The Marriage Contract (9 page)

              The afternoon, till evening, went by with me spending time with my friends at the shelter, and drawing pictures with Gabriella. She was the brightest eight-year-old I’d ever met, and though her and her mom stayed in a room at the shelter, she never lost her confidence.

              “Will you come again next week, Dory?” Gabriella asked, smiling brightly.

              I nodded. “I will.

              Wanting to avoid the paparazzi, who I suddenly felt creeping on me wherever I went- I decided to take a taxi home. The cab driver was friendly, making jokes, and telling me I looked a bit familiar. I thanked heaven that he didn’t recognize me, and it made me wonder just how famous James was, since he always ended up on the newspaper. He wasn’t a movie star, that was for sure, and he hadn’t done much for the world for people to be so nosy about him. I guess…he was a celebrity for no reason?

              My head began to throb, as I got out the taxi, walking towards my apartment building. Opening the nob, I walk down the long, dimly lit hallway, as the scent of musk hit my nostrils. It was a terrible smell, as I covered my nose, heading to my door, and taking out the key from my bag.

              When I opened the door, April’s yell hit my ears, as I entered, closing the door behind me. Her bright purple hair was tied in a loose bun over her head, as she stood before the sky blue curtain against the window.

              “Get down from there this instant, Plunky!” she yelled, staring at curtain railing. “You have to eat! Oh…Dorothy! What’s wrong? You look so pale—“

              “I married him.” My voice came as a quiet whisper- as I exhaled a deep sigh. “I did it this morning. I’m…I’m married now. But, it’s a long story, and I’m really tired. I’ll tell you all about it in the morning.”

              April nodded, giving me a sympathetic smile.

              “A package came for you,” she said. “I didn’t open it, but the wrapping is really fancy. What did you buy?”

              I furrowed my brows, not quite understanding what she was talking about. But then, in an instant, realization struck me like a bullet to the head, as I recalled James mentioning a dinner that he wanted me ready for by 5:30. Snapping my head at the ceiling clock, my eyes bulged, as I realized I had only five minutes left to get ready.

              Running past April, who was focused once more on her imaginary pet, I entered my bedroom, standing before the sleek black box. It rested on my bed, with a pale pink ribbon around it, ready to be opened.

              Knowing I didn’t have much time, I threw open the box, glanced briefly at the knee length, grey, cap sleeved dress, and undressed myself. It took me a second to throw it on, and I was surprised that it was a perfect fit. Walking to the mirror, I gave my hair a quick brush, wore my favorite cherry lipstick, and walked out my room, and towards the door.

              I gave April a goodnight wave, as she wished me all the best, and continued yelling at Plunky.

              My heart thumped in my chest, and I didn’t know why I felt nervous, but perhaps it was because I would have to keep up an act in front of strangers who presumed I was married to their son.

              Taking a deep breath, I twisted the knob which felt icy against my palm, as it creaked open.

              I yelped, my eyes bulging at the man before me.

The music of my heart intensified, as I pressed a hand against my chest, trying to stop it from heaving so heavily.

James stood before me, his arms resting in his black trouser pockets, as he stood in a crisp white dress shirt with a shiny red tie. His brown eyes twinkled, as he stared me up and down, looking pleased.

“Are you coming barefoot?” he asked.

              I blinked slowly, before turning my eyes to my feet, which stood naked against the cold tile floor.

              “Oh,” I said. “I forgot. Give me a second while I find my shoes—“

              “Don’t take too long, Princess,” he said, sounding amused. “My family is waiting for you, and trust me, they’re so excited to meet you…but I wouldn’t necessarily say that’s a good thing.”

              “What do you mean?”

              He grinned wickedly. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

Chapter Seven

              To say I was nervous- would be an understatement.

              My hands clenched and unclenched under my thighs, as I stared out the window of James’s car, watching the evening horizon dim to a deep lavender. The warm winds kissed my cheeks, as I exhaled a deep breath, wanting my heart to still its tumultuous beat.

              “You gonna puke?” asked James. “You look like you’re about to any second now.”

              I turned towards him, my eyes narrowed at his carefree posture. One hand rested on his thigh, while the other lazily drove on the highway, his head nodding to a chirpy pop song from the radio.

              “I can’t do this,” I said. “I can’t lie to all of them and pretend like I’m in love with you. This is wrong—“

              He chuckled. “It’s a bit too late to object. You signed the papers. And besides, we need each other. Anyways, you should see this whole pretending to love me act, as a kind of school project. You’re an acting major, so this’ll be fun for you. Chill out--”

              I snapped my eyes to his.

              “How did you know that?” I asked. “That I’m an acting major. How did you?—“

              He rolled his eyes. “Quit being a kid. I obviously did some research.”

              “Right,” I said. “That’s kind of creepy.”

              He laughed. “Is it?”

              His smile extended in an upward curl, his lips parted, revealing a wide grin, as the evening light gave his teeth a pearlescent glow. The warm winds brushed back his loose bangs, which danced over perfectly arched brows. His lips, full and inviting, pursed together in a line, and when my gaze rose to meet his milky brown stare, I blinked.

              “You want to wipe that water off your mouth, sweetheart? You’re drooling.”

              My cheeks reddened, as I looked away, feeling my heart drum loudly. I had no idea why I was staring at him, but something about his face was so unnerving, that I didn’t want to look away. Of course, I would never admit that to him- his ego was big enough.

