Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “And they were right. I made a mistake, but it doesn’t define me. And now I’m about to find out if I get to marry the man of my dreams.”
I resisted the desire to spin around and see if a Hemsworth brother had landed on the boat as we cruised away from the dock, because I had a hard time imagining Beau Lyons as anybody’s fantasy man.
“Cut,” a voice from behind me boomed. “She needs a makeup refresh before they go up.”
A woman with a tackle box filled with cosmetics scurried past me, patting Lily’s face with a fluffy powder brush before sending her to the stern to get strapped into her harness.
When a current of air lifted Beau and Lily off the boat, the sun glinted off their red and navy parachute, and their joyful squeals sounded over the water. If I squinted and ignored the doubt ringing like a gong in my brain, they almost appeared to be a normal, happy couple.
They floated behind us for ten minutes, Lily’s foot wound around Beau’s ankle. From their animated gestures as they viewed the world below, the date was a success.
The captain turned on the motorized winch to reel them back to the boat, and when her feet returned to the deck, Lily grinned at me. “You’re up.”
I glanced over my shoulder to find a bulky black camera aimed at my face, so I took a deep breath and stepped forward. Although I had little interest in whizzing through the air high above the ocean, I really didn’t want to look like a chicken on national television. “Great,” I replied, offering a falsely cheerful thumbs-up.
A deckhand clipped me into a neon orange life vest, yanking the straps so tight my nostrils practically rested on my cleavage. Sea spray misted my legs as I shivered on the platform waiting to take off into the sky with only a thin rope standing between me and a video crew ready to televise my gruesome demise.
When the parachute filled with air and lifted me off the deck, I stifled a scream to keep the small camera mounted to an extension pole on the crossbar in front of me from capturing footage of my exposed tonsils.
When I didn’t plunge to my death after several minutes of white-knuckling the harness, I began to relax. Flat Falls was picturesque from the ground, but absolutely stunning from five hundred feet above the shoreline. Long rows of colorful houses lined the streets, and tiny dots of color I assumed were people lounged on the beach and played in the surf.
The sun shimmered on the water, and a smile tugged at my lips as I enjoyed the peaceful breeze and the steady hum of the boat’s engine.
My heartbeat had just returned to normal when the harness tugged against my back, signaling the start of my return to firm ground.
My descent slowed midway to the boat, and the crew scrambled to adjust the winch, motioning to me with sweeping arms. Their frenzied shouts vanished in the air as blood pumped through my ears at breakneck speed.
Suddenly, the rope went slack, and I hurtled toward the water, landing with a violent gurgle in a tangle of brightly colored nylon and twisted rope.
I sputtered, salty ocean water filling my mouth, as they manually pulled in the line. When I finally reached the boat, the captain towed me out of the waves and deposited me like a bloated swordfish in the center of the deck.
“Sorry about that,” he muttered, casting an apologetic glance over my waterlogged denim dress. “The winch got stuck.”
My throat burned from the saltwater, and my skin was peppered with goosebumps. I swiped the back of my hand across my cheek and grimaced at the streak of mascara. But the camera was still recording, so I gave a jaunty wave instead of flipping off the crew. “It was a nice day for a swim.”
Mimi was waiting for us under a black umbrella when we returned to the dock. With eyes hidden behind oversized sunglasses, she resembled a demented Mary Poppins.
She cleared her throat as I climbed off the boat. “My towel?”
I squeezed my dripping hair with the cloth before releasing it onto her outstretched palm and stepping around her.
Just before I passed, her arm shot out and locked on my wrist. “Remember, you signed a confidentiality agreement. I know this is a small town, but you can’t tell anyone what happens during filming.”
“Tell me everything,” Josie ordered as I settled onto her sofa later that afternoon.
I shook my head. “Sorry, I can’t. Top secret.” I pretended to zip my lips shut, but then she held out a shortbread cookie, and I had to unzip them to shove it in.
“Did you see him?”
