The Hollywood Tales: Brandon Books 1-4

by Audra Cole

  Kira shoots her a dirty look. “I didn’t realize it would get this late. Of course we can stop for lunch. Actually, this is perfect!”

  I look at her, totally bewildered. “It is?”

  “Yes! This way you can sample some of their excellent food! I was meaning to ask how you would feel about having them do the catering for the wedding.”

  For such a highly detailed person, she can certainly be a scatterbrain sometimes.

  “Sounds great.”

  I’m in total chow-down mode and don’t really care where the food comes from. “But no filming!” I add, knowing I couldn’t eat in a ladylike manner, even if I wanted to right now.

  Kira agrees and we all head to the restaurant, which is indeed beautiful. Bonus points: the food totally rocks.

  Ashley, Brandon, and I sit at our own table. Kira sits by herself, alternating between taking bites of her food, scribbling notes on her legal pad, and typing things into her phone. It’s almost rhythmic to watch her.

  “I want to say, nice job setting a boundary,” Ashley says after we devour our appetizer and settle into our seats to wait for the main courses to be served.

  “Thank you.”

  “Let’s just be glad your mom wasn’t with us today,” she says. “We would still be on location one, reviewing linen options. Your mom and Kira together…”

  “Yikes,” Brandon says.

  “Ooh, I hadn’t even mentally let myself go there yet.” I collapse against Brandon’s chest.

  “You have a wine cellar somewhere at the house, right?” she asks, looking at Brandon.

  He nods in confirmation.

  “Well cheers to that!” she declares, raising her glass in the air. “I have a feeling we’re going to need it.”

  Chapter Ten

  By the time we finish lunch, tour the third venue, and film the staged conversation during which Brandon and I deliberate and eventually ’choose’ the vineyard, it’s already nine o’clock. As soon as we get back to the house, Brandon has to rush off to get back to the movie set to do some night filming.

  Luckily, Kira and her posse leave around the same time, so Ashley and I get some girl time. I relish the silence as I shut the front door. The house hasn’t been this quiet in, what seems like weeks, although I know, in reality, it’s only been a few days.

  When I get back to the kitchen Ashley has already popped open a bottle of wine and has poured two large glasses for us. I take my glass and sip at it while I lean against the counter.

  I never used to like things to be too quiet, but I have to admit, this is nice.

  When I look up from my wine glass, I see Ashley texting away, smiling at the phone screen. I don’t know why, but it catches me off guard. Ashley and I text on a fairly regular basis, but I don’t usually see her texting anyone else. Half the time, the girl doesn’t even know where her phone is.

  “Who are you talking to?” I ask.

  She looks startled and instantly presses the screen against her chest, as if to block my view. “It’s no one.”

  “Ash, what the hell? Who is that?”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll tell you, but don’t laugh.”

  I nod and gesture like I’m taking a solemn oath.

  “It’s Drew.”

  Drew? Realization hits, and I can’t help but let out a small giggle. “Brandon’s contractor?”

  “Charity! You promised not to laugh.” She pretends to be mad but can’t stop smiling long enough to look convincing.

  “No, no, Ash. I don’t mean it like that. I think this is the best news I’ve heard in a really long time. I’m happy for you. It was a happy giggle.”

  “All right, you’re forgiven. But don’t go getting too excited. It’s nothing serious. We have just been texting a little bit. He asked me out to dinner, but I had to cancel.”

  “Why?”

  “Well I got an emergency BFF text that took precedence,” she teases.

  “Oh, well I didn’t realize I was standing in the way of true love!”

  “Charity!”

  I laugh. “I’m sorry. But come on, let me have some fun. I haven’t been able to tease you about boy stuff in forever.”

  “True. Just promise you won’t tell Brandon.”

  I bite my lip. “But I tell him everything. And he knows Drew!”

  “That’s exactly why you can’t tell him. Please, I don’t want this to be a big deal. At least, not yet,” she says breaking out in a huge smile.

  “Ooh! Yet? I like the sound of that.”

  “You’re truly impossible.” She rolls her eyes and takes a sip of wine. “Shouldn’t you be getting to bed, what with your mom coming tomorrow and everything?”

  I playfully shove her. “That was mean.”

  She shrugs. “Payback darling.”

  “Don’t you mean dah-ling?”

  We both start to giggle at this.

  “What was that?” I ask when I catch my breath again.

