Whose Bride Is She Anyway (5 page)

Okay, ix-nay on the aughing-lay at the misguided man who hasn’t a clue to your evil motives.
Kelsey would be about as happy to see Tara as she would if her favorite brand of nail polish stopped production. She needed to answer Andy, and she needed to do it fast. “We’re not allowed to communicate with Kelsey, isn’t that what Henry just said? So we won’t be spending too much time reminiscing unfortunately. My plan is to enjoy myself. It’s not that I’ll mind the vacation though. It’ll be good to catch a ray or two.”

Andy cocked his head, his eyes growing serious. “You know what I want to know? How can you marry someone you hardly know and let a jury pick the guy? Plus, do it in front of a live studio audience?”

She wanted to laugh maniacally. Because Kelsey had about as many brain cells as a group of Weight Watchers clients at McDonalds, eyeing up the fry lady. She oughta know, she’d been a part of that group for a long time. Lost fifty pounds to prove it.

“Kelsey is looking for something she apparently hasn’t found elsewhere.”

He made a face. “And she thinks she’ll find it on
national television?
”

Tara gulped. “Who can say what motivates a person to expose their deepest desires on national television? I’m sure Kelsey has a reason, just like you and I have our reasons.”
Oh, that was fabulous. Ten for execution…

Andy looked bewildered. Like because she didn’t share his love of a good bikini, her purpose for living would cease to exist. “I know what my reasons are,” Andy smiled, “what are yours?”

Okay, so she’d practiced this in her head a lot in the several hours since being accepted, reminding herself each time guilt assaulted her conscience that payback was the proverbial
bitch
and Kelsey was a bigger one. Here goes. “Well, of course, like I said, there’s the vacation, but also a sense of satisfaction in sending two people off into the sunset with a lifetime of happiness under their belts. If I can help make that happen, then why not?” Tara slapped her practiced smile on, the slow curve upward of her glossy lips, adding just a hint of come hither for mystery. Then she scrunched her eyes shut. Not just because she was such a liar, and she’d fry in hell to infinity and beyond for this charade, but because she was coming closer to seeing Kelsey again and her stomach was on fire.

She felt like she was going to
die.

“So what do you do for a living?”

“I’m a chemist in a perfume factory. ” Tara watched and waited for the yawn that usually accompanied that statement. No one on the planet found chemistry interesting but her and Bill Nye the Science Guy.

There it was… A big disinterested yawn, exposing every filling Andy owned. “Cool, ” he winked at her, “I write commercial jingles.”

Tara’s stomach rolled with a vengeance. “That’s fascinating.” Not really, but if it would shut him up so she could focus on her funeral arrangements she’d be grateful.

Roses; she’d like to be buried with roses; a sea of them in fact … maybe her best friend Louise would read a heartfelt eulogy about her life.

Tara Douglas, high school geek turned sometime Sports Illustrated cover model/ chemist/avenger of all things dork-like—died today as she planned the demise of her high school nemesis Kelsey Little.

She’d snort at that thought if she could summon up the energy to suck in some H2O. Tara clenched the arms of her chair, digging her nails into the plastic, fighting the next wave of nausea. The room began to clear as the jurors waited for the golf carts to take them to their huts. Each sat quietly, absorbing the day’s events.

“I said, get—off—of—me!” someone screeched into the weary, lulled silence outside the hut. “I’ll go where I want to go, you buffoon! ”

“This is
not
your final destination, ” a distinguished, yet calm voice cut into the stunned quiet that had all of the jurors, including Tara, sitting up in their seats. “Now come with me and I’ll show you to your hut.”

“Fuck my hut, Tattoo! I’m hot and sweaty and I’m sick of you chinky island guys already. I’ve been dragged around Fantasy Island and back again. Take me to my hut and get it right!”

“It’s been a busy day,
Ms. Little
. We apologize for the mix-up. If you’ll follow me…”

The voices faded into the late afternoon and the elderly wo man with the knitting bag, Mary if Tara recalled correctly, began to snicker.

The rest of the jury sat wide eyed and astonished. No one moved as they all looked at one another with shocked expressions.

Tara was the first to recover, her stomach oddly taking a turn for the better.

