Page 2 of Faking the Pass
“I’ll just stroll into a mansion ballroom filled with five hundred of Hollywood’s biggest stars and most powerful directors and producers and tell them I’ve changed my mind,” I said. “No biggie.”
“Uh oh,” Danielle’s eyebrows lifted to her auburn hairline.
“I’m fine,” I assured her. “I can do this.”
The concern on her face doubled. “But do youwantto?”
“Time to go,” Olivia announced.
Danielle and I shared a long look before I nodded again, working hard to keep from hyperventilating.
“My feet are just a teensy bit cold. I’ll be fine.” I gave her a big smile. “Go, go.”
Danielle left the room, tossing one last worried glance over her shoulder.
Closing my eyes and breathing deeply, I pictured her entering the ballroom and walking slowly down the long aisle lined with blooming crepe myrtle trees.
I’d seen the room earlier when it was empty. By now it would be packed with designer-clad bodies and unnaturally youthful faces, most of whom I didn’t know.
Randy was the one who knew everyone, so he’d been in charge of the invitations, inviting a who’s who of the Hollywood scene. The fact they’d traveled all the way to the East coast for this event demonstrated his popularity and power in the industry.
As I had no family left and a small number of real friends, his insistence on handling the guest list had been fine with me.
Still, I was nervous. Very nervous.
It was probably just the public speaking thing.
Delivering well-rehearsed lines on camera? I could do that all day.
Speaking live in front of a crowd of hundreds? Not my favorite.
In fact, utterly terrifying. I’dbeggedRandy for a small ceremony.
I took another deep breath and closed my eyes, counting to four on the inhale and holding it at the top as the grief counselor had taught me to do whenever it felt like I was about to fly apart.
On the exhale, I repeated the mantra I’d been saying to myself since we’d boarded the plane to Eastport Bay, Rhode Island.
You’ll be fine. You know your vows. You’ve practiced them. Everything else is just a yes or no answer. Imagine you’re on set, and all those people in there are extras.
Olivia checked the running timer again and spoke into her headset as if directing troops on the battlefield.
“It’s go time. Cue the orchestra to start the bride’s processional music.”
Then her expression morphed from her usualI got thissmile to aWTF?grimace.
“What?” she gasped into the microphone.
“What?” I echoed, tottering closer to her on the torturous stilettoes the stylist had picked out for me.
Clearly Olivia had heard something alarming through her earpiece. Something was wrong.
So why did that sudden floaty sensation in my chest feel a little like hope?
Olivia held up a finger as she continued to listen to whatever was being said on the other end. Then her eyes came up to meet mine.
For the first time since I’d met her, they contained something other than total confidence.
It looked like… pity.
