Brent
SHE SLAMMED THE door to the bathroom so hard that the vase on the dresser did a little shimmy and threatened to fall off. I didn’t even try to save it. Instead, I sat on the bed, my shirt unbuttoned and a tattered bowtie was in my front pocket. Black pants that were too tight were also unbuttoned.
No socks.
No shoes.
No clue what the heck was happening.
My suitcase and its contents were splayed on the floor where Viv had toppled it over in the search for her own clothes. I picked up a pair of gray sweatpants and a navy t-shirt, changed, and then went to get coffee.
I tried to knock on the door so I could get my toothbrush, but she yelled at me so loudly that the words were garbled.
There was a pitch to her voice that made my head pound.
Certainly all of this would be better after a pot – or two – of coffee.
Maybe a gallon or two.
From the kitchen, as I filled up the machine with water, I could still hear my new wife throwing a tantrum bigger than Oklahoma. I didn’t know what all she was throwing, but I could hear the crashing sound when it hit the floor or the wall.
I reminded myself not to take her on another honeymoon to Vegas.
No, that wasn’t funny.
Yes, it certainly was.
I, on the other hand, was a lot calmer than I should’ve been.
The coffee was for Viv.
Her publicist and her lawyers and probably the National Guard were all on their way to throw a big piece of plywood in what, to me, seemed like the start of a foundation.
A rocky foundation, I would admit.
But the thought of being married to Viv didn’t seem like anything to scream about unless it involved going to the top of the hotel and throwing one fist in the air in victory.
It seemed like a big victory to me.
“You’re gonna marry me one day, won’t you, Viv?” We were in the back of my truck piled with blankets and pillows looking for shooting stars in the clearing of one of our fields. She was wrapped in my arms with a long cream dress with flowers all over it.
“What if you get tired of me?” She smiled but didn’t look at me. She knew better.
“I’ll never get tired of you. Every day you do something new.”
“I don’t want to be one of those cliché couples who gets married right out of high school. People will think I got knocked up.” She blushed saying the words. We had never done anything more than a few make out sessions. My daddy always told me to keep my hands to myself, even if that meant keeping my hands in my pockets.
I laughed so hard, the truck moved back and forth.
“You’re not helping the situation with all of that moving the truck. Your parents could be out there watching us.”
My parents didn’t care what I was doing with Viv and we both knew it.
I’d already told them I intended to marry her.
Her voice burst my bubble. “Please tell me that you’re making coffee because my head is about to explode.”
“Here,” I said, handing her two painkillers and a cup of coffee, even though it was still dripping. “Take these and this is just a suggestion but maybe all the yelling is giving you a headache.”
She rolled her eyes, took the Tylenol, and swallowed the entire cup of coffee like it was one of the shots from the night before.
There were a lot of shots. That part I remembered.
“Thanks.” She grumbled.
I shrugged. “That’s what husbands do.”
I got kicked in the shin for that little comment – hard.
“Don’t you start, Brent Rush. Don’t even start. I will have this little screw-up fixed in less than twenty-four hours. You can bet your ranch and all the oil in Texas on that one.”
The thing was, I didn’t really want it to end.
Everything I’d wanted for years had just started.
“You want another cup, Viv? Let’s put it this way, at least you don’t have to change your name. After all, your pen name is based on my last name, right?””
She didn’t answer. I ignored her and refilled her cup anyway. When she was angry that was the best thing to do – ignore her. She would blow off some steam and flail her arms in the air, and then it was over as quick as it began.
When I handed her the cup, she almost took it but a knock at the door had her flying through the room and to the entryway before I could say anything.
“Please, please tell me you can fix this nightmare.”
Nightmare. That’s what being tied to the one woman I’ve loved since before I knew what love was, was called – a nightmare.
The real nightmare was Vivian, continuing to yell when my head was made of glass.
“V, let’s figure this out.”
Viv or Vivian must’ve been a waste of time for the woman Vivian was now pleading to as she made her and her red platform shoes right at home in my hotel room.
She called her V.
“Figure what out?” Her scream turned a screwdriver already buried deep in my temple making it burrow in further. Vivian walked to the window with her hands on her hips, her hair a frazzled mess. She’d gotten dressed but in all of her screaming had forgotten to fix her hair. It was all I could do not to laugh. “Figure out that this whole thing is one big huge mess! Why in the heck am I still wearing this?” She yanked the wedding band off of her ring finger and threw it over the balcony like she was pitching for the Red Sox.
That kind of stung.
“Just hear me out, okay? Hear me out.”
Vivian stood and walked over to me, coming so close that her chest was bumping mine in some kind of battle I didn’t want to fight. “You did this for the money, didn’t you? You want my money? You think that a high school broken heart entitles you to something of mine? I bet you don’t even read my books! You’re just like the rest of them. Wanting a piece of something you have no right to.”
Now she was really pissing me off.
I rarely got angry but accusing me of doing this on purpose was the end of it.
