by Carla Caruso
Bridie shrank into her seat. Now she was a global internet sensation? Her self-imposed media blackout had provided her with blissful ignorance … until now.
Vance shook his head. ‘That’s one crazy story. Whoever gets the first shot of the bride since her wedding day with that hotelier dude will be rolling in it.’ He turned to Cody as Bridie’s knees juddered in her seat. ‘Forget Paloma on honeymoon, this is the girl you want to capture.’
‘Guess I’ll need something to get back in the good books after all my time away,’ Cody murmured. ‘Freelancers are too easily forgotten and replaced.’
No, no, no!
The shrill of the office phone sliced through the air and Bridie lunged for it. Anything for a diversion from this living nightmare. And she’d thought day two was looking quiet, sedate. She did her usual The Wedding Entourage greeting, though sounded high-pitched and unnatural.
‘Hi,’ a young male voice echoed down the other end. ‘Uh, it’s Ted from Balkissoch Watch.’
Hot and cold chills raced up and down her arms. This was it. She was done for. A goner. Maybe it was even a relief. Her life could return to normal, soon enough anyway.
‘Yes?’ she squeaked, waiting for the inevitable, her heart thudding harder as each hour-long second passed.
‘I heard on the grapevine—’ Bridie squeezed her eyes shut as Ted pushed on, ‘—that the Belshaw boys were back in town and following their late father into the wedding business. I’d love to do a story on their return, if any chance.’
Relief gushed through her like champagne, making her lightheaded and her toes tingle. She wasn’t about to be hauled into the spotlight. Yet.
‘Sounds fab,’ she replied. ‘I’ll have a chat with the guys and see what can be arranged.’
Bridie welcomed any excuse to turn the media glare away from herself, and surely the boys couldn’t complain about a little local publicity.
* * *
The next day, Cody found himself in a weird position alongside his brothers: the other side of a media interview. Only for a tiny rag in their hometown, which a few thousand people read, not the LA Times exactly. Still, somehow Bridie had got them to agree to it.
Currently, she sat off to the side, fiddling with her phone, looking Instagram-worthy with her toffee-coloured hair hanging in her face—not that she’d agree. If only she could see what he could.
‘Now, Cody …’
Super. The pasty, barely adult reporter, Ted, had turned his way in the dingy, cluttered newsroom. No more chances to tune out.
Ted continued, ‘I read online that you’ve photographed some of the planet’s biggest stars since moving to LA, from Jennifer Aniston to Paloma Romeo.’ That name again. Cody murdered a wince. ‘Who’s been your favourite to shoot?’
Cody scratched the side of his neck. ‘Ah, look, I don’t really play favourites. For me, it’s about getting the best shot I can. Playing with the light, different angles. Capturing the person, whether invited or not. At the end of the day, celebrities are people just like us.’
Even if some acted like robots, incapable of caring about anything beyond their own ‘brand’, and in which any sense of intimacy was an act.
Ted looked up from scratching with his pen in his notepad. ‘Still, it must feel like a different world to go from photographing Hollywood brides like Paloma to ordinary Aussies.’
The reporter’s words were again a punch to the guts for Cody, but he tried not to show it. ‘Whenever I’m behind a camera, I’m a perfectionist. And passionate. I owe it to the client. Though I should make it clear that our wedding venture is a trial, to see if there’s a need in the area. We’re giving ourselves a month to see how things go before making any firm plans.’
‘So it’s like a pop-up business?’ Ted summarised.
‘You’ve hit the nail on the head,’ Cody smoothly replied.
‘Whichever way it goes, from what I’ve heard about your dad, he’d be super-proud.’
Cody swallowed hard. ‘I guess so.’
Ted slapped his notepad shut and reached to turn off his phone’s recorder, which he’d been using for extra measure for the interview. ‘Think I’ve asked you guys enough questions.’ He looked around the group, sweat now glistening on his brow. ‘Ready for your photo? Gotta admit it’s a little daunting, seeing as you’re all experts.’
Cody had forgotten rural papers didn’t always have the budgets for journalists and photographers. He stood up, clapping the guy on the back. ‘Don’t worry about it. We’ll give you some pointers.’
