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“Shoot. Phina, what was the name of the driver transporting the ice sculptures?” Quinn left me holding two samples of champagne. I downed them both.
“His name’s David. Why, is there a problem?”
I stared down at the walkways where puddles glistened and umbrellas moved about. Cars splashed through the streets as a spattering mist turned the world a murky grey.
But when the photographer—yes, there was already a photographer on set, and I say set because things were starting to feel very artificial—when the photographer snapped a picture and then flashed me the image, everything appeared pristine and flawless. The reality was much different.
“Has anyone seen the blue folder?” Josette yelled.
“People would not be walking around in that water if they knew what was in there,” Tyler muttered into his mimosa, as he came to stand beside me and stare down at the rain soaked world below. “Don’t they realize what’s washing up?”
“Sir, are you supposed to be in here?” a woman dressed in a service tuxedo asked as if her position gave her such authority.
Tyler scowled. “Yes, I’m supposed to be in here. I’m the bride-kick.” He rolled his eyes at me. “Ray, get your servants in order.”
“He’s fine,” I told the woman while mouthing a silent sorry for his rudeness.
Tyler glanced down at his phone. “Uh-oh.”
“What?” The rain created a constant rumble against the exterior windows, muffling everything spoken slightly out of earshot .
“Nothing.” He looked at his phone again, but angled the screen so I couldn’t see.
“What is it? Tell me or I’ll call back the staff police to harass you some more.”
He pocketed his phone and finished his mimosa. “There’s an issue with her dress.”
“Her?” I asked, but I already knew he was talking about Elle, the one female currently missing from the room where all important wedding party people possessing boobs were supposed to be. “What now?”
“I’ll take care of it. Quinn, I need some club soda and a cotton rag.”
I caught his sleeve before he could abandon me. “Now? She has to deal with this right now?”
“She’s your maid of honor, Ray. Her dress can’t have a stain.”
More like maid of horror. “Why can’t someone else fix it? Why do you have to leave?”
“Look, I’ll take her the club soda and I’ll be right back. Relax.” He looked into my eyes and frowned. “Are you feeling okay? You look a little run down.”
“Gee, thanks.”
He sighed. “Let me run her something for the stain and then I’ll be right back. But don’t think she’s making whatever this is.” He waved his hand about in reference to the room’s current festivities.
“We’re christening the bridal suite!” Didn’t anyone read the itinerary?
Devyn appeared. “Rayne, we need to get started. The photographer wants some pictures of you at the champagne fountain.”
“Good, I could use a swim,” I mumbled following Devyn to my mark.
I was handed another champagne flute that had been adorned with strawberries, they instructed me to stand beside the three-gallon, gold-trimmed champagne fountain in my robe, which was not my robe, but a robe I’d been given for this very-staged particular moment of my life.
“Seraphina, Avery, come stand next to the bride. Where’s the maid of honor?” the photographer asked. “We’re missing one, right?”
“She’s not coming,” I grumbled, nudging the fruit along the rim of my champagne flute so I could take a sip.
“Oh, Rayne, don’t drink that until we get the shot.”
My soul started to seethe.
