The Facade

Chapter 24

I stood behind Marlon, waiting patiently for what would happen next. I was proud of my appearance, dress in a Dior suit. My hair was done perfectly as well. Marlon was beaming, thrilled about getting to have me on his arm. We were backstage at the conference. As I leaned to the side, I could see a glimpse of what was going on the stage. Tony stood in front of the long table, discussing with the press what questions will be appropriate and what wouldn't.

Marlon rose a brow as he looked at me from over his shoulder. "I made sure they'd be appropriate for you."

I had hope that Marlon's efforts to help my sanity worked. One thing I could always say is that he cared for me throughout the process. I took his hand and clasped it between both of mine.

"Thank you." I whispered. He didn't hold my hands back, he only waited for me to let go.

"And now please welcome Mr. and Mrs. Brando." Tony announced. In my mind I remembered that I kept my last name. Still, I was introduced as Mrs. Brando. A few people in the crowd applauded reluctantly. Most people in the crowd stared, wondering exactly how this came about.

Marlon walked to his seat of choice, but then pulled back his hand before he touched the chair. He quickly walked over to my seat and pulled it out for me, remembering last minute to be a gentleman. I smiled at him and took the seat, he pushed me in.

The cameras flashed at the small gesture. The photographers rushed to change the flashbulbs and film in their cameras. Marlon settled in the seat next to me, then he adjusted his tie.

Tony looked to us and gave a small nod. Marlon saw the cue and leaned toward the metal microphone sitting on the table. "Good afternoon, everyone."

The room rippled with photographers and journalists wishing Marlon a good afternoon. I looked to Marlon, not truly knowing how to act. Usually I'd be in the audience, not on the stage.

"Recently, you all know that I've gotten married... to the beautiful Rose Taylor. If you have any questions about it, feel free to ask them." Marlon invited. A ton of reporters raised their hands. Marlon nudged his chin toward one.

The reporter stood up tall. "Mr. Brando, exactly what made you decide to get married to Mrs. Brando?"

Marlon swallowed. "Well, what other reason? The two of us are in love and so we decided to seal that love with marriage."

Others rose their hands. He pointed at another.

That man stood up. "Mr. Brando, how exactly did you meet Mrs. Brando?"

I noticed Marlon cup his knee nervously under the table. His nails dug into the fabric of his slacks. There was a silence in the room, except for the flashing cameras.

"We met at a party." I answered. "At a mutual friend's house."

Marlon exhaled and nodded toward me with a smile.

"Who was this friend?" The reporter asked.

"You already got a question in, give someone else a turn for a change." Tony squinted at the reporter. The reporter slowly sat down, scribbling something onto their notepad.

Marlon chose the next person.

"How do you think your fans will feel about you marrying someone negro?" The journalist asked. Marlon's eyes hooded at the question.

Then, he leaned down to the microphone. "I always found my fans to be very tolerant individuals. I'm sure the majority of them will not judge my wife based off of her skin."

"People around the country have begun boycotting your work. There are reports of people even burning your photographs." Another reporter spoke up.

"I have never been one to conform. I've always gone about my life in a way that is best for me. I found that marrying Rose was a good decision for me at this time." Marlon answered. I clasped my hands together in my lap. It was more than a decision.

The next reporter stood up. "Do you two engage in coitus?"

The cameras all began flashing at once. Marlon furrowed his eyebrows and lowered his lips to the microphone. "Like any other married couple, yes, my wife and I do make love to each other."

I looked to Marlon and he looked to me. In my mind I thought about the fact we wouldn't be engaging in sex. We'd only be pretending to have chemistry for the world.

The another interviewer rose up. "Mr. Brando, I definitely would like to ask you about your current family planning. Will you two have children despite them being negro?"

"Despite them being negro." Marlon repeated, internally feeling discomfort about their brash questions. "My wife and I will have children if we see fit."

That was also a lie. We'd never truly get to having children. We'd divorce before anything of the sort comes about.

A female reporter rose up. "Hi, Mr. Brando."

"Good afternoon." Marlon leaned toward the microphone.

"Good afternoon." She answered. "I'd love to get your wife's perspective on the marriage, woman to woman. Hello, Mrs. Brando."

"Hello." I answered. Something within me was unsettled. My mind kept telling me to keep quiet, but still I spoke up. "Actually, I kept my last name. I'm Mrs. Rose Taylor."

"Did you?" The female reporter rose a brow. Marlon slowly began to glare at me. My stomach turned. I'd embarrassed him. The reporter looked at us awkwardly, noticing the tension. "That'll be all."

"This will be the final question." Marlon spoke up as he pointed to another reporter. The man stood up.

"I'm glad this will be the final question because I feel that it's the most important." The reporter announced. "Come on Brando, fella to fella, who wears the pants in the house?"

A laughter rippled throughout the room, the lingered. Marlon's facial expression was tense. Then finally he remembered he was being photographed and put on a smile.

"Definitely her." Marlon joked as he looked toward me. The audience laughed harder once again. Marlon stood up from the table and so did I. "Thank you all for coming today, that'll be all."

The cameras flashed as we returned backstage. As I walked behind Marlon, I was started when his large hand pulled mine toward him. He held my wrist until my body was against his.

"How dare you?" He mumbled.

"How dare I what?" I asked him, trying to pull my wrist from his grip.

"Embarrass me in such a way." Marlon growled. "Maybe I should wear the pants in this relationship." I finally pulled my hand back. Once my hand was free, I pulled Marlon's tie so that he bent toward me.

"If you ever touch me like that again, you'll be sorry you ever said 'I do'. Do you hear me?" I threatened. After I released his tie, Marlon stood up straight. At first, he scowled, but then it melted away into a grin.

"That's my girl." He placed his hand on the small of my back as we walked off together.