The Bride Wore Black

by

Shunta Montgomery

ISBN 978-1-4303-1911-5

3/266

Copyright © 2007 Shunta Montgomery

All Rights Reserved

Without limiting the rights under copyright
reserved above, no part of this publication
may be reproduced, stored in or introduced
into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any
form, or by any means (electronic, mechanic-
al, photocopying, recording, or otherwise),
without the prior written permission of the
copyright owner.

Publisher’s Note:

The Bride Wore Black is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, places, and incidents
either are the product of the author’s imagin-
ation or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, business es-
tablishments, event or locales is entirely
coincidental.

Tiffany 101…

If someone had hurt you, I’m talking ripped
your heart out, sliced it into little pieces,
drove needles through it and then sewed it
back up in your chest, would you get even? I
am not talking about purposely running
them down with your car; but if the oppor-
tunity presented itself would you take it?

The adult in you is probably scream-

ing that I am a raving lunatic and there is no
way any mature, responsible adult could ever
answer that question with a yes. When it

comes to matters of the heart I don’t think
any of us are mature and responsible adults.
Until the situation for revenge arose in my
life, I had no idea what my answer would be.

It wasn’t until June 4, 2006 that I

found the answer to that question. Before I
get ahead of myself and tell you my ultimate
decision, I think I should fill you in on a few
not so delicate details.

I never thought I would become the

cliché wife. Nobody ever enters into mar-
riage thinking that one day they’ll be the wo-
man who has the husband who leaves her for
the blonde bombshell. Allison really didn’t
seem like Brendon’s type. She’s everything
that I’m not. She’s tall, slender and lacking
curves in all the right places. I’m five-four,
dark hair, dark eyes and perfectly caramel
skin. I have curves—which Brendon always
seemed to love.

It was not until after our scandalous

separation that Brendon’s friends informed

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me that I was the “exception” in his long line
of girlfriends. Richard had said, “I honestly
didn’t believe him when he introduced you
as his girlfriend because you were…well you
were different.”

To my surprise Allison was a perfect

match for Brendon’s type. I was the experi-
mental detour in a long line of women. I
hadn’t asked about his previous girlfriends. I
hadn’t needed to because I knew that Bren-
don loved every part of me. Maybe if I had
asked, assuming I would have received a
truthful answer, I might have known that
disaster was just around the bend. For the
“blonde bombshells” of the world I was the
other woman. I was the exotic female that
came and stole their man away—briefly stole
him away.

As I always say there’s no going back

because going back is for sissies and going
forward is for the brave. After the divorce
was finalized I set my mind to building a

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solid foundation for my future. My future
had no mistakes in it—at that point anyway. I
had some very interesting situations ahead
of me. As they say, anything can happen. It
all started to come together when I joined
the staff at Tiffany Weddings.

April 20, 2006

I was fresh out of job number sixty-

three and eagerly anticipating my new role
as wedding consultant at Tiffany Weddings. I
needed a fresh start after my divorce; it’s
how I justified fudging the truth in the inter-
view. Shelly Pratt had asked me how many
weddings I had planned, and before I real-
ized it, “fifteen,” I had said. Fifteen was a
drastic stretch of the truth. I had at least
planned, in its entirety, one wedding. I knew
that Shelly really wanted to know why she
should hire a thirty-year-old woman who
had ventured down more career paths than

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Liz had husbands, and had managed to get a
mail order education on bridal consulting. So
I lied. I told Shelly exactly what she wanted
to hear, hoping my lie wouldn’t end my ca-
reer before it got started.

“Anise we’re thrilled to have you on

board,” Shelly’s perfectly stained pink lips
tilted upwards. Her smile was full of warmth
and sincerity, putting me at ease instantly.

“A woman with your experience

should have no problem here, but I should
probably let you know of a few rules.” I took
in her crisp blue eyes. They were a vast dif-
ference from the friendly smile I had just
been given. Something told me these rules
weren’t the normal do the job as I tell you
too rules.

“Screw up and you’re out so fast you

won’t see the door that’s going to hit you in
the ass on the way out.” At that moment I
knew I was in trouble. Shelly, up to that
point, had been the very picture of civilized,

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high-class society. She was a socialite, beau-
tiful even in her fifties, strong and a success-
ful businesswoman, but that curse word had
escaped her lips so easily. It was just enough
to shock me back into reality. Business was
business and most people didn’t take kindly
to having their business screwed up.