In the end, he and his brothers gave Ted more than that, basically directing the shoot so he made use of the natural light streaming through the back windows and so their poses didn’t look too forced.
Once the shoot was over, Bridie sidled over, a sparkle in her eye. Vance and Jaxon were busy chatting to Ted about the local cricket competition. ‘Couldn’t help yourselves from taking over, eh?’
‘It’s in our blood.’ Cody matched her smile; it was like a reflex whenever she was around. He pushed on. ‘Hey, do you feel like staying away from the office a little longer? I was going to scout a few extra locations for wedding photos around town, so they’re not all done on-site. It’d be great to have another perspective. You might see good spots I don’t when driving around.’
‘I’d be up for that,’ Bridie easily replied. ‘By the way, I just realised I haven’t returned your jumper from last night. I wore it down to the guesthouse this morning and forgot all about it.’
A throat-clearing noise sounded behind them. Shit. Cody turned to find Jaxon looking on curiously. He hadn’t noticed his brothers’ conversation ending and the pair heading over. Though the last thing Cody needed was his triplets imagining something going on between him and their sole employee. He’d never hear the end of it. The pair liked to pigeonhole Cody as the player of the trio. They didn’t know he’d recently been serious about someone, regardless of what a one-way street that had been.
He flashed Jaxon a relaxed smile. ‘Bridie didn’t count on the cool nights out here.’ He turned her way again. ‘Keep the jumper as long as you need it.’
Then he shoved his hands in his jean pockets and strolled towards the door. It was only at the doorway that he realised how suss it would look spending more time with Bridie that afternoon. But it was too late to renege on his offer now.
He just had to remind himself exactly why he was back in this miniature town, and for how long.
* * *
‘You just can’t stay away from anything Hollywood, can you?’ Bridie joked as Cody pulled up outside an Art Deco-style cinema at the main street’s far end. The afternoon sun warmed her arm through his Jeep’s window.
‘I just thought it’d be a unique photo backdrop, with the old-fashioned doors, lit-up movie names etcetera.’
They’d already stopped at a fallen log and a rusty, old bridge since starting the location scouting.
‘I was only teasing. It’s a great place.’ Bridie trailed behind Cody in climbing out of the Jeep and pausing on the footpath. ‘Ooh, look at that. There’s a nostalgia movie night coming up. Bird on a Wire!’
Cody’s double dimples popped up to say hello again, making her tingle in places she shouldn’t. ‘You’re a Mel Gibson fan?’ he guessed.
She vigorously nodded, glad for the distraction from his too-good-to-be-true looks. ‘And a Goldie Hawn one. When they were at the height of their fame in the eighties, really. I love Overboard with Goldie Hawn too. Blame my Aunt Raelene for the old movie obsession. I used to watch all the reruns on TV with her.’
Cody shot her a grin worthy of a young Gibson. ‘Those were the good old Hollywood days, when there was warmth to the humour and the “behind the scenes” of celebrity lives was limited—no Twitter feuds or vain Instagram selfies. The Lethal Weapons are my faves from the eighties.’
Bridie’s eyes gleamed. ‘Oh, yeah. I love how in those old action flicks there was always a chase through Chinatown and a strategical
ly-placed food stall that would go flying.’
Cody laughed—a deep, throaty sound, as tantalising as Pimm’s on a spring day. ‘Or what about how, when the good guys are on the run, they always wind up in a small town like this? Then some poor old friend’s secluded retreat gets blown up by the baddies, but no-one’s ever too concerned about them.’
Bridie’s smile faltered. The whole ‘on the run’ to a ‘small town’ thing was a little too close for comfort. She prayed Cody wouldn’t get anywhere near her form of bad guy.
‘Yeah … um, while you’re taking your test shots here, would you mind if I popped into that New-Agey shop next door? I wanted to send my friend, Megz, a little thank-you gift. She’s … she’s been a big help to me lately and it’s exactly the kind of store she likes.’
Clearly there was a market for ‘enlightenment’ among those passing through the town.
‘No worries. It’ll give me a chance to check if the cinema owner’s around; see if they’ll let me take any pictures indoors down the track.’
‘Great.’
