by Orla Bailey
I need him.
I breathe in. I breathe out. If I have a panic attack now, it might be the last one I ever have.
Amanda’s eyes sweep over me coldly. “Look at how hard she’s trying. How pretty she thinks she’s made herself.” She stalks a circle around me as I turn keeping my eyes fixed on hers. “The little whore who will do anything in her power to steal my man.” Sarcasm drips from her voice. “You have plans today?” she mocks, knowing full well what they are. “Plans can be altered. You can’t get married with the hair hacked from your head. You can’t get married if you’re in an operating room having your face stitched back together again like a worn-out patchwork quilt.” She lunges at me and I squeal but leap behind the sofa, keeping that solid piece of furniture between me and that knife.
“Don’t Amanda. Please. Think what you’re doing.”
She ignores my pleas as she stalks me. “You destroyed the plan Jack and I had to marry, so I think it’s only fair I should destroy your calculating little proposal to do the same.”
“Jack will never marry you!” I blurt it out, angry and frightened. If she stalks me just a bit further round the sofa I can make a run for the elevator doors, or lock myself in Jack’s bathroom until I can call for help.
Fear cripples me but as she changes position again, I recover my will to survive and move subtly too. Not suddenly enough to provoke a reaction, but if I want any hope of escaping this nightmare, I must prepare to run. If I can hold her off long enough someone will realise. Someone will come.
Please come, Jack. I need you.
And Libby. I have to warn her. She’s due back any time and if she surprises Amanda suddenly there’s no knowing how bad this might get. Slowly my hand reaches behind my back groping for the house phone.
“How stupid do you think I am?” She screams the words in my face and I freeze like a statue.
Stupid enough to get caught over everything else, I think. In the end. The Police must be searching for her. Perhaps that is why she didn’t go home but came here instead. It’s only a matter of time. But will it be time enough for me?
“Put the phone down.”
My mind weighs the likelihood of being able to dial out before Amanda reaches me with that blade. Blackstock is on speed dial but everyone is too far away to help. Jack will be making his way to the venue about now and it would only take the work of a second for Amanda to plunge that knife between my ribs. Puncture my heart. I have no doubt she would do it too. And gladly.
I replace the phone and talk. “I’ll make tea. Or pour us both a drink. We need to talk this through. Decide what’s best to do.”
I slink with gradual, unthreatening footsteps away from the exit and towards the kitchen door. My actions go against every instinct I have to run. Then I remember the staff exit and fire escape beyond the kitchen doors, which gives me hope. As long as it’s not secured.
“You think I want to raise a glass to the happy couple? It should be me and Jack getting married today, not you. But you stole him. You stole everything. A dirty little thief.”
She cuts off my path to the kitchen.
Amanda’s a woman on the edge, with nothing left to lose. I know the dark reality of life beyond Jack. My stomach knots fiercely. Everything I try to say or do antagonises her more.
My mind whirls. What can I do? Try to run? Find a way to defend myself? Fight back? I just want to get away from this. Live to see Jack again and have him hold me in his arms. It’s clear Amanda is demented. Beyond all reason. Losing so much, so quickly, has turned her mind completely until I don’t think she knows what she is doing any longer. This direct attack isn’t her style. She’s much more devious but she’s out of options. Out of time. She’s out of allies too.
I keep my senses focused on every move she makes. My back is to the elevator and the bedrooms. Can I turn and make it to one or the other before she gets to me? My limbs shake violently and I’ve never been so truly terrified in my life.
I need Jack. But he’ll be driving with joy to the ceremony. Waiting impatiently for a bride who never comes.
My breathing grows dangerously distant as if it’s no longer a problem my body must deal with. Moment by moment, as I agonise over what to do, I feel the room grow darker, see the sparking lights flashing round the periphery of my vision.
I know I’m oxygen deprived, crazy and confused because now I feel the Sirocco too. It blasts through me like a hurricane.
Amanda stabs the tip of the knife impatiently into a French polished table as I watch, feeling every gouge strike my flesh as the small indentations damage its flawless surface.
