Based On A True Story

“Don’t forget Europe,” Vanessa says. “American movies play overseas, too.” She takes a bite out of her hamburger and I silently curse her for the fact that she can eat whatever she wants and I gain weight if I even look at a hamburger. Maybe this is owing to the fact that she’s five-foot eight and a marathon runner who religiously runs six miles a day-but still. And more important than the fact that she’s thin, she’s so gorgeous that if her ex-boyfriend made a movie about her life, they’d probably be asking her if she’d consider playing herself.

Yes, Vanessa is tall and gorgeous and thin. I have no idea why I’m friends with her.

“And Asia,” she adds. “Don’t forget about Asia.”

“Okay, I won’t. So, my ex-boyfriend is making a movie out of the single most humiliating moment of my life,” I say. “No big deal, right? I’m sure that this is the sort of thing that happens to lots of women out there every day.”

“I’m sure it happens all the time,” she says.

I can tell she’s lying by the way she self-consciously smoothes her hand over her short hair, but I don’t care. It still makes me feel better.

“And being friendly with an ex really isn’t that big of a deal, is it?” I ask, taking a bite of my salad, only allowing myself the tiniest bit of dressing. I mean, so what?”

“So what, indeed,” she says and dips one of her French fries into the ketchup.

“I mean, so what if my ex decides to take the most embarrassing moment of my life and turn it into a major motion picture starring his new wife?” I say, taking another bite of salad, this time abandoning the dressing altogether. “And so what if said new wife has to gain twenty pounds just to play me? I mean, so what?”

“So what!” Vanessa says, slamming her fist down on the table, and I can practically hear a choir rising up in the background.

“Just because I’m not married and I’m not royalty and I’m not an Academy Award nominated actress, I’m still fabulous anyway, right?”

Oh please. As if you wouldn’t be fishing for compliments the day after you found out that your ex-boyfriend was making a movie out of your life.

“Fabulous enough for them to make a movie all about you and your crazy adventures,” Vanessa says, motioning to the waiter for refills on our diet iced teas.

“Yes,” I say. “That’s right. I’m fabulous.” I smile at Vanessa. Sometimes I forget just how truly fabulous I am.

“Did you convince yourself on that one?” she asks.

“No,” I say, looking down at my Cobb salad and then scooping up a forkful of bacon. I silently decide that you don’t have to stay on your diet on the day after you find out your ex-boyfriend is making a movie out of how pathetic your life is. “Did I convince you?”

“Nope,” she says, and goes back to her fries. “But one good thing to come out of this is the fact that Trip knows everything about you going to his wedding. It’s all out in the open, so you don’t have to hide any secrets anymore.”

The secret. I’d nearly forgotten about that. You’d think that once your ex is making a movie about your life, it can’t get worse. But you’d be wrong.

“Right,” I say, grabbing at a stray napkin that’s on the table. I tear it into two pieces and then into four. Vanessa regards me.

“Oh, no,” she says.

“What?” I ask, tearing the napkin in my hand into eight pieces.

“So, he doesn’t know?” she asks and I keep my eyes firmly planted on the floor. “You haven’t told him that you actually brought a fake date to his wedding?”

“About that…”

“That Douglas broke up with you on the eve of his wedding so you brought Jack instead and made him wear a kilt and speak with a Scottish accent?”

“I was there,” I say, “you don’t have to remind me what happened.”

“But Trip doesn’t know any of that?” she asks, staring at me with such intensity that I can feel her eyes burning into my head.

“No idea,” I say, without bringing my eyes up to meet Vanessa’s.

“Then what the hell is the movie about?”

“A girl who goes to her ex-boyfriend’s wedding,” I say, taking a sip of my iced tea. “Apparently, that’s interesting enough in of itself to turn into a movie. You don’t even need the fake kilt part.”

“Brooke,” she says, employing the same tone she’d use in speaking to a small child.

“Well, I don’t see why I should have to say anything,” I say, scooping more bacon onto my fork and dipping it into the dressing. Then I take another bite and pile bacon onto blue cheese and dipthat into the dressing.

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t tell Trip,” she says, shrugging her shoulders.

Um, is she kidding me?! “You don’t see why I wouldn’t?” I cry out, my voice an octave higher than I intend it to be. “Well, for starters, it makes me look like a huge loser-”

“But you have Jack now,” Vanessa says, cutting me off. “Nothing matters anymore now that you have Jack. He’s what’s important. Not some silly semblance of your pride that you’re trying to protect.”

She’s right. When I think about Jack and how lucky I am to have finally found love, I can’t help but feel silly that I’m still obsessing over the fact that my ex got married before me.

The first thing that I’m going to do tomorrow is to call Trip and tell him everything. That Douglas broke up with me right before his wedding so I brought Jack instead. And that in order to keep my dignity ever-so-slightly intact, I made Jack pretend to be Douglas, which meant that he had to don a kilt and a fake Scottish accent and I had to wear a fake engagement ring. But none of that matters anymore since Jack and I are together for real and it’s wonderful and it’s everything I always wanted but never realized was right in front of me because I was too busy thinking that all the wrong things were important. But now I’ve got my head screwed on straight, and I’m engaged to an amazing guy. I will call Trip immediately and tell him all of these things.

But first, I’m going to steal some of Vanessa’s French fries and order myself a hamburger.

Chapter Four

«Well, this is unexpected,» I say, as Trip saunters into my office. I think, but don't say: and unwelcome. First, I silently curse Trip for showing up unannounced. Then I silently curse my assistant for not announcing that he'd arrived.

You see, today's the day I'm supposed to be coming clean to Trip about the fact that I brought a fake date to his wedding-the wedding that he's making a major motion picture about-but he's shown up unexpectedly and I'm not really mentally prepared to tell him the truth just yet.

Maybe I should ask him to come back on a day where I've had time to go to the spa to get a massage, manicure and pedicure? Maybe even a facial. Or even a scrub. Yes, I'm sure a scrub would do the trick. Surely then I'd be more relaxed and prepared to admit the fact that I was too embarrassed to tell him that Douglas broke up with me on the eve of his wedding, so I made Jack dress up as a Scotsman and pretend to be Douglas? But I ask you: is there ever a good time to tell your ex-boyfriend that your man broke up with you on the eve of his wedding so you made your best friend dress up as him and come with you?

Wine. I was going to need some wine before I do this.

«Is now a good time?» Trip asks, settling into one of my leather visitor chairs, his stance indicating that he didn't actually care whether or not it was, in fact, a good time for me. I slip off my real engagement ring and reach into my pocketbook to try to find the fake ring I wore to Trip's wedding. «I thought we could bat around some ideas for the screenplay.»

The fake ring is nowhere to be found. I decide to forgo wearing any ring at all. After all, no ring would be better than wearing a ring he's never seen before, right?