  “I don’t know. I opened my mouth and it just kind of popped out. You’re just lucky I didn’t go through with wearing a tiara.”

  I’m hoping she’s kidding and that a tiara was never actually a serious consideration. Then again, it’s Ashley…anything is possible.

  “Charity, can I just say, this is insane,” she says, her tone completely serious. “Watching you deal with all this for only two days has worn me out.”

  “I know. It’s crazy right now,” I reply, smiling.

  “Are you happy?”

  The smile slides off my face. “You mean with Brandon?”

  “Not necessarily. I know you guys love each other, you look more in love than ever, but you hardly ever get to see him, and the rest of the time you’re here, dealing with all this, alone.”

  I nod slowly, trying to understand her point. For some reason, her words sting and I feel tears well up. I really hope it’s just the wine making me a little sappy, and I’m not really on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

  “I’m sorry, Charity. I didn’t mean to make you sad. We should put this away.” She turns and presses the cork back into the bottle of wine and crosses the kitchen to put it in the fridge.

  “I’m happy, Ash. I know it’s insane right now, but I can’t imagine my life without Brandon. Not after everything we’ve been through and how much we love each other. I don’t regret fighting through everything, and I don’t regret being here even though each day can be kind of a mess at times. I have to remember that once this is all over, we will be married and life will slow down, at least a little. I have my cookbook coming out soon and that’s going to open up a whole new door for me.”

  “Okay, good. I just wanted to make sure.”

  We take our glasses out to the living room and watch a movie together, remaining mostly silent. Everything seems to be fine, but I can’t get her words out of my head.

  I wake up the next morning on the couch, still in my clothes from the night before. Ashley is sprawled out in the other direction, passed out cold. I get up quietly and sneak upstairs to my bedroom. It’s fairly dark outside, but by the small amount of light filtering in through the blinds, I can tell that the bed is still made. Brandon hasn’t even been home yet.

  I sigh and head for the shower. I have about an hour and a half until everyone gets here. It’s almost six and as I glance at the clock again, I realize that back home, my mom is probably saying good-bye to Valerie and my new little niece, Lola Joy, before heading to the airport to come here.

  Two more weeks. Two more weeks. Two more weeks.

  Mentally, I keep this chant going as I get ready for the day.

  It helps. Slightly.

  Once I’m showered, dressed, and made up, I head back downstairs. Ashley is still sleeping on the couch. I set about making a giant pot of coffee, hoping the scent will wake her up naturally. While I wait for the coffee to brew, I sit on one of the bar stools at the counter and flip through Kira’s schedule. Looks like today we will be filming: “Touching Mother—Daughter
Reunion,” “Tea Party,” and, “Dress Shopping.”

  Tea party? Someone save me.

  Anyone?

  The only good thing is that none of these activities requires Brandon’s presence—unless he’s invited to the tea party, which I seriously hope he’s not, although, it might be fun to watch him laugh in Kira’s face at the very idea—which means he can come home and have some peace and quiet to catch up on sleep, since he probably got little to none last night.

  It’s entirely possible that sleep deprivation is going to turn our entire honeymoon into a giant nap at this point.

  I consult the list again. The only thing on here that I am remotely excited about is dress shopping. Especially with a virtually limitless budget. Even after all the planning that’s been done up to this point, I haven’t really considered what kind of dress I want. I’ve always loved the idea of the dress kind of picking you and having that moment where you look in the mirror and realize it’s “the one.”

  “How can you be so happy this early?” Ashley asks as she shuffles into the kitchen, her path zeroed in on the coffee pot. “What time is it anyway? Five?”

  “Good morning sunshine,” I say. “And no, it’s almost eight.”

  She mumbles to herself as she mixes up her coffee. Lots of cream. Lots of sugar.

  “What time is your mom getting here?” she asks, after downing half the mug.

  “Like noon, I think. Looks like we have a tea party to attend at three.”

  “A tea party? What the heck?” She groans.

  “Should I cancel that?”

  “Most definitely.” She starts her second cup. “I’m pretty girly, but that might even be too much for me.”

  “Agreed.” I take the black pen and draw an X. I’m sure Kira will protest, but I don’t care. I’m way too burnt out right now.

  “Do you think your mom is going to play nice?”

  “I hope so. I feel like we left off in a good place. She has been texting me every day, mostly stuff about the baby, but that’s still a step in the right direction.”

