Committed, The Complete Series

Committed

Planning a wedding is enough to make you crazy.

Episode 1: Things Get Hairy

by Nicole Ciacchella

Saturday, May 10: 10:00 AM

T minus seven days and counting…

Ugh, what is that smell? Layla asked, wrinkling her perfect nose.

We'll do the favors this afternoon, so that will be out of the way. We still have to put together the seating chart, but the place cards are done—I need to check and make sure the name of that friend of Masato's is spelled correctly. Did I remember to call and give the caterer the final dinner count?

Smell? Ella asked, tearing her attention away from her mental checklist. Sniffing, she caught a strange, acrid odor that made her nose burn. Oh my God, it's awful.

Pushing up her dryer hood, Layla leaned forward and sniffed again. Frowning, she leaned to her right and took another long whiff before leaning to her left—Ella's direction—and inhaling deeply once more. Her gaze snapped to Ella, who felt a sudden, chilling sense of alarm.

What is it? Ella asked, scrambling up in her chair, the fashion magazine she'd been pretending to read tumbling from her lap and onto the floor, its pages a bright pool on the pale stone tile.

Without responding, Layla leaned closer to Ella and sniffed again. Her mouth opened and her eyes widened, her hands moving so fast they were a blur. It took Ella a minute to realize Layla had pushed her dryer hood away and was tugging frantically at the foil strips in Ella's hair.

What are you doing? Ella squealed, trying to slap her friend's hands away, but she underestimated Layla's tenacity. Her friend continued to pull the foil strips from Ella's hair while Ella protested. It's not done yet! You'll ruin the color. Layla!

But Layla's eyes had widened, a look of horror creeping into them, and the alarm Ella felt congealed and hardened into a lump in her stomach. Oh, God, is it my hair? Ella's voice rose with each word until she sounded like a siren.

Oh, Ella. Oh, no. Oh, oh, oh, Layla babbled as she continued to strip Ella's hair, her fingers moving faster than ever. Ella tried to lift a hand to her hair, but Layla knocked it aside with a forearm. Ella's eyes landed on one of the strips in Layla's hand, and what she saw horrified her.

My hair! Is that my hair? Ella shrieked, her voice taking on a hysterical edge.

They were causing a commotion, but Ella didn't care. She was far more concerned about the sight of her reddish-blond locks dangling limply, obscenely from the bit of foil in Layla's hand.

Can I get some help over here? Layla shouted, her words jolting the stunned stylists into action. Three women hurried over to them and, judging by the looks on their faces, Ella knew the news was not good.

Working faster than Ella would have thought possible, Layla and the stylists pulled the remaining foil strips from Ella's hair. Ella watched with a sense of detached incredulity as tears filled the large, green eyes of her stylist, Crystal. Fat drops fell and spattered Crystal's smock.

I'm getting married in one week, and I'm going to be bald, Ella thought. A laugh bubbled in her throat, and she kept her mouth clamped closed, afraid she'd cackle like a crazy person if she opened it.

Oh, God, Ella. Oh my God. Oh, no. I don't… How could this… Oh, God! Crystal shouted the last word, and the salon owner ran over, flicking a nervous glance from side to side, surveying the crowd of women who seemed to have forgotten all about their highlights and their mani/pedis. By the time the salon owner reached Ella, she was in full damage control mode.

Let me see, she said in a firm voice, pushing Layla and the stylists aside. Ella's eyes fell to the floor, where she saw lots and lots of her hair lying on the ground. She stared at it, feeling as if she were staring at someone else's hair. This could not possibly be happening, not now. Not one week before her wedding.

The other woman's face grew increasingly grim as she examined Ella's hair. Come with me, sweetheart, she said, taking Ella's hand and leading her over to the sinks. Ella almost tripped over her own feet, she was still struck so dumb.

Her sense of unreality was broken by warm water coursing over her scalp, and she closed her eyes. She thought she liked it better when she was too stunned to process what was happening.

