Diamond Revelation (29 page)

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Saved and Single
by Sheila Copeland

 

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Saved and Single
…

“T
iffany! We have a situation!”

“A situation? What is it now?” I practically moaned into my headset.

Myles Adams, Living Word Church's most eligible bachelor, was finally getting married. He had to be the finest man on the planet. He was gorgeous—chocolaty velvet skin with an after-five shadow trimmed to perfection, full lips just made for kissing, and an infectious smile that could melt butter. That smile, that smile. It could bring sunshine out on a rainy day.

Lord knew I wished it were me he was marrying instead of that tired ole Melody, but she was an actress, and she was beautiful. Men like Myles always seemed to go for that type. It was Myles who'd hired me to be his wedding planner after he'd seen the wedding I'd done for Charity, the daughter of one of our choir members. Talk about cheap and wanting everything for free. But it had gotten me the job with Myles, and that made it all worthwhile.

“Tiffany! Where are you?”

“I'm coming!”

I'd been putting out fires all morning. This was the biggest wedding of my career, and everything had to be absolutely perfect. The drama level had been pretty normal, considering the fact that every wedding had its share of chaos. Compared to most of my others, this wedding was a piece of cake. Myles and Melody weren't trying to make last-minute substitutions to cut the price by bringing in Boobob to deejay—with sound equipment that didn't work—or purchase their own alcohol from Junebug—who we all knew would steal everything—or get Aunty Mae, who was a designer, to make these botched and torn-up-looking bridesmaid dresses. Myles and Melody were a dream. They paid for everything on a timely basis and used every vendor I suggested.

However, things had gotten scary when Roxanne, the florist, who'd needed a thousand ecru lilies to execute her vision of heaven—complete with clouds and angels—had gotten into a fight with Carson, my designer, who had told Roxanne she was using way too many flowers. Roxanne always spoke with this New Jersey–meets–Valley Girl accent, but when Carson—a nice, quiet, nerdy-looking white boy I had met online—had had the audacity, as Roxanne said, “to interfere with her sh—,” her accent had gone straight out the window. Roxanne, who was always Miss Sophisticated, had gone straight South Central and threatened to kick Carson's butt all over Bel Air and Beverly Hills if he didn't get his skinny white ass out of her face.

In my humble opinion, Carson had only been telling her the truth. He'd said she would destroy the simple elegance of the sanctuary with all those damn flowers, and if she weren't so ignorant and ghetto, she would have known that. I'd used Roxanne before, but this wedding was totally out of her league.

I had thought they were really going to fight, but after a bunch of name calling, they had finally worked everything out. The excess lilies would be sprinkled down the aisles by the flower girls, and the church decor was absolutely breathtaking. Needless to say, I wouldn't be using Roxanne again. Now, Carson—that's my boy. With our creativity combined, I knew the world would see a Tiffany Wedding on the Style Network real soon.

“Tiffany!” My assistant, Destiny, sounded a little frantic.

“What?” I hadn't meant to snap, but she needed to handle her business. She knew how I liked to fine-tune a wedding site.

“We need you in the bride's room ASAP!”

“What is it?”

“Just come in here now! Please!”

It had to be Melody, the bride-to-be who was a diva, a major drama queen, and a royal pain in the butt. She had probably broken a nail or wanted more Perrier for her entourage and was insisting that I handle it personally. Melody, a famous actress, was also a wannabe singer and was very beautiful. She didn't even attend Living Word, where Myles played keyboards for the music ministry. Our church had the best band in the city because of him. What he saw in her I'd never understand. I wasn't the kind of girl who was into hating, but Melody didn't even go to church. She'd told me she didn't care if Myles was into Jesus, but that was his thing, not hers. Why would a God-fearing brother like Myles date a sistah who couldn't even pray for him? My little sister, Shay, had said when it was all said and done, all men really wanted is a sistah who looked classy but was a freak in bed. I guessed Melody must have really put something down on Myles. She'd made the man forget all about his religion.

