Secrets of a Hollywood Matchmaker

by Gigi Blume

  But something decidedly more intense triggered in my internal sprinkler system when Annie started down the aisle. She was a rainbow-haired tattooed goddess in a lacy champagne dress. So gorgeous. I dutifully took my place in front of the congregation like an obliging bridesmaid and silently congratulated myself for making this match. I steeled my emotions, pep-talking myself to get through this day without streaking my mascara, but there it was— the familiar tickle in my nose.

  Not going to cry. Not going to cry.

  Even more pathetic was that Annie’s mum wasn’t crying. Only me. I scanned the wedding guests rising to their feet to honour the bride in procession to her waiting groom. All happy faces admiring smiles. And there was Jaxson, sitting a few rows back on the groom’s side of the room. But he wasn’t looking at Annie. His gaze was fixedly planted on me and my ridiculous display of girlish sentimentality—disapproval etched on his face. Silly Emma. A proper actress could control her tears. I was a fraud.

  I hadn’t started the day in the best way. I had the smallest breakfast in the history of breakfasts, was still wallowing in my piñata misery, and the mortification of playing the awkward temptress with Jaxson ran through my memory like a midnight B-movie. I practically threw myself at him. I’m ready for my close-up Mr Knightly. Ugh! How could I have been so daft? It was as though all the little hits on my pride were fuelling my present residency of Waterworks Town.

  And if losing my cool in front of two hundred strangers wasn’t bad enough, Jaxson thought it would be fun to add to the ever-growing list of things Emma Woods does to scare children and the elderly by making me laugh. His elongated face and exaggerated expressions layered giggles on top of tears as he held my attention. He scratched his head and patted down his pockets like he was searching for something. This alone was a marvel to watch and entertainingly so. Eyebrows raised comedically high, he seemed to find what he was looking for in his left breast pocket and reached inside. His fingers tugged at the object, pulling and pulling endlessly—a never-ending string of... something invisible. His lips puckered in a whistling fashion like a mute Steamboat Willie while he mimed the gesture of retrieving the longest handkerchief on earth from his suit pocket. He milked it, too—periodically wiping his forehead of sweat from the manual labour of the task.

  Once the hankie or string or yarn (or whatever) had run its course, he spent the next few minutes examining it, tasting it, trying to figure out how to use it. This was accompanied with more head scratching, tongue twisting, and melodramatic eye bulging. Then he folded it up, pressing it into his hand to make it small, scrunching his face with the effort. I couldn’t take my eyeballs off him, even though Annie was already at the altar and everyone had sat in their seats—Jaxson taking longer than the rest of the guests to lower himself. Some words were spoken by the minister—not sure what—sounded like wha wha wha wha like the adults in Peanuts cartoons. The guests were smiling. Some were yawning. But Jaxson, in his own little world, stuffed the imaginary string into his ear, tapped his head with the heel of his hand, and retrieved it from the other ear, slowly and deliberately. Right there. In the middle of Annie and Randall’s wedding ceremony. The woman beside him slid as far away from him as she could without falling off the edge of the pew. Yet Jaxson didn’t care. I couldn’t decide which was more ridiculous—Jaxson’s silly gestures, or his concentrated commitment to the ruse.

  With tears still threatening, I laughed. Snort laughed. Like a piggie with a terrible cold. The mucus that had formed from crying like a fool shot out of my nose and into my bouquet. All eyes turned on me.

  In my peripheral vision, I noticed a box of tissues thrust my way. It was the mother of the bride. She didn’t need it, after all. I turned my back on the congregation to wipe my face—and bouquet—nodding with gratitude to Annie’s mum. Everyone was quiet, but the minister—who I think was really an actor—didn’t miss a beat.

  What was wrong with me lately? Maybe it was the head injury—or perhaps the weird stuff Mum shoved in my overnight bag. She texted before the ceremony to insist I take it, saying it was ‘good for the gut and would make me feel chill.’ After the night I had with Jax, I needed more chill. Now I was beginning to wonder what was in that stuff. The label on the bottle was in Sanscrit or Elvish or some other cryptic language. It occurred to me, somewhat belatedly, that Mum couldn’t be trusted in the least—always jumping on the latest health bandwagon. She once hired a Chinese medicine man to cure her of hot flashes. Turned out he was a Bolivian crazy person in a silk hat.