The salon owner took great care as she shampooed and conditioned Ella's hair. It might all have seemed normal, were it not for Layla and the stylists hovering over her, hands pressed to their mouths. Ella heard a dim hum in the room, and she realized it was the other salon patrons whispering about what they'd seen. As Ella sat up and the salon owner toweled her hair, Ella saw her swallow, hard. A woman sitting under the dryers gasped, then turned beet red and looked everywhere but at Ella's face.

Sweetheart, I'm going to make this right, I promise, the owner said, her voice far too calm to be of any comfort to Ella.

How bad is it? Ella croaked, though she didn't really need to ask. Judging by the amount of foil-wrapped hair scattered on the floor, she knew bad was far too mild a word. Catastrophic might be better. Let me see it.

I'm not sure that's a good idea. I'll take you out and trim it, and then—

I want to see it! Ella repeated, and the salon owner closed her mouth with an almost audible snap, biting her lower lip.

Are you sure?

Ella's glare must have assured the woman of her sincerity, because the owner took a deep breath and held a mirror out to Ella. The mirror trembled as Ella took it, then shook violently as she raised it to eye level. For a second, as she saw the ruin of her hair, she thought she might pass out. The room spun a bit and the edges of her vision went dark.

Breathe, Layla commanded as she shoved Ella's head between her knees. Breathe, Ella. It's going to be okay.

She'd heard Layla say things like that to her before, when she knelt in front of a toilet after wild nights of partying. Just as they had on those nights, every fiber of her being insisted that Layla was wrong, that, in fact, things were the exact opposite of fine.

By the time the salon owner was finished, Ella was numb. The other women in the salon averted their eyes as she passed, their faces sympathetic. Crystal had been sobbing so hard that the owner had ordered her to go in the back and take a break.

Guess I won't be tipping her today, Ella thought. She cracked a smile, convinced that she now not only looked like a person with spectacularly bad hair, but a deranged person with spectacularly bad hair.

The next thing she knew, Layla was propelling her to the car, promising over and over that everything was going to be okay.

12:00 PM

It's…it's not so bad. In fact, I think it's really…it's… Anji said, her eyes looking a bit wild as she fumbled for words.

It's gamine, Bryan said, nudging Anji aside and taking his sister's hands in his.

Gamine? Ella asked, staring at him as if he were from another planet.

Yes, gamine. Like Audrey Hepburn, he offered.

I look nothing like Audrey Hepburn. Tears pooled in her eyes and her head throbbed. When they had arrived at her mother's house, she had locked herself in the bathroom and stared in the mirror for what seemed an eternity, all the while trying her hardest not to open her mouth and scream the house apart.

I know it's not what you had in mind, but it really does look pretty on you. I had no idea you looked so good with short hair, Bryan said. He wasn't lying—she always knew when he was lying, as if she had some special twin sense that let her all but read her brother's mind. But it didn't matter, because the words were no consolation.

Everything is ruined, Ella whispered, the tears spilling over. She tried to regulate her breathing because she wasn't eager for Layla to do the head between the knees trick again. Her self-control was fraying, though, and she grasped desperately at her far, far too short strands. My headpiece won't work now. It's one week before the wedding! I'll have to go look for something off the rack, and Mom paid a fortune for that headpiece because of the custom order, and—

Oh, sweetheart, don't worry about that, her mother exclaimed, pulling Ella into her arms. Mrs. Mikowski looked like she wanted to burst into tears, which made Ella have to fight all the harder to control her own urge to sob.

Sis, please. It'll be okay, I swear, Bryan said, his voice soothing. He gestured to Anji, who disappeared into the kitchen and returned a minute later with a shot of whiskey. Drink this, he said, pressing it into Ella's hands.

She took a deep breath and knocked it back in a single go, coughing uncontrollably as it burned its way down her throat. Still, the shock was a welcome diversion, and she felt herself calm a tiny bit.

I'll go with you, sweetie, Anji said, We'll find something gorgeous.

