“Great,” muttered Gemma, “she is probably snorting up in there.”
Elly looked over with wide eyes at the producer. Boogie raised his leg and peed on the carpet. Gemma shrugged and went back to her clipboard, muttering madly to herself. Elly was left standing outside the bathroom door. Snarky Teenager slipped beside her. “Lola Plumb is in OUR bathroom!” she hissed. “Oh my God.”
Elly stood frozen. “I know. What do we do now?”
Snarky Teenager looked like she couldn’t breathe. “We never let anyone go in there again. They’ll take the magic.”
Elly stood nervously outside the door. After a few minutes, Gemma brushed past her. “Lola, are you okay in there? We should probably get the talking shots.”
“Um, yes, just a minute!” cried Lola.
Elly glanced over at Gemma, who gave Elly an exasperated look. “Celebrities,” she mumbled as she stomped back to the front of the store.
The brass doorknob turned, and Lola emerged looking much better than when she went in. “Sorry about that Gemma, sorry … er, sorry, what was your name?”
Elly stuck out her hand for the second time. “Elly. I’m your florist.”
“Oh, Elly!” Lola gave a squeal and wrapped her into a giant hug. She smelled of citrus and champagne. “I loved the pink rose petals on the ground. That was so inspired! The minute I saw it, I knew that you would be the florist for our wedding. I feel like we are on the same style wavelength.”
Elly glanced down at her black pants and denim jacket and over at Lola’s bright designer dress. “Definitely,” she said softly.
Lola walked quickly to the front, snatching up her little Chihuahua (“Boogie baby,” she cooed) and sat down at the consultation table. “Okay, Gemma, I’m ready. Go ahead.”
Gemma gave a curt nod and gestured for Elly to sit down. Elly sat gently, a button on her jacket popping open. Gemma leaned over them, her lean figure practically draped over Elly. “So, I just need to film you two talking, but the conversation will be dubbed and narrated later. On the show, we’ll have Lola talking about her vision with the different vendors. So, I just need you guys to talk for about five minutes to get the footage, okay? It doesn’t matter what you talk about.” Lola and Elly nodded, reluctant children listening to a bossy teacher. Gemma waved her finger in a circle. “You ready?” Greg, the handsome cameraman gave a thumbs-up. “Oh, and Lola, can you take off your sunglasses?”
“Oh, of course, I forgot they were on.” Lola gave a small, girlish laugh, like the tinkling of broken glass. She removed her Prada glasses slowly and set them down the table. Behind her huge, brown eyes, fringed with dark lashes, there was a deep exhaustion, the kind of exhaustion that Elly didn’t think she had ever known. Dark-purple circles, almost bruising, ran just under her bottom lash. Lola was wearing a lot of makeup—Elly hadn’t noticed it before. Still, Lola had that aching, movie-star loveliness about her. Her small pink mouth quivered slightly.
Gemma cried, “Action!” They were on.
Elly turned to Lola, laying her hands flat upon the glass table. She hoped Lola didn’t notice the heat from her palms was fogging up the glass. “So, uh, wow! You’re here. You must be so excited to get married!”
Lola nodded solemnly. “Yes, it’s been quick planning. We were going to wait awhile before the wedding, but BlissBride really wanted us for their upcoming season.”
Elly suddenly realized that not only was she going to be on BlissBride, but that this particular wedding was probably the season finale. Oh. Getting Lola Plumb, the train wreck heard around the world, was probably ratings gold. “I, um….” Elly was at a loss. She had no idea that Lola Plumb was dating, let alone engaged. “I’m sorry, who is your fiancé?” Elly heard Gemma utter an adorable British curse word.
Lola smiled—a display of blinding white teeth—and bit her lip awkwardly. “That’s okay. We just met a little while ago. His name is Joe Keats.”
Elly had never heard of him. She voiced this sentiment, embarrassed. Lola seemed unfazed as she scratched her nose. “Thank you for not pretending to know who he is. That’s refreshing. He’s not famous. He’s actually the son of Roland Keats, the owner of the hotels?”
Ah, thought Elly, Keats Hotels. There was one in practically every major city in the US. He was probably loaded. She was marrying an heir. How fitting.
