My Ex-Boyfriend's Wedding

by T. Sue VerSteeg

  Jemma took one last look in her full-length mirror to make sure her dress hung straight, her curls lay in place, and nothing was wedged between her teeth. Feeling more like someone on death row than a wedding photographer, she traipsed to her equipment bag and computer briefcase at a snail's pace. Grabbing her blue pashmina from the back of the couch, she threw it over her arm and headed out the door.

  You can do this, you can do this, you can do this… Her inner voice began to sound more like The Little Engine That Could the entire length of her drive.

  She pulled up in front of the United Methodist Church, the beach of Normandy to her D-Day. Hyperventilating, she brushed her bangs from her face several times, while chewing on her bottom lip, as she stared up at the beautiful stone structure.

  Banging her fists on the steering wheel, Jemma bellowed, "What the hell am I doing?"

  A woman carrying a bridesmaid dress walked past, staring at her from the corner of her eye, brow raised, lips puckered.

  Jemma snorted after she was out of earshot. "If you only knew, sweetheart."

  She turned in her seat, craning her neck to search the lot for Tony's car, but didn't see it. Inhaling a deep breath, she pushed open her door before letting it out slowly. She gathered her bags and lugged them through the front door. After finding the office, she began the task of setting up her things. The silence would normally soothe her nerves, but the unknown of what was to come kept her on edge. She felt like she was speeding down the track on a collision course with another train and the brakes had just given out. As she inserted the camera's memory card into her computer to clear it off, she giggled. Remembering the reason for this step, the look on a past bride's face when Jemma showed up with proofs including someone else's wedding along with her own, was priceless. The door to the office slammed open, startling her into a standing position. She half expected her brother to be standing there when she turned around.

  "Ms. Keith?" Mr. McCallister's strong voice beckoned from the doorway.

  Jemma forced a smile to her face, hoping the crap hadn't already hit the fan. "Yes, sir. Is there a problem?" she squeaked, eyeing the window as a possible escape route.

  "I know this isn't your line of expertise, but would you happen to know of anyone who is a size thirty-four waist and could fill in as an usher? The tux is here and ready to go, we just have no one to wear it since one of Kate's cousins now refuses to be around Dalton." His eyes pleaded with her over the rim of his trifocal glasses. He rocked back and forth, wringing his hands in nervous frustration. "No doubt it's in Dalton's best interest, as I'm sure that Gavin would hurt him anyhow," he mumbled, his gaze shifting to the floor.

  Her pulse thrummed in her ears as she allowed herself to relax a bit. Bullet dodged.

  For now.

  Since Mikey had come into her mind when the door slammed into the wall, he was her obvious choice. "I'll call my brother. I'm sure he can help out, or at least be bribed." She attempted a reassuring tone, reaching for his fidgeting hands and patting them. "I'll make sure the position is filled, so consider it done."

  Mr. McCallister pulled Jemma into a huge bear hug and lifted her off of her feet. "Thank you. You truly are a godsend." He set her back down, released her from his clutches, and pinched her cheek before leaving the office in a rush.

  Jemma smoothed her dress back into place, her hands shaking from the near miss, and picked up her phone to call Mikey. It only rang once.

  "What?" his usual curt answer greeted her.

  "Hello to you, too. Want to help your favorite sister out of a jam today?"

  "Since you're my only sister, I can see how you'd think that. What's in it for me?"

  "I'll keep tight reigns on Bad Jemma for a while," she offered.

  "As my favorite sister, I'd think you'd want to do that anyway."

  Jemma rolled her eyes. "Okay, then what can I offer my favorite brother? Are you currently between one night stands? I could try to set you up with that cute teller I work with."

  Mikey groaned. "Don't start with me. I'll settle down when I find the right chick." He paused, but then it must have hit him. "Wait. You mean the perky blonde with the rack that won't quit?"

  So many comments wrestled on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed them back at the risk of not getting what she needed out of him. "Yeah."

  "Okay, I'm listening." Cautious curiosity filled his voice.

