Rumors: Brianna & Hunter

by Rachael Brownell

  "How did she know you were with me?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at her. There’s something she’s not telling, I can feel it.

  "We may have talked about things last night after you two came back here to get dirty. You weren't supposed to do that, by the way. We were planning on making Vinnie sack up with Hunter last night."

  "Vinnie?"

  "Yeah. He drew the short straw."

  Good lord. My friends are crazy… in the best way possible.

  "Go!" she hollers, looking at the clock on the bedside table. "Shower. We can talk while she's doing your hair."

  Megan shoos me away with the flick of her hand. I roll my eyes but relent. A hot shower sounds great right now. I'm a little sore from 'getting dirty' last night as Megan put it.

  My hair is being pulled and twisted tightly to the base of my neck. It's irritating, but I know the finished product will be well worth the hour of pain I've been experiencing.

  Plus, it's better than what the makeup lady has in store for me. I've been watching her prep her bag full of tricks. She pulled out a metal gun looking thing a few minutes ago and plugged it in. I can only imagine what that's for.

  "Just a few more minutes, B, and she should be done. Your hair is looking fabulous," Megan encourages.

  I get a two-second warning before I'm doused in an excessive amount of hairspray. It's going to take more than a stiff gust of wind to destroy my hair. Hurricane force winds may not even be able to knock it down.

  When she turns the chair so I can see the finished product, I'm in awe. For our first wedding, my hair was pulled half up, with loose curls flowing down my back, hidden by my veil. My hair wasn't the focal point that day. My dress was.

  Today, my dress is probably the most basic thing about me. It's white, even though I considered buying a soft yellow or peach color since technically I shouldn't be wearing white, with tiny spaghetti straps and an empire waist. It lands just above my knees, and the shoes I picked, teal strappy sandals in honor of our original wedding colors, look fabulous with it. I love it. It caught my eye, and I knew it was the one.

  Yet, now that I see my hair, I wish I had opted for a more traditional dress. Something longer, with fancy beading or something on it.

  "You don't like it?" the hairdresser asks.

  "No. It's amazing. Thank you."

  "Why the frown, then?" Megan chimes in, moving to stand by my side, making eye contact in the mirror.

  "I was just thinking that it's going to put my dress to shame. Gorgeous hair with a plain dress," I explain, moving a tendril of hair that's blown into my eye. Surprisingly, I find that my hair's soft despite the obscene amount of hairspray.

  "Don't worry about that. I may have picked up a little something for your dress."

  "Megan—"

  "Nope. Time for makeup. If you're going to cry about something, do it now," she warns as the hairdresser begins to pick up her things and the makeup lady moves in, covering my face in a layer of moisturizer without so much as a hello.

  Biting my tongue, I close my eyes and let her go to work. It's not long before I find out what the gun-looking tool is for. She's spraying my face with makeup. I've heard of airbrushing before, but I've never had it done. It barely feels like I'm wearing makeup at all. It's light, and she swears it’s water, sweat and tearproof.

  All things that are important on a day like today.

  As she begins applying my mascara, the final touch according to her, the door bursts open, starling her and causing the mascara brush to slide down my cheek.

  Please don't say she has to start over. That might make me cry.

  All eyes fall on Emerson as she begins to rattle on about the wedding coordinator and how inept she is when it comes to planning a proper wedding.

  There's a warm cloth applied to my cheek and I'm told to close my eyes as the makeup lady readies her gun to spray fresh foundation on my face.

  "What seems to be the issue?" I hear Megan ask.

  "She's just an idiot. I went out there to see how things were coming along. I told you this morning I had a feeling she was going to screw it up. She had fifty chairs set up, the wrong color flowers and still no runner for Brianna to walk down."

  Emerson is heated. I've never heard her this frustrated or angry before. Sure, she's passionate about her work, I get that, but this is next-level concern. It's just a wedding. Things are bound to go wrong. It happens to everyone on their wedding day.

  Shit. I know what's going on, but before I can comment, the sprayer is back in action and I'm forced to close my eyes and hold my breath.

