I glanced down at my watch, the sting of reproach tying my desire to introduce her perfect chignon to the contents of my still-warm travel mug of hazelnut coffee. “It’s seven o’clock, Maggie.”
She let out an unladylike snort. “Exactly.”
I stood there in stunned silence until a frenzy fell over the room announcing Mimi’s arrival.
Like a demonic tornado, the threat of her presence sucked every bit of peace out of the room. Crew members scrambled behind the walls with hushed curses, and Maggie crouched back on the ground to continue rolling out the silk as if she hadn’t been about to stab my eyeballs with her stack of fabric pins.
Mimi strolled onto the set and halted in front of us. She gave the runner a cursory glance before her gaze dropped to her clipboard. “We shoot at eleven, and sixty guests will arrive by bus at ten. Make sure you’re ready.”
I pointed toward the lines of wooden benches interspersed with spindle-backed chairs facing the altar. We had planned to use the seating for the ceremony and remove it for the party afterward. “Are we still putting the brides’ families on the left and the grooms’ on the right?”
“Yes,” she said with a stiff nod. “And seat the most attractive ones on the aisles. Nobody wants to see Great Aunt Edna and her chin hair problem in high definition in their living rooms.”
“But don’t you worry about fighting?” I asked, an icy pool of dread forming at the thought of wedding violence. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to put both Lily and Dan’s guests on one side and Hazel and Jason’s on the other? People might throw chairs when they find out their loved one lost.”
A flash of satisfaction crossed Mimi’s face. “Now you’re getting it. We need as much action as we can create.”
I waved toward the stage. “So you’re trying to manufacture pandemonium?”
“Our viewers want sparks, they don’t want reality,” she replied. “Reality is boring. Nobody wants to watch you brushing your teeth unless you’re doing it in a teddy with your married plastic surgeon.”
I cleared my throat and caught Maggie’s wide-eyed glance. “We’ll keep the families of both brides and both grooms together on opposite sides of the aisle.”
Mimi focused on her clipboard. “Lily and Hazel will be here any minute, and we need to film you planning the ceremony.”
“Don’t you think it’s a bit late to—”
She cut me down with a glare. “Footage. I realize you have already planned the wedding, but we need more footage of you discussing the plans with each bride.”
“Got it,” I said, pretending to straighten the piece of silk.
“And see what kind of dirt you can dig up, too,” Mimi continued. “I want them wistful about their exes while you’re pinning on their veils. Bring up their daddy issues. Flaunt their humiliation. Remind them of the dead body. Whatever you have to do. Oh, and if you get me some tears, I’ll throw in a bonus at the end of filming.”
Beverlee was a wedding crier, so I had been down plenty of tear-filled aisles over the years. But I had never been asked to make a bride cry. Before I could clarify the instructions, Mimi had disappeared down the hallway.
I turned to find Maggie clutching her pearls.
“You heard the lady,” I instructed with a nod toward the dressing area. “Let’s go make a bride blubber.”
I was humming “The Wedding March” when Maggie and I joined the brides in the makeup chairs a few minutes later. Stylists flitted around them like anxious birds, while camera crews dodged hot styling tools and thick streams of coconut-scented hair spray.
Mimi wanted both brides dressed in their wedding gowns when they announced the winners. They would escort the losing bride off stage, dry-heaving and with mascara streaming down her face, while the winner was whisked away for her fairy tale walk down the aisle.
“The photographers are waiting to get promo shots of you both before we start filming,” Mimi said, not even bothering to raise her head from the notes in her hand. “That means no food or drink. We don’t want to have to Photoshop your mouth because you couldn’t resist a pre-announcement granola bar.”
My stomach growled, and I interjected, “Actually, I like to make sure my clients eat something before their events. It keeps them from getting woozy under the blazing lights.”
Mimi’s head jerked up, and she speared me with a glare. “That’s why they have grooms, Gladys. To catch them if they pass out.”
I didn’t even argue.