“Who, Beau?” I asked, fully aware of who she was talking about, but not wanting to discuss her creeper ex.
She scowled and grabbed hold of the cookie. “I will stop baking you treats unless you tell me what I want to know.”
As far as threats went, it was a significant one. Josie didn’t have much else to do, so she regularly supplied me with baked goods. She was my dealer, and I wasn’t about to cut off my supply.
I exhaled and yanked it from her grip, then took a big bite. Crumbs fell across the front of my shirt as I replied with my mouth full. “Fine. Yes, I saw him.”
“And?”
“And what? He was in the middle of shooting. I couldn’t exactly interrogate him.”
She pushed up her sleeves with two quick jerks. “What kind of scene was it?”
“I can’t tell you that!”
“Well, you confirmed that he’s here in Flat Falls, so I know he made it past the first few rounds.”
“I really can’t…”
Josie continued. “And because you’re there planning a wedding, I have to assume he’s made it almost to the finale. The research I found online said that Romance Revival was only supposed to film through the end of October, which is in two weeks.”
I grabbed another cookie to keep from having to respond.
Josie leaned back and extended a finger. “So you’re telling me Beau is a finalist, and he’s going to marry somebody else in two weeks. Somebody that isn’t me.”
I sat up straighter. “What? I didn’t…”
She tilted toward me, her face less than a foot from mine. “Who is she?”
“Like I said, I can’t tell you.” I pressed my thumbs into my eyebrows to ward off the headache building behind my eyes.
“It’s that big-chested woman from Boise, isn’t it? The one who got famous on YouTube for participating in those hot dog eating contests in a string bikini top?”
I dropped my head into my hands. “No, it’s not her.”
“Then who? Who is marrying my husband?” She paced through the room like a caged animal. And since her house arrest meant she basically was a caged animal, her anxiety was contagious. “Is it the one who carries around the hedgehog in her pocket?”
“Why does it really matter, Jo?” I spoke in my most calming voice, the voice of reason I usually reserved for Beverlee when I was trying to talk her out of something like naked skydiving or getting married again. “He’s your ex-husband. Ex. You’re not together anymore.”
She ignored me and walked back and forth in front of the sofa tapping her fingers against each other like a human praying mantis, all long, thin limbs and entwined hands. She finally stopped and stared down at me. “Please tell me it wasn’t the pickle princess.”
I didn’t respond, and she immediately took it as an affirmation that Beau was, indeed, planning to marry Lily Page.
“Are you kidding me? The pickle lady?” Josie shrieked.
She plopped down on the sofa next to me with a feral whine and hauled the entire plate of cookies into her lap. She began shoveling them into her mouth, pushing a new one in before she had even finished chewing the old one. Her eyes were wild, her long hair a mass of frizz like deflated cotton candy.
“Mainlining shortbread won’t help.” I put my hand on the plate to confiscate it, but Josie batted my fingers away. I gazed at the kitchen wistfully. “But if you really want to do some damage, maybe you could try double chocolate chip.”
With a defiant glare, she seized an
other cookie and held it to her chest. But after a few moments, her destructive chewing slowed, and she blinked up at me. “You’re right. But I need to talk to him. I need to find out why he did it. Why he broke my heart, and why he let me take the blame for something I didn’t have any part in.” Josie wiggled her ankle to remind me of how much she had lost.
This, I understood. After my ex-husband stole the auction cash box from my last paying job as an event planner back in Raleigh, then hightailed it out of town with my money and my heart, I would have given anything for the chance to confront him.
Too bad he disappeared. Not even the private investigator I hired had been able to pin him down.
“I get it,” I said. “But I don’t see how I can help you. They won’t let you in to talk to him. They have security all around the warehouse to keep out the fans.” I pointed to her foot. “And besides, you’re not allowed to leave the house.”
She picked up her laptop, then after a few moments turned the screen to face me. “This warehouse? The empty one down on the waterfront?”
Since I had already broken the confidentiality agreement, I took a deep breath and said, “It’s the only space big enough to handle the show’s gear.”
