Sarah Mayberry – Take On Me (страница 4)

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Claudia’s head come up.

“You mean like, ‘Sadie, I don’t think I’m going to turn up tomorrow’? That kind of thing?” Claudia asked in a dangerously calm voice.

Sadie laid a hand on her arm. “Claud,” she said. This was not her aunt’s fault. She was a good woman who’d done her best to fill in the gaps in Sadie’s life when her parents were killed in a car accident seven years ago. Martha was blown away—as they all were.

“I can’t believe this,” Grace said, her eyes scanning over and over the few words on the note. “This is…unbelievable.”

Sadie lifted her eyes to contemplate the stately church in front of her.

Inside, more than two hundred of her and Greg’s friends and relatives were waiting to celebrate their wedding. The men would be in suits, the women in gorgeous-but-deadly designer high heels that they knew they’d regret by the time the reception was over. In their cars, presents would be sitting, wrapped and ready to put on the gift table once they arrived at the reception. Toasters, kettles, towels, glassware. The wherewithal to set up a new home. Her and Greg’s new home.

She hoped they’d all kept their receipts.

She clenched her hands together as a wave of humiliation and hurt threatened to descend. She wanted nothing more than to turn on her heel and get the hell out of here. To pretend that she had never been so foolish as to believe the words of handsome Greg Sinclair when he’d looked into her eyes and told her he adored her. That he wanted to marry her, as soon as possible. That he’d never felt more sure of anything in his life.

“Let’s go,” Claudia said decisively. She gestured toward the waiting car where the chauffeur was doing his best not to look too interested in what was going on. This would be a bit of a treat for him, Sadie reflected distractedly. A twist on the usual.

“Yes, your friend is right, sweetheart,” Gus said. “You go, and we’ll let everyone know that there’s been an incident, and the wedding’s been postponed.”

Sadie winced at her uncle’s choice of words. She knew he thought they’d save her face, but everyone in the church would know the truth. It was pretty damned obvious what had happened—the groom hadn’t shown up.

She could imagine them all whispering behind their order-of-service booklets while she stood outside trying to work out what to do. Why is it all taking so long? Where’s the groom? Shouldn’t he be waiting at the altar?

Suddenly it all felt suffocatingly familiar. The refrain from Sheryl Crow’s “All I Wanna Do” tinkled its way through her mind, and for a horrible moment she was standing in the middle of the gym again as her classmates mocked and pitied her.

“No!” she said suddenly, determined to shake the past off.

Everyone stared at her.

“No, what?” Grace asked.

“No, I’m not going,” Sadie said. She turned toward the church and started walking before her courage failed her.

The others scrambled to keep up.

“You don’t have to do this, Sadie,” Claudia said, trying to hustle in her ankle-length sheath and high heels.

“Yeah, I do. They’re my friends and family. I invited them all here,” Sadie said with determination.

“We can do it,” Grace said, dodging in front of her. “Let us do it. Please.”

“I want to do it,” Sadie said through gritted teeth. “I need to do it.”

It was true. She knew they’d all feel sorry for her, and she didn’t want or need their pity. Would do anything to avoid it, in fact.

Grace slowly stepped aside, and Sadie continued her headlong march toward the church door. The coolness of the vestibule enveloped her as she pushed open the ornate double doors. She almost tripped on her voluminous skirts, and she looked down to see her train had gotten caught in the door. She felt tears looming again as she tugged her dress loose, as though the act of pausing had allowed the shame and hurt to catch up with her.

God, she couldn’t do this. But she had to. For herself. She took a step forward.

“Wait,” Grace said.

Sadie steeled herself to be firm again, but Grace pointed at her mouth.

“You’ve got lipstick on your teeth,” she said quietly.

Sadie rubbed her thumb across her incisors and smiled for her friends.

“How’s that?”

“Good,” Grace said tightly.

Nodding her thanks, Sadie grabbed a big fistful of silk and lifted it to her waist so she could walk more freely. Claudia and Grace stepped ahead of her, their expressions tortured as they shoved the inner doors open for her.