  Needless to say, I was a hot mess and in great danger of ruining Annie’s wedding. She just smiled warmly and squeezed my hand, reaching across all her bridesmaids to do so. I dared a glance at Jax to scowl at him. His head was bowed low, having abandoned his Mr. Bean impression, biting his lips. All I got after that was a cheeky wink.

  The rest of the ceremony went rather smoothly by comparison. One of Randall’s cousins sang a song she’d written for the couple, and I was relieved the cringing was no longer directed at me. However, I did wish I had an imaginary ball of string of my own to shove in my ears.

  After the wedding, the photographer ushered the bridal party to a gazebo on the sand for no less than eight thousand photos. The sun was setting over the horizon, melting the sky into hues of orange and a hot pink that matched the wedding colours. Annie wasn’t even concerned about getting sand all over the hem of her dress. She was just so happy. And that warmed my little heart. Nothing could take that away, not my hunger or my headache—not even the crusty dragons in the creases of my bouquet or the skin of my nose raw from wiping it too furiously. Not Jaxson... who was nowhere in sight. After the photos, once we all made our dramatic entrance announced by the boisterously loud DJ, I scanned the room in search of Jaxson’s tall frame but couldn’t find him. Where could he have gone?

  As part of the bridal party, I was obliged to sit at the head table, squished between the girl I called Ruby and the guy I walked down the aisle with. Billy or Brody or something—Randall’s nephew. He was a communications student at Riverside College, had a fascination with the colour teal, and loved NASCAR. I knew all this because I was caught in the crossfire of his enthusiastic and eager conversation with Ruby across my face. After about ten minutes of that, I was more than happy to trade seats with him.

  A plate of food appeared before me, delivered from behind by a strong, elegant hand. Jaxson’s crisp, white sleeve peeked out from a fine navy suit blazer, pinned in place by a dazzling cufflink. His arm brushed against my bare shoulder as he gently set the plate down. The proximity sent crackles of awareness into my core when he didn’t retract his hand from the table. He only leaned in closer to whisper in my ear, and when his warm breath and deep velvety voice tickled my neck, I barely registered his words.

  “I saved you some coconut prawns before they ran out.”

  I’d never been so happy about crustaceans in my life. Not because of their crispy goodness, but the bearer of said deep-fried seafood smelled palpably more delicious—like candied oranges on all my favourite things. I turned to meet Jaxson’s eyes, two twinkly olive marbles with golden speckles. And when he grinned, my gaze dipped to his beautiful mouth—at those teeth that gave me such joy, not because they were perfect, but because they were part of his genuine, lovely smile. A smile crafted especially for me.

  “Savages devoured all the appetizers while you were all on your mini holiday,” he added, bending onto his knee. “This was all that was left.”

  “Holiday?”

  “Yeah.” He glanced at his watch for effect. “I finished reading War and Peace and grew a glorious beard while you lot took your excursion out to the never never.”

  Oh. The sunset photos.

  “That was painfully long, wasn’t it?”

  He pretended to over-dramatically brush it off. “Nah. Not at all. I rather enjoyed the downtime. Learned to knit and picked up a bit of Spanish.”

  “Glad to hear it. Rosario will be so proud.” I heard hi
s mobile ringtone coming from his pocket. “Do you need to get that?”

  “Nope. It can wait.”

  “Are you sure? It might be clown college begging for you to enrol.”

  “I’m afraid there would be nothing they could teach me, my dear.”

  “Um, I think your yarn trick could use a little work.”

  He winked. “Well, I’m retiring from the mime life anyway.”

  “Mime life?” I snorted. “Is that like thug life, only nerdier?”

  “Yes. But with several more invisible walls.”

  His mobile went off again, and he ignored it in favour of a staring contest. We still hadn’t discussed my indiscretions from the night before, and I still felt embarrassed.

