by Ann Omasta
I don't need to hear the answer to know that it's more than I can afford. I'm doubting my decision to trust this slick producer, but I'm in too deep to turn back now. "Wait," I say, making the crocodile turn and grin at me like I was fresh prey that had just slithered into his swamp.
Chapter 7
The croc and his assistant made a quick exit after assuring me that everything would be just fine. I turn to Syd, the only person on this ship that I trust at all, for advice.
"What should I do?" I ask him desperately.
"It's the chance to win a lot of money," he says rationally. At my nod, he continues, "And who knows, maybe it will be a true love connection."
I smile at him as he rolls my hair around the hot curling wand. I know that he's trying to be kind, but I need to talk to someone who has my best interests at heart...like my sister, Roxy, or my crazy grandma, Baggy.
Unfortunately, whoever unpacked my belongings had confiscated my cell phone. This discovery sent me into a minor panic attack over the picture I keep with me to look at every night before bed, but I found it still tucked away in the pocket of my suitcase. Immense relief flooded me when I realized it hadn't been taken, or likely even seen. I don't want to share that particular secret with the show's viewing audience, yet I still hadn't been willing to leave home without the photograph.
Before my nap, I had tried unsuccessfully to make a call from the desk phone in my room. Apparently, part of the 'fun' of this show is cutting us off from communicating with our loved ones.
Turning to Syd, I ask, "Is this crazy?"
"Yes, absolutely," he answers honestly before adding, "but that's okay."
Wondering what he means, I turn to look directly at him rather than his reflection in the mirror. He squats down so he can look at me eye-to-eye. "Think how much you have to gain from this, Honey. You might become famous, you might win a ton of cash, and I know you think it's crazy, but you just might find the man of your dreams."
I nod, acknowledging that his points are valid, but still uncertain about this whole arranged marriage thing. "And what do you have to lose?" he asks me logically. "Do you have a man waiting for you at home?"
"No," I admit, before adding, "but what if I can't stand the guy they've chosen for me?"
"So what?" he asks, flooring me.
"I'll be married to him," I remind Syd, wondering if he's gone dense.
"So, get an annulment or divorce him after the show. Honestly, it would probably make for better television if you didn't like each other––at least at first."
I ponder his words. They make a lot of sense. I had been looking at this wedding like it was supposed to be my 'happily ever after' ending. There is a slight, miniscule chance that it will be, but even if it's not, it isn't the end of the world. I hadn't looked at it like that before.
"So, I get a tropical vacation, I have a good chance of becoming famous, I might win loads of cash, and it's possible that I could meet the man of my dreams." I beam a smile at Syd as the reality of my good fortune begins to settle in once more. I had let the wedding thing throw me for a loop, but now my initial enthusiasm about being on the show is beginning to return.
"Now you're talking." Syd encourages me.
"And worst case scenario is that it ends up not being a good match, and I get a divorce."
"Which happens to half of all marriages anyway," Syd puts in. "Actually, you might have better odds than most of being happy together because I heard they ran extensive profiles on each of you to determine your best match."
This is news to me. I remember filling out and returning a personality profile in the packet from Jamie, but I hadn't realized it was being used to find me a suitable partner. "Who knows," I decide, starting to feel hopeful, "maybe this will work."
"Maybe," Syd agrees before suggesting enthusiastically, "Now, let's pick out your wedding gown!"
Chapter 8
"Nope," Syd says firmly to the fifth dress.
They have all been stunning, and I am beginning to wonder if he will like any of them. It takes significant effort for me to get into each one, only to have him make a snap and negative decision about it at the first glimpse of it on me. I select another gown from the rack and trudge back through the adjoining door to my room to change.
This one fits like a glove. I can feel how perfect it is before I even glance at the mirror. Feeling nervous that Syd will shoot it down without giving it a fair shot, I open the door.
"Hmm." He lifts a hand to his chin as he studies me. "Let me zip you up all the way." He turns me so he can reach the back. This is farther than any of the previous gowns have gotten with him, and I begin to feel excited that this might truly be the one.