Kelsey Little, she thought, meet your jury…

Ain’t life grand?

Y
ep, this was paradise all right. Palm trees swaying in the warm tropical breeze, mother-of-pearl-white stretches of beach and a turquoise ocean. The sun was just beginning to set on the horizon as the jury left the small golf cart that brought them here, streaks of purple mingled with the orange ball slipping away in the sky.

Tara lifted her face to the breeze, letting it wash over her. Her stomach was somewhere back in the large meeting hut, having lurched and rolled its way to this fine destination, but she was feeling better.

Andy whistled. “Man, this is some place, huh? ” He nudged her.

“It’s fabulous,” she agreed. The perfect place to exact revenge on a stuck-up bitch. A bitch who’d just shown the whole jury what the meaning of the word was.

Men dressed in white uniforms swarmed the dock as they relieved them of their luggage. Tara strolled behind them, luxuriating in the beginning of the end for Kelsey Little.

Meow. That isn’t nice. No gloating, miss.

Right, no gloating. Tara sobered, shaking off the urge to do a cartwheel right there on the dock. Somehow, she figured it might not be appropriate behavior for the foreman of the jury to form a conga line over Kelsey’s pending humiliation on
live
television. Or at least the audience would be live. Guilt tweaked at her gut for like the two thousandth time. She shoved it aside in favor of the warm fuzzy she was getting from successfully making it this far without being caught. Slipping off her shoes, she let them dangle from her fingers and smiled.

“What are you smiling about?” Andy intruded upon her mental pat on the back.

“What’s not to be happy about? We’re in Utopia for a month. Can’t beat that.”

“Whaddaya think about the other jury members?”

God willing, they’re easy to manipulate.
“I didn’t really get to know them well on the flight. Again, I apologize. I was feeling pretty awful, but I hope they’re all as nice as you. ”

His beefy cheeks flushed with color.

They followed the bellhops to rows of thatched huts lining the far end of the beach. Tara wiggled her toes in the silky sand as they made their way across the beach. Each hut sported a label with the names of the members of the jury. A twinge of satisfaction rippled up her spine when Tara saw hers clearly marked as foreman. It was set apart from everyone else’s by at least a half mile of beach, affording her privacy and she guessed, recognizing she was the foreman.

Foreman, as in the head honcho, the big Kahuna, in charge of the whole darn shebang. It didn’t say captain of the cheerleading squad, but it was close enough.

Oh, Hell, this was a mistake wasn’t it?

No, no it wasn’t. Kelsey deserved every last moment of sheer torture for what she’d done to her.

Man up, girlie and stop being a big baby.

Squaring her shoulders, Tara absently waved a goodbye to Andy and opened the door to her room.

She caught her breath, forgetting round two thousand and one with her misgivings for a moment.

Whoa, this was some gig. Trailing behind the bellhop, she flopped down on the edge of the enormous bed. A canopy of white, filmy gauze surrounded it, tied in decorative rosettes on the four posters.

Holy shit! Tara grinned as she sat at the edge and bounced. It was like landing on a soft white cloud. Her fingers ran lightly over the puffy comforter as she dropped her shoes and dug in her purse for some singles to tip the bellhop. He bowed respectfully, but shook his head at her offer of money. Smiling, he left her to revel in her new surroundings, closing the door quietly behind him.

Silence filled the cool air, hushed and filled with the voice of chickening out.

No, dammit! Kelsey was going to get what she deserved if it was the last thing Tara did. She opted to focus instead on her ultra-cool surroundings.

A huge basket of fruit sat on the corner table by the sliding glass doors, but her stomach rebelled at the thought of food just yet. Instead, she went to take a peek outside. A vista of blue-green ocean greeted her, as the soft swell of water rolled in and out on the tide.

Jeez, this was sweet indeed! She did a little dance. Woo hoo Hawaii!

The cool air turned her body temperature to just below fried, reminding her how sticky she was from the humidity. A shower was definitely in order.

As Tara began to unbutton her shirt, she hesitated. Was this the show where hidden cameras were in the rooms? No, that was big sister or somebody’s cousin, if all her research was correct.

Her hut phone rang, shrill and sharp. Tara jumped.
They knew
… They’d done more background checks on her and they knew about her evil plan…

She picked up the phone cautiously and answered with a gulp, “Hello?”