“We have never had a Tiffany wedding

cancelled and I do not intend to see that
change now,” she fixed her eyes on me. “You
will be therapist, seamstress, buyer, consult-
ant and if need be you’ll bake the cake. We
here at Tiffany’s will do anything to have the
perfect Tiffany wedding.” she pointed her
finger at me as if to say don’t think I’ll take
anything less.

“Your first assignment,” she waved

her hand at me, dismissing me from her
presence. I had not exactly caught on that
when Shelly Pratt passed off an assignment
it was final.

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“I can’t do this one,” I read the name

on the pink folder. Brendon Meyers and Al-
lison Hildegrant had been perfectly typed in
the corner tab. “He’s my ex-husband.” Any
woman with a heart would have understood
my position.

“I’m sorry dear, but we don’t get to

pick our weddings.” I could see that my
protest was going to be unheard, but I tried
anyway. “Perhaps you would prefer I gave
the job to somebody else.” I knew the mean-
ing of her words; she wasn’t just talking
about the Meyers/Hildegrant wedding.

“No. I’m sure I can give them the wed-

ding they deserve.”

I would give them a Tiffany wedding

all right. Brendon had left me six months
prior to his engagement news. In fact, he had
left me for her. After a six month long, em-
bittered divorce we were both finally free. He
and Allison were engaged two days after the
divorce papers were signed and our marriage

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legally ended. I knew that Brendon had
merely waited until the divorce was final to
make the announcement. The truth was they
had an agreement long before he walked out
of our door. Out of all the wedding planning
firms in the Phoenix area they just had to
walk into this one.

Tiffany Weddings was the most eleg-

ant and prestigious firm in Phoenix. If I
bombed out of this agency, it would be a hot
day in Alaska before I set foot in another
one. I would give them all the elegance of
Tiffany; even though my vision of the nup-
tials had taken on a much more sinister view.

“Good girl. Now,” she waved her hand

at me as if she were shooing away a puppy.
“You have plenty to prepare if you’re to be
ready for your ten o’clock appointment with
the lovely couple.”

I felt my heart racing with panic as I

left Shelly’s office. Ten o’clock! Today! I
needed at least a week to prepare myself.

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Brendon had been the love of my life. We
had been married for ten years and now I
was planning his wedding to somebody else.
I was not ready for him to get remarried, and
I surely was not mature enough to plan the
event.

Megan Finnegan, my assistant and

apparently personal cheerleader for as long
as I held my office, spent the morning filling
me in on the office death traps. Donna Pi-
assecki was the office “keeper of hell.”

Everybody had assumed the devil had

given her the keys in an effort to save him-
self. Megan warned me that Donna would
probably hate me for getting the position she
wanted. It was at that point that I realized
my small lie had just landed me in a boatload
of trouble. My little entry level position was
not so entry level. The office should have giv-
en it away, but it was such an upscale com-
pany that I assumed all the wedding plan-
ners had an office with a window view of

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Downtown Phoenix. Shelly had even tossed
out the term “lead consultant” occasionally
during our morning entrance meeting, but I
thought she meant that as future tense.

I guess I should backtrack for a mo-

ment. When I decided to go to Tiffany’s and
apply for an entry level bridal consulting po-
sition I made sure all of my proverbial ducks
were in a row. I picked a few of my closest
friends and asked them to write references.

Paul was the first person I saw when I

landed at Tiffany’s that fateful day. He
thought I was looking for a wedding planner.
He jumped at the chance to show me the of-
fice. Shelly was his first stop. “Potential cli-
ent,” he had said. This is when I first realized
his standard Tiffany spill was to land an
account.

“Actually I’m applying for a consulting

position.”

Shelly immediately took me away

from Paul and instant interview was formed.

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My portfolio was flawless. Well, if you don’t
count the massive lies my friends told in
their effort to help me out.