An abrupt silence fell as two hundred and twelve people swiveled in their seats to stare at her as she stood at the top of the aisle. At the front of the church, the organist gasped with surprise and automatically dropped her hands down onto the keyboard. The first few notes of “Here Comes The Bride” sounded before the woman snatched her hands away, blushing furiously.

Humiliated heat rushed to Sadie’s cheeks as the echoes died. Eyes straight ahead, she strode briskly up the aisle toward the altar where the priest, Father Baker, was eyeing her sympathetically.

Claudia and Grace flanked her, their faces set. Sadie had no idea what her own face was doing. She was just concentrating on not crying, not throwing up and walking. That was about all she could handle at the moment.

The priest came down off his three-step elevation to meet her.

“Sadie, my dear,” he said, reaching out a hand.

“I’m sorry for wasting your time, Father,” she said stiffly. “If you’ll give me a moment, we’ll get out of your hair.”

He looked surprised when she swept past him and stepped up to the microphone on the pulpit. Flicking the switch on the microphone’s side, she took a deep breath and lifted her gaze at last to confront her waiting audience.

Every last person was holding their breath. Some of them were even leaning forward in anticipation. It was almost funny. Almost.

“Sorry to keep you all waiting,” she said. Her voice broke on the last word, and she cleared her throat and blinked back the tears that had rushed to her eyes. She was not going to cry. Not yet.

She felt Grace’s hand on her back as her friend moved behind her. The warm knowledge that Grace and Claudia were here helped her focus.

“As you might have noticed, we seem to be short a groom. Don’t you hate that?” she said wryly.

Her audience stirred, and a few people tittered. They hadn’t expected wise-cracking, but it was all she had to offer at the moment.

“I don’t suppose anyone wants to volunteer on short notice?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and looking around, pretending she was waiting for someone to step up to the plate. More embarrassed laughter and uncertainty from her audience. “Can’t be tempted? Bummer. I guess it’s party time, then. And I expect to see each and every one of you at the reception—Greg has assured me he’s paying, so let’s make sure we blow out the bar tab.”

Pinning a bright, confident smile on her face, Sadie stepped back from the mike.

Claudia’s face was pale as she helped gather up Sadie’s skirts so she could march back up the aisle.

“Are you sure…?” Claudia asked in an undertone. “I mean, the reception…?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.”

Sadie had no idea how she was going to get through finger food plus three courses, but somehow she had to.

There was a muted murmur as she strode up the aisle, head high.

Then she was outside, heading toward the limo. The chauffeur hastily butted out his cigarette and leaped to open the door for her. She practically dove into the rear of the car, one hand reaching for the half-full champagne bottle before her dress train had even made it through the door. All pretense at grace or composure gone, she lifted the bottle to her mouth and guzzled greedily. A small rivulet of golden champagne trickled over her chin and down between her breasts. She didn’t give a hoot.

Claudia and Grace wedged themselves in beside her, and Claudia reached over to secure the seat belt over the scrunched-up folds of Sadie’s dress.

Sadie took another hearty slug of champagne before speaking.

“I hope you’ve broken those shoes in, ladies, because tonight we are dancing,” she announced bravely.

DYLAN ANDERSON SMILED to himself as he pulled down the last photo from the corkboard in his office. It had been taken using a Polaroid camera during a long, crazy afternoon in the story room when everyone had been banging their heads against the wall, trying to come up with something to fill sixty minutes of commercial television for Box-Office Cable’s hit drama, The Boardroom. The smile turned into a grin as he studied the shot—six grown, adult people crowded together, their features hopelessly distorted by the adhesive tape they’d used to fix their faces into weird, strange configurations. It was puerile, adolescent—and that was being generous. Particularly given the net total of their salaries. But sometimes the pressure cooker of the writers’ room had to blow. And, in his experience, something strange, funny and wonderful always came out of it.

Okay, maybe the day of the taped faces wasn’t the best example of the phenomena—but it was a great memory, which was why he was taking all his Polaroid shots with him. Each one represented a moment he wanted to remember. The Boardroom had been his best TV writing experience to date, a rare convergence of inspired creator, simpatico writing team and talented directors, cast and crew. An absolute gift, from beginning to end. But Dylan had still opted not to renew his contract with the show for another year.