Bob for a refill, and had a giggling hiccup fit. “I’m always… drunk… I love it,” she said between hiccups.

  “What about our contracts?” I asked.

  “We’re not going to break our contracts. We’re just going to have some fun,” said Vanessa.

  “Have you ever done anything fun?” Alanna asked me.

  “Well, of course I have.”

  “Really? I doubt that. Bobby, where’s my champagney?”

  “You’re so different from how you seemed on TV,” I said.

  “It’s called editing. Put on one of those ten thousand dollar cocktail dresses you stole and try not to look like an uptight librarian. We’re leaving in fifteen minutes,” said Alanna. She shakily stood up and danced around. Despite her status of heavily intoxicated, she was still a great dancer. “Fifteen minutes! Get ready in fifteen minutes! Woo hoooooo,” she screamed.

  “Seriously, Emma. Get dressed. We should go before the adrenalin wears off,” said Vanessa. “Alanna, can I still borrow your strapless taupe dress? The mini-dress with the lace-up sides?”

  “You can have it. It’s so nasty. I can’t even believe I own it.”

  “Were you both planning this?” I asked, feeling a mix of sadness over being excluded, but happiness over being included.

  “Come on, nerdling,” said Alanna. She stopped dancing and tried to be very serious. “Get dressed and stop worrying about consequences. We’ll be fine. There is no show without us. Klassie isn’t coming back. We are now a very precious commodity since there are always four Meet-the-Fam dates, and with Klassie gone, there are only four of us left.”

  “Klassie’ll be back. She seemed perfectly fine,” I said.

  “Did you see her? She’s not fine at all. She’s practically dead,” said Alanna.

  “Nuh uh. I saved her,” said Vanessa. “But you’re right that she totally isn’t coming back. She is going to need to recover. Her back is going to kill tomorrow.”

  “So, because of her little mishap, even Little Debbie is safe now. We’re all in the final four,” said Alanna.

  “Final four,” Vanessa added.

  “And,” Alanna continued, “we can do anything we want. Because we are a valuable commodity. Repeat after me: valuable commodity. Trust me. I’ve been down this road. Bob, would you mind not filming this? Pleassse? Thank you, Bob. So, let’s get out of here. Let’s get drunk. I mean, let’s get drunker.”

  “Really?” I asked. I could feel myself blotching up. Were we actually going to boldly, openly break rules? It was so not me.

  “Would you have ever dreamed this would be the final four?” Vanessa asked no one in particular, drawing an invisible circle around the three of us and making her finger lasso me about ten times. I felt like reminding her that before Alanna came along, she used to be rather nice.

  “No way,” said Alanna. “Emma, can I borrow your black one-shoulder mini dress? Actually, can I have it? Oh, and what size shoes do you wear?”

  “Hmm… What? I missed that,” I said, panicking. How could I explain that they were loaner clothes? The idea of lending out loaners was scarier than letting someone borrow a library book. I swallowed a couple of times trying to think of what to say. Hives started prickling my face and neck.

  “I want your dress. The black mini one. The one shouder one. It’s a Valducci Gazpacho, right? I call it Gracie because it’s so graceful. That is my name for it. I named it so that means you have to give it to me. Don’t look at me like that! Can I have it? Pretty please. It would look so good on me.”

  “Actually, I would, but… I’m a terribly possessive person who hates to share… Plus, I plan to wear it soon.”

  “Are you serious? Possessiveness is the worst. Really. What a horrid trait. Bob, can you tell Emma to give me her dress?” He shrugged and shook his head. She kept forgetting that he wasn’t supposed to be part of the show.

  “Well…” I said.

  “Forget it. Never mind. I don’t need your clothes to look good. God, I thought we were friends, Emma!”

  “Should just you and I go out?” Vanessa asked Alanna.

  “Yeah, that sounds cool,” said Alanna.

  “Wait,” I said. “You can’t go without me!”

  There was a knock at the door and Catalina Cartwright stepped through it, draped in a flowing gold dress with a short chiffon train. Her hair was ironed perfectly straight. She reminded me of a pretty version of Donatella Versace. She was wearing a plastic coach’s whistle on a cord around her neck and just as all the cameras zoomed in on her she blew the whistle five short, loud times. “Did I get your attention?” she asked.