Taylor had been the most helpful. I

had helped her considerably for her wedding
and bridal parties that she had written a
glowing recommendation on how well
equipped I was to handle any task thrown
my way. That was ten years ago, so Helena
decided to help me out as well. She wrote
about my extreme professionalism when as-
sisting her with her wedding plans. I had
only helped her pick out the menu. Then
there was Eden. She had written the most
beautiful and well scripted, lie of them all.

“Wow, you planned a wedding for

over six hundred.” I tried to keep the shock
from registering on my face when Shelly re-
vealed that slightly less than true statement.
“That is impressive for a soloist.”

I would say it was impressive. I had

attended Eden’s wedding, maybe helped

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make sure the groom did not fall apart the
morning of, but I hadn’t had a hand in the
event other than that. She not only greatly
exaggerated my assistance, but she also ex-
aggerated the number of people at the wed-
ding. There were barely a hundred people in
attendance. Obviously I hadn’t done a won-
derful job at advising my friends on their
writings.

I figured it best not to look too sur-

prised. It was my fault really. I was in such a
hurry to get things together that I had not
read any of the letters. I had assembled some
pictures from their weddings, the photos I
had taken when I was experiencing my creat-
ive side. I put in samples of the invitations
and

the

letters

of

recommendation.

Everything was in its proper place. My inter-
view presence and the beautiful portfolio had
sealed the deal. No good lie goes unpun-
ished, and I was getting my punishment two
fold.

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It wasn’t until Megan informed me

that the people who could plan the big wed-
dings and keep their social life to a minimum
were in the “society wing,” everybody else
was in “the other wing” that I realized I
might just be in over my head.

“How does one get out of “the other

wing”?

“They don’t,” she said.
“Watch out for Shannon, she smiles

when she’s around you, but she’s a spy in
hiding. She tends to stick to Donna on the
underhanded schemes, so watch your step. I
tried to warn the other girl, but you know I
guess she decided not to listen. I’ll just hope
you have more sense.” The other girl was
Heather, the woman in the office before me.

“Dave is a sweetie; he’ll be nice to you.

Paul is a flirt. He’s slept with most of the wo-
men in the company, including me. If Shelly
calls put on your running shoes and get in
her office stat. The rest of the assistants are

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too busy covering their backs to care about
you. Oh and nobody ever says they’re behind
or they haven’t done something, even if they
are and they haven’t. You’ll say ‘I’m right on
top of that’—except to Paul. He usually
replies that he’d rather have you on top of
something else…”

I tried to keep the information from

collapsing every neuron in my brain as I
watched Megan’s lips move in what my cous-
in Jerry would have called “warp speed”. The
slender brunette had been so eager to share
the office gossip that she had barely left
room for breathing. My head filled with in-
formation so fast I thought I would go into
meltdown. Tiffany 101 before planning for
Brendon’s

wedding

was

not

a

great

combination.

“Oh and Anise,” I looked up realizing

Megan had finally surfaced for air. “Don’t
trust anybody.” I had assumed she was refer-
ring to the hastened way Heather had been

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escorted out of the office. “Around here
you’re on your own. When I say nobody that
includes me too. I work for whoever is in this
office, but if you’re on your way out I’m not
goin’ with ya if you know what I mean.”

My friend Taylor had once said that

the greener grass on the other side of the
fence is really the manure of a sick animal,
we just don’t realize the stench until we’re
stuck knee deep in it. At that point I realized
I was knee deep. I was in hell, and my first
encounter with its keeper was unavoidable.

Donna walked into my office as if she

owned it. I guess in her mind she did own it,
and it was only a matter of time until the un-
welcome intruder was ousted.

“These are yours too,” Donna tossed a

pile of unorganized folders onto my desk.

“Excuse me.” I gave her a look that

should have shot down her confident sar-
casm, but had only managed to add more
fuel to her fire.

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“Well when Shelly told us of your tal-

ent, fifteen weddings in one summer…” I
tried to keep the shock from registering on
my face. I was sure that Donna’s cold, emer-
ald colored eyes would scan out my deceit. “I
must admit I was shocked.”

So was I; especially since I hadn’t

heard the question as how many weddings
had I done in one summer. Stick a fork in me
Phoenix; I’m done.