I turn back to face him, and he stands back so I can see the mirror. "Wow," both of us say in unison before beaming at each other.
"I think we've found the one," he reveals. "Who cares what the groom is like when you have a gown like that?" I'm pretty sure he's joking, but the dress is truly beyond gorgeous. "Now get out of it," he orders me. "I'll get rid of the others," he flips a hand toward the dress rack as if they are completely unworthy, "then we can get to work on your makeup. We can't have you getting married with RBF." He smiles to let me know he's teasing about that last part.
Once I return in the plush creamy colored robe I discovered in my room, Syd carefully hangs and fusses over the dress that will be my wedding gown. I am pleased to find he has placed undergarments and shoes near the dressing table. Walking over to try one of the shoes, he snaps at me before I can slide it on my foot. "You are not even thinking about putting a bare foot into those shoes, are you, Darling?"
"Of course not," I respond, quickly changing my mind. Deciding that I don't know how long I'll be forced to stand around in them, I ask, "Shouldn't I make sure they fit?"
Syd seems completely taken aback and offended by my question. "They'll fit," he replies firmly and rather cockily, and that is the end of that discussion.
Seeing no choice but to take his word for it, I walk back over and plop into the make-up chair. Syd has me turn to face him. "No peeking at the work in process. You'll get the big reveal once I've made you dazzling from head to toe."
He is not kidding about that. After rubbing the most luxurious and delectably scented cream onto my hands and feet, he polishes my nails a shimmering pale pink. Opting to trust him, I relax and let him work to combat my RBF.
He tweezes, powders, rouges, curls, buffs, and puffs me for what seems like an inordinate amount of time. After eventually proclaiming me to be "finis," he orders me to the adjoining room to get dressed.
The white, lacy panties and strapless bra are much sexier than the undergarments I normally wear, but I don them without complaint. It is my wedding day, after all. Just the thought of this makes my stomach churn with nerves. Am I making a ginormous mistake? How can I marry someone I haven't ever even laid eyes on?
Someone knocks on the hallway door, yelling, "Fifteen minutes!" The announcement startles me out of my rumination, and I quickly step into the beaded gown. Squeezing my arms down to hold the dress in place, I return to Syd's side to have him zip me into it.
He busies himself situating the dress, pinning my tiara veil into place, and giving my tresses a final spray. Bringing my shoes over and setting them in front of me, he steadies me as I slip my feet into them. "Perfect," I admit, and he gives me a knowing grin.
"Never had any doubt," he says rather arrogantly before softening it with, "I'm very good at my job." He bends down to kiss me sweetly on the cheek before excitedly proclaiming, "Now for the best part!"
After punching some numbers into the room's squatty safe, he stands to present me with a slender box. Flipping it open dramatically, he says "Ta-da!"
My breath catches in surprise. "Is that thing real?" I ask, gazing at the gorgeous necklace. It features a large heart-shaped sapphire in the middle of numerous sparkling diamonds.
He nods in answer before adding, "Please don't throw it into
the ocean like that batty old bitty on the movie Titanic."
"I would never," I reassure him as he gently clasps the beautiful bauble around my neck.
"Gorgeous," he proclaims as he stands back to get a good look at me. "Okay, the dress is something new, the necklace is borrowed and blue..." He is making check marks in the air with his finger. "We just need something old." His eyes travel around the room as he taps his chin in thought.
I am touched that he is trying so hard to make my wedding perfect––all the way down to complying with an old adage that is more than likely just a silly wives' tale.
Deciding to join in the fun, I announce, "I have the perfect thing." Swishing into my room, I search my drawers until I find it. Returning to Syd, I hold up Baggy's delicate handkerchief. "It's my grandmother's," I tell him. "She gave it to me for good luck." I don't bother to tell him that knowing Baggy, it's probably something she picked up at a Dollar Store rather than a family heirloom.
"Perfect," he decides, nodding, before ushering me over to the bathroom door. He swishes the door open dramatically, and I am presented with a full-length mirror.
