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I gasped. “What a bitch.”
“Oh, you know what these people are like. Besties one-minute, arch enemies the next. Who knows what’s real? I wouldn’t normally partake in such petty behaviour, but she’s paying an obscene amount of money to hijack her feature, and I’m in no position to refuse it.”
I grimaced. “Melanie won’t be at this wedding, will she?”
“Oh, god no. The groom is good friends with William Harlow, and according to social media, Melanie’s in Mexico slamming down tequilas and pretending the break up was all her idea.”
“Phew,” I breathed, relieved I wouldn’t have to bear witness to their inevitable catfight.
“They’ve also generously offered to place you at a table, so you can enjoy the festivities once your work is done.”
“Lucky me,” I murmured.
“My advice…just photograph as much as you can and get the hell out of there. These people aren’t like us mere mortals.” She handed over a wedding invitation and expense card. “And buy yourself a pretty dress. The wedding’s this Saturday.”
* * *
The end of the week couldn’t come fast enough. Even though I had an early start the next day, I decided to join my colleagues for a much-needed drink. I knew Pete would be there, but my need for wine overpowered my empathy. He’d just have to deal with my presence.
Our local bar, The Edge, was just around the corner from our building in East Village, and most of us met up there at the end of the week to debrief. And ever since the first job cuts, it had become our refuge.
“So, did you go back and buy that dress you tried on over lunch break?” Amy asked, when I arrived a little later than everyone else.
I grinned and lifted up the bag that held the latest edition to my wardrobe, causing Amy to clap her hands enthusiastically.
“What’s in the bag that’s so exciting?” Pete chimed in. His eyes were glazed, meaning I was about four beers behind him.
Amy bounced on her toes. “Josie just bought a new dress, and it’s hot, hot, hot!”
My eyes bulged at her, willing her to shut up. It was hard to judge where Pete’s head was at. Some days he struggled to be in the same room as me, but other days he acted like we were still friends. And I really hoped we were.
Pete cleared his throat. “You’ve got a date?”
Amy pressed her lips together and slowly backed away from us, clearly realising her mistake.
I groaned inwardly. “No, no date. I’m photographing a wedding tomorrow.”
“So, why did you have to buy a new dress? Couldn’t you just wear something you already own?”
I chuckled. “Not to a wedding like this. No.”
“Who’s wedding is it?”
“Sabrina Lowman and Hank somebody,” I said, but he didn’t seem to know them either. “Apparently friends of the Harlow family.”
Pete rolled his eyes. “Ah, the Harlows. Watch out for them.”
“What? Why?” I glanced up at him curiously.
“Well, Adam Harlow is a notorious playboy, and his brother was recently seen getting cosy with a mysterious woman in Vegas just weeks before his wedding.”
That’s it! Vegas! The ladies in the nightclub bathroom were talking about him.
“Don’t worry, if William Harlow comes near me, I’ll kick him in the balls. Not just for cheating on his fiancé and cancelling the wedding, but for placing all our jobs in jeopardy in the process.”
Pete’s mouth curved upwards as he took a sip of his beer.
I stayed for a little while longer, chatting to colleagues, before finally heading home. My apartment was an easy half hour walk across to the west side of town, quicker if I cut through Washington Square Park, but I would never risk it at night. Plus, if I did, I’d be bypassing Lenny’s Pizzeria, and that wasn’t an option.
