“So, who’s going to fix it?” Phyll placed her hands flat on the table. “Sophie, this sort of thing is why we hired you.”
“I apologise, Phyll. We’ll get it sorted. Tarryn, consider it now on your to-do list. I’ll forward you the original request from my second email when I get back.”
She resisted the urge to salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
“There’s no need to be sarcastic. There was a mistake, we’re fixing it.” The pink flush rose higher in Sophie’s cheeks. “Jason, I’ll check the plan for the portaloos and ensure they’re close enough to here. Is there anything else?”
Jason shook his head. “I’ve arranged extra security and bar staff. I’m good.”
“When are we going to count the votes for the couple to get married?” Kirra asked.
“This Friday,” Sophie said. “That gives the hire shops time to come up with the clothing. I hope you’ve all voted.”
“Not yet,” Kirra said. Her gaze flicked from Sophie to Tarryn and back again. “Hmm.”
“Hmm what?” Tarryn asked. At Kirra’s wide grin, Tarryn pushed her stool back and held her hands out in front of her. “Oh no. Absolutely not. Don’t even think of it!”
“But the two of you are so perfect,” Kirra said. “Both so gorgeous, both so gay, such a perfect couple.”
“You’ve just watched us fighting!”
“Every marriage needs a bit of spice. Even a fake one.”
The others’ heads were going back and forth as if at a tennis match.
“What are you suggesting, Kirra?” Garrett asked.
Kirra pointed first at Tarryn, then at Sophie. “Our fake couple. They’re perfect.”
“Not so perfect if one of them doesn’t turn up.” Tarryn stood and stuck her hands on her hips. “A total failure if one of them refuses to wear wedding clothes or say vows.”
Garrett pursed his lips. “They are perfect. Think how glorious the photos will be. Every queer couple in eastern Australia will want to get married in Quandong after seeing our beautiful brides.”
“Not to mention it gets you and Will off the hook.” Kirra winked. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re the frontrunners at the moment.”
Garrett smoothed his turquoise T-shirt. “Tall and skinny plus short and chubby makes for awkward photos. I think these two would be perfect. Both gorgeous, and lovely contrasting styles. Tarryn’s androgynous butchiness and Sophie’s girl-next-door charm.”
“Uh-uh. I think you’re forgetting Tarryn and I are the organisers here. We both need to be on hand to sort out any last-minute issues.” Sophie folded her arms.
“It’s a well-oiled machine, darlings,” Kirra cooed. “I’m organising the parade, but I’m also on a float. Delegation matters.”
“I can’t delegate to Tarryn if she’s marrying me!” Sophie hunched her shoulders.
“Trust me, I’m not marrying you—or anyone.” Tarryn narrowed her eyes. “The idea’s insane.”
“It’s a great idea.” Phyll said. “I can cover any last-minute issues while you’re getting married.”
“Phyll, I know you’re good, but it wouldn’t be just for twenty minutes,” Sophie said. “We’d need time to get ready, and the fake couple are then to be the centre of the afterparty. Photo opportunities, playing a loving couple. Dancing and socialising. We’re talking at least a couple of hours here.”
“No problem.” Phyll waved a hand.
“Noway,” Tarryn said. “I’m not doing it.”
Sophie flattened her hands on the table. “And I can’t do it. Despite Phyll’s offer, I’m being paid to organise, not to act as a bride.”
“You’re being paid to do what we want,” Kirra said. “And if we want you to be a fake bride, then I consider that an essential part of the organisation.”
“I’m not under contract,” Tarryn said. “I would resign.”