"Wow!" I am stunned by the first look at my reflection. Syd has subtly accentuated my features and somehow made my skin appear flawless. I turn my head from side to side, gazing at my likeness. This is by far the best I have ever looked, and I am incredibly grateful to him. "I'm a beautiful bride," I gush.
"Indeed you are," Syd confirms, smiling warmly. When my eyes start to mist, threatening to spill tears, he changes his tune quickly. "No crying and messing up my masterpiece," he orders firmly. At my nod of understanding, he adds, "Now, let's go meet your groom."
Chapter 9
My nerves kick in fully as we take the elevator up to the pool deck. What is my groom-to-be like? Will I have a chance to talk to him before the ceremony? What if I can't stand him? What if he can't stand me?
"I feel like a herd of butterflies have been set free in my stomach," I confide to Syd.
"A herd of butterflies?" he grins at me, and I raise my shoulders, smiling back. Seeming to catch on that I need to focus on something innocuous, he decides, "I bet it's a gaggle of butterflies."
"A gaggle?" I shake my head. "That's geese." Deciding to throw out some more silly guesses, I suggest, "A pride? A litter? A pack? A school?"
He is shaking his head to shoot down each of my suggestions. Once we emerge from the elevator, he pulls out his cell phone––apparently his hasn't been confiscated. After asking his voice recognition personal assistant what a group of butterflies is called, he turns to me and announces excitedly, "It's a flutter!"
Several people turn to give us strange looks at his odd declaration, but neither of us care. "A flutter of butterflies makes perfect sense, and that's exactly what it feels like in my tummy," I tell him.
We are shuffled over to a waiting area behind a double set of doors, which an arrow sign indicates lead out to the pool. For the first time, I see a camera recording all of the action. T.J. and Jamie appear suddenly. She works to hide a wireless microphone pack on my back as T.J. asks, "All ready, dear?"
"As ready as I'll ever be." I try to smile at the camera, despite my nerves.
"Pretend they're not even here," T.J. instructs me, indicating the cameraman, before swishing away.
Nodding, I attempt to dry my sweaty palms on the handkerchief Baggy has given me. I turn to tell Syd it is a good thing I have it, but he is gone. The small crowd gathered around me is filled with strangers, and I already miss him immensely. Even though I've only known him part of a day, I need a familiar and friendly face nearby right now.
I don't have too long to worry about it because the double doors are pulled open and the wedding march begins playing. I am handed a sweet-smelling bouquet of fresh peonies––my favorite flower––before being ushered forward.
I never envisioned myself walking down the aisle alone. Knowing that my family will be watching this when it airs, I wonder if my father will feel cheated at not having been permitted to guide me along the path to this major rite of passage.
Emerging from the covered area, the first thing that catches my eye is the gorgeous sunset over the water. The sky is filled with an amazing array of oranges and reds. The producers have planned the timing of the ceremony perfectly because the lighting is amazing.
Following the white runway, I turn from side to side and notice for the first time that there are brides on either side of the ship. They are both beautiful––one with platinum blond hair, the other with long red waves. Three walkways head towards the pool and three men in black tuxes await us near the edge of it. I am surprised to see the other couples, but am pleased to have been placed in the middle. That has to be a good sign, right?
Speaking of good signs, the man fidgeting nervously in the middle of the grooms appears to be tall, dark, and handsome from this distance. I hope that holds true as we get closer to each other. Excited, I pick up the pace, wanting to get a good look at him.
"Cut!" The sharp word interrupts the reverie of the moment.
T.J. appears from nowhere. "Ruthie, darling, you have to stay even with the other brides." He sweeps his hands out in both directions, indicating how far ahead of the other two I am.
Both of the other ladies are giving me disgusted glares, as if I have just ruined their big moment. "Oh, ummm, sorry," I stammer.
"Let's try this again, sloooowly." T.J. gives me a patronizing smile before shuffling me back to the entrance doors.
I am turned and fluffed by a pointy-nosed lady holding a clipboard, then the music restarts, indicating it is time for me to walk down the aisle––again.