Myles had toured with Levert before Myles was saved. They had all grown up together in Cleveland, but Myles had relocated to Los Angeles. He had also played for Mary J. Blige, Boyz II Men, and Destiny's Child. His latest gig was playing in the band for
Don't Forget the Lyrics,
one of those TV shows in which contestants won money for singing the correct lyrics to all types of songs. Most of our wedding meetings were held at the studio where the show was taped.

Myles could really be a trip. Sometimes I had to listen while he called Melody, who was at another studio filming a movie, and listen to him say, “I love you, baby,” for most of the conversation when he was supposed to be asking her opinion on some aspect of their pending nuptials. Afterward I'd go see Melody on her set where she had a really nice trailer all to herself. During her break she'd curl up on a leopard-print chaise like the Queen of Sheba for the duration of our meeting while she sipped Perrier out of a martini glass. She always made me explain everything twice and asked so many dumb questions I knew she had to be sipping something stronger than Perrier.

That was Ms. Melody. I had to smile as I paused to take one last look around the sanctuary before I went to see what was up with the pampered princess.

Outside, the sun resembled a rose-colored ball of fire against the fading blue sky as dusk settled upon the City of Angels. Inside, candles lit up the aisles like airport runways, and a harpist played softly as praise dancers, adorned in white, glided down the aisles to the front of the church. It was so romantic. Talk about a platinum wedding. I should have submitted this wedding for television; Myles and Melody would have been the perfect fairy-tale couple for one of those shows.

I sighed sadly as the harpist began another selection. It seemed I was always planning the wedding I wanted for someone else. This was the location I had chosen for my wedding, if I ever had a wedding; I was thirty-two, and I wasn't even in a serious relationship. All I wanted was a man who really loved the Lord and wanted to live his life by God's Word—a man who loved me the way I needed to be loved, someone with whom I had things in common, someone with whom I could laugh and have fun. He didn't have to be rich or the finest man in the world—just someone for me. I didn't know what was so hard about that—it seemed impossible. But the God I served loved doing the impossible. I had written it all down in a list, and I prayed about him constantly, so I knew he'd find me eventually. Meanwhile I kept planning weddings, which I loved to do.

Even though this church was my special place, I had suggested it to Myles anyway because he was still special, even if he was marrying Melody.

My feet were killing me after walking around all day in high heels, which were something I never wore, but my sister had made me wear them. I had to admit I was too cute in my new dress, a Marc Jacobs I had found marked way down at Bloomingdale's. But sometimes I wondered what the point was. I never seemed to meet anyone nice, but I had faith. I believed God would come through for me, too, in my season.

Walking out of the santuary, I saw a really nice-looking brother checking me out, but I didn't make eye contact. I couldn't have any unnecessary distractions. It was crunch time, and the wedding of the century was just about ready to begin.

As I entered the hallway leading to the bride's room, I heard desperation in Destiny's voice as she called out, “Tiffany, where are you?” I wondered why she was tripping so hard.

“I'm right here,” I replied as I entered the room.

“Finally.” Destiny looked like a deflated balloon. “You need to talk to her,” Destiny whispered, and looked at Melody.

“What's wrong?”

“Just talk to her,” Destiny whispered back.

Melody was sitting in a chair in front of a makeup table; she was wearing only a white satin bra and panties and was crying her eyes out. Her face was wet with tears, and her nose was all red. There was a pile of crumpled-up tissues lying on the floor by her chair. It was more than obvious that she had been crying for a while.

“What's up, Melody?” I asked.

“I can't go through with it,” she managed between heaving sobs.

“Why can't you?” I handed Melody another tissue and pulled out a chair to sit beside her. The last time I had been in there, the entourage had been eating, drinking, and laughing. Now everyone was silent and looking very worried.

“I'm not ready to be anyone's wife,” Melody sobbed.

“Everyone gets cold feet. It's only natural. Your life is about to change forever.” I had talked numerous brides and grooms down the aisle, and I was proud to say they were all still happily married. “Now let's get you in this beautiful dress so you can strut down that aisle. I know Myles is going to love you in this.”