“Yes. He’s sort of famous, I guess, but not really. We’d been together for about two months when he proposed at his parents’ ski lodge in Park City about four weeks ago.”
Elly vaguely remembered seeing a picture of Lola in a ski-bunny outfit, a wine bottle in hand, her arm wrapped around a chubby, redheaded man. So that was Joe. She had assumed he was a fan. “How wonderful!” she replied cheerily. “May I ask, why are you getting married in St. Louis?”
Lola gave a grin. “Well, it’s where we met. I was here for a publicity stunt for Crown Royal, and it just happened to be at one of his hotels. We met in the hallway, and he helped me back to my room. I threw up on him, and he still slept on the couch in the room. In the morning, we had breakfast.”
That’s terrible, thought Elly, and terribly sweet.
“Also, we love the arch.”
Elly held back a smile. Any St. Louisan worth their spit knew that the arch was overrated.
Lola looked down as a pink blush spread up her lightly freckled face. “Plus, Joe felt like there would be less paparazzi out here than in LA. We can hardly go anywhere without being photographed.”
That’s probably because you have a habit of throwing your purse or panties at them. Elly looked up at Lola with a sympathetic smile. “That must be hard.” Then why are you going on BlissBride?
Lola raised her lashes a tad before burying half her face into her dog’s white fur. Her left eye was twitching. “It is. You have no idea. I’m only doing BlissBride because my agent said it would help rehab my image.” She shrugged. “And the cash isn’t bad, either.”
“Okay, that’s a wrap!” snapped Gemma. She must have heard Lola. Her shrill, European pitch was hard on Elly’s eardrums as she unbuttoned Elly’s shirt and pulled off the sticky microphone from her ample chest.
“Ouch!” yelped Elly.
“You’re welcome,” said Gemma without actually looking at her, as she gently removed Lola’s mic. “Great job, Lola! You look fantastic! This is going to be our best show ever.”
Lola gave a gloomy smile. “I’m sure.”
Elly stood and reached out her hand to help Lola to her feet. Her hands are so tiny, thought Elly. She’s really just a girl. “I’m sure we will see each other soon.”
Gemma butted between them. “You will. You two have your consultation off-screen together, sometime in the next month.” She chugged from a coffee thermos, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. It was all very unladylike, and made Elly like her more. “Then we’ll be back to film the designing process, the delivery, and the wedding day. Later, we’ll get you to do some voiceover work.”
Elly felt her skin buzz with excitement. She was going to be on television! In all the nervousness to meet her celebrity (who turned out to be Lola Plumb, she still couldn’t believe it!), she had let herself forget just how lucky she was. This was going to be a defining moment in her career, she just knew it.
A cloud of cloying perfume enveloped her. Snarky Teenager had pranced up beside her and was staring at Lola Plumb with vacant, worshipping eyes. Gemma gave a low growl.
“Hi, I, um….” Elly looked over at her with amusement. It wasn’t often that she saw Snarky Teenager unhinged. She took a deep breath. “I…. Ohmygosh-I-am-your-biggest-fan-I’ve-seen-all-your-movies-and-I-think-you-are-amazing-and-I-am-wearing-your-perfume-right-now!” She took a deep breath. So that’s what the stink was. Desperate by Lola Plumb.
Lola slipped her sunglasses over her face. “Thank you. That means so much.”
Gemma gestured to the door. “The limo is waiting for you.”
Elly waved. “I can’t wait to meet you again!” she declar
ed. Was that too much, she thought to herself? Don’t seem too eager. “Or whenever.”
Lola made a confused face. “C’mon, Boogie,” she said, scooping her sausage of a dog under her arm. There was a neat, tiny pile of dog poo underneath him. “Oh, sorry,” she mumbled.
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll get it,” offered Elly.
“Damn right, you will,” muttered Gemma, walking out the door. The cameramen dutifully followed, ripping down the black curtains on their way out. Bright, welcome light flooded the studio. The last one leaned toward Snarky Teenager with a business card in his hand.
“Don’t even,” said Elly with a scowl, snatching the card from his hand. A blush crept over his handsome features as he shuffled out the door.
There was a moment of silence in the studio, as they all stared at each other. With a wail, Anthony broke the quiet. “Lola Plumb is our bride. Lola Plumb is our bride! Forget the Olympian!”