This time, I nervously watch the brides on either side of me to make sure I am proceeding at the proper pace. I am so busy monitoring their progress that I almost forget to check out my husband-to-be. Once he captures my attention, I am unable to look away. I have definitely hit the jackpot in the never-before-seen groom department.
He is at least six inches taller than me, and if the way his tux tightly hugs his torso is any indication, he has a magnificent body. The best part about him is his piercing green eyes that are gazing at me with a mixture of relief and lust. It is obvious that he likes what he sees, and I feel exactly the same way.
I am so busy looking at him that I fail to hold up my gown as I'm walking up the two steps to the pool platform where he and the other grooms are waiting. On the second step, the front of my high-heel catches in the hem of my dress and I stumble forward. My quick-reacting groom saves me from falling all the way to the ground by catching my arm to steady me.
Our eyes lock as he helps me regain my balance, and I feel a definite spark of attraction zing between us.
"Cut!" The sharp voice interrupts the moment again. "Let's try that one more time without anyone tripping over her own feet."
The other two brides and I are led back to the mid-point of each of our white paths. I can feel the woman on the right shooting eye daggers at me. I turn to mouth the word "Sorry" to her, but she looks angrily away before I have a chance. She has gads of blazing red curls that trail down her back, and I'm sensing that she has a fiery temper to match her locks. I fear that my clumsiness has already made me an enemy of hers.
Silently vowing to be more careful, I slowly and steadily march up the aisle for the third time. This time, when I get close enough, Mr. Handsome reaches out a hand to assist me up the steps. I smile at him in thanks, thinking that maybe––just maybe––he could be my knight in shining armor.
I can feel the bouquet of colorful peonies shaking uncontrollably in my hands as I turn to face him. The silver ribbons dangling from it are visibly swaying.
"Cut!" The now-familiar, but still annoying voice breaks in. "She's shaking like a leaf." The director points at me and I hear a loud huff of frustration emit from the red-haired bride. "Plus, she's managed to get her dress all twisted. Can someone fix her, please?" he yells to the myriad of stagehands and assistants who have unobtrusively moved
in behind the cameras.
I can feel my cheeks burning hot with embarrassment as my clipboard-carrying helper dashes in to take the bouquet and straighten the train of my gown. "Sorry," I mutter, but she ignores me.
I'm not sure why I'm the only one who seems to be having any troubles. The other two brides have their own assistants who whisk their bouquets out of the way and re-fluff them, but apparently I'm the only one who needed the break. It makes me wonder what would happen if this had been a real-time wedding, rather than a made-for-television one. Would I have fallen or gotten married with my dress a twisted mess? How do the other two make it looks so easy and natural?
Trying not to worry too much about it, I focus on my groom after the director calls for "Action!" We each repeat what the Captain of the ship guides us to say. I'm not a big fan of the three-for-one vows, having always thought that my wedding would be my own special day, but I try not to let that ruin the monumental moment.
When it comes time to insert our names, the Captain turns to each of us. When it's my turn he instructs me, "I, Ruth, take you, Cameron, to be my lawfully wedded husband." I bristle at his use of the name Ruth and utilize my preferred moniker, Ruthie, when I repeat it back. I'm pleased to hear my almost-husband's name, though. I've always liked the name Cameron and wonder if he goes by Cam. It's a sexy name that suits him well.
A stagehand appears at the appropriate moment to hand us the wedding bands. Glancing down as we exchange them, I'm pleased to see simple, elegant platinum rings.
The rest of the ceremony goes by in a blur and before I know it, the Captain indicates it is time for the grooms to kiss the brides. As Cam pulls me into his arms, I sidle closer and tip my head back, awaiting our momentous first kiss to seal the deal on this marriage.
Cam moistens his lips with a flick of his tongue before pressing them to mine. I close my eyes, wanting to remember this life-altering moment forever. When he opens his lips slightly to deepen the kiss, I follow suit. Our tongues brush against each other tentatively, and it feels glorious––like the perfect first kiss.