Bridie took off. Inside the shop held the promise of its street view, crammed with everything from tarot decks to salt lamps, scented candles, spiritual development books, and a rainbow of crystals. A lavender-haired woman behind the counter smiled at Bridie but left her to browse. Only one other customer was evident—a greying grandma, scanning the back of a Louise L. Hay DVD.
Bridie surveyed the crystal cabinet beside the window, figuring the rocks the simplest option. It was hard to know what Megz already owned, but she figured more was more when it came to crystals. She picked up a hunk of rose quartz, reminded that actress Teresa Palmer had apparently ‘manifested’ her director husband using the pink stone. Just as quickly, Bridie put the jagged rock back down again, though it was her favourite colour. She had enough complications in her own love life, from escaping her groom-to-be to her clichéd, history-repeating crush on her new boss—no way did she want any of the crystal’s powers to accidentally rub off. If any of that stuff really worked anyway.
Movement outside the window distracted her attention. A pint-sized girl was wandering past, clutching a woman’s hand. Her mum’s? The girl wore a pink-and-orange tutu skirt and matching flower headband. Bridie chewed the inside of her mouth. The girl reminded her of herself at a young age, equally as enamoured by frills and sparkles. Only without a mother around to share in the joy with …
Just as the girl and her mum disappeared from view, two police cars screeched to a halt across the road, their red-and-blue lights flashing. Uniformed officers jumped out. Her heart in her mouth, Bridie dropped to her knees, peering through the crack between the twin display cabinets. Two more police cars raced in to park behind the others. Her limbs liquefied.
Rory wouldn’t go that far to find her, would he? Despite his money and connections, the humiliation she’d caused him … surely it was too extreme?
‘You all right?’
Bridie spun around on her knees, wild-eyed. Looking up, she found Cody peering down at her, concern creasing his features. She tried to speak but her throat had dried up. ‘Uh …’ She pointed weakly across the road.
At least he was her only audience. The Louise L. Hay-loving gran had vanished and the salesgirl appeared to be meditating with her eyes closed behind the counter, none the wiser.
Cody stared out the glass. ‘Oh, the Bicycle Bandit. Heard someone say he’d struck again. Good thing we kept to this side of the street and away from the trouble.’
‘Th-the Bicycle Bandit?’
More of that champagne-like relief flooded through her. Yes, a bandit of any description was preferable to her ex right then.
‘Yeah, what’d you think? Zombies?’ Cody smiled, then toyed with his hand. ‘The bandit’s this notorious armed robber, who’s done, like, eleven bank robberies in the Adelaide Hills since 2004—on his bike. He’s never been caught. I took a few snaps of the commotion just in case any news agencies were interested. Wouldn’t have seen anything, though, if the cinema owner was actually in.’ Cody extended a broad hand to help her up. ‘Do you always have this reaction around the boys in blue? Any unpaid parking tickets you haven’t yet mentioned?’
His fingers felt warm and protective wrapped around her own. Her heartrate sped up even more, pushing it into the red-line zone, in gym speak. ‘No tickets I’m aware of … I don’t really know what I thought.’
It was true enough.
Chapter 5
‘So what’s going on with you and Bridie?’
Cody looked away from the purpling sky through the lounge window and back at Jaxon on the couch that Thursday. He’d guessed this sort of bullshit was coming, he just hadn’t realised how soon. Brothers. Cody swigged from his beer, biding his time. ‘What do you mean?’
Vance, on the opposite couch, was glued to the idiot box—a runway show on FashionTV, unsurprisingly.
Jaxon hooked an arm behind him. ‘You and Bridie have been hanging out a lot. Almost seems like you’ve taken a shine to her.’
Cody exhaled, feeling the frustration rise up. ‘C’mon, she lives and works on the property. I’d have to go out of my way to avoid her. And besides, any time I’ve spent with her has been in a professional sense. Plus, someone has to make her feel comfortable around here.’
Thou doth protest too much, he was well aware. But it was hard to stop when he was on a roll.
Jaxon’s dark eyes glinted behind his specs. ‘She had your jumper, man. And it’s not your prerogative to make her feel at home—she’s an employee, not a friend paying us a visit.’