  “Well, whatever you do, just don’t go throwing frosting and we should all be fine.”

  I laugh. “Noted. Cake tasting isn’t until…” I consult the spreadsheet. “Thursday, so I should be all right.”

  Brandon gets back from filming right before my mom is scheduled to arrive. He offers to stay up and wait for her, but I take pity on him and send him up to sleep. I can tell he’s had a rough night and he’s not going to be in the mood for company, especially not my mother. They actually haven’t seen each other since the rehearsal dinner, over three years ago, when we were engaged the first time.

  I have a feeling it’s going to be awkward.

  The camera crew starts to rustle and I know it’s almost time to go. I give my reflection a quick glance in the decorative mirror above the fireplace.

  Showtime.

  “It’s gonna be fine,” Ashley reminds me.

  After a long, seemingly endless silence, there is finally a knock on the door. I catch Kira in my peripheral vision and she cues me forward.

  “Charity! Sweetheart!” My mother bursts into the room and throws her arms around my neck. She holds me so tight it’s hard to breathe, let alone talk. And, to my horror, I can see her stack of luggage out on the porch. It looks like she is planning for a month-long stay, not a couple of days.

  “It’s just so good to see my daughter. She’s my baby, you know,” my mom says, looking directly into one of the cameras, addressing no one in particular. “When she was born, she didn’t have any hair, and I had to pierce her ears because people always thought she was a boy. Did you see the baby pictures yet? I brought some.” She breaks contact with the camera and starts digging in her purse.

  What the—

  Ashley snorts back a laugh.

  “Mom, what are you doing?”

  “What? I thought this was a show about your life? So, I’m telling them the parts you may have left out.” She gestures at the cameras. I follow her hand and see that most of the crew is holding back laughter. Kira is the only one who doesn’t look amused.

  “Cut!” Kira says, rubbing her temples. “Mrs. McAdams, my name is Kira. I’m the producer and director of the show. Did my production team not give you instructions? I sent someone…Stephanie, I believe, to tell you how all of this works. You never look directly at the camera!”

  “Hey, back off,” I say. Kira’s tone is light but something about it rubs me the wrong way. “She’ll get it.”

  My mom nods. “I’m so sorry. I won’t talk to the camera anymore.”

  “Perfect. Let’s go ahead and set up the next scene. We can always re-film this later.” Kira goes back to her notes and flips through her charts.

  “Yeah, we should have plenty of time this afternoon. Kira, you might check the schedule. We decided to skip the tea party,” Ashley says.

  Kira looks horrified but doesn’t argue. “All right, scratch that off. Tell you what, why don’t we all take a little break. We can regroup before we head to the bridal shop.”

  She leaves the room, visibly upset. A part of me feels bad for wrecking her “vision,” but I’m mostly relieved.

  We all agree to the new plan and help my mom—and her sixty pounds of luggage—up the stairs to the second guest room, where she will be staying.

  ***

  The entire caravan unloads in front of the bridal shop and I can’t help but laugh. It looks like we’re taking the place by force as the crew marches into the tiny boutique, armed with their equipment.

  The shop is closed to all other customers, and the owner is actually the one assisting us. She gives us a brief tour around the shop, which is semi clunky and awkward just due to the size. Once that is out of the way, she shows us a rack with half a dozen dresses that she selected just for me. Ashley runs an approving look at all of them, and we get down to business.

  I’ve pretty much exhausted every dress in the small shop…well at least all the ones that would look good on a short, curvy girl instead of six-foot models with three percent body fat.

  I don’t know why I thought this would be easy. Nothing about this entire process has been easy.

  “This is hopeless,” I say to Ashley, flopping on the dressing room chair.

  “What do you mean? There are still three left to try on,” she says, gesturing to the rack pushed up against the wall.

  “I know, but this isn’t fun. Every single one I like, my mom points out how it might make my hips look bigger or make me look too short. I mean really, how many times has she reminded me that…”

  “The camera adds ten pounds,” we finish in unison.

  “Exactly. And then Kira gets on my case, if it doesn’t have at least ten pounds of sparkles attached to it.”

  “Seriously! What is with that?”

  I shrug. “All I know is that I don’t want the ten pounds of whatever the camera is adding and another ten pounds of sparkles added on top of that!”

  “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 vo
te 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.

  Chapter Eleven

  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.”