Fifteen Minutes of Summer
Heather Wardell
Copyright
Copyright 2015 Heather Wardell
http://www.heatherwardell.com
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Table of Contents
Book Description
Author’s Note
FIFTEEN MINUTES OF SUMMER
Acknowledgements
Thank You For Reading
What’s Coming Next?
Also by Heather Wardell
Book Description
In the sequel to “Bad Will Hunting”, Summer’s seeking her big break in show biz. Helping her ex Kent and former show rival MC plan their wedding gives her access to the story of the year, and she can almost taste her fifteen minutes of fame. She’ll do whatever it takes to get there, but she soon learns that getting - and keeping - fame comes at a price. Is it really worth the cost?
Author’s Note
“Fifteen Minutes of Summer” is the third book in my “Seven Exes” series (after “Seven Exes are Eight Too Many” and “Bad Will Hunting”). You’ll still understand the story here if you haven’t read the previous books but you will definitely get spoilers, so if you plan to read the other two books you should do that first. (There are also some references to another book, “Live Out Loud”, so again I recommend reading that one first if you plan to do so.)
Whether you’ve read all of my books (starting with my free novel “Life, Love, and a Polar Bear Tattoo”) or are just finding me now, thank you so much! If you’d like a free short story every month, please check out my newsletter at http://heatherwardell.com/newsletter.shtml.
Heather
FIFTEEN MINUTES OF SUMMER
Prologue
I recognized the camera crews’ parked SUVs as our limo turned into the church driveway, and my heart pounded so hard I felt sure everyone could hear it. Those people should have been far away armed with telephoto lenses. Instead they were standing at the church door, armed with huge cameras and facing a crowd of guests and groomsmen and the groom himself.
“What the-- MC, did you ask for--”
“God, no.” MC exchanged a stunned look with her maid of honor Liv, her hands clutching at the white silk skirt of the wedding gown I’d made for her. “A camera crew? Of course I didn’t. And Kent wouldn’t have either. What’s happening?”
Staring out the window at my fellow CelebToday reporter Mimi standing in front of her camera guys arguing with Kent over what I knew was her determination to film his wedding, I tried to make sure I was reacting with the same shock and horror as Liv and bridesmaid Holly. I wasn’t shocked, not in the same way, but I was definitely far more horrified. This wasn’t what I’d agreed to, at all, and I had only moments to figure out how to resolve it before my ex-husband Kent’s wedding to his new love MC fell apart.
No surprise, I didn’t come up with anything, since if I’d been smart enough to do that I wouldn’t have been stupid enough to be in this mess in the first place. I’d tried to make MC‘s dress and do her hair and makeup so she’d look different, more like the feminine flouncy Madeleine-Cora she’d been named instead of the boring MC she called herself, so I could pretend it wasn’t her if the cameras showed up. I hadn’t managed that, though, and it hadn’t been much of a plan anyhow, and now I didn’t have any other ideas at all never mind one I could execute in seconds.
Liv, though, was quick enough to bark at the limo driver to keep moving, to go back to Holly’s house where we’d gotten ready for the wedding.
The driver shook his head and pulled to a stop in front of the church where he lowered all the car windows at once, letting in the cold February air and the sound of the fight between Kent and Mimi. The sound of my doom.
“Roll those up,” Liv ordered, panic in her voice, “and get out of here. Summer, Holly, roll them up!”
We tried, but there weren’t any controls on our doors. The driver didn’t respond to Liv or do anything with the windows. He also didn’t drive away, and the camera crew rushed toward the limo with their cameras raised.
I could not let this happen, the invasion of privacy I knew MC had dreaded which I’d tried so hard to prevent, so I threw myself out of the car shouting frantically, hoping to somehow fix everything with just the right words. “No! Get out of here! I told you no! Not like this!”
Those were apparently not just the right words, because Mimi followed her guys toward me waving papers which I knew were the printout I’d done with her detailing the church’s location.
Unable to believe this had all gone so much more wrong than I’d imagined in my worst nightmares, I burst into tears, but through my sobs I heard Mimi say with satisfaction, “Shouldn’t have given me the details then.” Knowing the others must have heard that too, that Kent and MC and the man I’d thought might be my future knew what I’d done, made me cry even harder.
Mimi’s crew pushed past me as if I weren’t there and I turned enough to see them shoving their lenses into the open limo windows. Kent snapped at Mimi to leave, but she laughed and said, “Fine, whatever. Doesn’t look like there’s going to be a wedding today anyhow,” then told her guys, “Let’s bail out before the cops arrive.”
Standing with my hands over my mouth, struggling to breathe through my misery, I could now hear the rising sirens she’d probably already noticed.
The crew backed away from the limo, no doubt with a ton of pictures MC hadn’t wanted them to get, and I heard the driver say loudly, “Outta the car, then. I go with them.”
Fresh despair struck me. I’d been the one to recommend the limo company, and Kent and MC weren’t stupid. The driver so publicly connecting himself with Mimi and her crew meant things were about to get even worse for me.