She zeroed in on Lily and Hazel. “Ladies, if you plan on fainting, please face the camera. No one wants to see your backsides like big, lumpy marshmallows if you fall the wrong way.”
Lily’s hand flew to her chest, and I gave her shoulder a reassuring pat. “If you get dizzy, loosen up your knees and take a deep breath. It will usually fade. Now, are you ready to greet your groom-to-be?”
“Isn’t it bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony?” Lily grew paler with every passing minute. The way she was heading, she’d pass out before she even left the makeup chair.
Mimi scoffed, tapping her wrist to prompt the stylists to finish their preparations. “You’re getting married on a reality television show to a man who disgraced you. For money. Bad luck is the least of your worries.”
Hazel stared at Lily in the mirror. “It won’t be bad luck when I walk away with half a million dollars tonight,” she said flatly, her eyes snapping back to the fashion magazine spread out in her lap.
I jostled my way between the two women. “Easy, now. We need to keep your makeup intact for the camera. And despite what Mimi has said previously, nobody wants to see you claw each other’s eyeballs out on national television.”
I turned away before they could call me out on my lie. Everybody knew a catfight in wedding gowns was sure to deliver ratings.
With a soft sigh, Lily swiveled her chair to face the mirror. “I miss Rocco.”
“I know,” I said, scanning my brain for comforting words, but coming up short. “It’s always hard to lose a friend.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He was… more than that.”
I flashed back to the stack of printouts that had gone missing from the table in his hotel room. “I know you were close, but how well did you really know him?” I asked tentatively.
“What are you implying?” Hazel barked from across the room. “That Rocco was a no-good loser, and the world is better off without him?”
Before I could stop her, Lily shot up from the chair and hurtled herself across the floor, a round brush still tangled in her hair. “What are you talking about? He was a kind, gentle—”
“He was a deadbeat with a history of hurting women,” Hazel said with a derisive scoff. “Everybody knew that.”
Lily’s eyes blazed, and she wagged a finger inches from Hazel’s eye. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
I reached out a comforting hand. “Lily, I’m not sure how to tell you this, but there was something else going on with Rocco.”
She spun around to face me. “What?”
I exhaled slowly. “I know you felt a special connection with him, but his feelings for you might have been more of an… obsession. He had a full stack of printouts of you in his hotel room. Pictures. Tabloid stories. Really personal stuff.”
Instead of reacting with shock, Lily slapped her hand across her chest and let out a wheezy laugh. “You think…”
“I’m sorry, but he appeared to be stalking you,” I whispered.
She hiccupped, her chest rising and falling in pants as she tried to control her laughter. She crossed the room and tugged open her tote bag, lifting out a familiar stack of paper. “These papers? Who do you think he got them from?”
I stared at her, noting her lack of surprise. “You? But why?”
“Because that stupid blog, The Enchanted Tattler, keeps doing stories about me,” she replied, fanning the papers in the air. “And the stories are getting more and more aggressive. Yesterday’s po
st all but accused me of murdering Beau in a plot to gain pity votes for the show.”
“What did Rocco have to do with the stories?”
“He was trying to help me stop them,” she said. “He wasn’t stalking me; he was helping me.”
“And he wasn’t jealous you were marrying another man?” I asked.
She shook her head and gave a sad smile. “He was happy for me.”
“Then he would have wanted us to pamper you today,” I replied.
The new stylist led Lily back to the chair and untangled the brush, finishing Lily’s preparation by winding sections of her long hair around a curling wand. “We’re going with a corn-fed bohemian vibe for you. Prairie nymph meets Tinkerbell, right? Where’s your veil?”
“She’s not wearing a veil,” I said. “Just a crown of wildflowers.”
I opened the pale pink box the florist had delivered earlier and picked up the delicate halo of small yellow flowers. “You’ll be a beautiful bride. Rocco would approve,” I said, a lump forming in my throat.
Lily’s lower lip quivered, and she brought her fisted hand to her mouth. “Yes, he would. Because it’s my wedding day,” she whispered.
