Marry Me, Charlotte B! Read online

  Marry Me, Charlotte B!

  Copyright 2015 Carla de Guzman

  All rights reserved

  Published by Midnight Books

  License Notes

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Table of Contents

  Episode One

  Episode Two

  Episode Three

  Episode Four

  Episode Five

  About Carla de Guzman

  Other books by Carla de Guzman

  Episode One

  The camera pans in on one of the many skyscrapers in downtown San Francisco. We zoom in on a corner office on the higher floors of the building. The wall on the right is a gallery, full of gorgeous black-and-white photographs of weddings. The desk looks simple and nondescript, with black glass top. There is a vase of peach roses on the desk, along with papers, portfolios, and several sticky notes in neon orange clashing badly with the white walls. There are more photographs posted on the tall office window.

  A woman strides in, her heels clacking against the hardwood floor until she reaches the large rug. Her long, wispy red hair lifts gently away from her face as she tosses her coat over the arm of the sofa. The subtitle tells us that this is the legendary Charlotte Bertram, CEO of Charleston Weddings and star of Marry Me! Charlotte has sharp blue eyes and a gorgeous figure, always dressed in low-cut silk shirts and fitted pencil skirts. She ignores the camera as she looks over the work she has to do for the day. Then she looks up and blinks around her office, as if expecting something to happen.

  **

  “Je suis Charlotte Bertram, and I’m the CEO for Charleston Weddings,” Charlotte speaks plainly to the camera for the backroom interviews. “My job is to take every little girl’s dream wedding and turn it into . . . an event.” She breathes a sigh, like it’s the most satisfying statement in the world. “I’ve done weddings for the biggest names in every industry you can think of. Ms. Stefani’s ombré wedding dress? We were elbow deep in hot pink dye a week before. Go on, think of a name, we did that wedding. Go on!” Charlotte flashes the camera a daring, megawatt smile.

  **

  Back at the office, Charlotte writes something down on another sticky note and slaps it on one of the portfolios on her desk.

  “Nellie chérie!” she calls loudly, craning her neck slightly to the side. “Did Gabby Feuersinger give us an ETA on the plain fondant for the Knowles wedding?”

  Another person steps into the office. This time it’s a smaller, younger, and much curvier woman with cropped chestnut brown hair and equally brown eyes. She’s wearing a soft blue cardigan over whatever it is she is wearing underneath. She’s also wearing plain, black flat shoes and no jewelry. Her name appears on the bottom of the screen: Nellie, Charlotte’s assistant.

  “She’ll need the deposit first, which is coming through today,” Nellie answers quickly, smiling and tucking her hair over her ear. “Then she’ll start just in time for April first.”

  “Perfect, because I’ve just had a thought,” Charlotte says, holding up both her index fingers like she just came up with a brilliant idea. “We may be better off with the gorgeous, detailed powder blue / champagne Versailles cake the bride wanted, rather than what I recommended. The reception hall is already a bit bleak, so I think the details of the cake are going to make the whole thing pop!”

  **

  “I’m Nellie Canlas, Charlotte’s executive assistant,” she says, giving the camera an awkward wave. “I handle all the boring administrative stuff for the company, basically. Charlotte has always been amazing at coming up with ideas for these weddings, and it’s my job to make them happen, no matter how hard it is.”

  **

  The voice-over continues as we return to the scene between Charlotte and Nellie. Nellie’s face blanches slightly at Charlotte’s idea. But, being a dutiful soldier, Nellie simply smiles and nods. She presses her plain black planner closer to herself before she answers her boss.

  “Sounds great,” she says. “Will you be the one to tell Gabrielle or . . .”

  Charlotte looks up at her with a slightly confused, blank look. She’s waiting for Nellie to say something more. Nellie realizes what’s going on and nods knowingly.

  “Right, up to me then,” she says, smiling despite knowing that Gabrielle is famous for her temper, and that she is going to hate this new design. But Charlotte is the best, and whatever Charlotte Bertram says, goes. “Thanks, Charlotte.”