“You’re so good at this that I thought

you’d be perfect for the Meyers/Hildegrant
affair as well as these. Ciao,” she swiveled
her hips out of my office. At that precise mo-
ment I understood everything Megan had
been telling me and everything that she had
not. Donna Piassecki was a disaster in
waiting.

Coming in as lead consultant at the

start of what I like to call “bridal mania” sea-
son meant that all of my brides would be
down the aisle within a four month time

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span. Some of the work had already been
started, but that didn’t make my job any
easier.

“Anise your ten o’clock is here.”

Megan gave me a thumb up and a quick
smile.

“Show them in.” I quickly removed all

sharp objects from my immediate grasp. In
all of my years of being married to Brendon
it wasn’t until the end that he found my weak
spots, my hot zones, and all the buttons to
push to send me into a furious rant.

“Well would you look at this; my ex is

planning my wedding.” Brendon nearly
laughed. “When Donna recommended I let
you plan I was a little skeptical.” At that
point I knew Donna and I were simply never
going to be peaceful work mates. We would
probably kill each other first.

Thanks to the keeper of hell I had to

plan five weddings. Two of which worried me
more than any of the others. I had to brave

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the threshold of maturity and work with
Brendon, who had broken my heart and
abandoned me; Allison who had been the
adulteress that took down what could have
been a lifelong relationship; and Evelyn
Chase, who wanted to have her wedding in a
place where the owner had made adamant
broadcast that there never has been and nev-
er will be a wedding at North Point.

I understood Evelyn’s desire to be

married at such a luxurious resort, but Alex-
ander Covington, the owner, was not in a
hurry to go back on his promise.

After twenty minutes with my clients,

I was assured that my professionalism could
far outweigh the darker side of a broken
heart. A lie would always come back to haunt
my waking hours, and given a chance, good
would eternally be linked with disaster. In-
stead of feeling sorry for myself I decided to
turn my seeming misfortune into gold.

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By the end of the day I had began to

move slowly out of what Taylor referred to as
the manure of a sick animal, and by the end
of the week I had reached greener pastures,
with the occasional pile of crap to watch out
for. I found that as long as I didn’t step in the
pile the stench didn’t follow me home.

“How’s the job?”
Taylor had been my best friend since

high school. We moved to Arizona within
weeks of each other. We were married within
months of each other, and even though
nobody thought that her marriage would last
past the first year she and Dan had made it
work while Brendon and I had fallen apart.

“Fine,” I grunted.
“I thought it was getting better,” she

spoke in her ‘I’m here for you’ tone that she
often gave me when things seemed to be go-
ing down hill fast.

“No really it’s fine considering I’ve

brought work home every evening. Evelyn

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isn’t budging on the North Point wedding
and my calendar puts me at dress shopping
with the enemy tomorrow.”

For a week I had planned, calculated,

shopped and bargained on my own. Now it
was time to include the brides. Out of all of
my brides, Allison was the only one I wished
I could have pawned off on Megan.

“Look on the bright side.”
“You mean the one where Allison and

Brendon both contract some exotic, yet in-
curable disease and they die excruciatingly
painful deaths.”

“The other bright side sweetie.”
“Oh.” Taylor always seemed to handle

my battle with maturity much better than my
subconscious.

“You know what you need?” I hadn’t

bothered to think of a response. I knew the
tone of Taylor’s voice meant she already had
an answer. “You need to start dating again.”
Her words hit me like a freight train

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barreling down hill. I hadn’t considered dat-
ing again. Until I started planning Brendon’s
wedding a small part of my brain actually
thought he might come back to me.

What Donna Piassecki hadn’t known

was that in one second of her batting her
eyes and swiveling her hips to get Brendon to
hire me, she had set in motion my recovery.
Of course at that point I hadn’t known it
either.

For six months I tricked myself into

believing Brendon would see the error of his
ways and come home. It’s why I fought so
hard for the china even though I hated the
hideous blue and brown pattern that his
mother had picked out. I did everything I
could to keep the divorce form being final-
ized without letting on that I didn’t really
want it to be final. I could not understand it
at the time. Why would I want to take back a
man who had broken every vow we had
taken?

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“Did you hear me?” Taylor’s voice

snapped me back to the present.

“Right a date is really what I need

right now,” sarcasm dripped from my words.
I was planning five weddings, trying to keep
my house with some resemblance of being
clean. I didn’t have time to go out looking for
a relationship. “What I really need is a part-
ner in crime.”