Don't worry about the money, honey. I'll sell the headpiece on eBay, Ella's mother added.

The thought of her headpiece being auctioned off on eBay was depressing beyond words, and Ella gave up and broke into tears, her hand shaking as she gave the empty glass to Bryan. She loved that headpiece. The moment she'd seen it in the shop, she'd known it was perfect, and she'd never forget the day she'd gone to pick it up. As she had put it on and stared at herself in the mirror, she'd seen her mom and bridesmaids standing behind her, beaming, and she had felt a jolt of excitement shoot through her at the thought of how Masato would look at her as she walked down the aisle.

Without saying a word, Bryan opened his arms, sensing her needs as always.

Just think of the entrance you'll make now, he murmured, and she made a weak attempt at a laugh, which came out as more of a pathetic mewling sound.

What's Masato going to say? Ella hiccuped.

He's going to say you're beautiful, of course.

Touching a tentative hand to her hair, Ella recoiled as if it were made of snakes. Never in her life had her hair been shorter than shoulder-length. With her strong features, her slightly off-kilter nose, the hazel eyes she was convinced were just a touch too small, her lips a touch too big, she hadn't wanted to do anything to draw more attention to her face. Masato thought she was beautiful, and she knew that should be all that counted, but she couldn't help but cry even harder at the thought of herself in her wedding dress with her new, disastrous pixie cut. She was going to look like a gawky teenager wearing an extremely bad Halloween costume.

The favors, Ella groaned against her brother's shoulder. He pulled an exaggerated face as she moved back and left a smear of snot and lipstick on his shirt. Despite herself, she laughed. It had always been impossible for her to hold back her laughter when he made faces. For such a handsome guy, it was disturbing how easily he could contort his own features, as if his face were made of rubber. Bryan smiled as well. Ella knew he didn't care about his shirt, that he'd just been trying to make her smile, and she appreciated the gesture.

Don't worry about the favors, he said. If you're not feeling up to it, Mom, Anj, Layla, and I can handle them.

Trish will be here in an hour too, Anji interjected. You know how great she is with crafts. She'd probably just lecture you about how you're doing it wrong anyway.

Ella laughed again, smearing her tears with the side of her hand. What would I do without you guys? she asked.

We'll make it all right, Layla promised, hugging her. And just remember, you're marrying the man of your dreams in a week.

Besides, no matter how you wear your hair, ten or fifteen years from now, you'll look at pictures and complain about how ridiculous the hairstyles were, Bryan said.

Anji handed her a tissue, and Ella blotted her face, the white tissue coming away with streaks of black from her mascara. Thanks, guys. I want to work on the favors, though. It'll help distract me.

If it'll make you feel any better, I'll shave my head, Bryan offered.

Liar. As if you'd ever shave your head, pretty boy, Ella scoffed.

Bryan ruffled his thick, dark blond hair, his deep blue eyes taking on a contemplative look. I can never decide if it would be crueler to deprive the world of such amazing hair or if it's worse to make every other man so envious.

It's a wonder you're not married yet, Anji said, rolling her eyes at him.

Stunning though you are, if that's an offer, you know I'll have to regretfully decline.

Good luck to whatever guy is crazy enough to have you, Layla said, giving him a look of mock disgust.

Ella's already snatched the best one anyway. There's no hope left for the rest of us, Bryan told her.

That's true, Layla agreed.

Ella could feel her terrible mood ease a bit. It was true. Masato was the best man she had ever known. What did it matter if she had a new haircut, one that wasn't exactly what she would have chosen for herself? She was still going to be his wife.

Let's get to it, Mrs. Mikowski said, wrapping an arm around her daughter's waist. One glance at her told Ella her mother's heart was breaking for her, and this somehow made Ella feel better. She didn't want her mother to be upset, of course, but it warmed her to know that her mother wanted Ella's day to be perfect with just as much fervor as Ella felt.