  “Mille tendresse!” Charlotte calls, her eyes focusing on the papers on her desk as she waves Nellie off, back to her little cubicle in front of the CEO’s office.

  ***

  “Do I love my job?” Nellie repeats the question as she’s filmed back at her desk, with Charlotte in the background, talking away on the phone with her legs perfectly crossed. For a forty-something-year-old woman, she looks absolutely stunning. “Well, of course I do. The pay is excellent and shadowing Charlotte is an amazing opportunity. Of course the hours are long, and it’s not always glamorous, but I love it. I wouldn’t have agreed to be on this show if I didn’t love my job so much.”

  **

  Over on the other side of the office, the receptionist is on Facebook while sipping coffee. She’s stick thin, blonde, and occasionally glances at her reflection on her computer screen to make sure that her lip gloss is touched up. Like Charlotte, she’s impeccably dressed in an emerald green bodycon dress, gold jewelry, and heels. Nellie comes up to her with a cup of tea and a pile of folders, groaning as she places it all on the receptionist’s table. Her black planner is perched on top of the pile. The receptionist, identified as Donna Smith, looks up at her and raises a thin eyebrow at both the files and at Nellie’s cardigan.

  “Tough day, darling?” she asks wryly, sipping from her cup.

  **

  “I like to think that I keep everything going here in Charleston Weddings,” Donna says to the camera, sweeping her long, blonde locks over her shoulder. “Anyone can be a receptionist. But nobody else keeps Nellie’s head together like I can,” Donna laughs, her eyes sparkling. “My girl runs a pretty tight ship here, and she needs all the help she can get.”

  **

  “I’m sure you’ll figure it out, baby doll,” Donna soothes, as she picks up a prettily wrapped box on her desk and holding it up to Nellie. “Godiva chocolate?”

  “Aren’t these the samples for—”

  “Oh please,” Donna scoffs, rolling her eyes dramatically. “I am the office goddess, hunty, and I can have these chocolates anytime. Go on, have one. On me.”

  Nellie is just about to reach out and grab one when the elevator doors ping open. In walks a man in an impeccable blue suit, the kind that fits his lean body perfectly. He’s clean-shaven, his jet-black hair tamed perfectly as he balances a bunch of files in his arms. He seems so preoccupied with his work that he doesn’t realize that he is stepping into a wedding company, and not the small but powerful law firm two floors up.

  “Wrong floor again, Jason,” Donna informs him from behind her desk, rolling her eyes. “If you weren’t a lawyer, I would sue you for corporate espionage.”

  The man looks up and blinks his small, brown puppy-dog eyes at the two women in surprise. Nellie is smiling at him while Donna has her perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised, glaring pointedly.

  **

  “This is the second time this week he’s ‘pressed the wrong button’ on the elevator,” Donna points out for the viewers, giving such a massive eye roll you could gif it. “I thought lawyers were nerds, and nerds are supposed to be s
mart. He is kinda cute though, if you’re into nerdy lawyers. No wonder Nellie has such a massive crush on him.”

  **

  “Right, sorry again,” Jason quickly apologizes, pressing the up button on the elevator panel and smiling sheepishly at them. “The law can be distracting sometimes,” he laughs at his own joke, making the corners of his eyes crease. He spots Nellie looking at him in equal parts fascination and surprise. “Hi, Nellie.”

  The blush that creeps up Nellie’s cheeks burns faster than wildfire. She beams back at Jason, managing only that, and nothing more. The elevator pings again.

  “My chaise awaits,” he jokes, stepping backward into the elevator. “Thanks for keeping me on my toes, Donna.” He winks at the receptionist before heading back inside. “Bye, Nellie.”

  “Mmmmhhm,” Nellie manages to hum, waving Jason off as the elevator doors finally close. Then she releases a breath she hasn’t realized she is holding as her friend laughs at her.