  "And…" Megan's voice trails off.

  "And I made her fix it. We have the exact number of chairs now, the flowers are on their way, and I raked the damn sand myself while she went in search of the runner."

  "So, everything is good, then?"

  Megan sounds skeptical.

  "For now. I can't wait to see what she screws up next. That reminds me, I need to check on the cake and the food and…" Emerson's voice becomes softer and softer until I hear the door click closed behind her.

  Once the spray settles, I clear my throat and open my eyes. Megan's watching me, one eyebrow lifted curiously.

  "Who breaks first? Her or you?"

  "Her. There's no question. Does she realize that I don't really care that much? My only focus today is marrying my husband. Professing my undying love for him and slipping away later and showing how much his love means to me."

  "Gross."

  "Like you and Vinnie don't have post-wedding plans," I challenge, pursing my lips at her as a smile slowly spreads across her face.

  "Not the point. Anyway, something else has to be going on. She's not normally like this, is she? I mean, she was a little erratic and bossy when it came to the security event a few weeks ago, but this is beyond that."

  "It's her wedding."

  "But it's not. That's the thing. I'd hate to see how she acts at her own wedding. I'd be afraid to be one of her vendors."

  "No, that's just it. She sees all this stuff going wrong, and she's freaking out about her own wedding. She's can't be her wedding coordinator, Megan. She has other things she needs to do that day. Makeup," I say, pointing to the lady still attempting to fix my left cheek. "Hair. Nails. All the bride stuff. She needs someone who will keep an eye on everything else for her like she's doing for me right now. Someone who can report back to her with only good news because any issues are already fixed."

  "Don't look at me. I'd probably rip someone’s head off or Emerson's. Plus, I'm not getting involved in my ex-husband’s wedding. As happy for them as I am, that's just messed up. If anything went wrong, I'd never hear the end of it because they'd probably think I ruined it on purpose."

  The thought of Megan planning, organizing, and coordinating Emerson's wedding makes me want to giggle, but with the mascara wand so close to my eye, I refrain. There'll be time for that later on.

  "Justine."

  "Do you think she can handle it?" Megan's uncertainty rings loud and clear.

  "She works with Emerson every day. She knows how she likes things. If anyone can handle Emerson and her wedding, it's Justine."

  Megan nods and pulls out her phone.

  "What are you doing?"

  "The girls wanted to get ready together. I'm letting them know they can come down now."

  All the girls. In one room. I'm glad we have a suite that's big enough to hold everyone.

  One at a time, the girls shuffle in the room with makeup bags and dresses. All look as if they're fresh out of the shower, hair still damp. They each set up in a different area of the room, plugging in curling irons and turning on their blow dryers.

  Emerson's feverishly curling her hair in an attempt to get back to monitoring the wedding coordinator. Justine and Angela are watching her as they carefully apply their makeup, sharing smirks and laughing amongst themselves.

  The last person to arrive is Cammie. The room is buzzing with conversation until she walks thro
ugh the door. Everyone stops talking and looks in her direction the moment the door closes behind her.

  I may not like this girl much yet, but that doesn't mean I can't try and be nice to her. She's a fish in an ocean of sharks right now. I can't imagine how she feels, but if the look on her face says anything, it's that she'd rather be anywhere but here.

  "Hey, Cammie. Come on in. Set up wherever you can find a spot," I say, taking her dress from her and hanging it next to mine.

  "Thanks."

  "Of course. We have champagne. Want a glass?"

  "Um, sure." Her reply is hesitant, and when I follow her line of sight, I realize why.

  She and Ally are staring at each other. A look of hatred in Cammie's eyes competes with a look of victory in Ally's. I feel a cat fight coming on, one that won't end well for anyone.

  Handing Cammie her glass of champagne, I lead her across the room to where I was getting ready. She follows me, breaking eye contact with Ally, and sips her champagne as she twists her hair into a loose bun on the top of her head.