Hazel’s brows shot up, and she fixed a menacing stare on Lily. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Barbie. The day’s not over yet.”
20
After Lily and Hazel were zipped into layers of beaded lace and organza, I stepped onto the ceremony set. If I squinted past the cameras and lights, the metal scaffolding, and the fuzzy microphones dangling from thin wires, it could pass for any bride’s dream wedding.
Subdued music wafted from the speakers as crew members escorted guests to their respective sides of the stage.
It was easy to pick out Hazel’s friends, with their stick-straight hair, glossy fuchsia lips, and tailored black dresses with hems just shy of obscene. They took selfies with cell phones they weren’t supposed to have and wore practiced expressions that said Romance Revival was beneath them. They were bored and beautiful.
Lily’s guests, on the other hand, seemed delighted to be there. They smiled when they saw me and asked how they could help. They ran sun-worn fingers along strands of white lights and blotted away tears when they visited the table with photos of Lily’s late mother, who she had wanted to be a part of the ceremony.
“You did an exquisite job,” Beverlee said from behind me.
I turned with a gasp. “Beverlee, what are you doing here?”
“They think I’m your assistant,” she whispered. She smoothed her hands down the seams of her A-line dress, a vivid pink get-up embroidered with lime green frogs. She hefted the enormous matching purse onto her shoulder before acknowledging the crowd. “And besides, this is the most exciting thing that has happened around Flat Falls since my last wedding. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
The music came to a sudden halt when Mimi stepped to the stage. Her high-necked black suit looked more like it belonged on an aged schoolmarm or a funeral director than it did a Hollywood producer. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she began, her lips pursed as she surveyed the room. “Please take your seats, and we’ll start soon.”
A murmur spread through the crowd, and guests arranged themselves in flattering positions in front of the cameras. A woman who could have been Hazel’s sister sat at the edge of her chair, long limbs twined around each other and cheeks pulled in so hard I worried she was going to suck up her entire body and disappear altogether.
“Show time,” I said to Beverlee, motioning to an area toward the back of the room where we could watch everything unfold.
She clapped and followed me down the aisle, her floor-length green chiffon scarf fluttering as she walked.
Just before we got there, I glanced off to the side of the set. Hazel stood there, stick-still and regal, surveying the crowd with a cool gaze. She wore a sleek white column dress with her dark hair pulled off her face in an elegant chignon.
The pointed toe of her shiny platform sandal tapped a steady beat against the wood floor as she turned and glared at Jason, who was standing next to her in a fitted black tuxedo.
“Uh oh,” I muttered to Beverlee. “I need to take care of a pre-marital tantrum.”
I stepped over to the couple with my palms raised, frantically searching for Maggie, who was nowhere to be found. “Hey, guys,” I said in the same soothing voice I used with toddlers and telemarketers. “Having pre-wedding jitters?”
Jason’s hand trembled as he smoothed his tie. “I’m not sure what I did. I told her she looked beautiful, and she said if I didn’t get my act together, she would break up with me on national television.”
Hazel glanced away for a moment. When she returned her focus to Jason, her expression was grim. “You said I looked nice. Nice.”
Jason’s face showed a flash of desperation, his clean-shaven cheeks draining of their normal tan. “And? You do look nice.”
Hazel huffed. “You said I looked nice right after you spent thirty seconds eye-fondling little miss perfect over there.”
Jason’s gaze fell toward his scuffed loaner shoes, and I followed Hazel’s finger until Lily came into view. Unlike Hazel, she stood alone, her long hair loose and wavy. She wore a simple empire waist gown with delicate beading, slim spaghetti straps, and a flowing confection of white tulle that brushed the floor.
Hazel saw me studying her and scowled.
I sprang into action. “You’re stunning, Hazel. A bridal vision. The camera is going to love you.”
I caught Jason’s eye and swung my glance back over at Hazel.
He got the hint and cleared his throat. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he said.
