Save the Date! (2 page)

Code Blue, as Gemma and Gillian had dubbed him, was actually quite handsome, in an older, red-neck sort of way. He was a few inches past six feet, with longish copper hair that clung to his head and neck. His eyes were a ridiculously noticeable shade of midnight blue, and depending on his mood, it actually looked almost black. His face was clean-shaven, though Gemma had seen him with some scruff every now and then. His posture was rigid, but his body was definitely fit. She could see even through his suit that he worked out. His broad shoulders gave him away. There were wrinkles on his brow and a frown on his lips. She wondered briefly if he ever smiled.

"Agent
Dixon Black," her father boomed with pride, walking over to the agent and patting him on the back. Dixon didn't even move. "This man transferred over a couple of years ago from the FBI on the recommendation of a prestigious former agent. I can’t specify
who
. He's talented in field work, all kinds of physical fighting and what have you, and, if I'm not mistaken, has the best shot in the whole unit."

He cocked his head to the side, his only
semblance of a response. Was it Gemma’s imagination, or did he look a tad uncomfortable at the attention?

"If he's such a goo
d agent," Gemma began, doubt tainting her tone, turning so she could look at her father, "why are you having him baby-sit me? I know, I know; get married, pretend to get married, whatever. But isn't this sort of job like a rookie thing? Why are you having a seasoned agent look after me?"

"I tho
ught it would be obvious, Gemma," Brent said, astonished that his daughter didn't see it from his point of view. "You are the most important thing to me, along with your mother. If I didn't trust Dixon with my life, then I wouldn't be putting him in charge of yours. I don't trust rookies with you. In fact, I don't trust any agent with you, really, except him. And as such, you should trust him too. Now, stand together, you two." He walked over to his daughter and helped her up.

"
What?" Gemma all but yelped. "Why?"

"I want to see how the two of you
look together," Brent said, positioning her by Dixon's side. "You know, get a feel of your chemistry together."

"Oh, for goodness' sake, Brent," murmured Carlene, placing her head in her hand.
  Her gold bracelets clinked with every movement of her wrist.

"Well, it obviously has to be believable," Brent said to his wife, craning his neck over his shoulder to get a good look at her
position adjacent to his desk. "I mean, we need people to actually believe they're together and have been for a while."

"But it's not going to be believable
," Gemma pointed out. "He's kind of old for me, isn't he? How old are you anyway, Code Blue? Forty? Forty-five?"

"I'm thirty-five
," he replied with a slight, Southern mumble, and cast her a steely look.

"That's
fifteen
years older than me!" she exclaimed. "That's, like, a decade and a half. Do you realize how old that is?"

"Oh, stop being such a prude," Brent said, crossing his a
rms over his chest. "I'm twelve years older than your mother."

"And Christian Bale
is twenty years older than you," Carlene pointed out in a flat tone.

"That's a totally d
ifferent story!" Gemma pointed out. "Christian Bale is…" She placed her hands over her heart and let out an incredibly content sigh. "Code Blue is…" She reached out her arms and gestured at him, making an uncertain face. "Don't get me wrong… I mean, he's good looking in a…
mature
sense, but –"

"Oh, for the love of God," Brent said, rubbing his temples. "Gemma, you are showing a poor sense of maturity. Maybe
Dixon will rub off on you." Gemma pursed her lips, and from the corner of her eyes, she saw Dixon's lips twitch. There was no way he was actually fighting off a smile, was he? "And what is this 'Code Blue' nonsense? Some form of endearment?"

"No
, it's not some form of endearment," Gemma said with exasperation. "It's like a code name for him. Gillian and I came up with it when we saw that he was catching up to us. You know Dad, if you don't want your agents becoming recognizable, you should have him wear contacts. His eyes are distracting."

"Was that supposed to be a compliment?"
Dixon asked in his rumble, and Gemma could see clearly there was a smirk on his face. Maybe it wasn't exactly a smile, but it was definitely a form of one.

"No, that was not supposed to be a
– " Gemma stopped in midsentence and tried to control herself. "Look," she began again, this time more slowly, "I don't know how this is going to work when everyone at my school knows that I have the biggest thing for Troy Carter, our quarterback."

"How come I haven't hear
d of this?" Brent asked, momentarily distracted.

"It doesn't matter," Carlene cut in.
  She uncrossed her legs and looked directly in her daughter’s eyes, paralyzing Gemma with her stare. "Listen Gemma, there are things we've kept quiet from you so you could live a normal life. I know you think it isn't necessary to have Rigsby and Fuller constantly following you around, but trust me, it is. I'm not telling you this to scare you, sweetie, but it has…" She paused for a moment, trying to find the words. "It has come to our attention that Rigsby and Fuller aren't enough. We need someone with you at all times, when we can't be with you and you aren’t in school. And since your father trusts Dixon, and Dixon has an outstanding track record, we thought this would be the best solution."