  When I look over my shoulder, I find Ally watching her in the reflection of the mirror. I think Hunter may need to have a talk with Ally and Zane again. Tomorrow. After the wedding is over. Because it's just become my mission to make sure that no one ruins my wedding.

  It'll piss me off, but more than anything, it may kill Emerson.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It's funny how situations resolve themselves sometimes.

  Well, I shouldn't say funny. That makes me feel like a horrible person. Only because she's in pain, but still. Whether I like her or not, I wouldn't wish her situation on anyone.

  Picture this.

  All of us are ready. Champagne glasses in hand. Megan is giving a speech about love and happiness. About finding that one person that you're meant to spend the rest of your life with. Knowing when you've found that person and celebrating your love every day.

  It's a great speech.

  I wish it hadn't been ruined by childish actions.

  Sure, I get it. It hits down deep for those who don't have that special person in their life. But, as an adult, as a friend of the bride and the rest of the people in the room, have a little common courtesy and pull up your big girl panties. Take a breath, hold it, and push away your irritation or jealousy or whatever it is that is about to ensure you make an ass of yourself.

  Ally's not that contained, though. Her emotions, especially when it comes to relationships, are worn on her sleeve.

  So she stomps out of the suite, muttering something to herself I can't make out. We're all stunned silent as we watch her go, her flip-flops making that annoying sound as they clap against her heels.

  "I'll go talk to her," Justine offers.

  "No, let her go," Megan says after a long sigh. Reaching into her purse, Megan hands me a small, wrapped box. "Here, this is Hunter's gift. I wanted you to see it before you gave it to him, but they wrapped it."

  "What is it?" I ask, shaking the box next to my ear like a kid at Christmas trying to figure out what might be inside.

  "It's a watch. Stainless steel. It has a really cool vintage look to it, something I thought Hunter might like. It felt like his kind of style. I also had it engraved with your original wedding date and today's date on the back," she explains.

  I was worried for nothing. Megan did a great job. A better job than I think I would have done. Not only is this a thoughtful gift for Hunter it's practical. It's something he'll wear every day.

  "You continue to amaze me, you know that? It's the perfect gift. I think he's really going to like it," I reply, pulling her in for a hug.

  The tears want to fall, but I don't want to test my makeup's resistance just yet. I still have an entire ceremony to get through. Speaking of…

  "Is it time yet? Can I put my dress on now?" I ask, my eyes locking with Emerson's as I place the gift box on the table next to Hunter’s side of the bed.

  "We have enough time to clean up, and then we need to take our seats."

  Nodding, everyone starts gathering their things. That's when I notice Ally is missing and so is Cammie. This can't be a coincidence, and I have a bad feeling about it.

  "Megan," I call, nodding in the direction of Cammie's untouched things still spread out in the corner.

  "Shit. I'll go look for them." Megan rolls her eyes as she slips into her flip-flops and heads toward the patio doors Ally stormed out of earlier.

  "I'll come with you," Angela offers.

  "What's going on with that?" Justine asks, looking between Emerson and me.

  "We think Ally has a thing for Zane and Cammie is standing in her way." Emerson's words are direct and to the point for a reason. Justine is Ally's best friend. If she knows something, Emerson is hoping she might enlighten us.

  "Oh, she has a thing for him. She's been talking about him non-stop since the moment she laid eyes on him. The tattoos sucked her in, I think. Or the muscles. Or maybe the fact that he's been flirting with her without actually talking to her. You know Ally likes a challenge."

  That's what we were looking for. The inside scoop.

  "Not to mention she hates Chris," Justine continues. "He's annoying the hell out of her. I tried to warn her that would happen, but she didn't listen. He's nice, don't get me wrong, but he's quiet. Boring. Not her type at all. After Marco treated her like a piece of ass he just wanted to tap, she went for the complete opposite of him."

  It all makes sense now. Chris has barely spoken two words to anyone since he's been here. He avoided going out with the guys last night. In fact, I haven't seen him since the foodie tour, and even then, he kept to himself. Not for lack of trying by the guys in our group. They attempted to include him, but he didn't say anything unless he was asked a direct question.

