My friends all squealed and giggled.
I grimaced. “It means now we have to do a divorce, not an annulment.”
“People divorce,” Amy said. “No biggie.”
“I’m going to be a divorcée though,” I fretted.
“That’s a very chic thing to be nowadays,” Ivy assured me.
“But I’m in the wedding industry! I should be a beacon of hope for brides!”
“Hayley Paige is divorced,” Brea reminded me, “and she’s as big as ever on Insta.”
“I guess. I just have my wedding coffee-table book I’m hoping to release. It might be a bad look.” I shook myself off. “Speaking of photos, I better head over to the bridal chamber.”
The fifteen bridesmaids, all in matching peach robes, were in the process of having their hair and makeup done.
“Oh, look,” one of the bridesmaids, hair set in curlers, said, “it’s the help.”
Linneah. Of course. The bride was in her sorority.
“I’m just here to make this the best day ever for our bride!” I said, customer-service face firmly planted in place. “Now let’s all line up for some group photos. Can we have the Matron of Honor and Maid of Honor on either side of the bride, please?”
Linneah and a young blond woman wrapped their hands around the bride’s waist and gave me big pageant smiles. I snapped several fun group photos.
“Smile, ladies!” I cheered. “Someone’s getting married today!”
They shrieked and jumped up and down with the bride.
After taking more action shots of the group prepping hair and makeup, then composing all the shots of the ethereal wedding dress Brea had sewn and the custom shoes and jewelry that went along with it, I headed over to the groom’s suite. The guys were doing tequila shots.
“Hey, baby!” one of the groomsmen hollered. It was one p.m., and they were all completely wasted.
“Take a photo of this!” another one of them yelled, pulling down his pants. Unfortunately for him, between the alcohol and the junk food he and his friends had consumed in copious amounts, he toppled over then lay on the floor motionless while his friends roared in laughter.
Another day, another wedding.
I tucked away my camera and waded through the drunk groomsmen, ordering Siri through my headset to call Ivy.
She answered breathlessly. There was screaming in the background.
“Can you please just deal with it, whatever it is?” she begged as the sound of a full-blown bridezilla moment sounded in the background. “We are having a little snafu here.”
“What do I even pay you for!” the bride screamed. “I should—” The line went dead.
I checked the groomsman to make sure he was still with us. I felt a pulse then opened his eyelids. His pupils dilated in the light.
“Drunk, probably not a concussion, but better safe than sorry,” I said, dialing 911.
“We don’t need an ambulance,” one of his friends slurred. “We’ll throw him in the pool.”
“Absolutely not,” I said in my best teacher voice. “You will all sit down and let the adults handle this.”
“Vending machine run!” the best man shouted.
Good lord.
The groomsman was moaning when the fire department showed up. One of the men peered at me.