Melody smiled for a moment at the thought and then cried a fresh batch of tears. Her stylist had combed her hair into one of the most beautiful updos I had ever seen. A tiara with Swarovski crystals completed the style. Even with no makeup, Melody was still a very pretty girl. She had delicate features and big doe eyes like Bambi. She looked just like a princess. She pulled the tiara out of her hair and tossed it on the makeup table.

“No. I can't do it.”

“Melody! Why?” I was horrified. No one had ever gone to this extreme; this was pretty over the top, even for Melody.

“I just can't go through with it,” she continued as she pulled the pins out of her hair and shook her head until all her hair fell down her back.

I heard her stylist gasping for air. Melody's hair was the real deal. I had watched earlier while her stylist had done his thing with a blow-dryer and a flatiron.

No one said a word. We only watched in shock as she pulled on a pair of faded, ripped jeans and a simple white tank.

I couldn't let this happen. I finally found my voice. “Melody, you don't want to do this. Myles loves you so much, and I know you love him. He's going to be so hurt.”

“I don't want to hurt Myles, but I just can't go through with it. I'm not in love with Myles, and I don't want to be married.”

“You do love Myles. You're just frightened,” I reminded her. I thought about all the meetings in which Myles could barely function without calling Melody and telling her how much he loved her. I didn't remember her ever calling him. Maybe she really didn't love him.

Myles had always been more excited about their wedding than Melody. He'd made all the arrangements—not Melody. In my experience, the bride always had the vision for the wedding, not the groom, because it was her day. I'd had a few grooms who were really into the details of the wedding, but for the most part, the men were usually unconcerned. It was up to the bride.

Melody hadn't chosen anything, not even one flower. Myles and I had planned the entire affair. All Melody had done was write a check for the reception.

I watched as she picked up her oversize Louis Vuitton bag. I had seen that bag at the boutique in Century City and had gone downtown to try to find a knockoff.
I bet things always come easily for her, probably too easily.
This girl had everything, even the love of a wonderful man like Myles Adams, and she was throwing it all away.

Melody pulled off the five-carat diamond engagement ring and pressed it into my hand. “Give that back to Myles for me, please.”

“Melody! You mean you're not going to tell him yourself?” I couldn't believe the nerve of this heifer. She was truly a piece of work, and Myles would definitely be better off without her.

“No. He'll just talk me into getting married. I always have a hard time telling him no. It's better this way. A nice, clean break.”

Nice? I wonder what you would consider cold,
I almost said out loud.

“What about your reception at the Beverly Hills Hotel?” I thought about the tens of thousands of dollars that had been spent on everything. It was such a waste. She should have told Myles she didn't want to marry him when he'd first asked.

“Have a fabulous party on me.” Melody smiled. “And tell Myles to be happy. This is so much better and less painful than a nasty, expensive divorce.”

“Melody, why are you doing this?” I had to know. I just couldn't fathom a sister running out on a man like Myles.

“I never wanted to be married. Myles was the one who wanted marriage. He started to trip about the sex. He said he had to do the right thing and make me an honest woman. Granted, the sex was great, but I don't have any issues with not being married. If Myles hadn't insisted on getting married, we'd still be together. This is really all his fault, so he'll just have to deal with the consequences. He should have just let things be the way they were. We were so good together.” She looked at her maid of honor, who had taken off her dress, too, and was also in jeans and ready to leave.

“She's a cold piece,” I heard Destiny whisper in my ear.

“Let's do this.” Melody smiled at her friend and then at me. “Oh, Tiffany—tell Myles that Wendy and I will be taking the Jamaica honeymoon. I'm definitely in need of a vacation after all this drama.”

And then she was gone. Someone had brought her convertible Mercedes up to the church, and I heard her zip away. Nobody moved, and no one said a word. We were all too shocked.

I stood there, shaking my head. I just couldn't believe it. Melody had just gotten up and left. Poor Myles. He had definitely missed it when he'd chosen her as a wife. This definitely wasn't God's plan for his life. The Word said not to be unequally yoked together with unbelievers. Melody had made it quite plain that she was not a believer, but Myles had gone ahead with his plans anyway.