  "I need you to shower, shave and come down to the Methodist Church on Lone Pine as soon as humanly possible. No dilly-dallying either; just get down here."

  "What have you volunteered me for this time? Am I filling in for the groom?" He snorted at his own joke.

  The thought of her brother walking down the aisle with Kate McCallister brought on a fit of giggles. She could just see him belching to the music and her bursting into tears. "No, I need you to fill in for an usher. Can you do that for me? Pretty please?"

  "Do you really think blondie will go out with me?"

  No. "Probably. Are you going to do it, then?"

  "I guess. I'll get in the shower and be down there in about thirty minutes."

  She released a pent up breath into the phone. "Thank you, big bro. There is one more thing you should know before you get here."

  "What, are you going to pay me, too?"

  Jemma chewed her bottom lip, pausing to work up the courage. "No, I may have forgotten to mention that this is Dalton's wedding."

  Uneasy silence filled the phone line, and Jemma contemplated whether or not her brother had hung up on her.

  "Okay, answer this one for me. Why are you still doing this wedding?" Mikey spat.

  "Uh, because I already spent the deposit check."

  "Jemma," he bellowed.

  She waved her hands through the air as if he were standing in front of her. "You can't verbally pummel me any worse than I've already done to myself."

  "Oh, man, that chick better put out!"

  The phone line definitely went dead this time. Payback was going to be huge. The teller in question would probably say no, but stranger things had happened. She'd at least keep her word and try.

  Grabbing her tripod, she wound through the halls to the sanctuary to find the best place for couple shots at the altar. As she walked through the huge double doors, it was like a scene from a fairy-tale world exploded, enveloping every surface possible. Fresh yellow daisies mingled in bouquets of yellow and white roses were on the end of every pew, even dotting the altar. Garlands of the same flowers were strung from row to row all down the inside aisle, across the balcony and stairway banisters, around the ceiling support poles and the candelabra that lined the stairs and the stage area. The amount of money spent on those flowers alone could probably fund a small country for a year. Huge white bows accented every pew and each place the garland was fastened to the banisters and candelabra. White satin material ran down the center aisle and up the stairs with a large piece covering the piano. The starkness would be almost blinding if it weren't for the intermittent yellow.

  It wasn't a stretch of the imagination to figure Kate's favorite color was yellow.

  An evil smile crept its way across Jemma's lips. Mikey would undoubtedly be wearing a yellow tie and cummerbund.

  He'd refused to wear any variation of the color since he was little. It all went back to the third grade when eating yellow M&Ms held all of the negative garbage elementary school kids loved to tease people about. Jemma doubted her brother would ever grow up and realize that eating or wearing yellow would not make him any less of a manly man. While she'd enjoy seeing this spectacle, she also knew it was yet another thing she'd pay for eventually.

  Worth it.

  She climbed the stairs to the balcony and found another tripod already perched in the corner, undoubtedly for someone videotaping. Courteously, she used the opposite corner for her own. As her foot hit the bottom stair on her way back down, she came face-to-face with Dalton. Shock and disgust hit her in a simultaneous assault.

  "Hey, Jem.
Long time, no see. I really didn't think you had it in you to accept the job." The sound of his voice and the sneer on his face turned her stomach.

  Swallowing back the bile, she muttered, "I have to get my things ready."

  He backed against the doors, blocking her exit. She stood her ground, pride steeling her spine and tilting her chin in defiance.

  "The wedding doesn't start for an hour. What can a photographer possibly have to do that would take that long to get ready?" Condescendence oozed from his words.

  "Hmm, let's see… This particular photographer would rather be stuck in a truck stop bathroom with food poisoning issues than stand here talking to you." Jemma folded her arms across her chest.

  "I still feel the magnetic attraction pulling us together. You can't deny that you feel it, too." He inched toward her.

  Taking a step back, Jemma feigned, "Oh goody, does this mean that if I turn around, it will propel you across the sanctuary so I can leave?"

  Dalton's gaze narrowed, his upper lip twitching in anger. He clamped onto her shoulders and spat, "What's the matter? Is screwing Kate's cousin making you a bit cynical toward me?" He yanked her to him, his fingers digging into her arms.

