Page 11 of How to Survive Your Own Death

“Sore. Stiff. Nothing time and Tylenol can’t fix,” she said, giving a forced smile. Things healed a lot slower now that she was thirty-something compared to when she was twenty-ish, which was simply unfair. Once she slipped on a patch of ice and slammed down on one knee. The bruise there was so deep that her entire shin felt rock hard for a month and she had been twenty-eight at the time. Honestly, the last time she hurt this bad was when she broke her arm as a kid.

“Are you sure you don’t need someone to have an accident?” Savannah asked.

“That’s sweet. I’ll let you know. But about your wedding, I need more information about the photographer. Patrick’s going to want to know,” Geri said, changing the topic. Any photographer would want to know the nitty-gritty details before agreeing to work with a demanding bridezilla.

“I have an amazing opportunity. Spooksberry Farm!” Savannah spread her hands in the air with dramatic flourish, leaving a golden trail that only Geri could see. “I couldn’t say no and the theme is spooky love.”

“Spooksberry Farm,” Geri said. The local amusement park, Red Berry Farm, rebranded for Halloween.

“Can you believe it?”

“Aren’t you worried about crowds?”

“The park is closed on Mondays. We’ll have the whole place to ourselves. The ceremony will be at sunset for maximum spookiness with the reception under the stars!” Another dramatic hand flourish.

“Lighting?” She hadn’t been to Red Berry Farm since she was a teenager, but she remembered all the neon lights. The park wasn’t huge, but it was enormous for a wedding venue. “It’ll wash out the reception photos. I mean, that’s Patrick’s problem. His basic package comes with some edits for light and balance, but this is a whole other level. It’ll cost you.”

Savannah blinked. “Do I look like I care about the price?”

“I didn’t think you looked like you were into spooky love, so what do I know?” Now it was Geri’s turn to blink. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from. I did tell you about the concussion.”

“Did the concussion hurt your inner voice?”

“Actually, yeah,” she admitted. “I can’t seem to find my verbal filters and I’m really sorry about that.”

Savannah smiled and tossed her blonde hair over one shoulder. “I’m what they call a whimsy goth. Jeremy is full into it, but his family is so uptight. They’ll be horrified, which is on theme, you know? Can he do October 26? The photographer we had booked said it was too much and no one else was available.”

That was a lot of information all at once.

“It’s a month away,” Geri said. Chances were good Patrick was already booked on the weekend, but he might have a Monday open.

“Can you ask him?”

Yeah, she could. Did she want to? Meh. A spooky theme park wedding sounded interesting and right up his alley, though.

Geri reached for her phone and fired off a quick message for Patrick to call Savannah regarding a wedding gig on October 26. “Done. Patrick will call you.”

“Will he?”

“Patrick always calls back when it’s about a job.” About where he was or who he was with, not so much.

Her phone vibrated with a reply almost immediately.

“Why the short notice?” he wrote.

“Spontaneous change of venue. It’s a goth wedding at Spooksberry Farm,” she wrote back.

“Sounds like an influencer.”

“No. I work with Savannah.”

Actually…

“Just to check, you’re paying with money, right? Not, like, exposure because you’re a whimsy goth influencer?”

Savannah’s smile brightened. “Jeremy’s got a trust fund. I know his family thinks it’s gauche to talk about money, but I get you. Girls got to hustle.”

“The family’s loaded,” she wrote to Patrick.