It can still be perfect, she tried to reassure herself as she picked up a miniature bottle of champagne and a few chocolates, arranging them in sheer, tulle pouches. If nothing else, at least the favor she had just made looked perfect.

3:00 PM

You holding up okay there, sis? Bryan asked quietly. The others chatted and laughed as they put favors together, making short work of what had seemed an endless task. Without meaning to, Ella had taken a seat some distance from the rest of the happy group, and now Bryan pulled a chair closer to her.

Yes. No. I don't know, Ella said, abandoning the pouch she'd been fighting with and rubbing her hands over her face.

El, everything is going to be fine.

I feel like I'm drowning in wedding chores. I swear, Bry, I've never worked this hard in my life. It's like all I do is eat, sleep, and breathe this wedding.

Maybe that's part of your problem, he chided, his voice gentle.

Masato kept telling me we should just elope to Hawaii. Sometimes I wish I'd listened to him, she moaned.

He gave her hand a sympathetic pat. No, you don't. If you'd eloped, you know you would have spent the entire vacation regretting that you hadn't stayed here and had the big wedding you're planning now. You would have felt guilty for depriving Mom of her chance to be the mother of the bride.

I had no idea it'd be this much work. Masato, he couldn't care less. Every time I start stressing about the wedding, he just brushes it off like it's no big deal.

Bryan's gaze was piercing. You didn't tell me anything was wrong between you two.

No, it's not like that. Ella sighed. I mean, it's not like we're fighting, or I'm ready to leave him at the altar or anything. He just doesn't seem to get what all the fuss is about, no matter how many times I explain it to him.

Come on, that doesn't surprise you, does it? Masato is an awesome guy—you know I wouldn't let him marry you otherwise. But you know how laid back he is. I mean, he goes to work in jeans and a T-shirt. I'm sure all of this does seem like a lot for him to take in. Plus, don't forget that he, unlike I, did not grow up with a sister who forced him to play Barbie dream wedding with her.

Puh-lease. You were always the one begging me to play.

Right. That's why I ripped all the heads off your dolls.

Outraged, Ella glared at him. You told me Timmy Miller down the street did it!

And yet you still seem to think you have some sort of lie detector when it comes to me. Go figure.

Do you have any idea how infuriating you are?

Got you to stop thinking about the wedding for ten seconds, didn't I? She threw a chocolate at him, which he caught easily, unwrapped, and popped into his mouth.

My point is, he said, speaking around the chocolate in a way that made her cringe and him smile, you need to just relax. I know that's nearly impossible for you, but why don't you schedule it in your calendar? Seriously, go get a massage or something. At this rate, you're going to be the Bridezilla to end all Bridezillas.

Ella shuddered. I don't want to be like that, I swear. You know it's just that—

You're an incurable perfectionist, I know that. It's hard for you to accept that you're not in control of the universe. El, you not only made me play Barbie dream wedding with you, you made me a freakin' calendar with playtimes scheduled on it, and you taped it to my door.

I did not! she declared hotly.

Did so, he said, picking up some champagne and examining the label, which bore a picture of her and Masato, the two of them with smiles so wide they looked almost painful. How angry would you be if I cracked this open right now and started drinking?

You were the one who said you wanted to do this rather than play golf, Ella reminded him, fiddling with one of the pouches.

Yeah, but I didn't know I was going to have to play the role of your therapist. Isn't it bad enough that I'm going to have to suffer through a night of strippers later?

Strippers! Ella squeaked.

You're right, I shouldn't wind you up any tighter than you already are. You might have a stroke.

She flopped back against her chair. I hate you.

You love me. And I want you to think about what I'm saying here. You need some perspective. I know you're freaking out because the wedding is coming up, but do you want to look back someday and find that all your memories consist of you having a meltdown over every last little detail? Everything is going to be fine, El, you'll see. You're marrying the love of your life. Be happy. It's not something all of us get to do in this state, you know.

God, I'm such a spoiled brat, aren't I? Ella groaned, crossing her arms on the table and flopping her head down on them. Here I am, whining about how stressful it is to plan a wedding, and you couldn't plan one even if you wanted to.