“We can’t kill her no matter how

much you want to.”

“The thought hadn’t crossed my

mind.”

What I needed was somebody to help

me get past the guard at North Point. I had
been there twice already. Each time Eric
Cleaver, Mr. Covington’s business associate,
had shot me down. The last time he told the
guard not to let me back into North Point. If
I planned to keep my job I needed to get past
Eric and go straight to Alexander Coving-
ton’s office. I was certain that Mr. Covington,

26/266

after listening to me, could come to appreci-
ate the need to have the wedding at North
Point.

“You want me to help you break into

North Point?”

“Well when you say it like that...”

Breaking in sounded so unethical of me and
highly illegal. I preferred the term entering
without invitation.

“I’m

up

for

it,

how

about

Wednesday?”

“Great. He’ll be there between ten and

two and then at four,” or so my source had
told me. I was starting to feel oddly as if I
were becoming a stalker, but Shelly did say
we at Tiffany Weddings would do anything
to ensure the “perfect Tiffany wedding.” I
figured I could remind her of that if I needed
bail money.

Before I joined Tiffany Weddings, if

anybody had asked me what lengths I would
have gone through to keep a job, I would

27/266

have told them that I would in no way humi-
liate myself for employment. As my mother
would say, never say what you won’t do until
you’ve been given the opportunity to do it.

I knew that no matter how much my

mind told me I had to get through this wed-
ding with a brave face and as much loyalty to
the Bridal Consultant’s creed as I could, my
heart was slowly winning the battle. It was
all the little things really.

Allison had wanted lilies, but I had

convinced her that sunflowers were the new
rave in weddings. I laughed about it secretly,
but then I felt guilty. Apparently I did not
feel guilty enough to change the plans. I
thought I would stop there. There would be
no more interfering; I would make sure Allis-
on and Brendon had a beautiful wedding.
Well, with the exception of the hideous yel-
low flowers that would be at the center of
every table.

28/266

I justified my lapse in judgment as

closing the gap on the score, even if only by a
small margin. I swore never to do it again.

When I went to North Point I needed

somebody to bring me back to ground level.
It’s why I asked Taylor to go along. Instead
of keeping me grounded she spent the entire
time getting lost in the beauty of North Point
while

I

crawled

around

on

the

floor—literally.

The day had started normally with the

exception of hiding in the back seat of
Taylor’s car while she managed to sneak me
past the first gate. It seemed like a lot of
trouble to go through for a wedding that was
not even mine.

For the bride who would not com-

promise I put aside my dignity and pro-
ceeded to gravel and beg. The most humiliat-
ing part of the entire event was that I was
crawling on the floor trying to clear the
second obstacle to getting in to see Mr.

29/266

Covington when the elevator doors opened
and there he stood.

“Hello. Did you lose something?” He

was much more attractive than the picture.
Of course me on hands and knees staring up
at him was not the best time to go girly.

“Hi. My name is Anise Meyers.” I

pulled myself up as gracefully as possible. I
can’t imagine it made much difference.

“I know who you are.” He laughed.

“Though I must say I never imagined you
wedding planners went to such lengths.”

“Bridal Consultants,” I corrected.

There was something in the way he said
“wedding planner” that made it seem less
than important. I barely knew him and
already I despised him. Mr. Covington was
like every other man in the free world,
arrogant, self-assuming and sexist.

“Mr. Covington if you would just hear

me out for two minutes you’ll no doubt see

30/266

the benefits of hosting a wedding at North
Point.”

“My time is precious. I’m not sure I

can spare two minutes.”

I could deliver my case in less than

sixty seconds if I had to. Breathing was def-
initely optional at that point.

“I’ll make a deal with you. Convince

me before this elevator reaches my office and
you might have yourself a wedding venue.” I
could have sworn he was coming down not
going up, but who was I to argue. He was giv-
ing me a chance. That was more than I had
gotten with my last four attempts.

