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Armed and armored, she arrived at the main house.
“Red alert!”
Mac gaped at Emma as her friend flew down the stairs. “Already?”
“You didn’t answer your phone, or your cell.”
“I just left the studio. I haven’t turned on the cell yet. What?”
“MOH got wind that the CBBM plans to bring SBP to the reception. His idea of a compromise, which he did not bother to discuss with either the B or G. The B and G, upon hearing this, are threatening violence against the CBBM, which he’d richly deserve if rumor is fact. Parker’s trying to put out the fire.”
“Shit. Just shit.” Mac had no problem deciphering the code. Cheating Bastard Best Man, Slut Business Partner. And if the fire could be put out, Parker would do it.
But it didn’t bode well.
“What’s our assignment?”
“All the subs have to be alerted. Parker got a picture of the SBP from a newspaper article. She’s making copies. Every sub needs one. If the SBP is spotted, she has to be stopped, barred, tackled to the ground.” As if to prove she meant it, Emma slapped her fist into her palm. “Whatever works until Parker can deal with her.”
“I hope it’s the tackling. It would make a good shot for our outtakes file.”
“Laurel’s contacting Jack so he can get here early and charm the MOH out of whatever plans of retaliation she might be brewing. I’ve got to round up my people, brief them, then start hauling over the flowers. Laurel’s still got to fuss with the cake. It’s her Silk and Lace.”
“I know. It’s in my notes.”
“That one weighs a ton, and gets the beadwork and tiara topper at reception. She’ll need a couple of people to help her carry it in, which means less on patrol for the SBP.
“Pre-event briefing’s ditched,” Emma added once she’d sucked in a breath, “so we’re minute by minute. You need to help set up in the Grand Hall. Somebody’ll beep you when we have a sighting on the bride.”
“Okay, I’m on it. Let me set up what I can in the Bride’s Suite first. Stay strong.”
“I am ready to kick me some ass.”
Upstairs, Mac set up in the Bride’s Suite, then strapped on her bag with one camera body and a selection of lenses. She’d add on the second body once the bride arrived. Before going down, she headed up, to check on Parker’s progress.
She found her friend opening a fresh roll of Tums.
“It’s bad?”
“No, no, it’s currently under control. But I am pissed. I just got off the phone, at the bride’s request, with the CBBM. Who started off informing me that nobody, including his brother, was going to tell him who he could date. Fucking selfish child.”
“You said fucking. You are pissed.”
“Then, then, he reams
me for interfering in his personal life.
I have to take it, because better me than either the B or G, but I want to hurt him. I managed to calm him down, appeal to the minute sliver of decency and consideration in him. He’ll do his duty, and intends to leave immediately following his—sure to be heartfelt—toast to the new couple.”
“Do you believe him?”
Parker’s eyes slitted. “Not for a minute. He’s primed to make a scene. He’ll need to be watched like a hawk because he’s going to parade that woman into the reception if we don’t stop him. Which we won’t be telling anyone in the wedding party.”
Huffing out a breath, Parker handed Mac a stack of printouts with the photograph of an attractive blonde. Under the photo it read:
ROXANNE POULSEN
NO ADMITTANCE
“Pass these out to subs. I’ll give Laurel a stack for the caterers.”
“I’m on it. You know, Parks, sometimes I just love this job beyond reason. Oddly, this is one of those times.”
“Right there with you.” Parker crunched down on the antacid. “We probably need therapy.”
MAC DELIVERED WHAT SHE THOUGHT OF AS THE MUG SHOTS TO Emma and her crew, then passed the rest to the small hive working in the Grand Hall. She helped dress the tables—lavender cloths over blue—adding setups while Emma delivered centerpieces. In widemouthed glass bowls white star lilies floated above a bed of shimmering stones.
“Nice,” Mac decreed.
Emma set little vases holding the heads of fat roses and white candles around the center bowl, scattered petals and tiny red hearts, blue stars. “Nicer. Only nineteen more to go. Let’s get the favors set up,” she called out. “Let’s finish the . . . Oh, hello, Carter.”
“What?” Mac spun around.
In a dark gray suit, Carter stood in the middle of the pre-event chaos. He looked, Mac thought, like an island of baffled calm in a sea of motion and color.
“Ah, somebody named Lois said I should just come back. There’s a lot going on. I’m probably in the way.”