“Amanda, please… don’t do anything… you’ll regret,” I gasp. I sway, my knees about to buckle. “We can find a way… out of this. I’ll help you, I promise you… I will.” I plead with her to find it in herself to see sense.
“After I’ve ruined you, Jack will be with me again like he’s meant to be.” She seems to be talking more to herself than to me. Her eyes are no longer as focused on me. “He’s meant to be with me, not with you. He loved me until you came along. I won’t let you take what is mine!” Her voice rises in pitch until she’s screaming at me. “Nobody gets away with taking what is mine.”
I’m nailed to the spot. If I move I’ll fall. Amanda’s eyes lurch back to mine. Perhaps I can… just keep her talking… a little bit longer…
I drag oxygen to my pinched, unreceptive lungs. But the room shrinks to just me and her and that lethal blade pointing at my heart. “Amanda, please. You’re far too smart… to think this is a solution… You’ll ruin your life… if you let it get… out of hand.”
“I’ll ruin your life.”
“We can sort it out. You’re beautiful. Some man out there will love you too.”
Even in my dire predicament I can’t tell her what she wants me to. I won’t betray Jack’s trust in me. “But not Jack. He’s mine. He’s always been mine. Never yours.”
“Give me the fucking ring,” she screeches, jabbing the knife close. Too close.
I refuse to move. I can’t move.
“I’ll cut your finger off if I have to.”
“No,” I gasp.
“It belongs to me.” Amanda’s eyes fly to a space over my shoulder. They widen in distress.
Now I smell the scent of Jack’s cologne. Clive Christian. I feel him standing far behind me and fight every urge I have to run to him but I don’t dare turn my head away from Amanda and that knife. She’s standing far too close. I silently beg him to help me.
“I’m here,” he says softly and I know he’s talking to me. “Just remain calm. Everything will be okay.”
I nod my head without turning. He won’t let her harm me.
“Jack?” Amanda gasps. She thinks he’s talking to her. He’s such a clever man.
“Put the knife down, Amanda.” It isn’t Jack talking now. It’s the Boss. His voice bears such command I feel my own hand wanting to obey.
Amanda falters as Jack progresses purposefully towards us. Still I long to turn; to throw myself into his arms; to see him and prove to myself he’s not a figment of my desperate imagination. But I daren’t.
I hear others arrive in the apartment behind him. They freeze. Stand silent. They don’t want to scare Amanda into any impulsive action. But my senses are heightened. I feel the shocking, tentative atmosphere around me. They’re all as scared as I am.
“Drop the knife, Amanda. I won’t tell you again.”
She recovers, understanding, and stretches it towards me in a show of hesitant defiance. In a blur of motion, Jack passes me just as Amanda slashes out. He deflects the knife from my body and wrests it from her with a single twist of her wrist until it clatters to the floor. Jack kicks it away, enclosing her wildly flailing limbs in his arms like a human strait-jacket.
It’s surreal. Jack, dressed in wedding finery looking handsome and masculine, hugs a pale weeping paramour collapsed in his arms knowing she can never be his.
“The
ring is where it belongs, Amanda,” Jack tells her decisively. “On Tabitha’s finger. She’s the woman I love. The woman I’m marrying today.” He doesn’t say it in a cruel way, but he refutes all contest to his will.
Blackstock rushes forward to wrench Amanda from Jack, restraining her completely with efficient movement and strength. Despite her willingness to yield to Jack, she seems affronted by any other man’s hands on her and recovers with bitter contempt.
“Let me go. I’ll fucking sue the lot of you. And I’m going to make that scheming little bitch sorry she was ever born.”
“Get her out of here,” Jack commands, all patience lost as soon as she insults me.
Blackstock hefts her, kicking and screaming, towards the elevator. “The Police are on their way,” he tells us. “I’ll meet them below for the handover.”
Jack and I stare at one another for a second. It’s as if neither of us can move in case we fracture any last fragile control we maintain over our perilous situations. His eyes scan my body and I know exactly what he’s searching for as my eyes sweep his for the same reason.