  “Yes, of course,” said Alanna, her fingers shoved in her ears.

  “I heard you girls are plotting an escape. I guess we’re not keeping you entertained enough. Is that right?”

  “Oh no, Catalina. That’s not it at all. We’re totally entertained,” said Vanessa.

  “Yes. Constantly,” I added.

  “Good. I’m glad to hear it,” said Catalina. “What about you, Alanna? Is this enough entertainment for you?”

  “Yes,” Alanna said, sounding almost meek.

  “Wonderful. Now that we’ve established that you’re all properly entertained, I have a little surprise for you. I would like you all to meet me downstairs in the ballroom in twenty minutes. Dress in evening gowns. You three have an elimination ceremony to attend.”

  “What? How is that possible?” asked Vanessa. “Aren’t Bellamy and Deb out on a date?”

  “If I were you, I would use all twenty minutes getting ready instead of blabbering. I mean, actually, all nineteen minutes, now. I wouldn’t say any of you have properly represented our brand the past several dates. But hey, that’s just my opinion. What do I know,” said Catalina. “I’ll leave you three to get ready. See you soon,” she said, blowing the whistle one long last time and marching towards the door.

  “Wait. Stop, Catalina,” yelled Alanna.

  Catalina paused in the doorway, looking down at Alanna. “What is it, Alanna?” she asked. I did so admire her blatant contempt for Alanna Rutherford that I couldn’t quite tear myself away from the scene.

  “How can there be an elimination ceremony? That doesn’t fit with the formula. I have never heard of such a thing! Is it just for the three of us? Bellamy would never do that to me!”

  “Bellamy didn’t arrange this. Bellamy doesn’t even know about this yet,” said Catalina, smiling a smug, evil smile.

  “Did you decide to do this?” asked Alanna. “I didn’t think you had that kind of pull.” She put her hand on the wall to steady herself. Her face was flushed a lovely shade of pink. Like everything, drunkenness made her even prettier. “Did the producers come up with this? I don’t understand. Bob, did you know about this? Bob, we’re totally friends. I can’t believe you didn’t say anything to me!”

  Bob shook his head.

  “Be downstairs in…” Catalina checked her diamond covered Art Deco wristwatch that was probably a non-working prop. “Now it’s fifteen minutes. I’m done adjusting schedules and making exceptions. Even for you, Alanna,” she said.

  “Why would you all do this? Why?” asked Alanna. “You’re not really going to send me home. That would be suicide for the show. You know I’m right. Right, Catalina? Is this all a joke?” But Catalina was already gone.

  I couldn’t be bothered any longer with listening to her speculations. I threw on an evening gown and began applying eye shadow and mascara. My hair looked dull and greasy so I pulled it back in a ponytail, which made it look even greasier. I took it out of the ponytail and tried to fluff it up, but it was like fluffing oily spaghetti noodles. We only had ten minutes left. Desperate, I clipped one of Deb’s faux extensions to the top of my head. I tease
d it and ratted it. It looked like matted doll hair and did not properly match my own hair, but at least it hid the greasiness a little. I sighed. Yet another moment of me looking bad, captured on TV.

  I sneaked a peak at Vanessa and Alanna. Neither was dressed yet, but from the neck up, they both looked like they’d been getting ready for hours. Vanessa’s hair had somehow become a cascading waterfall of loose waves while Alanna and Catalina were arguing. Alanna, who had only joined us seconds earlier, now looked unpink, unruffled, and her hair was magically, perfectly, pinned back in a low chignon. Unfortunately, even with just a moment’s notice neither was capable of looking ugly.

  I ran off to find some shoes since we were nearly out of time. I wanted to wear some strappy, sparkly sandals, but I was afraid I didn’t even have enough time to fasten them properly. I started throwing shoes left and right, trying to find something suitable.

  “Emma, let’s go,” said Vanessa. How were they ready already?