Cody ran a hand through his hair with his free hand. Good thing he and his brothers weren’t going into business together for long, it could get messy. Violently so. ‘Vance, can you help me out here? Our middle brother has lost the plot. Being someone’s boss has gone to his head; now he thinks he’s running the show too.’
Vance’s insightful response was a ‘huh?’, his gaze not budging from the TV. To be fair, he probably knew half the models parading swimwear down the catwalk.
It gave Jaxon license to carry on. ‘It’s not just about the job, though there is the issue of sexual harassment to consider.’ Cody choked on his beer—that was overstepping the mark—but Jaxon pushed on. ‘Bridie does seem like a nice girl, which is why I’d hate for things to get … awkward. Let’s be honest, you don’t have the greatest track record when it comes to relationships, and you’re not sticking around town for long. Case in point: when was the last time you had a serious girlfriend?’
An image of Paloma Romeo giggling as they watched Uncle Buck at his LA loft, thrust into Cody’s mind. She’d worn her fave peach-coloured Juicy Couture tracksuit and they’d dined in front of the telly on creamy chicken pasta. While he’d cooked in his tiny kitchen, they’d shared as many glugs of white wine (intended for the sauce) as kisses.
Behind closed doors, they’d been like any normal couple. And she’d told him, after her public breakdown—when life in the spotlight overwhelmed her—that he was like a breath of fresh air. Funny it hadn’t taken long for the oxygen sustaining their fling to run out.
Cody chugged down another malty mouthful, turning the tables on Jaxon. ‘Like either of you guys are poster children for long-haul relationships. And why so protective of Bridie all of a sudden? Trying to edge out any competition ‘cause you’re really the one who’s interested?’
Jaxon narrowed his gaze. ‘As if. I just want to make sure you’re aware of how things might look, where they could go wrong.’
‘And I heard you loud and clear, Jax. But you’re barking up the wrong tree.’ Cody then turned his back on his brother, and the conversation. Dark green leaves scuttled outside.
Though he’d never admit it to Jaxon, maybe there was something in what his brother had said about getting too friendly with Bridie. Cody would have to be blind not to find her physically attractive, but it was more than that. He thought of finding her cowering from the cop cars in that crystal shop, li
ke a scene out of a Goldie Hawn movie. She was a contradictory bundle of energy and fragility; an intriguing combination. Not his usual type. But keeping her at arm’s length did seem a smart idea.
The dancing leaves also stirred up memories of Paloma and a private shoot he’d done with her beneath autumn-coloured trees. Back when their relationship had been in its heady, embryonic stages. She’d worn a floaty white shirt, brown suede boots over jeans, and a smile that lit him up all over like a pinball machine. If only he could have preserved that loved-up feeling in real life, not just on film.
Now? She was someone else’s bride.
* * *
‘Good golly,’ Aunt Raelene exclaimed from the other end of the video call, her hazel eyes sparkling amid her round face. ‘You look just like your mother with your hair like that.’
Bridie attempted a smile as she settled back into the guesthouse’s leather couch. ‘Thanks … I think.’
It was the first time she’d done the video thing with her aunt since fleeing across the border and it was so good to see her kind face again. Even if Bridie could do without the comparisons to her mum.
Her aunt called over Uncle Jim, who’d been shuffling about in the background. ‘Have a look at how different Bridie looks.’
Jim’s face loomed into view, his white-speckled, sandy moustache taking up half the screen. ‘Hello, poppet. Well, you look as pretty as always to me.’
Bridie shook her head with a grin. Trust a man not to notice when she’d dropped her usual spray-tan and forgone the coloured contact lenses for once. ‘Thank you. You’re looking well yourself.’
Aunt Raelene grabbed the phone back. ‘I like the change. You look less …’
‘Orange?’ Bridie joked.
‘Well, you could say that actually, yes. You said it first. But I was going to say less gaunt, sharp. More like yourself. Softer.’
Maybe spies of her aunt had seen Bridie scoffing too many scrummy slices at the local café. Really, though, her image reset had been akin to a chameleon shedding its skin. A make-under, as they said on Snog Marry Avoid?. Like stepping back in time.