Then all three of them were dancing, all at once. Elly stepped in the dog poo, but it didn’t matter. The very famous Lola Plumb was her celebrity.
Later that evening, as the warm sun set outside her bay window, Elly couldn’t help noticing that Keith’s socks had big holes in them. Why would you ever keep socks with big holes in the toes? She pointed at the holes as Keith fingered a lock of her hair. “Do you need socks?” she asked. “Does the deli not pay well enough to buy socks without holes?”
A lazy grin crept over Keith’s face. He’s adorable, thought Elly. I could lie here for the rest of my life and be content, just watching that smile crinkle the corner of his eyes. She shook her head. Who thinks things like that? Get a grip, lady. Keith wiggled his toes. “Do you not like my holey socks?” he said. “I was thinking of getting them ordained.”
Elly let out a loud groan. “Horrible. Horrible abuse of humor.”
“I thought it was funny.” Keith pulled himself up and over Elly, so that he was hovering near her face. “Maybe you can come over later and darn my socks.”
Elly kissed his cheek softly. “I have news for you: I will never darn your socks.”
“That’s a shame,” he whispered, his lips softly brushing hers, “because all my socks have holes.” Suddenly, the door gave a creak, followed by a loud banging. Elly leapt up, sending Keith rolling to the floor. “Get up, get up!” she hissed. “That’s Dennis! He must have taken the taxi earlier than planned.”
Keith sat up on the rug, folding his arms. “So?”
“I don’t’ want him to feel weird when he comes in. Like we were doing something.”
Keith leaned back against Elly’s coffee table. “We were doing something. We were having a lovely moment. And kissing.”
“Shhh!” shushed Elly. “Coming!” she yelled toward the door. “Keith, can you please just—”
Keith heaved himself off the floor and cracked his back. “Okay. I’m standing. There is no way we could have been doing any kissing.”
Elly gave him a razor-edged glare and walked toward the door. Try to make him feel welcome, she thought, he has no other family. Don’t make him feel like this is a burden. She flung the door open. “Helllooo,” she crowed, sounding like a bad impersonation of the queen.
Dennis stood in front of the door, his blue eyes cast down. The bright-orange backpack hung loosely on his shoulders, the backpack that had once brought Elly so much terror. “Hey,” he mumbled. “Hi!”
Elly attempted to give him a half hug. He stiffened under her arm. She recoiled, embarrassed. “So, come on in. Welcome home.”
Dennis shuffled inside, stopping short when he saw Keith. “Why is he here?” he asked.
Elly tried to navigate this sudden emotional minefield. “Oh, he was just here to help out, if you needed any help with anything.”
Dennis looked himself over. “I only have this backpack. What the hell would I need help with?”
Keith reached out for the backpack. “Then that is what I will help you with.”
Dennis leapt back. Elly was surprised at his speed-to-girth ratio. “Don’t touch that,” he wheezed. “Don’t touch my backpack.”
Keith stepped back. “No worries, dude. I won’t touch it.”
“Don’t call me dude,” Dennis snapped.
This, thought Elly sarcastically, is going very well. “Um, so Dennis, you are going to be in this bedroom.” She led him down her short hallway to the guest room. Keith had aided her in stripping down the femininity of the room, but it was still very womanly. The room was painted a very pale purple—almost a gray—with white trim. There were hand-drawn pictures of Paris, Milan, and Prague—places that Elly had never been—mixed in with vintage photographs of her mother’s garden. They looked lovely against the paint with their drab coloring and wrinkly texture. She had replaced the fluttery champagne-colored comforter with a solid beige one and put a small TV into the corner. Hopefully he liked it, it wasn’t much. “Is it okay?” she asked nervously.
Keith hovered in the doorway, staring at Dennis with an expressionless face.
Dennis plopped onto the bed. “Yeah, it’s fine,” he said, totally devoid of emotion. He must have reconsidered his tone, because then he turned back to Elly, obviously trying to not be a tool. “Thank you. It’s, uh, nice.” Turning over, his eyes lit up. “Does that computer work?” he asked.
Elly smiled. “Yup, it does. Hooked up to the net and everything.”