It just means I get to run off to another state and elope. Who wants all the trouble of planning a big wedding anyway? She lifted her head to find him grinning at her.

Jerk! she cried, giving him the finger.

You love me, he repeated.

Just promise me you'll make sure Masato makes it to Will's house safely tonight, and I might be able to find it in my heart to forgive you.

No worries, sister of mine. Your groom is safe with me. If anything happened to him, I'd have to listen to you complaining about that, and I've had about all I can take.

I hate you, she said again, trying to infuse the words with more feeling.

You're not convincing either of us.

I know. I suck at it. You know how much I love you. If you weren't around, I'd really be losing my shit.

This is you not really losing your shit? he asked, looking horrified.

She laughed in spite of herself. Thanks, bro, she said, reaching over and squeezing his hand.

And your hair? I think it suits you, El, I honestly do.

God, I love you. She launched herself at him and wrapped her arms around him in a fierce hug.

Make up your mind, would you? he choked.

5:00 PM

And that's the last one, Bryan announced as he carefully tied the ribbons on the final favor. Ella was relieved. As adorable as the favors were, she was heartily sick of them and pretty sure that if she never saw them again, it would be too soon.

I told Layla we'd be able to handle it without her, Anji said, tucking the favors into boxes. She gathered her abundant dark brown hair, pulled a ponytail holder from her wrist, and tied her hair back. Ella's hand strayed to the naked nape of her neck as she tried not to hate Anji too much.

Having to go in to work on a Saturday, ugh, Trish said, screwing her face up and treating them to an exaggerated shudder.

It's brutal, isn't it? Ella asked.

They'd just better not keep her there too long. We have some serious partying to do tonight, Anji said.

I'll go over there and drag her from her office myself if I have to, Trish vowed.

Do you mind if I head out? I have some major work to do. I need to go home and make myself look good—after all, not all of us are tied down just yet, Anji said.

Yeah, 'cause you look like such a troll I'd be ashamed to be seen with you like that. Trish scoffed, looking Anji up and down. Ella smiled. With her sensuous lips, flawless caramel skin, and wide, sultry brown eyes, Anji was anything but a troll.

You get first pick of any hot guys we see tonight, Anj, Ella promised.

Good, Anji said, rubbing her palms together. I will be on the prowl tonight. I don't want to have to show up at your wedding dateless.

Trish rolled her eyes. Like that will happen. I'm sure you have a list of at least five guys you're thinking about taking, any of whom would fall all over himself in gratitude if you picked him.

Anji smiled, which made her even more dazzling. Well, seeing as how you and Ella have already claimed two of the most fabulous men imaginable, and since Bryan is unfortunately not interested in ladies, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

If I were interested in ladies, you'd be at the top of my list, Bryan assured her. Even with her sky-high heels, Anji was still a good four inches shorter than Bryan, and she had to get on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

I'll keep my eyes peeled for a luscious mate for you, she promised Bryan.

Anj, you're an angel, but I'll pass on being one of your projects. I think we can all safely say you hit the jackpot when you matched Masato with Ella, so your work with the Mikowski family is done.

Arching a brow at him, Anji studied him with a penetrating stare. Already have someone in mind, do you?

Hair? Dress? Makeup? You've got… Bryan consulted his watch. Less than three hours.

Well played. You win this round, Mr. Mikowski, she said, kissing his cheek again. She kissed Trish and Ella as well. See you ladies in a bit. Have fun at dinner, El.

The mention of dinner made Ella's stomach twist, but she tried gamely to keep grinning. It was ridiculous for her to react that way and she knew it. It wasn't as if Masato had proposed to her long, strawberry-blond locks, but the thought of him seeing the disaster on her head made her palms sweat. She could already picture his mother's tight smile as she told Ella how interesting her hair looked.