              “You have something on your nose,” I lied. “It’s disgusting. I wasn’t staring at you. I was staring at…your…booger.”

              I cringed. I hadn’t used that word since I was ten, and it was really the stupidest word on the planet, but there I was, using it. Was my brain taking a break today or something?

              I glanced towards him, and frowned when he began to laugh, almost choking in the process.

              “You’re cute,” he said, laughing. “Oh, I forgot to mention. There are a few people you need to know before actually meeting them. Hold on.”

              I stared blankly, as he took out a folded piece of paper from his pocket, throwing it at me. The paper landed on my lap, and before the wind could whisk it away, I picked it up, opening it. Holding the sheet in both hands, I stared at the contents, looking over pictures of seven strangers, who sat on the white document, gaping at me.

              “Who are they?” I asked, looking over the document once more.

              He exhaled a deep breath. “The person on the very top- is my grandmother, Gweneth Bellevue, but if she likes you, she’ll demand that you call her carrot. She loves carrots- that’s the only explanation I have for that ridiculous nick name. The person below her- is my father, Edmund Bellevue, and if he likes you, you probably will never know it. You see, he invented the word ‘poker face’. Not literally, but you know what I mean. The lady below him is his wife, Rosaline Bellevue, but was once known as Rosaline Rogers, from another marriage. She’s my stepmother.  There’s not much to say about her, except that she’s like an expired piece of cake. On the outside, she’s all sweet, but then, when you get to the inside, you realize she’s rotten. Steer clear of her, Dorothy. Anyways, moving on. See that guy just below her, he’s Rosaline’s son, Tate Rogers. He’s an alright guy, but keeps mostly to himself. I think he studies art in some community college, but I’m not sure. He’s a weird one. The one below him- is Bethany Rogers, Rosaline’s daughter, and someone I care for. I’d do anything for that brat. She’s a freshman in high school, and I hate it. She’s growing up too quick…anyways, forget that. The last and final person on that list- is George Bellevue, my Grandfather. There’s not much to say about him, except that he’s a nice, square, decent guy. He has a drinking problem though, and I’m not referring to alcohol. He loves mango juice, and drinks too much of it. The doctor told him to stop, but we all know he sneaks a drink every other day when he can get away with it. Anyways, getting back to the point…when they ask you how we met, tell them it was love at first sight or something equally sappy. Make up a story if you want. Got it?”
              He spoke slowly the entire time, as though speaking to a child, and I listened, soaking the words in like a sponge. I took his words in with a grain of salt, because he had to be exaggerating about some of the stuff he said, like comparing his stepmother to expired cake.

              “You believe in love at first sight?” I asked, not really thinking about the question, but just spitting it out because I didn’t know what else to say.

              “What does it matter what I believe?” he asked, smiling. “Do you want me to believe in it?”

              Huh? What did that mean?

              I gave him a puzzled look, and rested my hands over my thighs, not knowing how to reply. His question had swallowed my tongue in such a way, that I decided it was best to not say anything at all.

              His folks lived in one of those mansions that people like me only got to admire from the TV screen, or within a car, marveling at its luxury as we passed it by. The Long Island neighborhood was silent, as the sunset dipped over the skies, creating an orange radiance over the aisle of tall houses, and golden gates. A few teens hung out in their front yards, as I got out the car, observing the privileged neighborhood.

              “Must have been nice to grow up here,” I stated, more to myself than to him.

              He walked around the parked car, wrapping his hand over mine, causing me to jump. I almost snapped my hand back, but stopped when he gave me a look that said “time to act.” My hand laid limp in his, passive against his flesh, as we headed down the grey pavement, towards the two story, white mansion.

              “It was great when my mother was around,” he admitted.

              His happy eyes had turned grim, as the veins in his temple throbbed. We walked through the ten foot sparkling golden gate, which for some reason- was open wide, as though waiting for our arrival. I would have gaped at the beauty of the mansion, but his pensive expression bore a hole in my chest, and I couldn’t look away. He looked so sad, and without realizing, I squeezed my palm against his.

              He didn’t notice. At least, I don’t think he did, for he gave no response. He merely stared ahead, with that sad look in his eyes.

              “If you don’t mind me asking…where’s your mom?”

              A brisk wind passed between us, as his eyes turned towards me, shooting me a cold stare. Yanking his hand off of mine, he leaned down, so that our eyes were at level to each other. I shivered at his gaze, and realized that whatever I had said- was definitely the wrong thing to say.

              “I do mind you asking,” he hissed. “Let’s get one thing straight, Princess…I’m not going to fall for you, so don’t think that by asking me personal questions, you can get closer to me. You can’t. What we have going here, is a business deal. You do your end of the deal, and I do mine. I don’t care if there was a gun pointed to your fucking head, don’t you dare ask me anything, and I mean anything, concerning my personal life. Don’t get on my bad side, Dorothy. I will destroy you, and I will not feel bad about it, because I don’t give a damn about you. I need you, just like you need me. That’s it. End of. So please, keep the personal questions to yourself. Are we clear?”

              “I only asked because you mentioned your mother earlier, but if you’re uncomfortable with personal questions, then I won’t ask,” I explained. “And don’t worry. I don’t give a damn about you either, so we’re even. And you should go easy on the threats, because I could destroy you just as easily by telling your family that you planned this sham of a marriage just to get into your grandfather’s will.“

              His brow rose. “Are you threatening me?”

              “I could threaten you, but I won’t. We’re partners now, aren’t we?”