The Millionaire’s Fake Wedding

Chapter 4

That night Belle’s dad called her, excited and happy, even though it was rather late – closer to eleven.

He said: “Hey, little girl! Guess what a little birdie told me today?”

“Little birdie being Ma?” she asked. “What did she tell you today?” This was partially to play along, and partially to find out exactly what Da knew before telling him… the adjusted truth.

“The birdie told me my little girl just won a jackpot with a new assistant’s job! Tell me all about it, Bells!”

Close enough, Belle thought. She didn’t even feel like she was lying when she said: “I’m an assistant, yes. An assistant to… look, Da, you won’t be happy, but I’ll be assisting that b-ball player they’ve been showing on TV a few months ago.”

Da rarely watched television, and wasn’t always caught up on the news – he was more of a reader – but basketball was something he occasionally enjoyed, and then, the story of Allen Rodgers was big.

“That scumbag? Little girl, are you sure you want to get into that kind of thing?”

“Da, I’ve been assured Mr. Rodgers is a changed man. Besides, I’ll be taking calls and planning his day, what the worst that can happen?”

After a pause, her father said: “If you’re sure of this, go right ahead, Bells, I’m with you!”

“Thank you, Da! Tell Ma I love her, all right?”

*****

The next Sunday Belle woke up at twenty to six. She wasn’t going to be planning Allen’s day, but whoever had that privilege wasn’t messing around. The car was supposed to pick her up at 6:45 sharp, no delays. That wasn’t exactly new to Belle, but the weekend had spoiled her – you get used to good things fast. Still, pressured by the importance of the day, she got out of bed and went for a quick shower while the coffee brewed. Natalie had sent her instructions two days earlier: How to dress, how to behave, what to say, etc. Belle got a tiny bit offended at first – she wasn’t stupid, after all – but she understood the situation perfectly. A job was a job.

She did her hair – a neat ponytail, and put on a dress that didn’t quite make her look like a Stepford Wife, but something along those lines. It was nice, at any rate, like being in a play. Belle wasn’t a wild child, of course, but as she looked at herself in the mirror she saw someone else. Another troubling thought: few would really believe that a guy who had been caught up in a s*x scandal had suddenly reinvented himself and started dating such an exemplary young lady. What if they’d be called out on it? She supposed that wouldn’t be her problem. Right?

She packed a travel suitcase then, taking all her nicest clothes with her, as well as whatever else she’d need. Natalie and, more importantly the contract promised all her living expenses would be covered. Those expenses would not include items of luxury (anything that cost more than $1000), but things like makeup and clothes would be taken care of. It was a nice bonus – Belle had long meant to renew her wardrobe.

At half past six she was ready, killing time in front of the window, breathing in fresh air and waiting for the car to arrive. She hadn’t been told what car it would be, but hope it’d be something inconspicuous. There weren’t many limos in Tampa, and those that were, certainly never visited her neighborhood. On the other hand, driving in the back of a limo would be most exciting! She had driven in the back of Fogerty’s S-Class a few times, but never in a proper 28-ft long Town Car, the kind they show in the movies, cruising down 5th Avenue or Ocean Drive, black, with all the colorful lights reflected by its body…

The sound of a car horn brought her out of her dream. She looked down on the street: a dusty white Ford Fusion stopped on the empty parking lot in front of the building. It wasn’t the opposite of glamorous, but apparently Natalie knew what was up. Belle could respect that. Whatever Allen Rodgers had done, he should’ve been happy to have Natalie on his side.

Belle waited for the driver to come up and take the suitcase, and followed him downstairs, briefly saying ‘see ya’ to the apartment.

The drive was longer than she had anticipated, and she even managed to catch twenty minutes of shallow sleep that was filled with bizarre dreams involving basketball, rain, and limos. Subconsciously, Belle would later think, she knew nothing good would come out of it. She snapped out of the dream as the car slowed down to make a turn, and saw iron gates sliding aside to let them in. After another short drive, they stopped in front of a wide parking garage – at least five slots, Belle noticed – beside a dark-colored Audi, presumably Natalie’s.

“There you go, Miss,” the driver said, and stepped up to help her with the suitcase.

As they neared the front door, it opened, and Natalie stepped out. She looked nervous, talking on her phone. She waved at Belle and waved for her to go right in.

The driver left her bag by the door and left, driving off almost immediately, which gave Belle the idea, they wouldn’t be using the Ford to go to the game that was planned.

Inside the house was spectacular: pulled right out of a luxury real estate design catalog, all glass and marble, with a few abstract paintings on the walls, and statues of animals in the corners. Belle waited awkwardly for Natalie to show her around, looking shyly behind corners to catch a glimpse of the rest of the house. She could see right away the back wall of the mansion was all one continuous window, and beyond it – an endless backyard, which must have had a pool and an extensive barbeque area and God only knew what else. Soon Natalie stepped in, her heels loud on the stone floor.

“I’m sorry, Belle – can I call you Belle? – no time for look-see just yet. Come.”

Natalie uttered this all under her breath, without stopping to as much as shake Belle’s hand. Belle followed, giving her suitcase a concerned look. Natalie paid no attention to it whatsoever.

“You’re early, actually. But that’s good. Come on. Allen is on a schedule- Sh*t, we should’ve done this yesterday…. Anyway. He’s exercising… You look good by the way. Real nice. Perfect. Come on, come on.”

Natalie ran down the stairs, and Belle did her best to keep up without breaking her heels. It was a challenge.

“Allen is on a schedule, like I said, so we’ll have to do everything quick. First day – never easy.”

“You’ve done this before?” Belle asked.

“No, but I’ve given it a lot of thought these last couple of days, and I’m sure we’ll be fine.” She turned to look at Belle, giving her a look that said: You better think so too.

“Hey, I’m sure it’ll worked out great. Just as planned.”

“Glad to hear that, Ms. Jameson. You better be bringing you’re A-game today.” Natalie pushed the door that led into the basketball court. “That applies to you, too, Rodgers!”

The screeching of sneakers seized, leaving only thump-thump of the ball on the floor.

“What applies to me, Nat?”

Belle had never seen Allen Rodgers off screen, and when she had seen him on – they either showed pictures of him with his cars, or with some girls, or, rarely, some footage of him playing. But here he was: a living breathing man, tall and muscular as he walked towards her. Belle found herself stone-still in the door, just looking at him looking at her. The basketball had quieted down and rolled to the wall.

“So, you’re the girl, huh? I’m Allen.”

He stretched out his sweaty hand, but Belle was not disgusted. She shook it lightly. Natalie watched, amused.

“I’m Belle Jameson.”

Allen’s brows jerked up. “Beautiful name! And you look great, Belle. Looking forward to… working with you.”

He wasn’t quite flirting, but he spoke like a guy whose every phrase could be considered flirting. He had the kind of a half-smile that was contagious, and his eyes seemed kind, if mischievous. Belle could see what girls found in him – she almost fell for it right then, but caught herself.