  I gave up and followed her and Alanna downstairs. On the way down the stairs, I tripped on the front of my dress, tearing the hem. Now it was impossible to hide that I was wearing tan businessy pumps with a rose colored evening gown. How many times did I need to wear the wrong shoes before I finally learned my lesson? Why had I even brought these shoes along? And to top it all off, they squeaked with every step I took. “Don’t cry. Do not cry,” I whispered to myself, brushing Bob and his camera out of my face.

  Standing in the ballroom was Catalina Cartwright, grinning radiantly. She raised her glass and smiled warmly into the nearest camera. “Welcome ladies! Welcome. Please take a seat.”

  Three tall-backed chairs were set in a line against the wall. We sat down. I was in the middle and I realized as I looked out the corner of my eye that Alanna was wearing my one-shoulder dress. I wanted to punch her. At this point, though I was embarrassed about my appearance, I was still relatively unfazed by our surprise elimination ceremony, thinking there was no way it could personally affect me. We’re probably going to have to eat something gross, I figured. If I can, I will. If I can’t, I won’t. I trust Bellamy; he will keep me around no matter what. But if he does send me home, well… Who cares? I yawned and tucked my feet discreetly beneath my chair.

  Catalina Cartwright continued: “Tonight is a special night. A very special night! A night that will truly test the bonds of love, and help Bellamy on his search for love, truth, and honesty. What these three finalists don’t know is that they are about to face a challenge. A love challenge.” She turned to us and smiled. “You’re about to face a love challenge,” she repeated to us.

  “Super,” I said, nodding. Alanna smiled tightly and Vanessa pretended to be distracted by her cocktail ring.

  “You see,” said Catalina, talking back into the camera, her face scrunching up, an eyebrow cocking, “we’ve done a little research this season, and discovered that these three ladies all have a past.”

  Alanna and Vanessa both became incredibly still and pale.

  “A past is nothing to be ashamed of,” Catalina continued, her voice suddenly sweet and soothing. “Anyone who has lived has a past. We just want to be sure that all three of these ladies are ready to let go of their pasts, in order to move forward. What do you think? Should we find out if they’re ready?” She paused, smiling a mischievous but not unkind smile, allowing the audience at home a chance to cheer a little.

  “May I be excused?” Vanessa whispered to a producer. Instead of responding to her pleas, he got busy pretending to be focused on the malfunctioning mechanical pencil in his hand.

  “Before we have our elimination ceremony, where one or more of these ladies may be going home, we need to have a cocktail party,” said Catalina. “Let me introduce our guests. First, we have Bernstein Mulberry-Schlotz, who knows Vanessa very well. Come on out, Bernstein.”

  Vanessa looked over at Alanna and me. “That’s my ex,” she mouthed. I couldn’t tell if she was happy or horrified. A guy with brown hair and a tweedy Mumford and Sons type outfit came prancing towards us. He didn’t look like much to me.

  “Oh, Bernie,” said Vanessa, gasping, covering her mouth with her hands.

  She stood up and they embraced. A velvet curtain dropped from the far wall, displaying a regal portrait of Bernie and baseball card-like statistics about Bernie and Vanessa’s relationship: Met in 2008. Dated for 3 years. Consummated relationship aboard The Sea Princess in May of 2008. Planned on having three children.

  Catalina handed them each a glass of champagne. “I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about,” she said, ushering them away from her and over to the dance floor. Do You Realize by the Flaming Lips began playing and soft sparkles of light speckled the floor.

  “Oh Bernie! They’re playing our song,” gushed Vanessa. “What are the odds?” The next thing I knew, they were kissing.

  “Just as I suspected,” said Catalina into the camera. Her expression turned earnest. The sympathetic newscaster. My least favorite version of her. “Now, to our viewers at home, please understand that this Love Challenge has the best of intentions. We want to find true, committed ladies who are serious and ready to settle down with Bellamy. Bellamy deserves that. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I need to leave. Please,” Alanna whispered, searching for returned eye contact from one of the producers. They all ignored her.

  Catalina continued with her monologue: “Lingering love, those pesky old flames, can be detrimental to new love. They can be the snuffer that puts out new flames. So this is important, and fair. We’ve said it here before, but it bears repeating: All’s fair in love and war.” She nodded thoughtfully, stroking her chin, letting the words sink in for a contemplative moment. “On that note, our next guest of honor is Jean-Luc Fortin. Alanna, I’m sure you recognize Jean-Luc. Welcome, Jean-Luc!”