“She took the knife from the kitchen.” It’s a ridiculous concern but easier than any other to express.
Spell-broken, Jack steps forward and takes me in his arms. I’m rigid and still, not yet ready to respond and be comforted in case I shatter completely. But his solid warmth slowly seeps inside me making me shake with the releasing of shock. Jack holds me tight. He lets me ride out the emotions and it’s amazing how quickly I feel safe again now that he is here and holding me.
Once I settle enough I lean my head back and look into his eyes. I see his concern for me. And his love.
“You okay?” he asks gently.
“I don’t think she really meant to hurt me.”
“That woman held a knife on you. I wasn’t taking any chances.”
“How did you know she was here?”
“I’ve been getting regular updates from the beginning. I received a call informing me she evaded Police custody when they went to arrest her. With her home empty, I knew exactly where she’d be heading.”
“You came for me, Jack.”
“I’ll always come for you.” He crushes me to him as if he’s never going to release me. “I’ll never let you go.”
I fidget until he eases off squeezing so hard. His fear for me seems stronger than my own, making me want to comfort him. I hug him around the waist, resting my head against his solid chest, listening to his flying heartbeat. If I relax, he will. Nothing is going to spoil this day for us. Nothing at all.
“You’ve rewritten the rule,” I tell him.
He tilts my face up to his and looks down at me quizzically. “What rule?”
“It’s supposed to be bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, but this time it’s very, very good luck.”
He smiles. “I love you so much, kitten. Please tell me you’re able to marry me today?”
“Can’t handle another two week dry spell, eh?” I mock him about the sexual desert I’ve abandoned him in.
“That’s never going to happen again,” he assures me. “You can ask a man so much and no more.”
I know now when he means what he says. “Better get this show on the road then.”
He moves to kiss me but I place my fingers between his lips and mine. He goes so cross-eyed trying to work out what I’m doing it makes me laugh.
“You kiss the bride after,” I insist. Some things are sacred.
“You’ll pay dearly for that later.”
“Hope so.”
His gentle smile fades. “Are you sure you’re fine, baby? We can get you checked over by a doctor.”
“I am, Jack. No harm done. It’ll take more than some crazy woman with a knife to stop me marrying you, so be warned. I’m a very determined woman when I want something.”
“As long as it’s me you want.”
“Always has been.”
“I have a surprise for you, kitten.”
I arch my eyebrows with my new carte blanche, making Jack laugh. He pulls out his phone.
“Blackstock, you can send up the package now.”
“Package?” I feel like dancing with delight. I love Jack’s presents.
“Wait,” he warns me, lifting his brow but I can tell my excitement pleases him.
The elevator doors open and Libby steps out followed by Laurent. My eyes fly to Jack’s and as soon as he grins I kiss him swiftly on the cheek then launch myself across the room and throw myself into Laurent’s arms, propelling him backwards into the lift again. He carries me out with my feet dangling to whirl me round and round until I feel dizzy.”
“Qu'est-ce qui se passe?” I immediately fall into the familiar French I use with him. “What’s going on?” I know he’s been invited to the wedding but what is he doing here at Belvedere?
Laurent gives me a Gallic shrug and looks across to Jack who answers for him. “You insisted that Laurent is like a brother to you and I listened. So as he’s practically the closest thing you have to family, I asked him if he was willing to walk you down the aisle.”
“J’ai dit, oui.” Laurent reveals his agreement, grinning.
I hug Laurent. This is so special.
“I asked Laurent if he was willing to formally give you to me.”
This is so big a move for Jack it brings tears of happiness to my eyes.
I turn back to Laurent feeling like the fizz in a bottle of Champagne. He launches into an extended spiel, thanking the good lord that someone is willing to take me off his hands at last. I slap him merrily.
Jack laughs as he gets the gist of Laurent’s reply. “Big brothers!” he says to me, rolling his eyes. “And you’re about to gain a few more of the devils.”
