“Exactly. I do it during setup, before guests arrive. It’s a simple request from the bride.” I shrug.
“And if we want to be extra careful, we catch the DJ when Scarlett’s off running triage during rehearsal.”
"So… processional, opening remarks, readings—then vows." Tracing the ceremony timeline with my finger.
"The video should come before vows." West leans back, arms crossed, doing that thing where he stares at themiddle distance while his brain runs scenarios. "After readings, before Blake speaks. That's when Natalie has the floor. She can redirect without it looking like an interruption."
"So she stands there, the officiant turns to her, and instead of vows—"
"She takes the mic. Or she signals you."
"And I play the video from my phone." I nod.
"Where will you be sitting?"
"Third row, left side. Close enough to see Natalie's face, far enough from the wedding party that Blake won't notice me."
West thinks about that. His thumb taps against his forearm once. Twice. "I'll be standing up front. Groomsman position, right of the altar."
"Which means you'll be within arm's reach of Blake."
"That's the point."
I look at him. "When the video plays—"
"Blake will react. He might lunge. Might try to stop it. Might go for Natalie, might go for the sound source." West's voice is flat. Tactical. Like he's breaking down game film. "He won't get to either."
"You're going to physically block him?"
"I'm going to stand where standing is useful."
"That's a very diplomatic way of saying you're going to body-check a groom at his own wedding."
"I played center for twelve years. Positioning is what I do."
I bite the inside of my cheek. "What about the other groomsmen?"
"Thompson is harmless. Tipsy by three-thirty, guaranteed. The others are finance guys—soft hands, slow reflexes. They'll be too shocked to move."
"You're sure?"
"I've played against enforcers who wanted to rearrange my face. Blake's fraternity brothers don't worry me."
I scribble notes. Timelines. Names. Positions. Then I stop.
"Natalie's exit."
West uncrosses his arms. "Her father walks her out."
"How do you know—"
"Because that's how it works in their world. He walked her in. He walks her out. It's symmetry. It's optics. It tells the cameras the Ashfords are unified."
He says it like it's obvious. Because to him, it is. He's fluent in this—the choreography of reputation,the grammar of public image. He knows how it bends because he grew up inside it.
I didn't.
But I'm learning.