I took another step toward her, bringing my face down so that we were eye to eye and my nose was a whisper from touching hers. “You listen and you listen good, Vivian Elizabeth Goodwin Rush.” She started to say something at the sound of her new name, but I put a finger over her mouth. “I came here because I wanted to see my favorite author in person after she’s been hiding out like a recluse for years. I have enough money to buy the city of New Orleans if I want to. Don’t accuse me of being a thief one more time. Remember who you’re talking to. I’m not one of those people you pay to kiss your butt. Now, would you like this cup of coffee? Maybe it will straighten up that attitude.”
A slip of a giggle fell out of her publicist’s mouth. She quickly reigned it in.
Viv met my gaze for a little while but eventually let up. She took the cup from my hand and sat on the couch, sipping it.
“Okay. I’ll listen.”
The publicist, I had to find out her name, looked over at me like I’d broken her author.
Maybe I had.
“I called all the lawyers. They are all out of town, taking the opportunity since you were out of town as well. It was their chance to go without thinking they would be needed. But I got a hold of Chad. They can file for a divorce or an annulment. I’m not sure which one since you didn’t tell me. The kicker is, there’s nothing they can do until Monday – at the earliest.”
Viv gasped but her agent started apologizing.
“What’s your name?” I asked out of turn.
“Me? Oh, I’m Olivia Tempest of Tempest Literary. You must be Brent.”
I walked over to the woman and offered her my hand. “I am. Viv must’ve forgotten her manners this morning. Then again, it’s not the first thing she’s forgotten.”
Somehow the gesture calmed the situation down. Who knew my wife could be so dramatic.
“Well, Brent, you might want to sit down. I have a proposal for both of you.”
Viv flailed her arms a little bit. “Oh, haven’t we had enough proposals for the love of Pete?”
Flailing arms – yep, she was almost to the end of her anger.
I took a chance and put one hand on the small of her back and rubbed a few small circles there.
“Listen to her, Viv. She’s trying to do her job. When did you get so high maintenance? Go on, Olivia.”
I would hear more about the high maintenance comment later. I just knew it.
“Well, all readers want their fiction to become reality, right? This is it. The ultimate publicity for you. You have made Victor and Victoria real. Don’t you see?”
Viv rubbed her temples in circles. “All I hear is blabbering about books and characters, Olivia. Start making some sense and start right now.”
Olivia crossed and re-crossed her legs. “I think you should stay married – at least for the duration of the book tour. Let your fans see you happy with the man of your dreams. Let’s face it. He’s Victor to the T. You must’ve based him off of Brent here some, right?”
Some. I was Victor Salinger more than Victor Salinger was.
“How long is the book tour?” I interjected. I was part of this too, after all.
“Four more weeks. We’ve got stops in Denver, Los Angeles, and Seattle. After that, she can go back to being a recluse. I mean she can go back to being V. Rush and you can go back to whatever you do.”
Vivian was looking at me now. Her eyes were on me, assessing what I thought about this whole thing.
The look in her eyes made me want to kiss her.
I drew in a long breath and cast my eyes downward at the fuzzy white carpet. Four weeks of being married, even somewhat fake married to Vivian, would be my fantasy come to life.
“I can manage my business dealings on the road for a month. If it helps Vivian, I’m absolutely open to it.”
I tampered back the smile that threatened to break at Vivian’s mouth, now wide open.
Poor Olivia was now pleading with her client. “Vivian, think about it. That’s all I’m asking. I’ll give you twenty-four hours to just really think about it. If you decide not to, we can have the boys move forward on filing for a divorce or an annulment first thing Monday morning. No questions asked.”
Viv didn’t like the idea. The scowl on her face told me the whole story.
It wasn’t all that amazing for me either. Yes, it was the woman of my dreams now bound to me but under duress.
She was drunk.
I was drunk.
She didn’t slowly fall in love with me.
I didn’t get the chance to court her the way I wanted.
This was all wrong.
Yet, it was all right.
Vivian cleared her throat and put her hands out like she was calling a timeout to the whole thing. “I just need a few minutes to think about this. Maybe I should go to the hotel and think. My hotel.”
Olivia stood up, closing and opening her fists. “I’ve already arranged for your things to be brought here, Vivian. They are on their way. I thought this would be the best thing for everyone. If you decide to stay married, no one will suspect anything. Your husband came into town to meet you. There was a mix up. You moved over here to be with him. I don’t think anyone will remember him being in line at the signing. There were too many people there. I bet you don’t even remember half of them. We’ve checked and there was no official photographer and all the tickets were bought online. There’s no way anyone could find out, and if they did, we can say he came as a surprise and got in line to shock you or something like that.”
I slapped my hands on my knees. “Well, that means I need to go take a walk while Viv thinks about all of this. I’ll be gone for a couple of hours, Viv. I know that’s not enough time to decide something like this, but it is what it is. Apparently, you and I make decisions on the fly. I’ll leave you to it.”
I closed the bedroom door behind me and threw on a pair of jeans and a button-up white shirt before grabbing the essentials, my phone and wallet. I took a few minutes to make myself presentable and then walked through the hotel room living area and out the door without another word.
She would have to decide what she wanted.
I would never decide for her.
Seemed like every fork in the road that Viv and I got to, she was the one who made the decision.
Our marriage was in her hands.
And so was my heart.