  **

  “Yes, I have a little crush on Jason,” Nellie groans to the cameras, covering her face with her hand. “I am so bad at crushes. Last time I had a crush was . . . when I was in pigtails. He couldn’t speak Tagalog or English, but I loved him. He was beautiful, and also fictional.” She looks at a spot off-camera and sighs.

  **

  “God, he’s never going to notice me,” Nellie groans.

  “That is pathetic,” Donna points out, popping another piece of chocolate into her mouth and shaking her head. “And don’t worry about Jason, he’ll ask you out one day. Go on back to work, Virgin Nellie. We can gush about your latest encounter later over lunch.”

  “Yeah, right,” Nellie sighs, giving the elevator doors one last glance before picking up all her files, her planner and teacup before returning to her desk. Donna smiles and picks up the ringing phone.

  Later on that day, while the cameras are filming Charlotte on her lunch meeting with MS Weddings, another set of cameras shoot Nellie behind her desk, focusing on checking the payroll submitted by HR every two weeks.

  **

  “The company isn’t that big, but we hire a lot of temporary staff for high-profile weddings. So I have to make sure the salaries are paid right, before we face labor suits.”

  **

  She is also on the phone, having half a conversation with someone. Nellie is rolling her eyes occasionally as she types, trying to ignore the person on the other line. The audio picks up the other side of the conversation, and a subtitle notes, “On the phone: Nellie’s mother.”

  “Millie is already seven months pregnant and just bought a house!” Nellie’s mother says. “Plus, Ellie is getting married next week, so I was just wondering what you were planning to do with your life.”

  “Ma, I’m working,” Nellie explained, still typing on her laptop.

  “I’ve already talked to Ellie, and she says she is going to call you,” her mother continues, her voice heard over the din of office noise. “But you’re going to be the coordinator for the wedding, right, Nellie dear?”

  “Of course, Mom,” Nellie answers without thinking. Then the cameras catch her miming choking herself to death in protest of the entire conversation.

  **

  “Of course they were going to ask the youngest, most useless sister to get the whole thing off the ground. Ellie is probably too busy with the law or whatever to do it herself.” Nellie sighs, leaning back on her seat.

  **

  She is tapping her fingers against the desk, and staring at her teacup, when she hears someone approach her desk. It’s an incredibly tall, willowy guy in jeans and jacket. He has an easy, slightly crooked smile, tons of freckles splashed across his nose, and a shock of long brown-red hair, tied back into a bun. His T-shirt was printed with the name of some indie band he liked. His jeans were a bit dirty with a rainbow of flecks of acrylic paint. His headphones swung from his backpack, connected to his phone in the side pocket of his jeans.

  “Nellie!” he greets her like he’d been the one waiting for her all day long. “How’s my favorite assistant?”

  **

  He looks into the camera, adjusting himself briefly on the seat as he arranges the microphone on his suit jacket. “How do we—are we going to . . . ?”

  “Just introduce yourself,” the producer says from behind the camera. “Make it natural.”

  “Right,” he says, running a hand through his hair before looking at the cameras. He also gives it a wave. “Hey, my name is Rob. I work as the head of special projects here in Charleston.”

  “What does that mean, special projects?” the producer asks. Rob frowns, like the question has left a bad taste in his mouth.

  “I’m not so sure myself,” he laughs, dimples appearing on his cheeks as he does.

  **

  Back in the office, Nellie looks pleased to see Rob again. She studies him for a moment, carefully considering everything about him. She smiles, but doesn’t stand up from her cubicle, typing furiously without looking at the keyboard.

  “Hey, Rob,” she says, finishing up to give him her full attention. “I was just about to grab a snack, wanna come?”

  “Sure,” he says nonchalantly. “I could use some late lunch.”

  **

  “It sounds strange, I know. Rob is already half a day late, has no idea what he is doing for the day, and is blowing off work for a snack. But Rob is special. Rob is actually Robert Bertram, Charlotte’s only son and a listed director of Charleston Weddings. Basically he’s allowed to do whatever he wants, he accompanies his mother on business trips abroad, plus he’s super cool and stuff,” Nellie explains to the cameras, her hands flapping wildly. “He paints, he posts songs on SoundCloud, and he’s famous on Tumblr.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “Sometimes I can’t believe I know a guy like him. Nobody is really sure what he is supposed to be doing in Charleston, but he and I have always gotten along. We talk about my issues and he loves telling me about his adventures. We aren’t best friends or anything, though.”