A quick flash of insecurity crossed Hazel’s face. “Then why were you staring at her?” she asked.
Jason’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “I wasn’t—”
“I mean, look at her. She’s ordinary,” Hazel continued, the slight tremble in her voice giving way to shrill accusation. “Why does she get all the attention? It’s always about Lily. Even on that stupid tabloid blog, all they do is post stories about her. What does she have that I don’t?”
Jason stared at me in alarm.
I shook my head slightly and rested my palm on Hazel’s arm to calm her down, but even her skin was cold. I fought the urge to recoil. “Nothing,” I assured her. “You’re just different, that’s all.”
She eyed my hand as if it were made of refrigerated pig guts and jerked herself free. “Different how?” she asked, her tone spiteful. “Daddy’s little girl has deep pockets and hair like a fairytale princess. And that’s not me, is that what you’re saying?”
Well, yes, I thought, but I shook my head, anyway. “No, not at all,” I assured her.
I breathed a sigh of relief when Mimi appeared at the front of the set and commanded everybody’s attention. “Let’s begin.”
I smiled and waved toward Mimi. “It’s time to see if you’re getting married today.”
Both brides stood on-stage as Mimi barked orders at the photographer.
Lily looked as if bluebirds were about to land on her outstretched palms. Hazel seemed like she wanted to hand-feed Lily a poisoned apple.
Mimi smacked her clipboard on the wooden podium and nodded toward Jason. “You. Up here,” she said and pointed to a small piece of tape on the stage next to Hazel.
She glanced around, her narrowed eyes surveying the crowd. “Where’s Dan?”
A murmur swept over the room as everyone searched for the absentee groom.
My stomach rolled, and I wondered if it was unusual for wedding planners to back out of weddings at the last minute.
Mimi stepped forward, her fingertips white from clenching her clipboard. Her frantic gaze landed on me. “Where, exactly, is our second groom, Ms. Wells?”
“Just going to find him now,” I said with a half-hearted wave, and then bolted out the rear entrance of the set.
Maggie met me outside. “Do you know where Dan is?” she asked, pausing to
smile at Lily’s third cousin, who was eavesdropping without shame from the back row. She grabbed my wrist and spun me away from the crowd. “Because if you lost the groom, the whole world will find out.”
“I haven’t lost the groom,” I whispered, then squinted over my shoulder at the throng gathered expectantly near the stage. “At least I hope not.”
I strolled through the set until I was out of view, then immediately scrambled through the rest of the building, flinging open doors and calling his name. If Dan Nichols was hiding in a random closet under a supply of moth-eaten shipping blankets, I was determined to find him.
I had almost given up hope he was in the warehouse when I saw him at the entrance, pushing his way past the security guard.
Dan ignored him and stumbled toward me, his rumpled dress shirt half-open and bunched around his waist. Stubble dotted his cheeks, and his eyes were ringed with red. I darted forward and looped my arm through his. “Nice of you to show up to your own wedding.”
Dan raked his free hand through his hair and halted. “She doesn’t love me,” he mumbled.
I tugged on his arm, but he brushed me off. “She’s still here, isn’t she? Standing up there in a fluffy white dress waiting for you. It’s time to go get married.”
“But she’s never going to forgive me,” he responded with a despondent moan.
I scanned the hallway in a panic. Surely somebody else would come along and convince this man to walk down the hall to marry a fairy princess.
Unfortunately, the corridor was empty, so the job of resolving Dan’s mental breakdown fell squarely on me.
But I couldn’t just let him off the hook and pretend everything was fine. If I was going to convince him to marry Lily, then I needed to make sure he was in it for the right reasons.
There were enough brokenhearted women out there who had been duped by their husbands for me to knowingly add to the mix.
“You left her to face the humiliation after the video, then swooped to pick up the pieces of her heart after Beau died. As far as romance tactics go, your approach could use some work.”
Tying the Knot (A Wedding Crashers Mystery Book 2) Page 17