I watched, wanting to help but not knowing how, as Liv scrambled out of the car then eased MC in the big white dress I’d worked so hard to make gorgeous out onto the driveway while Holly burst out of the other side and rushed around to assist her soon-to-be-sister-in-law too.
“See you on your honeymoon, Kent,” Mimi said, in the most sickly-sweet voice imaginable, and my heart raced even more at the blazing fury in Kent’s eyes. She wouldn’t, but Kent didn’t know that and I had no way to tell him.
Mimi and her crew piled back into their SUVs, and the limo driver took off after them around the church’s horseshoe-shaped driveway, scattering gravel behind him, and I did the hardest thing I’d ever done in my life.
I made myself face MC.
She was staring at me, her eyes wide and agonized. I’d often seen her showing no emotion at all, but I could see everything she felt now and it tore me apart. “How could you,” she said, almost crying. “Was it for money? Or your career? You sold us!”
Knowing I couldn’t make things right but longing to, I said, “I tried to stop it.” Memories of exactly how hard I’d tried, and what I’d done, flooded me, and my eyes welled with tears again. I brushed them away and kept going, babbling about how I’d thought they wouldn’t mind and had tried to fix things once I’d realized they would while hoping with all my heart I could somehow convince them to forgive me.
“You should never have done it, no matter what you thought,” Kent snapped at me, cutting me off, and my last thought of being forgiven died with my unfinished sentence. I’d never seen my ex-husband so an
gry. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
I couldn’t answer that question, not without ruining everything I’d been working to gain for months. I looked at the group, desperate for one friendly face, but they all looked as angry and disgusted as Kent. Aaron even turned his back on me as if he couldn’t stand the sight of me.
Lost, I started crying again, but the sound of another car approaching distracted everyone from me.
The police officer stepped from her car and Kent said, “I’m sorry for bothering you. They’ve left now.”
“We got both SUVs for speeding at the end of the road,” the officer said, her voice crisp and cool but with a hint of sympathy. Sympathy for Kent and MC. Because of what I’d done to them. Knowing they absolutely deserved that sympathy, I couldn’t hold back even more tears. “We’ll keep them busy for a while, so carry on with your wedding.”
Kent mumbled, “Will do,” and the officer left.
Nobody spoke for a long horrible minute, then MC threw words at me like the limo’s wheels had thrown the gravel, hard and sharp. “No. No way. You don’t get to cry. You’re the one who did all of this. Just because you want your career to take off. You ruined our wedding and you think you get sympathy? Not a chance. Get lost!”
Could I somehow tell them the whole story? Would they believe it? Would they forgive me?
I looked at Kent, trying to judge, but his icy face told me I couldn’t and they wouldn’t even before he said, “Go. Now. I never want to see you again.”
Though I knew it was pointless I ran my eyes over the gathered wedding party and guests one more time in search of a supporter. Ron’s eyes met mine, and locked hard, but they held no support. Not even close. He hated me just as much as his brother now did, and no wonder. I’d ruined his brother’s wedding. I’d ruined everything.
Seeing that emotion in Ron’s eyes was more than I could bear. I spun away, the tears rising yet again, and rushed down the driveway.
I couldn’t let myself look back.
Once I’d gone down the road enough that I was out of sight of the adorable country church Kent had chosen to marry his second and for sure final wife, I huddled in my coat and cried until I had nothing left.
Then I pulled out my cell phone and called for a taxi to pick me up.
The rain started moments after I made the call. I stood for twenty minutes, shivering and dripping and doing my best to keep my mind entirely blank so I wouldn’t have to relive how horribly I’d just ruined every relationship that mattered to me, until the cab finally showed up.
“Yeah, you’ve been waiting a while,” the guy said, not sounding apologetic, as I scrambled into the back seat. “We’re busy today. Why didn’t you wait inside?”
“Couldn’t,” I said, wiggling my wet cold feet in their stupid pink high heels.
I willed him not to ask me why, but he didn’t. No doubt he didn’t care.
Nobody cared about me, not after what I’d done.
And the most hellish thing was, I’d only been trying to help.
PART ONE
Chapter One
About two months earlier, before I ruined Kent’s wedding and my life, I stood backstage after the reunion show chatting to Peter, our host for our time on the island and with any luck my coworker in the future.
“You always slap a guy then kiss him?” Peter smiled and ran his hand over his as-always-perfect black hair. “Interesting technique.”
“Only when he deserves it. Deserves them both,” I said, smiling back.
He gave my shoulder a friendly squeeze, then let his hand linger. “Well, it was pretty gutsy. Made for good TV. Did you have that all planned beforehand?”
I certainly had not. Kent had told me, while we were marooned together on that ridiculous half-”Stranded!”-half-”Find My Princess” show, that he wanted MC back, and so when he threw our final contest on the island to let her win it pissed me off because MC didn’t seem like the kind of person who’d accept that. When I walked onto the reunion show stage and saw him sitting there, I was hit by such a wave of remembered anger at his foolishness that I hadn’t been able to stop myself hitting him.