  Out came a huge, gorgeous hockey player. It didn’t matter that one of his front teeth was knocked out. He was an amazing specimen of manliness. I wished he was here to represent Team Emma. He went straight to Alanna, swooped her up in his arms, and began kissing her. I was seethingly jealous that I would never know the joy of tonguing some hot hockey player’s tooth gap. She had everything, even in this moment, my dress. Life can be so unfair.

  From the far wall another velvet curtain dropped, revealing a giant portrait of Jean-Luc with his mouth closed, looking even hotter. Along with the poster were statistics about his relationship with Alanna, as well as what appeared to be a proposal: Met in 2006. Dated until 2007. Dated again in 2008 until 2009. Dated for three months in 2010. Dated again in 2011 until 2012. …Baby, I’m sorry I hurt you. You can count on me this time around. You know you can’t quit me! Will you marry me?

  “Why don’t you two take a walk through Paris and catch up,” Catalina suggested, sending a camera crew after them. Then she turned to me. “Emma, did you think we forgot about you? Of course we didn’t! We’ve saved the best for last. Let’s see if you’re as serious about Bellamy as you would need to be to marry him. Let’s see how you feel about this.”

  I braced myself. Pinpricks of nervous energy ran down my spine and I felt like I couldn’t get enough air, but unlike Alanna and Vanessa, I wasn’t scared. I was thrilled. I realized my time here on Bellamy’s Redemption would be over, but I didn’t care. In fact, I was ecstatic. I squeezed my fists into little balls and smiled, ready to see Pete. Ready for all this to be over. Ready for honesty again. Ready to be safe in Pete’s arms.

  “Let’s give a warm welcome to our next guest,” said Catalina, swinging her arm grandly towards the ballroom door.

  There was such a glare that I couldn’t see him at first. So many cameras on me and so much heat. I began seeing sparkling stars and the next thing I knew, I was falling right out of my chair. Oh no! I was fainting! Why? Why me? I knew enough to have one final thought before plunking to the ground: “This… is… so… embarrassing.”

  Chapter 24

  “She has barely been eating,” Vanessa was saying. I couldn’t see he
r, but I could recognize her know-it-all Southern drawl. I tried to say that she was lying, but my lips wouldn’t move. My eyes seemed to be glued shut. When I finally forced them open, I was looking up at many faces. Too many faces. There were Catalina and Vanessa, producers and assistants, and the Bellamy’s Redemption medics.

  “Back away, give her some air,” said one of them. Everyone inched back a teesny bit.

  “Are you okay? I was so worried about you,” said Vanessa. I realized she was holding my hand. I tried to pull mine away, but hers was clamped onto me like a vice. Behind her was Bernie. I looked at our hands and realized there was a huge diamond engagement ring on hers.

  “Bernie and I are engaged,” she whispered. “It just happened. While we were dancing.”

  “We’re going to need you to do that again,” one of the producers said to Bernie.

  “Sure. You don’t have to ask me twice,” he said.

  “Emma, are you feeling better? Can you stand up?” asked a producer.

  “I think so,” I said, starting to sit up.

  “No. Not yet. Rest a little longer,” said one of the medics, pressing his big hand against my throat.

  “Who came to see me?” I asked.

  The faces above me exchanged puzzled glances. No one spoke.

  “Who is my special guest?” I asked.

  A short, squatty guy who was leaning over me, who I had assumed to be some random French person, cleared his throat. “Don’t you remember me, Emma?”

  I squinted up at him. “Are you an American?” I asked him.

  “Yeah. Of course. Emma, it’s me. Richie Buffalo. Your junior prom date. From high school.”

  “Richie Buffalo?” I repeated.

  “Hi, Honey. It’s great to see you. You look great. Even better than you looked back then,” he said. His face was large and round with enormous pores. His eyebrows were bushy and beads of sweat were everywhere. I closed my eyes. Vanessa moved out of the way and he moved in even closer. He began stroking my hair. “Remember how you wore that awesome turquoise dress and I had a matching pocket square and cummerbund? Remember that?”