  **

  The camera shows a wide shot of a huge brick building on a sloped hill, with people milling in and out. Rob’s car pulls up across the street, and he and Nellie step out into the sunshine. There’s a small alfresco dining area outside and it looks like a great place for people watching. They were in the district full of old brick buildings being converted into housing, so all in all, it is the perfect afternoon break spot.

  “This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I mentioned a snack,” Nellie points out as they hop out of his car. A quick walk up a very steep hill (the main reason why Nellie never wore heels) and they arrived at the Ghirardelli Cafe, the former location of the famous Ghirardelli chocolate factory in San Francisco.

  **

  “It’s my favorite sundae spot, one that Nellie and I visit a lot,” Rob says casually. “Touristy as it is, the cafe always smells of chocolate and has good seating that overlooks San Francisco Bay.”

  **

  “What’s the harm?” Rob shrugs, putting on a pair of sunglasses as they sit together on the patio. San Francisco always has the perfect weather, balmy and cool enough for cardigans, but bright enough for sunglasses. “Maman and her gaggle of cameramen won’t be back until late. Plus, Donna tells me all about the Knowles wedding.”

  He gives her a pointed look, one that seemed to tell Nellie everything she needed to know about his thoughts on the subject. She waves off his look with her hand.

  “Let’s not talk about your mother,” she sighs, knowing that she would be treading on thin ice.

  **

  Nellie leans forward in her seat as she’s being interviewed. “Rob isn’t exactly his mother’s biggest fan. Everyone knows he would have preferred to work somewhere other than in Charleston, but ever since his parents got divorced, Robert thinks it’s his duty as a son to stay with his mother until . . . well, until whenever.”

  **

  “Where were you this weekend, by the way? That photo you posted on I
nstagram is insanely blurry, you nearly broke the Internet with the number of people asking what the heck is going on,” Nellie asks him, sipping her frozen hot chocolate, licking her lips in satisfaction.

  Rob’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. The downside of being an Instagram/Tumblr famous illustrator is that he can’t go anywhere without almost breaking the Internet.

  “I just like posting things that I do,” Rob shrugs, chuckling like he couldn’t believe his own fame. “One hundred thousand followers, all freaking out about a guy who might have accidentally pressed Post on his otherwise carefully curated accounts. It’s weird.”

  **

  “Well, nice to know someone is worried about me,” he points out, checking his phone and realizing that the photo is, in fact, blurry. Rob chuckles like it isn’t a big deal, shaking his head as Nellie took a sip of her chocolate.

  “Mmmm . . . this is really good. But seriously though, you had me just a little worried,” Nellie says, frowning a bit as she glances at him. “I know if I suddenly vanished, it wouldn’t be—”

  “I can make it up to you,” Rob suddenly says, rummaging through his backpack before grinning triumphantly when he manages to retrieve whatever it was he was looking for. He hands it to Nellie with reverence; her eyebrow quirks as she studies the item.

  “Oh!” she exclaims, her face breaking into a grin as big as Rob’s. “You were in London?”

  “Yep,” he answers, leaning back on his chair, crossing one leg over the other like he knew that he was the coolest guy in California. “I was there for the weekend, and of course I didn’t forget you.”

  Nellie gives Rob a quick glance before studying the sticker in her hand. It is a plain red circle with a blue line through it, the logo of the London Underground. She carefully peels off the backing of the sticker, placing it inside her planner on the day’s date. Rob’s eyes flicker quickly to the colored, warped pages of the inside of the otherwise plain daybook. He catches glimpses of the stickers he got her from Bali, France, and Tokyo Disneyland, and a few of her own watercolor illustrations. That black planner is practically an extension of her body already.