“No, you’re not,” Emma assured him. “But be careful, anybody capable of moving, lifting, or hauling may be put to use at any time.”
“I’m happy to help if I can.”
“The magic words. We have a hundred and ninety-eight favors, bubble bottles, and candy nets to set out. Mac, why don’t you get our newest slave started? I have to check on the Parlor.”
“Sure.” How could she have forgotten she’d asked him to come? And what was she supposed to do about this flutter in her belly that just wouldn’t stop when she looked at him? “Nice suit.”
“It’s not tweed. You look beautiful and professional at the same time.”
“Staff needs to blend. I’m sorry, I’m distracted. We’re on red alert. The CBBM may try to sneak the SBP into the reception.”
“Wait a minute.” His brow furrowed. “I think I’ve got it. The best man and the business partner. The one he had an affair with. He’s going to bring her? That’s rude.”
“At bare minimum. Violence may ensue. So.” She opened her camera bag, took out the mug shot. “This is the target. See it, report it. Okay?”
“All right.” He studied the photo, smiled a little, then folded it to tuck it in his inside pocket. “Is there something else? It feels . . . You seem upset.”
“Upset? No. No. Just distracted. I said that already, didn’t I? The bride’s upset, and that could affect the portraits, so . . .”
Deal with it, she ordered herself. Just explain the way things are.
“Actually, Carter.” She took his arm to lead him to a relatively quiet corner in a room that buzzed like a hive of hornets. “I did want to say I’ve been thinking we should discuss—Damn it.” She tipped up the walkie hooked to her pocket. “That’s my cue. Bride’s on the property. I have to go. I guess you’d better come with me.”
“Do you need me to get any of your equipment?” he asked as he adjusted to her hurried pace.
“No, I have what I need for this. Everything else is up in the Bride’s Suite. She’ll go there. But I need shots of her arrival. Just make sure you stay out of the shot.”
“Hey, Carter,” Parker said as she fell into quick step with them. She flicked the faintest questioning glance at Mac, then switched to full-business mode. “The bride’s a solid nine point five on the emotion scale. Constant reassurance, support.”
“Got it.”
“We need her upstairs, busy, and focused on herself ASAP. I’ve already put champagne up there, but let’s not let her pull a Karen.”
“Won’t be a problem.”
“MOH and two of the BAs are with her, as well as the MOB. MOB is a rock. If I’m not available and the bride or the MOH go on, get the MOB.”
“Is Jack on his way?”
“ETA fifteen minutes. I’ll send him straight up.”
“Who’s Karen?” Carter wondered.
“Former bride, arrived half drunk, finished the job before we got a handle on it. Puked over the terrace shortly before the ceremony.”
“Oh.”
Outside, the women stepped to the side of the porch where the rails were already dressed in Italian light
s and tulle.
“Where are your coats?” Carter asked. “I’ll get them for you?”
“No need.” Mac took out her camera. “Adrenaline works.”
As the white limo cruised down the drive, Emma and Laurel came out.
“I wanted all four of us,” Parker explained. “Solid wall of ‘we’re here to make your day perfect.’ Happy faces, everyone.”
The limo stopped. Mac framed a shot of the bride turning to exit the open door with what could only be called a brave and wobbling smile on her face.
Mac thought: Crap.
“Your day,” Parker said from the steps. “Guaranteed.”
The smile brightened, just enough. Mac got the shot before the bride’s face crumbled. She sprang out of the car, arms outstretched, and said, “Oh, Parker!”
“Hey!” Mac’s voice stopped the bride in midstride. “Are you going to let that bitch give you puffy red eyes in your portraits? Give me one, give me a beaut. One that’ll make her cry like a baby when she sees it.”
It might’ve been rage, but the bride’s face went radiant. “I’m getting married!”
“Damn right.”
“One of both of us.” The bride grabbed the hand of her maid of honor, grinned fiercely at her friend. “Together. Solidarity.”
“Now we’re talking.”
She captured the movement, the energy, as garment bags and totes were unloaded, as women milled together. And undoubtedly, she thought, caught the tension as well.
“Parker, what will I do if—”
“Not a thing,” Parker assured the bride. “We’re completely on top of it. All you have to do is be beautiful, be happy, and we’ll handle the rest. Let’s go up. There’s a bottle of champagne waiting.”