  She shoved her palms against his chest, trying in vain to push him away. "My sex life is none of your business and obviously never should have been in the first place."

  Dalton's grip loosened a bit, his eyes widening in disbelief. An unexpected shove gave her just enough room to slip past the banister and down the back aisle toward the other door. Dalton followed in hot pursuit. Jemma swung the heavy wooden door open with one arm, but he snagged the other, yanking her away.

  "No one walks away from me."

  "Better check your score card, Dalton. This would be the second time I've done it."

  "Really?" Dalton fumed, his face lowering toward hers. "You want to make me mad here?"

  Jemma's heart sank at the raw anger and general craziness she saw rounding his eyes, something she'd never seen before. She pulled against his harsh grip.

  The sound of Mikey's voice washed over Jemma like a ray of much needed sunshine. "This wedding might actually be fun, after all. Let her go, now."

  Dalton's grip tightened around Jemma's arm, his nails digging into her flesh. He shoved her into Mikey. "You aren't worth my time anyway. I have to admit, I used to be attracted to middleclass whores, but my taste in women has obviously improved over the past few months." He waved his arms in the air to draw attention to the extravagance surrounding them.

  Jemma shook her head in disgust. "Kate deserves so much more. Hell, any woman deserves more than you, Dalton." She watched her ex-creep walk out of the sanctuary before she took a much needed deep breath.

  Mikey draped a protective arm around his sister's shoulders. "Wow, he's a prick. What did you ever see in him?" he asked with overstated innocence.

  "I'd punch you in the arm right now if you hadn't just saved my butt."

  He pulled her next to him. They walked back to the office. "Are you sure all of this is worth having a new printer?"

  "And camera. In hindsight? No. In my defense, it seemed like a great idea at the time."

  "I can say the same about most of my love life." Snickering, he squeezed her shoulders. "So, where is this monkey suit I have to wear?"

  "I guess we need to look for Kate's dad to find out."

  They didn't search for long. Kate and her father, decked out in his yellow accented tux, came around the corner a few minutes later. Kate blushed and looked at her feet when Mikey introduced himself, and Jemma thought she was hearing things when he said, "I'm very pleased to meet you."

  His usual introduction to a woman was, "Hey, how the heck are ya?" and came very close to the same intonation as that of Joey from the television show Friends. Jemma couldn't move; she stood shaking her head in complete shock as she watched Mr. McCallister escort her brother to the changing room. With absolutely no argument on the color of his tie. Kate's meager voice snapped her from her astonishment.

  "I know we've asked so much from you already, but my mother hasn't shown up yet. How good are you with hair?" Something resembling gratitude crossed Kate's face, but was accompanied by the crinkled forehead of a grimace.

  "I'm practically famous for my curling iron skills." Jemma winked and donned a reassuring grin.

  "Oh, thank you," Kate said, her demeanor brimming with genuine gratitude. "The back of my hair won't stay in the pins my hairdresser put in."

  Jemma wound a group of Kate's fallen tresses around her finger. "Well, it's no wonder. Your hair is baby-fine. Do you have hairspray, too?"

  "Of course." Kate's face lit up, and the girls talked hair all the way to the room she'd been assigned.

  After the crazy she'd just seen in Dalton's eyes, Jemma grabbed her arm. Kate didn't need to know everything, but she deserved at least the Cliff's Notes version. "There's something I really should tell you."

  Her head cocked to the side, brow scrunched. "We can talk in here."

  As they entered, they found Kate's mom sitting on a chair. The resemblance was undeniable, but had Kate not squealed the word "Mom" and thrown herself into her awaiting embrace, Jemma would have thought them to be sisters.

  Jemma walked over and extended her hand. "Hi, you must be Mrs. McCallister. I'm Jemma, the wedding photographer."

  The woman peered down her nose at Jemma and pursed her lips, staring at her hand as though she'd just seen Jemma picking her nose. "I know who you are. You need to leave and go do what we are paying you to do."

  Jemma stepped back toward the door, her hand over her heart. With her tone, the haughty woman could've just as well sent her off to sell herself on the street corner.