I’m so happy I could burst. Reassuring Jack again and again that I’m absolutely fine, he leaves me under Laurent’s protection with Libby to help me to get ready, while he heads back to wait for my arrival.
“Don’t be late,” he warns. “I’ve waited long enough.” The elevator doors close behind him.
Laurent busies himself pouring reviving glasses of Jack’s Champagne and is left to take delivery of the bouquets when they arrive while Libby and I head to Jack’s bedroom to dress.
“Honey, if I’d realised that witch would be here waiting for you, I’d never have left you on your own.” Libby looks guilty.
I hug her. “No-one could have predicted that. But everything’s fine. No-one is hurt.” Except her. I hesitate before I say it. “I kind of feel sorry for her. She’s a broken woman.”
“Didn’t look so broken when she passed us in the lobby. Swearing like a soldier. John sorted her though. He’s used to that type.”
“Tough guy.” We both smirk at Libby’s admiration of her boyfriend’s prowess, even with a raving lunatic under his arm.
“She’s a complete nut-job who brought everything on herself. You’re far too sweet.”
Even Amanda can’t take away the warm pleasant feeling I have growing inside me. “It’s my wedding day. I’m allowed to be as sweet as I like.”
Libby pushes me towards the built-in wardrobe with an impatient flap of her hand. “And I’m allowed to see this fabulous wedding dress, at last.”
I disappear inside. “Wait ’til you see what I…. Oh my God!”
“What’s the matter?” Libby pops up behind me.
We both stare in disbelief at what is left of the once beautiful wedding gown, still hanging in shreds from the padded ivory satin hanger. Now I know what Amanda was doing in Jack’s bedroom with a knife.
“It’s ruined.” A sob escapes my lips. My special backless, secret dream of a dress is nothing more than expensive silk rags.
Libby pushes past me, taking handfuls and trying to see how she might fit them all back together. It takes her a moment to know what I know.
I shake my head. “Not even a miracle is going to fix that.”
She stares at me in stunned disbelief. “You wear my Maid of
Honour dress. It’s a beautiful soft blue and no-one will care. They just want to see you and Jack married.”
I chose the bridesmaid’s colours and the gentlemen’s cravats to highlight Jack’s beautiful Arctic blue eyes. All my nightmares about turning up in a bathrobe have proved almost prophetic. I’m stunned to silence.
“Don’t let her ruin your day,” Libby implores, trying but failing not to look hopeless.
“Jack once told me life with him would be a roller coaster,” I tell Libby. I straighten my shoulders. “Well I’d jolly well better get ready to ride it.” And I am. I rally myself. All the lessons Jack has taught me since the time I met him have been leading me to this one place; this final decision.
I glance back at Libby with complete determination. “Don’t worry, Libby, nothing is going to stop me marrying the man I love.”
I move fast. What I need is hanging up in the guest bedroom. “You finish getting ready. I know exactly what I’m going to wear.”
I practically skid round the corner and Laurent looks up with a sigh of resignation at my never-changing ways, as I fly by heading for the guest bedroom. I glide open the wardrobe door and immediately my eye is drawn to its vivid brilliance; waiting for me just as I’ve been waiting, unknowingly, for it.
The Valentino red ball gown. The one that wearing caused me such panic at the Commerce Ball. I’m not afraid of it anymore. I’m not afraid of anything.
I wrestle it down into my arms and bundle it back to Jack’s bedroom.
“Merde.” Laurent’s eyebrows wing up towards his hairline when he sees it and I laugh out loud at his earthy language. Jack will have his wedding day surprise, after all.
Libby takes one amazed look as I place it on the bed. “You’re not going to –”
“– Oh yes I am. Help me put it on.”
We both stare each other down until we burst out laughing. “Jack will go crazy when he sees you.”
“He’d better. I wouldn’t do this for anybody else.”
It takes us a deeper shade of lipstick and few more smudgy coats of mascara to alter my pale sweet, virginal make-up and jewellery for something that can stand up to the brazen brilliance of this amazing dress. Laurent keeps knocking on the door and reminding us how late we already are.