  "I'm not surprised he left already. Ally didn't exactly make him feel welcome with the group."

  "He left?" I practically yell.

  "Yeah. Ally said he wasn't feeling well, but I know it's because he felt uncomfortable and she didn't help the situation. I doubt they're even still seeing each other at this point. This may have been a wakeup call for both of them that they're not a good fit."

  Not a good fit. That's putting it mildly.

  Before either Emerson or I can comment, Angela and Megan walk through the door, Cammie hobbling between them, leaning on Megan for support. Ally's right behind them, a sinister smirk on her face.

  "What the hell happened?" Emerson asks, rushing over to move the pillow out of the chair they're lowering her into.

  "She stepped into a hole in the sand and twisted her ankle," Ally says, a hint of laughter in her voice.

  "It's not twisted. I heard a snap," Cammie screams at her. "It's broken."

  "I'm going to call down to the front desk and have them bring up an icepack," Justine offers.

  "She needs to go get checked out," Angela says, pulling her cell phone from her purse and texting feverishly. "Someone has to go with her."

  "Who are you texting?" I ask. I should text Hunter so he can let Zane know what happened.

  "No one is going anywhere right now." Emerson's tone catches everyone's attention. Justine hangs up the phone. Angela stops texting. "Cammie, we're going to get you back to your room, elevate your foot, and get you some ice. After the ceremony, if it's not feeling better, someone will take you to the hospital. For now, we have a wedding to get to. Brianna, put on your dress. Megan and Angela can help me get Cammie down the hall. Justine, go grab those ice packs. We'll be back in a few to get you for the ceremony."

  "What about me?" Ally asks, her voice rising a few octaves, resembling a five-year-old whining about not getting her way.

  "Stay put. Help Brianna if she needs it."

  Emerson and Ally stare each other down for a few seconds before Ally looks away. It's clear who's in charge right now. She's smart not to mess with Emerson. I have a feeling she would end up losing more than this tiny battle.

  After the room clears out and only Ally and I
are left, I carefully slip into my dress while Ally cleans up her things. I want to ask her what really happened. It wouldn't surprise me if Ally pushed her and she fell. I'm sure they were exchanging words if they were out there together. Words that hopefully no one else heard. I can only imagine they were talking about Zane, fighting over him like high schoolers.

  So juvenile.

  How has Ally come so far in life and not grown up? She should respect their relationship. They came here together. They'll leave here together. Unlike her and Chris.

  "So," I start as I take a seat on the bed, tucking my dress beneath me. "What happened to Chris? Justine said he left already."

  "Yeah, that didn't work out. I wasn't going to bring it up and ruin your day." Dismissive. I'm not surprised.

  "I appreciate that, but what just happened outside with Cammie, that could have ruined my day, yet it didn't. She's hopefully going to be okay, and the ceremony's still on. Why would Chris leaving ruin anything?" I press her for answers, but all I get is her shrugging her shoulders and turning her back to me.

  "Listen, Ally. I know Megan's speech was a little… deep. She's in love, and that brings out some crazy emotions. I know you're not there yet; you haven't found that person, but you will. You just have to stop looking in all the wrong places."

  I try my best to sound supportive. I really do wish good things for her. We all want her to find what we have. The love of her life. The one who can tame the wild inside her.

  Instead, I sound like a cheap Hallmark card consoling her for something I have and she doesn't.

  "You know, you all think you have it so great. Marriage is overrated. How well do you really know your husband, huh? How well can you really know anyone? People lie. They have secrets. They hide things from the people they love. You think you know someone and then, bam! They're not the person you thought they were. So don't feel sorry for me. I can walk away whenever I want unlike the rest of you."

  Anger and denial are laced in every word she speaks. She's suppressing both to the best of her abilities, but I can see it. She's pointing the finger at the rest of us. Finding fault in our relationships. She's defensive and baiting me into a conversation I don't want to have with her.