Wardrobe arrives at six in the morning since our filming is at nine. The bridal shop we’re invading has only given Devon until noon, and then they have to be open for normal business.
Kendra isn’t here, but my favorite hairdresser Cecilia is. She gives me a long hug. “I hear things went south yesterday,” she says.
“Please tell me you didn’t know about Giselle,” I say.
“Not a bit. We’re all pissed as hell. If you quit, game’s over for us,” she says.
“Don’t you work other shows?” I ask.
“Sure, but nobody has a budget like this!” she says. “It takes four other gigs to make up for this one. That’s why we’re all still here.”
She sits me down at the bathroom mirror. “Let’s give you your crown. Today we’re taking you from princess to queen.”
She works on my hair while the others fiddle with the dress and argue about shoes. A makeup artist arrives to give me a clean, pure look, so she says. I wonder what sort of look they’re giving red-silk girl. And somebody is probably working on Giselle.
They’re efficient and quick, so by seven-thirty, we’re packing to leave. Blitz is still in his sweats. He has the day off. The early wedding planning is mostly about me, although he does have a tux shoot tomorrow.
Maybe that’s where they’ll send red-silk girl. My stomach knots.
Blitz comes to the door as we head out. “I’d tell you to break a leg, princess, but maybe break one of theirs,” he says. He’s a lot calmer about this now that he knows Devon didn’t plan the frosting part of the stunt.
I laugh and kiss his head. “Or two.”
“That’s my girl,” he says.
The entire entourage walks the hall and piles into the elevator. When we get to the bottom, there’s a security detail of three bodyguards, including long lost Duke. We move together in a group, me and Duke at the center.
“You’re back!” I say. “Mack not need you?”
“Mack is all done until his DVD release,” he says. “I’m back with you and Blitz for the moment.”
He walks alongside us in his cowboy hat and sunglasses. His blue jeans and red plaid shirt make him stand out from the other security in all black. The lobby is mostly empty, but he keeps his eye out as we move to the front door.
“Why aren’t we using the private exit?” I ask.
“Filming starts outside,” he says.
I stop in my tracks. “What?”
The wardrobe and makeup people disperse, including Cecilia. I feel naked and exposed, even with Duke and three other men surrounding me.
The glass doors to the outside slide open and Jessie bursts through. She runs in, spots us, and rushes toward me.
“Okay, heads up,” she says. “Full film cameras out there. About four or five hundred fans. All the bridesmaids inside the car,” she says.
The wardrobe people clump together near a cluster of sofas to watch.
“Giselle?” I ask.
“No,” she says.
“How many girls?”
“Nine,” Jessie says.
“So missing one,” I say.
“She was supposed to be there?” Jessie asks.
“We suspect.”
Duke shakes his head. “Gonna be a fun morning!” He presses his finger to his ear, and I see he has a tiny earbud there. “We gotta move.” He takes my arm and tries to lead me forward.
I plant my feet and refuse to go. “Anything else?” I ask Jessie.
“There’s a camera in the limo,” Jessie says. “I’m guessing they want to see your reaction to the other girls.”
“We really have to go,” Duke says.
“Shut it,” I say. “You’re sure Giselle wasn’t in there?”
“Totally sure,” Jessie says.
“Okay.” I stand a little straighter. “Let’s go.”
Duke leads us to the doors.
“You have to go over there,” Duke says to Jessie, pointing to where the rest of the crew has stepped aside. “Only Livia and bodyguards go out those doors right now.”
He seems perturbed at her. I know she can’t be in the shot, but I don’t understand why he cares if she fills me in.
My hands check my hair and flutter across my cheek where the frosting stains were. When will we ever be free of this madness?
When we approach the doors, Duke and the other security guards step away from me so that I appear to be alone as I exit.
As soon as I step through, the crowd goes crazy.
I take it all in. Devon and the main camera are to the right. A second camera on a ladder is to the left. The sleek black limo is directly in front with a fancy doorman I’ve never seen. He wears an outlandish old-fashioned red uniform like some bygone era. He nods at me.
A barrier made of white sawhorses separates the crowd from the circle. Gosh, they’re having to redirect all the regular people coming to the hotel somewhere else for me. Another reason to leave so early in the morning.
I wave at the fans and the noise intensifies. I remember to smile. They are the best part. Although they feed the insanity. When things get crazy, they tune in. When we’re living normal lives, they move elsewhere.
And that’s what makes everyone on the show panic. That there will be no interest from the fans.
Who can live this way for long? Desperately seeking attention? Fearing your career is dead if you don’t feed it?
A sea of faces flash by. Singers. Actors. Rock stars. How do they face this, day in and day out?
“This way, Livia,” the doorman says, pulling on the handle to the limo.
I have to trust that this part will go fine.
I wave once more to all the bystanders and step forward.
Then I hear someone call out.
“Livia! Oh, Livia!”
I look up.
Seriously?
It’s Giselle, all prettied up in a pink dress, her hair a perfect blond updo. “I’m late, but I’m here!” she says.
She walks up and kisses my cheek. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world!”
My head swivels hard. Who planned this?
Devon’s eyebrows are up and his expression is dark. He’s not happy. He got called on the carpet about yesterday, and this was not planned.
The camera guy in front of me swings his rig around, following Giselle as she heads into the limo. The other one stays on me.
Everyone waits for my response.
The security men are stoic, standing with hands clasped by their bellies.
Then I see Duke. He’s come outside with the other guards. His eyes are on the form of Giselle, her pink bottom sticking out as she ducks down and pauses in the car door, looking for a place to sit inside or maybe taking a verbal assault from someone in there who knows she isn’t welcome.
Duke’s face turns to me, and even with the sunglasses, I see it. The self-satisfied smirk.
And the truth arrives in a flash.
It was him.
It was him all along.