Meant to Marry Me

Sitting in a chair, staring at a runway, brought back way too many uncomfortable memories for Trent. Had it really just been a little over a year since he'd spent at least one or two days a week sitting in just such a chair, waiting for Monica to come down the stage? It seemed so strange now. He tried not to fidget, but his leg was bouncing up and down so quickly, he was glad he wasn't outside because he might manage to start a fire with the right kindling--and like Bree, he'd had enough of fire for one lifetime.

"Are you all right?" Celia asked, leaning over to whisper in his ear. "You're making me nervous, and I just came here for the fashion."

He raised an eyebrow at her. That wasn't true at all. She was there because he didn't think he could handle sitting in the crowd by himself, just waiting for Monica to do something crazy. As much as he wanted to believe she was above that, he was still suspicious. It just wasn't like her not to take advantage of an opportunity to humiliate Bree. If that's all it was, chances were her plan would fall through, and Bree would walk away unscathed, with the lesson never to trust Monica again ingrained in her mind. But he had a feeling it was something more. The theme of the show hadn't escaped him, even though it became evident Bree had been downplaying it and trying to keep his mind off of it. Fire and ice. It was written on the program, and the entire stage and runway, which was huge, made it clear that there would be effects.

The runway wasn't the simple up and back kind. Instead, it wrapped around in a large loop with platforms for bands set up on either side of it. The equipment was already set up for what appeared to be ten different bands. Three were clearly on the ice side, three on the fire side, and four in the center. He assumed spotlights would be used to keep the audience focused on the band playing and not the next one getting ready or the last one leaving the stage. He could also see tubes, though well hidden behind props, protruding from the ceiling, and he had to assume that's where the fire and ice would come from. Bree had mentioned that it was steam and fog, but he had to wonder if that was truly the case. If he saw flames coming out of the pipes above where Bree's band would be playing, he knew he'd freak out, and he couldn't imagine her standing there singing with that happening. While it appeared that the mechanisms were hung high above the heads of even the tallest models on the highest heels, he would still be worried to see actual fire on the stage near Bree's head.

Celia's hand on his leg brought Trent's attention back to the present. "It'll be fine," she said, giving his thigh a squeeze before she moved her hand and focused her eyes back on the stage.

It seemed so odd that she would make such an inappropriate gesture. But then... how many times had she sat on the edge of his desk, far too close to him? She'd also seemed to confuse their trip to the award ceremony as a date. When this was over, he needed to address the situation and make sure that she knew they were friends who worked together and nothing more. Of course, she had to know that, but it was becoming clear that she had feelings for him. He thought back to that night in the limo, when she'd kissed him on the cheek. Friends did that, didn't they? Still, she was becoming a little too familiar, and it needed to be set straight. Trent didn't have eyes for anyone except for Bree. They'd been through so much together. There was no way he'd ever think about being with anyone other than her.Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

Maybe he should've introduced Celia to Hank. He was interested in her, and even though Trent was still upset with his former best friend for sleeping with his then-fiancée, Hank was a decent guy--for the most part. And he had been with Monica first, though Trent hadn't realized that until after they were nearly married. So... maybe he should give the guy another chance. Celia might like him....

His thoughts were interrupted by the drop of a drumbeat and the thump of a bass. His eyes shifted to the stage where the rest of the lights had gone down while he was tuned out, and only a blue spotlight focused on the band on the far side of the stage. Flakes of snow began to rain down over the band and the runway as the first models began to come out from the back of the stage.

So there was snow--which made him think that there would also be fire. Trent took a deep breath and tried to still himself, remembering what Bree had said the last time he'd interjected himself into a situation at her show, the first one he'd gone to, when she'd had a heckler saying rude things, and he'd tried to shut the guy down. She'd been right to think that was the wrong move then since the guy had gotten a bunch of his friends together to meet them outside. If Zach hadn't showed up to help them, Trent and Bree could've gotten hurt badly. Now, as he stared up at the falling snow, assuming that the other side would have actual flames shooting down from the pipes and not just smoke, he had to assume Bree would not want him to interfere. As long as it appeared that she was okay, he wouldn't budge. But the moment he thought she might be in danger, nothing was keeping him away from the stage. Not the security guards, not the three rows of people in front of him, not what had happened in the past--nothing.

***

Standing backstage, it was impossible to see what was happening out there, but every once in a while, Bree heard what sounded like hot air being forced through the pipes and then the roar of the crowd. She had to imagine that was the fire side of the stage. A nervous energy balled up inside of her as she thought about what might happen. The pipes were so far over their heads, there was no way they could actually be near the flames, not unless there was a major installation problem.

Or sabotage.

As she stood watching the models fly back from their trips around the runway to get into their next outfits, she couldn't imagine what that might be like, to have to change clothes in front of whoever might be looking, and then get right back out there. She thought it must be horribly stressful, though, and couldn't imagine it would ever be the job for her. But then, she doubted many of the models would feel too comfortable singing in front of thousands of people either. "Are you all right?" Zach asked at her elbow.

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine," she said, turning to smile at him. "The other guys look like they're having a good time."

"Staring at the models changing clothes?" he asked, shaking his head.

"Yep," she replied, her attention shifting to the other male members of her band who were watching as the girls came rushing back to get their new outfits on. They weren't the only men who seemed to be more than a little entertained, though they really couldn't see much. The models didn't seem to notice as they were too concerned with getting themselves ready.

"Well, I wanted to let you know, just in case you are concerned, I hid a fire extinguisher by the drum set." Zach folded his arm and nodded confidently.

It brought a smile to her face. She knew, if anyone could use a fire extinguisher effectively, it was the man who'd done so in order to get her out of the hotel room she'd been trapped in that was ablaze. "Good," she said with a smile. "But I don't think it's going to be a concern. I think Monica is up to something, but I doubt she's actually trying to catch you on fire."

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Bree nodded, but she wasn't sure she felt as confident as he did. She never would've thought anyone would try to catch her on fire to begin with, but even thinking about it made her hand ache.

Across the room, she watched as Monica rushed over to her station, shouting at Candy as she approached, "Hurry up! I only have two minutes!"

Candy looked frazzled as she helped Monica take off one outfit and put on the other, Monica griping and growling the whole time. Bree had to wonder what it was about this job Monica even liked if she was so angry backstage. Once she was dressed, Candy touched up her makeup and then Monica screeched, "Get to my hair!" She turned around to face the way she'd be leaving, still straightening her outfit.

With a glare, Candy reached back behind some of the other items on the table where the makeup and hair products were set up and grabbed the can of Bright Salon, dousing Monica's hair in it. The model didn't seem to notice. Candy put the spray can away, and Monica rushed off.

Bree turned to look at Zach, wide eyed. "Did you see that?"

"Yes, I did," Zach said, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Let's just hope that she didn't plan anything too bad because if she did, and it backfires, she's going to regret it."

Bree agreed. She didn't want anyone to get hurt, but sometimes, that was the only way mean girls learned their lesson.