I stepped into the private elevator

with the incredibly gorgeous, yet extremely
arrogant, man and began to state the
facts—quickly. I hit all the usual points. Free
publicity was my introduction. I told him he
would look favorable by opening his doors to
accommodate a very special day, and it could
bring in more clients. I thought I was hitting

31/266

all the high points until he looked at me with
those sexy blue eyes and said, “So what does
any of this have to do with me?” For a second
I thought he wasn’t serious. I had played up
all of the “I” points and he still wanted to
know what it had to do with him. All of my
points thus far had involved money and im-
age; there was only one point of attack left.

“You’ll get the satisfaction of knowing

you did a good thing by saving the bride’s
special day and my career.” If money wasn’t
an issue then maybe faith and good will
would be. “Not that it’ll matter much if I
can’t get over my bitterness and successfully
plan my ex’s wedding to his slut girlfriend.” I
wondered what he was smirking at until I
realized, “I just said that out loud didn’t I?”

“Yes you did.” He laughed. I had just

broken rule number one of being a Tiffany
consultant; I had let my personal feelings
slip off my sleeve and into the business
world.

32/266

The loud ding of the elevator signified

that my time was up. “Well?” If I had not
persuaded him then Evelyn would probably
have me fired, and Brendon could gloat
about another one of my failed careers.

“You haven’t convinced me to have a

wedding at North Point.” He paused; prob-
ably trying to decide if he would have to call
the cops to cart me away or an ambulance to
resuscitate me. “You have convinced me to
give you a little more time to try.”

It was at that moment that I realized

that Mr. Covington was not the cold-hearted
selfish bastard I had made him out to be. He
was a very nice man who deserved humanit-
arian of the year or something better.

“Over lunch.”
At that point I thought my first im-

pression might have been accurate.

“Don’t worry. If I were trying to get in

your pants I would have invited you to din-
ner.” I wondered if I had once again opened

33/266

my mouth without thinking. “No you didn’t
say that out loud. You’re just an easy read.”
He stepped off the elevator and into the elab-
orately decorated office space. I wasn’t sure
if I was supposed to follow, but I did. I wasn’t
going to let him out of my site until he
agreed to a North Point wedding.

I followed him past the receptionist; I

think he called her Tonya. He mumbled
something about ordering lunch and then
kept walking. I stuck with him until I real-
ized… “Unless you’d like to stay.” He un-
zipped his pants and for the first time I no-
ticed I was in his bathroom.

“Um, no that’s okay.” I walked away

as quickly as I could, probably doing what
could have passed as a brisk walk and a slow
jog. I had certainly gotten off to a glorious
start. Despite my embarrassing first impres-
sion he listened intently to all that I had to
say.

34/266

“Why bridal consulting?” He mocked

in my previous tone of voice. I guess when I
corrected him I sounded slightly less than
friendly.

“It seemed like a good idea at the

time.” It sounded better than saying I was
desperate, had tried all the other jobs and
figured why not add one more career to my
list of failures.

“And now?”
“I love the possibilities. Helping

people have their dream, seeing couples in
love and happy. It gives me hope. I really
think I have a chance at being good at this.”

He wanted to know why I was the one

planning my ex-husband's wedding. “Surely
Tiffany Weddings has other consultants,” he
had said.

“Yes several, but unfortunately…” I

told him about Donna and how she had con-
vinced Brendon to hire me. I mentioned how
competitive the office was, and how turning

35/266

down an assignment was not an option.
Somewhere in my ramblings I managed to
tell him about my mistaken, or not so mis-
taken, lie. “…So that’s why I’m working in
overdrive. I have a lot to prove.” That was the
understatement of the year.

“I have to say you’re the most dedicated
bridal consultant I’ve ever met.”
“So does that mean we can have the
wedding here?”
“No.”

“You can’t say I didn’t try,” I smiled.

Lunch with Alex was the most fun I had had
since the divorce, and it really helped to talk
to somebody. I was sure Shelly wouldn’t care
how cathartic my visit with Alex was; she
wanted to ensure that the Chase wedding
was going off as planned.

“North Point really isn’t the place for

a wedding, but I do have another property
your bride is sure to love.”

“Oh you don’t know this bride.”

36/266

“Then we’ll just have to convince her,”

he looked in my eyes and I nearly forgot
what we were talking about. Had it been that
long since I had felt the rush of sexual intim-
acy? “Together,” he smiled. It had obviously
been long enough for me to go completely
weak in the knees at his overtly sexy
demeanor.