But after slapping him, I’d been hit by a different wave: admiration for someone who could make such a huge gesture. I’d never have given up something I wanted as much as I knew he’d wanted the money just to make things better for someone else. And so I’d kissed him, to let him know how great I still thought he was even though we were divorced.
Peter seemed impressed by my actions, though, and I wanted him impressed after what he’d suggested to me before the show, so I winked at him and said, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
He laughed. “Either way, I liked it. And I know Simon will too.”
Simon. The ‘celebrity gossip’ king Peter had told me about beforehand when he’d shocked me by saying I could have a career on TV if I wanted one.
If? I’d always wanted to be famous, wanted to matter. Since the island I’d been working non-stop on my custom swimsuit business, hoping to someday be the next one-name celebrity like Zephyr the handbag designer, whose bags had been made famous by singer Misty Will and who’d reached the point of having tons of fakes made of her designs because people loved them so much but couldn’t get a real one. I had a fake one too, but someday I wanted the real thing, and if I got famous I’d be able to afford one.
I’d even quit my job at the fabric store on a whim last week, claiming I needed the time for my suits and my publicity but actually upset about a woman who got all excited thinking she recognized me from TV but then said, “Oh, no, I don’t know you. I was thinking of Christina Hendricks.” I wanted to be recognized for real, and though I loved making my suits TV would be a far quicker route to the attention and popularity I craved. I had to do it fast, though; at thirty I was already starting to see a few little wrinkles and if I got old-looking I’d be finished even before I got started.
“Did I sound okay?” I said, suddenly scared. “When I talked about the TV stuff? You really think Simon would like it?” I’d felt like I was babbling and not making any sense, but the audience had clapped so maybe it was all right.
Peter’s hand, still on my shoulder, gave me another squeeze. “Sounded amazing. You’re a natural on camera, Summer. Don’t worry about it at all. You’ll be a star.”
“Good to know,” I said, trying to appear casual instead of super excited while I struggled to decide what to say next. For as long as I could remember I’d been loud and pushy and goofy so people would assume my frequent lack of smarts was part of the act and not that I was really stupid, and I fell back on that now, giving Peter a wink and saying, “So let’s get a move on already. What happens now?”
He laughed again and dug in his pocket. “Now this.” He drew out two business cards and handed them over. “Mine. And Simon’s. Call us both, okay? He hasn’t branched out into TV yet but I know he wants to soon, and he definitely has big plans for celeb hunting and other tabloidy stuff at New Year’s and that’s only a few weeks away. This is the perfect time for you to reach out to him. But don’t forget about me, because I might have something for you soon too. My boss is trying to branch out into more serious journalism so there could be opportunities.”
Wondering how ‘serious journalism’ and ‘following around a crowd of stinky miserable people on an island reality show’ went together, I said, “Sure,” and tucked the cards into my hiked-up cleavage in the red dress I’d designed myself. People said redheads shouldn’t wear red but it had always been my best color. “My pocket’s only big enough for my phone,” I said, smiling innocently.
“Of course,” he said, his eyes locked to the top of the not-quite-hidden cards.
So easy. Always so easy to distract men. One flash of boob or one comment about loving sex and they fell at my feet. It would have bothered me, if it wasn’t so useful in getting me the attention I craved. I hadn’t known how much I’d actually love sex until I had it with Kent, of course.
&n
bsp; Peter’s eyes rose to my face. It seemed difficult for him. “Well, be sure to call me. Soon. And...” His eyes slipped past me. “You’re about to be interviewed. She’s Simon’s. Kick ass, okay?”
My heart pounding, I said without thinking, “I always do, don’t I?”
He chuckled. “You certainly do. Be yourself and it’ll be fine.”
That hadn’t been my experience in the past, but I smiled at him and let him walk away and turned an even brighter smile on the tiny Asian woman approaching me.
“I’m Meili,” she said, holding out her hand for me to shake.
I did, feeling like a monstrous beast as my enormous mitt covered her tiny paw. “Summer. Summer Young.”
“Oh, I know,” she said, smiling. “Kent’s ex-wife, the lucky bitch who kissed Aaron on the island, and the wannabe designer. That dress really is gorgeous. No wonder you were so upset on the first day of the show.”
I smiled, trying to hide how much thinking about that day still bothered me. I’d arrived in the dress I’d slaved over, hoping to get a headstart at winning what I’d been told was a contest to pick America’s next top designer, only to learn that I was nothing more than a minor player in the battle between Kent and MC. In my horror, I’d blurted out, “You want me with them?” and gestured toward Kent’s other exes. I hadn’t meant anything against them, of course, since I didn’t even know them, but they had assumed I did.
I’d been making bathing suits for years, turning vintage suits in good condition into new and fashionable versions of themselves, but I’d never fully designed anything more complicated than a bikini. I’d been so excited, though, when the show called, and I’d let that excitement drive me into making my dress and let it overpower what little common sense I had.
I should have known the show was too good to be true.
I should have known better.
Fifteen Minutes of Summer Page 1