“Good evening Miss Douglas, this is housekeeping.”

Oh, God, even
housekeeping
knew… Tara shook her head and swallowed. “Hello. What can I do for you? ”
Do you want me to pay you off to keep your clean little mouths shut?

“No, ma’am, ” the accented voice said cheerfully. “I’m calling to see what I can do for
you
.”

Aha! They did want a pay off! “Do for me?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yes, ma’am. Any special requirements? A particular brand of soap, maybe shampoo?”

Tara’s hand went to her stomach. Did they have soap that washed away guilt? “Oh, thank you, but no. I’m sure whatever’s here is just fine.”

“Wonderful! But please, don’t hesitate to call us if you need anything at all. Just dial two-one-one.”

Tara rolled her eyes in relief. “Thank you again, ” she hung up as if the phone was a loaded gun.

She groaned and padded to the bathroom, staring in awe at the creamy surface of the sunken tub and adjoining shower. The gleam from the shiny, gold fixtures almost hurt her eyes. An arched window above the bath gave her yet another glorious view of the ocean.

Tara peeked out and caught sight of a very large blond man in the distance, wandering up the beach. Squinting against the sun, she looked closer as he gapped the distance to her hut; his large body muscled and tan against the setting sun.

Wow. Nothing like something yummylicious to take your mind off your troubles.

He lifted his head and cupped his hand over his eyes. Tara ducked. She would not get caught eyeing up the hunks, assuming that’s who he was. He looked lost, which was probably par for the course when your biceps were bigger than your brain.

God, she was jaded.

She perused the bathtub again. Oh, yeah, baby, nothing like a good soak after humiliating the crap out of Kelsey.

Tara caught herself. She was gloating again.

Whatever.

Stripping the remainder of her clothes off, she opened her carry-on bag and located some shower gel and shampoo. The hard spray relaxed her achy muscles as she soaped up and gave some more serious thought to what she was about to do as the time drew closer to the show beginning.

Guilt flushed her cheeks again and a tremor of fear swept over her. What if she were caught? Would Kelsey tell the shows producer that they weren’t exactly buds in high school? Nah, she wanted the limelight more than she cared about Tara and she certainly wouldn’t credit Tara with being able to one-up her, nor would she want them to know what she’d done to Tara. Like she’d told Andy, Kelsey probably wouldn’t even remember her. Humiliating Tara in high school was a blip on her screen of life. She’d done it so often that it had to be a blur. All part and parcel of a day in the perfect life of perfect Kelsey. Besides, Tara looked different now. If worse came to worst, Tara would gush over her and tell Kelsey how profoundly fabulous she was. That was always what worked in school.

The show must have done their research, they’d run a background check that rivaled the CIA before she was chosen to interview. Surely, they knew
who
Tara was, and either cared very little, or they were looking to cash in on it. Either way, it hadn’t raised an eyebrow and she wasn’t about to complain as long as she could quit looking over her shoulder.

Toweling off, Tara went to unpack and find something cute to wear. Maybe that little black evening dress that everyone was always talking about and she wasn’t able to claim bragging rights to until she’d lost all that weight. She smoothed a hand over her belly. She was by no means what one would call “skinny”, but she was rounded in all the right places and firm thanks to the many hours she’d spent on a treadmill with a little tofu on the side. Looking down at her thighs she squinted, examining them. She always expected to see pockets of cellulite taunting her. Maybe she should have done more leg lifts? Another round of sit-ups…

Okay, she needed to stop this.

Like now.

It wasn’t enough that she’d worked like a dog to lose the weight, now she was going to critique herself just because Kelsey was within a five-mile radius? It was vain and shallow and … well, just
too
Kelsey like. As if she wasn’t already subscribing to the Kelsey school of the shitty by setting out to humiliate her on national television. Tara didn’t lose the weight because she wanted to impress anyone. She’d lost it because she needed to.

Enough!

Securely wrapping the towel around her, she went in search of her luggage and something slinky.