Anji left in a cloud of expensive perfume, and Bryan and Mrs. Mikowski disappeared with the favor boxes, stowing them away in anticipation of the wedding day.

You're not worried about what Masato's going to think, are you? Trish asked, reading Ella's mind.

Yes, Ella admitted. It was useless to try to hide the truth from Trish. She had an uncanny ability to wriggle it out of Ella whether Ella liked it or not.

How long have you been getting your hair done at that salon? Trish frowned and scrutinized Ella's hair.

For two years at least. I don't know how this happened. I've never had any problems with Crystal before. She's always done a great job with my hair. Feeling self-conscious, Ella lifted her hand and had to close her eyes as her fingers slid over the strands.

Was she using a new product on you? Have you been using any new products at home?

I don't know. Maybe I grabbed the wrong bottle or something this morning. Masato and I were kind of in a hurry.

Oh, you overslept, did you? Trish asked, screwing her face up in a broad wink.

Ella grimaced. Can we not do this right now, with my mom in the other room?

I hate to tell you, El, but seeing as how you and Masato live together, your mom can probably read between the lines.

Not all of us are comfortable discussing our sex lives with our mothers, Ella replied, exasperated.

What a shame, Trish said. She fingered a strand of Ella's hair.

Oh, God, it's horrible, isn't it? Bryan was just being a nice brother by saying he likes it, wasn't he? Ella covered her face with her hands and moaned.

Making an impatient noise, Trish pried Ella's hands from her face. No, he wasn't lying, and no, it isn't horrible. It's a new look, for sure. I've never seen your hair this short before, so it is kind of a shock. But, El, you know, you have excellent bone structure.

Is that one of those vague things you say to someone when you're worried that anything else you say might sound insulting? You know, like when someone asks you about their ugly sweater and you tell them it's intriguing.

"I've only said that once, and you have to admit that Seth had a very intriguing sweater on that day," Trish retorted.

Let's hope he wears something considerably less intriguing to the wedding. Ella couldn't resist a giggle as she recalled that day at work, everyone's eyes following Seth up the row of cubicles as he strode by in his hideous sweater, oblivious.

He has a girlfriend now, so hopefully she can help him out a little. She couldn't possibly have worse taste than him, right? Anyway, the more I look at you, the more I think you're going to rock this cut. In fact, it's actually a great cut—but I'm not all that excited about how she styled it.

Uncertain, Ella ran a hand over her hair. You think?

I do. Hey, I have some time before I need to get home and get ready for tonight. Mind if I take a stab at styling your hair?

Are you sure? I hate to keep you here if you've got things you need to do.

Trish snorted. I'm not as high maintenance as Anji.

No one is. They both laughed, with a great deal of affection. As warm-hearted and generous as she was, Anji could be a handful at times.

What did I miss? Bryan asked, reappearing.

Nothing that concerns you, Trish said, adopting a mock stern expression.

Right, I'm not a member of the club, Bryan said, making a devastated face.

That's right. Begone with you. Head off to your boys' night of debauchery.

I have a feeling the debauchery you ladies are going to get up to is more my style, Bryan sighed.

Don't tell me Will has something horrible planned, Ella said, staring Bryan down.

He held his hands up. Just the usual bachelor party fare. Let's face it, those things are always more for the other guys than they are for the groom. A man on the verge of getting married would have to have a death wish to really get crazy during one of those things.

You could come with us, you know. You are the Man of Honor, after all, Ella said.

Thanks, sis, but that's okay. Bryan kissed her cheek. I consider it both my honor and my obligation to make sure my future brother-in-law's friends don't get him into too much trouble.

See you at dinner, then.

See you there. Bye, Trish. Take good care of my sister tonight.

Count on it—I'd have to answer to you if I didn't.

Don't you forget it!

Let's go make some magic, then, shall we? Trish asked, propelling Ella toward the bathroom as Bryan left. Once there, she dug through the bag Ella had brought with her. Since her mother's house was close to the restaurant where Ella was meeting the guys, she'd decided to get ready there rather