“How do you like this color? Any better?” Amy asked the mother of the bride sweetly as she fake painted the hydrangeas.
The older woman nodded. “Much better. Do the rest of them like that.”
I tried calling Ivy again. It just went to her voicemail. I checked by the reception hall again, but the bride was in there yelling at Elsie while Linneah was busy rearranging all the tables.
My friend saw me and redirected the bridezilla’s anger.
“The seating chart is wrong,” she insisted. “I don’t want my dad’s cousins all the way over there.”
“I believe this was decided at the last meeting,” I reminded her gently, “where you signed off about the seating chart.” I added before she could open her mouth, “But let’s find Ivy and straighten it out. You’re the bride. This is your special day. We want you to be happy.”
“Exactly,” Linneah said as we headed upstairs. “It should be mine and the maid of honor’s job to keep the wedding planning staff in line.”
“My maid of honor just disappeared,” the bride huffed. “I know it’s because she’s jealous. She wanted to be married before me, but her boyfriend dumped her because she’s a shrew!”
“As soon as the ceremony is over,” I assured the bride, using my best therapist voice, “you’ll feel a lot better.”
As we stepped off the elevator, my headset crackled.
“Grace!” Ivy yelled.
I tapped the headset. “Where are you?”
“Can you get to the bride?” she asked urgently. “Don’t let her on social media. It’s—”
The bride, phone in hand, let out a screech of rage. “Where are they? I’m going to kill that bitch!”
She went flying down the hall, curlers falling out of her hair and bouncing on the floor.
I raced after her, regretting all the wine, lasagna, and sex I’d had last night because I had a headache and was sore.
Maybe Chris is thirteen inches, I thought,or I could just be out of shape.
There was a crowd at the end of the hall.
“Found the groomsmen,” I said as the bride raced toward him into a secluded sitting area.
I had also found the maid of honor, who was in a very compromising position with the groom.
“I’m the bride! I’m the bride!” she hollered, taking a swig of champagne as the groom, no pants, did his drunken best to give it to her doggy style.
“Actually,” he wheezed, “I think I drank too much. Just let me try another position. Hold on.”
He stretched out on the floor, and the maid of honor straddled him while two groomsmen threw Viagra at the couple. Another of them filmed the whole debacle while Ivy desperately tried to keep the embarrassing scene from being livestreamed.
“It’s been fifteen minutes!” one of the groomsmen complained. “Hurry up. I need to grab another beer.”
“You bitch!” the bride shrieked, lunging at the maid of honor and snatching the wiglet off her head.
“This is payback,” the maid of honor hollered. “You stole my boyfriend back in high school, so I stole yours! Now you know how it feels!”
“Why am I not surprised you let this happen?” Linneah berated me as I tried to maneuver around her to help Ivy break up the bridal brawl.
“This is supposed to be the happiest day of my sorority sister’s life, and you ruined it. It’s your fault. You’re jealous because I was accepted into a sorority and you weren’t. You don’t deserve someone like Chris!” Linneah spat at me. “In fact, a good wife would have quit her job to be with him every single minute of every single day.”
“I cannot quit my job,” I said in what I hoped was a professional manner, “because I have to help other brides have their perfect day.”
“This day isn’t perfect!” the bride screamed, her hair snarled around her. “It’s ruined. All of you ruined it.”