Gemma thought about it for a moment before chewing her bottom lip. "What about him?" she asked, tilting her head up in
Dixon's direction. "Doesn't he have a girlfriend or a wife… maybe a boyfriend, whatever?"

"No,"
Dixon answered, his words crisp. "I have none of those."

How was she supposed to successfully make fun of him when he wouldn't even react?
For that matter, how the fuck was she supposed to get married to this guy anyways? He was totally, one hundred percent not her type.

"You have to be serious abou
t this, Gems," Brent said, his voice softening. "You can't go around telling everyone you're getting married, but that it's not real. Please, just do this for us, hmm? For your protection. We'll arrange everything; you, my dear, have nothing to worry about at all, except playing the part of doting fiancée and then wife. Okay?"

Again, Gemma was silent. Finally, she looked up at
Dixon. "Why are you doing this?" she asked him, and for the first time in the conversation, she was actually serious. "Doesn't this bother you? I mean, you don't get to go out with women, men, whatever. You actually have to pretend to like me."

"Difficult as that may be,"
Dixon said, meeting his blue eyes with hers, "this is my job. Whatever is required of me, I do."

Gemma blinked. So here it was. She really had no choice in the matter though, did she? Apparently, her life was in danger, though she wasn't exactly sure
as to why that was or how, and she highly doubted her parents would disclose the information now. But what she didn't really understand was how she was supposed to pretend to be in love with this guy. She could probably be attracted to him because she kind of was. But to like him, let alone love him? He was already rubbing off her the wrong way – and
speaking
of rubbing, were they supposed to hold hands? Touch? Kiss? Oh, goodness, how was she supposed to… No, she wasn't going to think about it.

"Okay," she said, quiet
. "I'll do it. I guess."

"Oh good, darling," Carlene said, giving her daughter a smile.
  She blinked, and Gemma could move comfortably again.  Her mother had power with her eyes, more than her father had at his job. "I'm so proud of you. You're making the right decision. And once everything is in order and you're out of harm's way, there will be no need to go on pretending. You can go off and date whoever you want."

"As long as he has no tattoos," Brent put in
, "I just don't understand tattoos." He glanced back at his daughter. "Tomorrow, we have arranged for both you and Dixon to get your pictures done, you know, for the rehearsal dinner slideshow. It's at one o'clock in the afternoon. Is that going to be all right with you?"

"Wait, Dad," Gemma said, trying to let everything settle in. "How'd you know I'd be back by tomorrow? How'd you know that Code Blue over here was going to catch me and Gillian?"

"He's that good," Brent said, a smug smile on his face.

"Speaking of Gillian," Carlene said. "You should probably have lunch with her before the pictures and introduce
Dixon to her."

"She's going to be so mad at me," Gemma muttered before she could stop herself.

"And you and Dixon should get together and come up with some stories, yeah?" Brent added, and then pulled his daughter into a hug. "Trust me, pumpkin. Everything will work out, and once it does, you can go back to being normal."  He paused.  “Well, normal for you.”

So you say.

Gemma woke up at around eight o'clock the next morning. She yawned and stretched simultaneously, reveling in the feel of the tension that pinched her muscles
. After a moment, she threw her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. The first thing she did was glance at her bulletin board that was placed on the adjacent wall from her bed, next to her door. Sometimes, her mother or father needed to remind her of something or change plans at the last minute, but didn't want to wake her. Instead, they would pop their head in, lean through the door frame, and tack post-it notes in random places on the board. Once Gemma had read the note, she would dispose of it.

This morning, there was only one note written in her mother's familiar
cursive-infused scrawl.
Remember you have to take pictures with Dixon at 1:00pm. Lunch with Gillian beforehand. Breakfast with Dixon at 8:30am. I suggest coming up with your backstory over breakfast. Will be out all day with your father. xoxo – Mom
Gemma frowned at the message. It basically told her that she was going to be spending the whole day with Dixon.

Gemma headed into the bathroom and took a nice, hot shower, trying to instill some of the meditation tricks she learned from her yoga class in order to calm herself down. When she had finished washing both her body and hair, she turned off the water and hopped out
. She wrapped a towel around herself and headed into her room.

Now… what to wear?

Gemma walked over to her extravagant walk-in closet and began going through her various clothes. She knew that she needed to wear something nice, but not overly-formal for the pictures. After a good twelve minutes of debating, she decided on a flowy white skirt that went to her knees and a sky-blue t-shirt that dipped slightly in the front, but still maintained a classy feel to it. Her hair was half-up in a French ponytail, and she let the rest of her locks tumble down freely. She kept the make-up light, and on her feet was a pair of barely-worn Rainbow flip flops. After checking out her reflection in the mirror to make sure that everything was situated, Gemma glanced at her watch.

8:37am
.