  “Well, thanks for the food,” I said, dismissing him. He was just too close. He didn’t move for a long moment, even seeming to lessen the gap a little bit. He radiated warmth, and something inside me fluttered without warning, making me rather light-headed. Low blood sugar, perhaps. At length, he rose to his feet.

  “You’re welcome. I best get back to the table of misfits. They placed me next to the awkward cousins. I’m sure they’re missing me.”

  “Okay. Dance later?”

  “I’ll have to check my dance card. Now eat your cold prawns.”

  He kissed my hair and walked away—back to his table of misfits where I belonged more than he did. I was a pillock, but Jaxson... he was perfection incarnate.

  I never did get that dance. I felt the weight of his stare at different intervals throughout the night—wisely keeping his distance. Who could blame the man? All the usual songs brought the guests in droves to the dance floor. I joined in on the Macarena and the YMCA song, but I drew the line at Achy Breaky Heart.

  Elton found me at the bar getting a refill on my sparkling cider. Surprisingly, it was the first I’d seen him all day.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked, pointing to his head.

  Miserable.

  “Fine.”

  He ordered a champagne and winked. “Drink’s on me.”

  It was an open bar. He threw a few quid in the tip jar and handed me my cider.

  “Line dancing not your thing?” he asked as we made our way toward my table.

  “Not in these shoes. I’d fall on my face.”

  “You wouldn’t if you had someone to catch you.”

  Unfortunately, that someone who usually caught me was missing in action. Jax wasn’t at the misfit table anymore. I looked.

  “Are you having a good time?” I asked, not sure what one talks about at weddings other than ugly bridesmaids’ dresses or that awkward toast by the best man.

  “Yeah. It was nice of them to invite me, considering we’d just met.”

  “Well, you’ll get to know Randall pretty well once the film gets green listed.”

  Between you and me and the deep blue sea, Annie had seats to fill to fulfil the catering contract. It was part of the killer deal she got.

  “Is it true you’re the one who set them up?” he asked.

  “It’s kinda my thing.” Not to brag or anything. “I like to bring people together.”

  Elton took a sip of his champagne, regarding me over the rim of his glass.

  “So, what if I needed a love connection?” he said with the smirkiest of smirks. “Could you help me out?”

  Oh, this was good. This was exactly the opportunity I needed to seal the deal between him and Harriet. He was so in puppy love with her, it was crazy obvious. I knew these things. It was my superpower.

  I flashed him the biggest grin my face had known all weekend. “I think that can be arranged.”

  His lips curled, and he opened his mouth as if to respond but snapped it shut when the country song ended and a slower one began.

  “I think we should dance,” he said with spirited energy, taking my flute glass and setting it on the table next to his own. His hands clasped around mine with solid determination and playfulness. He seemed so keen on the idea, like there was no other choice. I did want to dance, and Jax hadn’t asked me all night. I couldn’t very well sit around like a wallflower and wait for him to loosen up. Perhaps that was Jaxson’s problem—he was so uptight, he didn’t know how to have fun. There was something in Elton’s philosophy I could get on board with. This was a wedding, and weddings were supposed to be fun. So what if Annie’s bridesmaids were cliquish? So what if Jaxson was too serious? At least I had a friend in Elton.

  “You know what?” I said resolutely. “I think that’s a brilliant idea.”

  I tucked my little clutch under a cloth napkin for safekeeping and followed Elton to the dance floor where couples were swaying to the rhythm of the Bangles’ Eternal Flame. I rested my hands on Elton’s shoulders, keeping a safe distance between us—just in case Jaxson was watching. He probably wasn’t, though. I wasn’t even sure why I wanted him to see me dancing with another man. It wasn’t as if he’d be jealous or anything. The disconcerting thing about that whole idea was irrational at best—like I’d even want Jaxson to be jealous.

  HA. As if.

  Elton made a few swingy moves, and I just rolled with it. I had to admit it was a little fun when he spun me in circles. I didn’t even trip over my shoes—not really. His hand was secure on my waist, keeping me upright. He wasn’t a bad dancer, per se, but the dips and spins were out of place with the slow ballad. We’d be great on Dancing with The Stars if the music was a little more don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that swing and a little less pre-teen school dance from the 1980’s.