Slinky was good. Crossing the room, she grabbed her suitcase and hauled it to the bed, sifting through it until she found her little black dress purchased in some Beverly Hills shop Linda had taken her to. Tara fingered the label, running her thumb over the tag. Size eight… It still felt wrong sometimes, even if it really was true. Linda had gushed over it. “Oh, Tara, you are gorgeous! God, what I wouldn’t give to have a body like yours. It’s killer,” Linda had sighed and Tara had blushed.

Laying the dress out, Tara sat at the edge of the puffy bed and took some head clearing breaths.

A turquoise blue envelope caught her eye on the floor by the door. Her gut clenched, they’d found her out and they were going to kick her off the show. Oh, damn … that couldn’t be, could it? Crap, now she was screwed, they’d caught the geek in action and it was over. The show was going to boot her ass outta here, quicker than she could say, “eat my thong, Kelsey Little”. Then, she’d be splashed all over the front of the rag mags, wearing dark sunglasses and hanging her head in shame to avoid the paparazzi.

Dramatic indeed.

Ugh, the guilt… Shaking her shoulders, Tara thrust aside the gnawing stab in her belly and exhaled sharply, focusing only on
evil.

Crouching, Tara grabbed it and ripped it open with a shaky finger. What next? The show was infamous for catching folks off guard.

Tara scanned the note. Ah, the ever popular getting to know you luau. Tara had watched tape after tape of the past three seasons of “Whose Bride Is She Anyway? ” This was where the fun began and the gloves came off. Jury members would assemble to meet one another and eat a roast pig or something. Glancing at her watch, Tara realized she had plenty of time to primp and fuss and war with her guilt. After all, this was national television, a girl needed to look her best.

* * *

Jesus Christ in a mini skirt, this was some place to land in. Jet lag and the pukes were long forgotten as Tara sauntered into the ‘getting to know you’ soiree. Island music played on the gentle breeze from the band assembled along the pool. A long table with a feast fit for a small country lay on festively decorated platters. Floral arrangements flanked the arched entryway and along the gazebo at the other end of the patio. Twinkling white lights hung from the palm trees, draping along the gleaming, mahogany bar. Straightening her flowered sarong, Tara tucked the tie between her breasts and made her way over to the dining area.

Her stomach growled. The scent of roast pork and pineapple wafted under her nose.

Yum.

No pork. It was high in calories and had like a bazillion fat grams that her thighs just couldn’t accommodate if she wished to retain her size eight status.

She’d have to be very careful she didn’t eat her way through this damn show. It all looked good and it all looked like it could cost her extra sit-ups, giving Kelsey something else to quite possibly taunt her with.

Ick! Nothing like sit-ups to make her rethink that pork butt.

Or having a
porker’s butt
…

Grabbing a flower from one of the many arrangements, Tara tucked it behind her ear. Her long dark curls caressed her bare back, supple and sleek from working out. Tara felt good, yet her hands shook as she smoothed them over her hips.

Pre-show jitters, no doubt.

Andy waved her over from the far end of the long table. He was sipping from a coconut shell and bobbing his head up and down as the elderly woman from the jury chatted with him.

“Tara! Pull up a chair.” Andy slid down the bench and offered a seat to her between the two of them.

“Hey, Andy. ”

“How do you feel? ” Andy’s smile was sympathetic. “Better, I hope. You look great.”

Tara curtsied her ‘thank you’ to Andy. “And who’s this you’re over in the corner charming to pieces?”

“Tara Douglas, this is Mrs. Mary DeWitt.”

Tara offered her hand to the thin, grey haired woman.

“Aren’t you pretty? Do you feel better?” Mrs. DeWitt commented, smiling at Tara as she yanked a canvas bag from under the table and pulled out a pair of knitting needles with a long fray of blue yarn attached. A baby blanket, obviously.

“For my son and his wife. They’re having a baby. A boy, in case you couldn’t guess,” she snorted. “As if I wanted the surprise ruined for me. They had one of those ultra thingamajigs, you know. ”

“Ultrasound,” Andy filled in the blank for her.

“Right, ultrasound. Whatever the hell you want to call it, it ruined the surprise for me. In my day you took what you got and be damned if you didn’t like it. The picture they sent me didn’t even look like a baby, it looked like an alien, I tell you. ”

Tara giggled. “Well, at least it allowed you to choose the color in advance for the blanket.”