Oh well. So she was a little late. It wasn't as though
Dixon was actually going to show up. She believed that, like her, he wasn't too pleased about his current predicament. Maybe he would quit! With that thought, she headed down the stairs and into the dining room only to find said Dixon sitting at the dining table reading the newspaper and sipping a cup of what smelled like strong coffee. His hair was a bit damp, as though he, too, had recently showered. He was dressed in a white, long-sleeved collared shirt and very dark jeans that fit him quite well. They weren't too tight, nor were they hanging off him. His blue eyes looked up at Gemma from over his coffee cup, and then he proceeded to take another long sip of the hot liquid. As he did so, his eyes shifted over to the wall clock and then back into Gemma's, silently pointing out that she was late and he knew it. Immediately, Gemma felt herself get defensive, and she turned to open the fridge so that her back was facing him.

"I didn't think you would actually show," she told him, not even bothering to mask her contempt.

"Don't sound too excited," he told her crisply, setting his coffee cup down and focusing his eyes on her tense back. "I already told you that this is my job. I do what my job entails me to do, no matter how mediocre." He muttered the last part, and grabbed his coffee cup, needing another boost of caffeine to course through his veins.

Gemma bit her bottom lip to keep from retorting something as she poured herself some orange juice. "Look," she began after a moment, and once she put the carton back in the fridge, took a seat at the table across from him. "We both don't want to be here,
obviously
, but we're going to learn to deal with each other. So let's just get this whole story thing over with."

"Al
l right," he said, setting the cup down once again and folding his arms across his chest. His blue eyes seeped into hers, and for a moment she was paralyzed due to the intensity of his gaze. "Let's start off with something simple; how we met."

"Oh, that part's ea
sy," Gemma told him with a shrug of her right shoulder, and took a sip of her juice. "My dad assigned you to retrieve me from my delinquent behavior and when you saw my face, that was it. You had to have me." She placed her forearms on the table and leaned towards him. "I have a question for you; is your real last name Black?”

Dixon
rolled his eyes. "Your story isn't adequate," he told her simply.

"Fine," Gemma said, "
What about borrowing a plotline from successful romantic comedies? You have seen one of those, haven't you? We'll keep the first part of my original suggestion about my father wanting you to secretly look after me, so when we meet, I had no idea who you were. Then, I end up falling in love with you, and though you can't admit it to yourself, you end up falling in love with me. But then I catch you reporting back to my father, or something along those lines, and I am shocked, so I run away from you and refuse to speak to you for a while. But then you win me over and you propose and we live happily ever after."  She shrugged.

Dixon
's brow rose as he listened to her story. When she finished, the edges of his lips quirked up into what might have been a smirk. Gemma couldn't tell; it was too subtle to be certain of anything. "You watch a lot of these movies, don't you?" he asked her, but she didn't have to answer; he asked the question as though he knew.

"
Yes, well," Gemma said, "It's not my fault women have to turn to movies to fall in love with actual decent, chivalrous guys."

"You're awfully hard on my sex,"
Dixon noticed aloud.

"Well, I think I have good reason to be," she murmured, staring into her orange juice. She didn't say anything on the subject after that.

"So," Dixon said, and she was glad he had the good sense to change the subject, "the proposal. If we keep your second suggestion, how should I have proposed to you?"

Gemma shrugged. "I don't know," she replied. "You're the guy, right? How would you propose to a girl?"

"Haven't you seen multiple proposals in your movies?" He perked his brow.

"Well, duh," she told him, leaning back in her chair. "But, the thing is…" Her eyes began to stare off into space as a simple smile touched her lips. "The
things is, while those movie proposals are really cute and romantic, they're not necessarily real, and sometimes they can be cliché. I don't know, I guess I've always wanted a guy to propose in a personal way, in a way that may not be incredibly romantic, but to me, it will be." When Gemma looked back at Dixon, she scowled at him. Apparently, he was trying to contain his laughter by pressing his lips into a thin line. "Oh, shut up. You're the one who's thirty-five. Shouldn't you have thought about proposing by now?"

"I never intended on getting married,"
Dixon replied. "However, you’re right. I’ve thought of proposing before. I've never been the romantic type, actually…" Gemma's brows shot up, as though to say '
Really
?' He frowned at it. "I've always liked sailing for fun," he continued, as though he hadn't seen her dry look. "And, if I ever were to propose to a girl, I would take her out sailing on a nice day. The boat would be filled with red roses. We would wait until sunset, and once the last rays hit the horizon, I would get down on my knee and propose."

Gemma chewed her bottom lip, processing all of this. "I like it," she said after a long moment, "but we have to make on
e change." Dixon nodded, his stare blank, as though he knew this was going to happen. "Instead of red roses, fill the boat with sunflowers."

"Sunflowers?"
Dixon asked. "Why sunflowers?"

"Because sunflowers are my most favorite flower ever," she told him with a genuine smile. "Roses are beautiful, don't get me wrong, but when I was a child, I was so afraid to touch them because I didn't want to break them or hurt them. So my mother would plant sunflowers, especially for me to pick and play with and stuff."

Dixon let what she said sink in for a long moment, and then nodded once. "Sunflowers it is," he agreed, and then downed the rest of his coffee.