  “Wow,” I huffed breathlessly after he pulled me in from a series of hair-tossing swings. “You’ve got some fancy moves there.”

  He grinned and tugged me tighter so he could whisper in my ear. “It doesn’t hurt to practice for our scenes together.”

  I disengaged myself just barely enough to face him eye to eye. “What do you mean?”

  He took the opportunity to tap his forehead to mine—so very close, we were breathing the same air. He was pretty boozed up by my olfactory perception.

  “You and I both know Frank Churchill isn’t taking his job seriously,” he said.

  I had to agree with that but didn’t say so. I let him continue.

  “I’ll probably have to take over his role.”

  He kind of shrugged and pulled me in for a more intimate dance, clasping my hand to keep me near. I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about Elton taking over Frank’s role. Jax never hinted that was a possibility. He always seemed confident Frank would follow through. If, for some reason, they had to replace Frank, I’d bet my entire stash of Oreos they wouldn’t choose Elton. Then again, I wasn’t expecting them to let Beth go, either. But Elton? Sure, he was talented. We were all entertained at the workshop sessions. But he wasn’t a movie actor. I just didn’t see it. Also, he didn’t fit the character description. There was no way he and Jax could pass as brothers. Jax was tall and broad with soft waves of chocolate hair. His skin was just the right shade of tan—and those beautifully expressive eyes framed by perpetual creases from his smiles. Agh! Those smiles—genuine and artless like he was born that way, and it might physically hurt to twist his face into any other fashion.

  But Elton? He wasn’t bad looking by any means. Certainly handsome enough for Harriet. But he wasn’t Jaxson’s equal. And currently, to my sudden realization, his hand was drifting lower on my waist than was socially acceptable. Assuming he hadn’t noticed, I righted its position only to feel it falling south again a few moments later. Surely he was tired. What other reason could there be for losing his hold on my waist?

  “I think I’ve had enough dancing,” I said, stepping back. His face lit with awareness, openly sweeping his gaze down my body and dawdled on my chest for a little too long.

  “Let’s go up to my room, then.”

  It took me a second to process what he’d said. The music was rather loud, after all, and I’d been known to misunderstand things. It didn’t help I’d been feeling woozy all day.
r />   “I’m sorry, what?”

  He didn’t answer my question. He was perfectly content to show me exactly what he meant when he stepped into my space, craned his arm around my waist and came in for a hot kiss. A hot, wet kiss which landed on my eye when I turned my head to avoid it. I was sure my mascara was all to pot by this time. That didn’t deter him, however, because he leaned in for another go. My mascara couldn’t have tasted all that great.

  “Elton, what are you doing? It’s me, Emma.”

  “I can see that.” He puckered his lips, and I inwardly laughed for a nanosecond. His face was so red, he reminded me of Sebastian the crab from Little Mermaid.

  “You’re off your trolley. I’m not Harriet. You’re mistaking me for Harriet.”

  He scrunched his face. “Harriet? No one could mistake you for Harriet.”

  “Then why are you trying to...” I lowered my voice for the next bit. “Kiss me?”

  He seemed amused by my befuddlement. It was almost insulting the way he looked at me—like I was a right plonker.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” he said with a smirk.

  “Yes—it’s clearly obvious how you feel for Harriet.”

  “The only thing I feel for Harriet is relief when she leaves the room.”

  “Whaaat?”

  “Just so I can be alone with you,” he quickly added.

  This wasn’t happening. I felt my throat constricting on itself with extreme discomfiture.

  “No.” I shook my head in disbelief. “You fancy Harriet. Not me. All the signs were there.”

  “Then you read them wrong. It’s always been you, Emma.”

  “No, you’re wrong, Elton,” I cried. “I’m never wrong!”

  Of course, the music just had to end at that moment, leaving a quiet pause between songs while I screamed my head off. My life was one big cliché. Elton nervously looked about the room to see if anyone was looking.

  “Can we talk about this somewhere else?”

  Rock Lobster came on, and the wedding guests all whooped in delight. Nobody could hear us now.

  “Here’s just fine, thank you.”