Keith put his hand on her shoulder. “They don’t call it the net anymore, Elly.”
“Well, you are welcome to use it if you so desire. To turn it on, you push—”
Dennis was already past her, booting up the computer and pulling a disc out of his backpack. “Awesome.”
“Oh, you are, um, is …,” Elly paused. “What is that?” Please don’t be porn, she pleaded. I could not deal with that.
“World of MageCraft,” Dennis replied. “I’m a level seventy-three shaman, and I was just about to go on a campaign when I left Ohio.”
Elly had never heard him so excited. “That sounds … interesting. Tell me more.” Anything, anything to engage him. From the doorway, she saw Keith making a slicing motion across his neck and shaking his head.
Dennis stepped back from the computer. “Yikes, your hard drive is superslow. Uh, well, World of MageCraft, or WOM, is an avatar-based, immense, multiplayer role-playing game online. You basically take your character, place him in the appropriate realm—I prefer a PVE or an RP over the traditional PVP, but only because the Alliance works better in RP, in my opinion. Even the hero class works better—functions better, I should say—on that level.” Dennis’s blue eyes were brimming with excitement.
Elly didn’t understand a single word he was saying, but she didn’t interrupt him. “I’m part of a gaming guild online; our name is FallenCraft, and our raids are legend. I was invited to the clan by Ahora, who is this insanely hot druid priestess, and my friend Don and I joined up. We did this raid on the Cataclysmic Castles and the boss in there….” He let out a big belly laugh, deep and joyful. Elly had never heard him laugh, and she felt a slow grin creep up her face. He was so happy when he talked about this. “Well, let’s just say the Restoration Druid Bluff couldn’t do a thing for Don’s character….”
“So, is Don your friend from Sewell?” Elly asked.
Dennis looked at her like she was the biggest idiot he had ever known. “Uh, no, he lives in Tokyo.”
“Oh. So, you don’t, like, all get together and play?”
“No. Just online with my friends.”
“Oh.” Elly was silent. On the computer screen, the logo for World of MageCraft appeared, and Dennis gave a happy shout.
“Oh, oh my god, it worked! It worked!” He flung Elly’s antique chair (she grimaced, as it was kind of a delicate little thing) in front of the computer and plopped down inches from the monitor. Under his breath he kept repeating, “Awesome, awesome, awesome,” as he drummed wildly on the desk.
Elly stepped back from the door. “Do you need anything?”
she asked.
Dennis didn’t look up from the screen. “Uh, yeah, maybe something to eat?”
“Sure!” she replied brightly. Keith motioned her toward the living room. “I’ll bring you some manicotti. I made it yesterday.”
Dennis didn’t reply. Elly closed the door softly behind him. She and Keith walked silently into the kitchen. “Wow!” said Elly, “He really likes that Way of MageCraft game.”
Keith wrapped his arm around her waist. “World of MageCraft. One of my employees plays it. He says it’s really addictive.”
Elly gave a shrug. “He’s probably just excited to be doing something familiar.”
“Absolutely,” Keith said halfheartedly.
Elly turned and faced him. “You still don’t like him living here, do you?”
Keith shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t like him or trust him—he’s pretty harmless and doesn’t move very fast—but I just don’t know if this is the right way to go about doing this. It seems like you leapt straight into the deep end of the pool when you could have waded in.”
Elly stared straight ahead. “Thank you for your concern,” she said blandly.
Keith stepped back. “I’m not trying to argue, Elly. Let’s not talk about it, okay?”
Elly angrily yanked open the fridge. “That’s fine. I don’t want to argue, either.” She did, though. She wanted to argue about this with Keith. Why, though, why was she so provoked by this? Was it because of her past? Or her own growing doubts about Dennis? With Dennis right in the middle of it? She tried to find a neutral subject. “How’s Cadbury doing? Did he wreck your place already?”
Keith gave a smile as he helped Elly dish out the manicotti. “He really has a thing for the rug in my bathroom.”
“Aw, what a sweetie, does he sleep on it?”
“Not … exactly,” muttered Keith.
“Oh,” said Elly. “Oh! Oh, ew. So sorry about that.”
“Other than that life-changing love affair, I would say that he’s settled in pretty well.”