Josie nodded, but I could tell her mind was elsewhere. “Do you think you could get a message to him? Can you tell him I need to talk to him?”
“That’s not a good idea. I’m only there to plan the wedding.”
I reached out to take the last cookie, but Josie pulled the plate toward her with a protective snarl.
“As much as I want to help you find closure, I can’t mess up this opportunity by going stalker-fan on a potential groom,” I said. “And besides, it’s not like I get one-on-one access to the contestants.”
She pursed her lips and continued to hold the cookies hostage.
Trying to soften the blow of words no heartbroken woman wants to hear, I gave her an apologetic smile. “Josie, maybe it’s time you moved on.”
Her eyes flashed in anger as she picked up the cookie. “I’ll move on once I’ve dealt with Beau.”
Later that night, Mimi made Josie’s wish come true in a way neither one of us could have planned.
After I left Josie cuddled up with a bottle of Tums and a promise to lay off the cookies, I returned to my apartment to flip through Mimi’s hand-written wedding wish list.
I was pondering how to come up with a live orchestra and a marshmallow fluff fountain when a loud bang from the porch made me jump. I pressed my face to the peephole to find a man with fists resembling corned hams banging against Josie’s wooden door. A second man lingered on the top step with something large and black resting on his shoulder, like a boom box or a rocket launcher.
Since Josie and I occupied the only two apartments above the pawnshop, and I assumed neither one of us had ordered delivery of a giant weapon, I threw the door open and stepped out onto the porch with an impatient sigh. “Can I help you?” I demanded.
The banging stopped, and they pivoted to look at my door. Mimi cruised out of the shadows holding a microphone, and the beefcake from the stairs inched forward, lugging what turned out to be a shoulder-mounted camera.
“Oh, it’s you. The wedding planning lady,” Mimi said sweetly, and I knew she couldn’t remember my name.
“Glory Wells,” I reminded her.
I inclined my head toward the lens, saying a silent prayer of thanks that I hadn’t greeted them in my pajamas.
Mimi ignored my statement and moved in, a slow smile spreading across her face. “We’re looking for Josie.”
“I’m right here,” Josie said, the door creaking as she pulled off her earbuds and stepped out onto the porch.
She was wearing a spandex sports bra printed with fireworks and a pair of stretchy black leggings, and with her flushed cheeks and sweat-dampened curls, I could tell she had been doing yoga.
The cameraman stared at her exposed belly ring until Mimi cleared her throat and jerked her head toward Josie’s face.
“We didn’t mean to come by uninvited,” Mimi said. “But your number was unlisted, and we wanted to give you a chance to speak up before the finale.”
“Speak up?” Josie asked, her forehead wrinkling in confusion. “About what?”
Mimi stepped back until she hit the rusty aluminum porch rail. Behind her, in the alley between the bank and the water, Beau Lyons stood with his hands shoved in his pockets.
For the first time, I noticed a second camera crew positioned at the bottom of the stairs, positioned for a wide-angle view of the meeting between Josie and the man who sent her to jail.
She gasped and whirled to face me.
I held my palms up in the air, wanting her to know I had nothing to do with this impromptu gathering. “Not me.”
“Beau?” Josie stepped forward, confusion wrinkling her brow.
“Surely there are things you want to say to him,” Mimi interjected.
Josie glanced at Beau, then back at Mimi. “Right now?”
“Is there a better time to tell him how you feel? All that heartache. All those tears. Don’t you need him to answer for breaking your heart?”
Mimi slipped her hand out behind her and a production assistant lurched forward with her clipboard. “All you need to do is sign this release form.”
A warning pinged through my head. I crossed the porch to Josie’s side, clamping my hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Mimi thrust the clipboard toward her chest. “I’ll throw in a thousand dollars for your trouble.”
“That’s bribery,” I said.
“It’s show business,” she countered, her lips pursed and her foot tapping on the metal floor.