  "Mother!" Kate scolded then turned and whispered something to her.

  The woman patted her daughter's arm, but her condescending gaze remained on Jemma. "Dalton told me all about you, little hussy. I'll thank you for taking your leave now."

  Panic jolted through Jemma. "But you don't understand; it wasn't like that! Kate, I can explain."

  "Oh, but I do understand." Her mother's hand shot out toward the door. "Leave, now."

  Jemma stared into Kate's confused eyes for a few seconds, hoping to get her apology across without words before she dropped her gaze and left. As she closed the door behind her, she fell back against the frame and paused.

  Dalton, you little bastard!

  She should have expected him to be petty, but more importantly, she should've told everyone the truth sooner. She released an exasperated breath. But, then she never would've met Tony because they wouldn't have wanted her at the wedding.

  "Oh my God. Tony," she whimpered. "Please, don't let him know already. Please, please, please," she chanted, sprinting down the hall toward the men's changing room. She made quite the scene with her shoes fwap-fwapping against her feet and clink-clinking on the tile. She didn't care; her only concern was finding Tony before Dalton had the chance to spew more lies. She sprinted to the corner, sliding around it sideways, nearly falling over when she skidded to a stop. Dalton once again barred her way, standing right in front of the door. Jemma heard Tony talking on the other side.

  Poking a finger into Dalton's chest, she seethed, "Why did you lie to Kate's mom, you asshole?"

  His face brightened, a snarl nearly consuming it. "Good, she found you." His brow raised into his hairline. "She was a little mad when she found out, huh? About how you knew I loved Kate but wouldn't leave me alone?"

  "Have you always been such a lying putz? Do you think you're God's gift to women?" She paused, not exactly sure if she was delusional enough to expect him to come to his senses and apologize or what. He just stood there, that ridiculous smirk never wavering. "I've got a newsflash: you're a curse to womankind from a place a little farther south of heaven." She shoved against him. "Move."

  "Don't you have some photography business to tend to? The wedding starts in fifteen minutes. Seems to me you were pressed for time earlier." Dalton glanced
over her shoulder, eyes widening, his feigned concern morphed to the look of a wounded puppy. "I told you Jemma, I'm in love with Kate."

  Knowing it was a show, Jemma turned around. Kate's mother's face was puckered in an ugly scowl. Arms folded harshly across her bosom and toe tapping at a rapid pace, she declared, "I thought I might find you here. You're nothing more than a whore, trying to steal a man away from his own wedding. If it weren't last minute, I'd fire you right here and now."

  Jemma fought back the urge to toss Stacy into the conversation as the true whore, but she knew it would come across as guilty deflection. "This discussion isn't over, Dalton. Payback is a bitch."

  "Jem, we are over. Let me go." Dalton shook his head and looked at the floor with disgust.

  Grinding her teeth, she clenched her hands into fists. "You really missed your calling as an actor." She turned, stomping away from the overwhelming desire to choke the life from Dalton's body. She muttered to herself, "Why did I agree to this? Why did I cash the check? Stupid pride. Stupid printer. Stupid decision."

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Jemma busied herself with her camera and took pictures of the ushers while they seated the guests. Mikey flashed a how-dare-you-do-this-to-me look in her direction and tugged at his bright yellow tie. That was the hateful look she'd expected earlier.

  Click!

  Even the sight of her brother suffering in silence did nothing to lift her spirits or take the knot from her stomach, much less ease the ache in her heart.

  She walked along the outside wall of the church, taking more pictures. Being surrounded by gasping guests and muted muttering escalated her stress level to near meltdown status. Using the zoom on her camera, she was finally able to get some actual smiles from people across the room. No doubt the lies had spread through the family at a rapid pace, and Jemma was public enemy number one and at the tip-top of everyone's shit-list. Dalton always did know how to divert the attention when he needed to. Lies were obviously his specialty, and Jemma was the one caught in his crosshairs. She finally gave up on even trying to find a happy face from a distance, using the zoom to search the sea of cranky people for Tony instead.