CHAPTER 32
ZINA
Strainsof classical music drifted over the state-of-the-art sound system Chyna had brought in for the event. I stood just outside the front of the tent. Ushers from the wedding party had closed the flaps while the bride and her dozen bridesmaids got themselves arranged in the order they’d walk down the aisle.
The past twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind of last-minute crises. I was dead on my feet and couldn’t wait to get through the ceremony. I hadn’t even seen Alex since last night. The only thing standing between me being off duty was the quick exchange of the vows. After the penguins finished their procession up and back down the aisle, I’d be off the hook for the rest of the night. Chyna had flown enough staff in with her from LA to handle the party portion of the evening.
While I waited for the music to change and the first bridesmaid to start down the aisle, Alex led the penguins over, the clicker he used to train the birds in his hand.
“How are you holding up?” he whispered.
I blinked a long, slow blink and shook my head. “Ready for this to be over. How about you?”
Chyna shushed us. The flaps of the tent opened long enough for the first bridesmaid to walk through, then closed behind her.
Alex leaned closer. “Finish line’s in sight.”
I nodded, hoping he was right. One by one the bridesmaids entered the tent to Chyna’s precise count until only the bride and the penguins remained. Alex signaled me that he was going to walk around to the back of the tent like we’d practiced. Thanks to Chyna and her insistence that the penguins take part in the entrance and exit processions, we’d had to find some way to keep the penguins interested in hanging out while the vows were exchanged. Having Alex behind the tent with a bucket of fish had worked during our practice sessions. I had no reason to think it wouldn’t work when it mattered the most.
I arranged the birds in pairs by height just as the flaps of the tent reopened. I cast a quick glance at Chyna, who nodded. With my fingers crossed, I gave the signal for the first pair of penguins to start down the aisle. A chorus of oohs and aahs rose from the assembled guests as each pair of birds waddled into the tent. Chyna’s lips pursed and I couldn’t help but wonder if the wedding planner still disapproved of how waddly the penguins waddled.
The guests didn’t seem to mind. In fact, they began to stand, trying to get a closer look at the birds. Then, just as the music changed to the classic “Here Comes the Bride,” the photographer stepped into the center aisle. He raised his camera to his eye, adjusted the lens, and pressed the button. Bursts of light flashed through the tent, bouncing off the glittery silver and iridescent snowflakes Alex’s nieces had helped me string across the ceiling, blinding everyone and everything.
My heart slammed into my throat. ThenoI tried to yell didn’t make it past the lump in my esophagus. The penguins hated the light. Alex had specifically requested no flash photography while the penguins were present. Instead of retreating, the photographer actually moved closer to the birds and tookanother shot. Two of the penguins dove into the chairs. Guests screamed and tried to get away from the blinded birds.
Gilligan raced toward the photographer as fast as his flippers would carry him. He rammed into the man’s midsection and the photographer went down, his equipment catching on the tulle netting we’d swooped between rows to line the aisle. Chairs crashed to the ground. I tried to keep an eye on the birds, but they scattered like buckshot fired through a cannon and I couldn’t track them all.
Chyna climbed on top of a chair, her face pinker than her new hair color. With her hands waving in the air, she tried to stop the swell of people moving toward the exit. “Please return to your seats.”
It was too late for that. I swept into the tent and fought the current of the crowd until I reached the front of the aisle. Alex and Morty must have ducked in when the commotion broke out and had corralled several of the birds to a safe spot behind the harpist.
Alex yelled over the chaos. “Where are the others?”
I did a quick count. Ten birds were accounted for, including the two that had nose-dived into the guest section. Who was missing? Was it odd I knew all twelve birds by name and could recognize them on sight? After counting them off again, I knew who’d made a break for it. Thelma and Louise were on the loose. They couldn’t get far.
“Thelma and Louise are missing,” I said.
Alex turned to Morty. “Can you go get this group settled in the warehouse?”
He nodded.
“Let’s go find the others,” Alex said.
Confident that Morty could handle the tamer ten, I ducked out of the side of the tent and scoped out the yard. Guests milled around, not sure what the emergency contingency plan was onhow to handle rogue penguins. I couldn’t offer any suggestions because this was one unforeseen circumstance we hadn’t taken into account when we’d worked up our contingency plans.
How had I let Lacey talk me into this in the first place? My phone rang. How could Lacey know I’d lost control? It hadn’t even been two minutes since all hell had broken loose.
“I’m handling it,” I barked into the phone.
“By handling it you mean you’ve salvaged the wedding and I shouldn’t be afraid to look at the front page of the paper tomorrow?”
“Now’s not a good time.” I caught a flash of white off in the distance. I broke into a jog, hoping beyond all hope it was Thelma or Louise.
“I’m coming over.” Lacey grunted like she was heaving herself out of bed. “I don’t care what the doctor says. If we can’t pull this back together, we may as well shut down the whole wedding operation. No one will want to book with us after tonight.”
I stepped into the flower bed. An azalea bush shook as something brushed past it. “Gotcha.” My hand closed around Thelma’s floral necklace.
“Are you there?” Lacey asked.