Josie grabbed the clipboard and scribbled her name across the form without even reading it, then turned to me with a shrug. “It might be my only chance.”
Mimi positioned herself in front of the camera and cleared her throat. “We recently discovered that the young woman who played an important role in Beau’s downward criminal spiral, his first wife, lives right here in Flat Falls.” She paused, her right eyebrow arched toward the water-stained ceiling. “At Romance Revival, we don’t believe in coincidences. Let’s see what happens when two former lovers meet again for the first time in several years.”
I dipped my chin, ignoring the sense of dread building in my chest. I could already tell this meeting wouldn’t end well, but there was no way I’d get between Josie and her opportunity for closure.
Josie straightened her spine and stepped around the camera, stopping at the top of the stairs to face Beau.
He pulled his hand from his pocket and lifted it in a wave. “Hey, babe,” he said. “You look good.”
“That’s where you start?” Josie’s response was measured. “Not I’m sorry or I was wrong, but ‘You look good?’”
She took the stairs slowly, but without hesitation. She had gone from victim to predator, and I felt a bit sorry for him. From his loose stance, one of his hands still tucked into his pocket, Beau did not anticipate the wrath she was about to unleash on him.
The rest of us did, though.
Mimi bounced on the tips of her toes as she watched, and I held my breath as the cameraman zoomed in on Josie’s flushed face.
“You sent me to jail.” Her jaw clenched, and indignation blazed in her eyes. “You knew those were ghost employees you had me set up on the payroll.”
Beau’s shoulders caved. “Josie, I can explain.”
“Explain?” she roared. “There is no explanation. You used me to divert company funds into accounts for people who did not even exist. And then you pocketed the money.”
He flinched. “I’m sorry, Jo, I’m so—”
Josie’s fingers flexed on the bottom porch rail, and before I could stop her, she launched herself across the alley and headed straight for him. The slap of her palm crossing his cheek echoed over the water, but it was nothing compared to the screeches she unleashed as she pounded her fists
into his chest.
“How could you do this to me?” she screamed. “I loved you, and you used me—”
“Josie, stop.” He grabbed her arms and cast a frantic look at the closest cameraman, but nobody stepped in to help. Instead, the Romance Revival team circled the couple like they were cheering for a boxing match, no doubt capturing the spectacle from multiple angles.
“Stop?” She yanked her hands free and reared back to shove him so hard he stumbled against the force. “You want me to stop? I won’t stop until you’ve paid for what you did.”
I elbowed my way between Mimi and a sound tech. I held one hand up to the camera like a shield and wrapped the other around Josie’s upper arm, giving it a firm tug. “That didn’t go how you envisioned, did it?”
As I hauled her up the stairs, still letting off years of pent-up hostility, I glanced at Mimi, noting her undisguised bliss as she watched the scene unfold. In less than five minutes, Josie had given her enough footage to turn Romance Revival’s leading contestant from a sniveling pencil pusher into a heartbroken victim.
3
I spent the next morning fielding messages from Mimi, each one adding a layer of complexity to an already complicated ceremony. Every time I thought she had finished making her wish list, she’d add something else, and what started as simple set decoration quickly became “the biggest wedding television has ever seen.”
At just after three o’clock, when I had finally put away the stacks of papers and pads of sticky notes and sat down with a reheated slice of pepperoni pizza, my phone rang.
“We’re about to wrap for a late lunch,” Mimi said. “And I have a few minor details I’d like to go over with you in person. Can you be here in twenty minutes?”
I peeked down at my ratty sweats and the greasy plate and sighed. “Of course,” I replied between gritted teeth. “I’d be happy to.”
However, when I parked in front of the warehouse, I didn’t find the line of fans and paparazzi I was expecting. Instead, a horde of confused onlookers milled around behind a boundary of yellow police tape, and bright red lights flashed sharply on the warehouse’s metal walls. It looked like they were filming in the middle of a zombie disco instead of a quaint Southern coastal town.
Tying the Knot (A Wedding Crashers Mystery Book 2) Page 3