The Millionaire’s Fake Wedding

Right after that all three of them hurried to get off the court, because people were starting to crowding around them, especially the press, who had microphones and recorders, and, most of all, cameras! Allen gave Belle another small kiss before going to change, and Natalie lead her away from people, down the hallway and towards the parking lot. Or, at least, that was what Belle had assumed.

They did not reach the garage, instead stopping in front of another white door.

Natalie said: “All right. They won’t be asking you much, but if they do – you know what to do. Good luck!”

Natalie swung the door open and all but pushed Belle through.

There was a press conference taking place! Not too many journalists were there, but when Belle entered, everyone turned to look at her. Cameras were rolling, and she gave them what she hoped was a cute little wave and a friendly smile. Some people waved back, a few smiled, but everyone kept professional and turned the cameras back at the wide desk with microphones. Allen was at one of them.

“There she is! Hon, I was just telling them about you! Isn’t she great?” he asked the audience. Nobody replied, but everyone seemed satisfied. And why wouldn’t they? All their material for weeks to come was right there.

Belle walked to the desk and sat next to Allen at another microphone.

They did ask her some questions, and she answered each of them perfectly, just as she had rehearsed with Natalie. When asked for details, she said it was too personal, when in truth she just hadn’t had time to come up with a good story yet. When they asked them to kiss for the camera – they kissed, as passionately as any couple in love would have. After that press conference nobody could say that Allen Rodgers was still another coke-snorting celebrity, mainly due to his final words:

“Thank you everyone for coming here today and cheering for the team! It means the world to us. And I’d like to thank you for such a warm welcome you’ve given to my fiancé! Bye for now!”

With that he stood up and took Belle’s hand. She followed him out, with a lump in her throat, because she couldn’t believe what he’d just called her. Talk about overwhelmed!

Outside the conference room, when they were alone, Allen said: “You were brilliant in there! And what a nice kisser you are, Belle Jameson!”

She was still too shocked to reply, so he continued: “Let me get change and Nat will take us someplace where we can eat, okay?”

He kissed her cheek and left her there, to struggle alone with the realization of her new position.

Fifteen minutes later Allen returned, in his street clothes and a duffel bag over his shoulder. He looked pumped and happy, unlike Belle, who was feeling down despite everything.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. Just wasn’t ready.”

“Well, things happen fast around here. You’ll get used to it, Belle.”

And that was the trouble. She said: “I’m not sure I want to.”

He had been holding her hand, and he tightened the grip now. “Relax. Tell you what. I’ll ask Natalie to give us a few hours to grab a bite together. We’ll meet her back home. All right?”

She nodded. Natalie was cool, but too focused on the job, and right now Belle felt like taking a breath, maybe a drink or two to calm down. She promised herself that nothing would happen between them that night, and planned on sticking to that promise.

*****

Allen told her to wait by the car while he talked to Natalie, and Belle did just that. When she got to the coupe she realized how tired she was.  She was still deafened by all the noise in the stadium and her throat was sore from her own shouting. But man was it worth it! It was the most fun she’d had in ages! She even got a kick out of all the watchful cameras. After a few years she’d spent shadowing Mr. Fogerty it was nice to be the center of attention for a change.

She saw Allen talking to Natalie at her car, all the way down at the staff parking. At first Natalie was happy and even gave Allen a hug, probably congratulating him on the win, but then Allen told her something, and she wilted and threw Belle a disgruntled look – Belle didn’t quite turn away on time. She felt her face get hot and pulled at the door handle. It was open, and she climbed in. Soon Allen joined her, getting behind the wheel and starting the low purring engine.

“Didn’t go too well? She seemed angry at me,” Belle said.

“Don’t worry about it. Nat gets it. We’ll meet up at the house tonight. Now, how about we grab something to eat?”

“Yes please.”

She was starving. Natalie had cautioned her about getting food during the game – apparently, stuffing hot dogs in your face wasn’t very photogenic. So now her stomach growled at the thought of food, and she couldn’t wait to sit down in a quiet place and ruffle through a menu.

“What do you like to eat?” Allen asked. They were driving out of the parking lot, and this time there were fewer fans outside, although reporters were there, with their cameras and all. Allen ignored them.

Belle said: “I’m up for some Italian. You do eat meat, right?”

“Nothing like a fat steak for this guy!”

He pressed on the gas, and soon they were speeding down the highway, on their way to one of the finer places in town, Belle assumed. It was around five – how the time flew! – and the sun would begin to go down in another half an hour. Belle buzzed the window down and stuck her hand out and made waves in the airflow. Allen saw that, smiled, and did the same. Belle turned up the volume on the radio, and they drove dancing and occasionally singing along to the songs.

At five they arrived at the restaurant – a shiny place that had a fleet of luxury cars in front of it and not one but two security guys at the doors. Allen parked a little ways from the entrance, and they walked together. He held her hand, but she felt he was hesitant. His grip was weak, although perhaps that was due to his tiredness after the game.

“Hey, Rodgers,” said one of the security guys, a big bodybuilder kind of guy. He didn’t look friendly at all, especially once he noticed Belle. The other sentry looked like he was about to say something, but Allen gave him a warning stare that made him back off. The couple walked into the restaurant freely, and inside the hostess met them and led them to a table.

They got a booth upstairs, overlooking Tampa Bay. Allen sat opposite her.

“Did you have a good time today?”

“Kidding me? It was great. And you were great, Allen! I can see why all the fans are on your side.”

“Ah, get out of here,” he waved her off. “It’s just what I’m good at – running and throwing a ball. If I wasn’t playing ball, I don’t know what I’d be doing.”

“Yeah, well, be glad you are where you are then.”

“Oh, trust me, I am! I am very grateful.  People don’t see it. All everyone remembers now is coke and hooker. I mean, you saw the way those goons looked at us, right?”

Belle felt very sorry for him just then. Not in a derogatory way, but the way one human being would feel about another. There was some deeper drama here than most people realized. It was easy to mock, to point a finger and say ‘look at that asshole’, but suddenly Belle put the whole story into a new perspective, where the stupid accident had happened almost a whole year ago and in and of itself was innocent. Here was a grown man who had hung out with a bunch of girls and done some drugs. Illegal, for sure, but in the end rather harmless. When she had watched the story on TV, Allen was portrayed as the poster child for what was wrong with our fame-obsessed society and so on and so forth. What she saw before her now was a guy who’d screwed up, and it backfired, and now he couldn’t hear the end of it.