“You’re brave; I’ll give you credit for

that.” He had no idea how stubborn a bride
could be.

“Maybe you can bring her to this ad-

dress Friday.” He slid the light gray station-
ary in front of me.

“Eleven.” I nodded as he agreed to my

request. I hadn’t wanted to move from that
moment. He was gorgeous, sexy and amaz-
ingly sweet. I wanted to talk to him forever,
but then I remembered Taylor. I grabbed my
purse.

“Thanks for lunch, but I really have to

go now.” In my haste I once again managed

37/266

to go through the wrong door. “Bathroom,”
we said in unison as I walked back into the
office. “Priceless,” I laughed nervously as I
managed to finally get through the right
door. Flirt of the year was not an award I was
ever going to win.

When I finally managed to meet up

with Taylor I found myself apologizing pro-
fusely for ditching her for so long.

“So did you enjoy yourself?” I knew

this tone. It was laced with innuendo and I
was determined to stomp out that fire before
it spread.

“We were discussing business. How

did you know where I was?” Last I had seen
of her she was headed toward the snack bar.

“Some very nice lady came and told

me where you were. She offered me
something to drink too so you’re driving
home,” she winked. “So?”

“The wedding is not happening here,

but he’s offering another property.”

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“And you think she that shall not be

named will go for it?”

“I don’t know. If she doesn’t I’m

screwed.” The thought had occurred to me
that if I didn’t make it work I might have to
change my name and move to some remote
place like Kalamazoo.

All I had to do was convince Miss

Evelyn Chase to look at the other offer; a task
that I knew would be difficult at best. Since I
had started planning Evelyn’s wedding she
had refused to look at any reception halls I
offered as alternatives. I had even said, “Just
in case Evelyn,” and even then she didn’t go
for it. I could break rule number two and lie
to my client, but I had told enough lies and
they had all landed me in deeper waters than
I was prepared to swim through.

I knew that if Evelyn did not book by

the weekend there was no way we could have
the invitations printed and mailed in time.
Thank God she had gone for the save the

39/266

date cards I recommended. At least the guest
who planned on attending had, or at least I
hoped they had, planned for the time away
from their normal, everyday routines.

Ray Sanders was my other silver lin-

ing. He had promised me that Evelyn’s invit-
ations would have priority, assuming she
ever decided on having them printed. He
completely understood my bride from hell
moment, and he had given me the utmost re-
spect and consideration. He hated Donna
too, which is another reason he took to me so
kindly.

The feud between Donna and I had

put me on automatic friendship terms with
Ray. “Any woman who can knock that witch
off her throne is a friend of mine,” he had
said in an unusual catty manner.

Donna and Ray had long ago fallen on

odds with each other. Apparently she was as
rude to him as she seemed to be to every-
body she knew. Ray; however, was not

40/266

impervious to her insults. Their feud worked
to my advantage.

Ray was the exclusive Tiffany Wed-

ding

bridal

invitation

supplier.

From

showers to engagement dinners if it were a
Tiffany event Ray supplied the invitations.
To go against this natural chain of events
was to defy nature and ultimately burry one’s
career.

I liked Ray. Despite his incessant need

to give me makeup tips he was a fun guy to
be around. He always made me laugh, espe-
cially when I was meeting with Brendon and
the new girl, to pick invitations. I had only
known Ray for a few short weeks, but I knew
we were going to get along just fine.

41/266

Those are the Breaks

I was nervous, terrified actually. Evelyn
wanted North Point more than she wanted
the wedding itself. I wanted to keep my job.
This meeting would be the deal breaker in
my new career. If I could not convince
Evelyn on a venue other than North Point I
could wave goodbye to Tiffany Weddings.

During the divorce, and shortly there

after, I learned that no one can promise
forever, life will always be predictable in that
it’s unpredictable, bad things are not limited
to only happening in threes, and a lie, once

told, is hard to correct and even harder to
maintain.

My friends, in their effort to get me

past the divorce, had even further fabricated
my lie and embellished with their own. The
one good thing to come of all of it was that I
was very much enjoying my job.

Two of my assignments were merely

wedding day coordinating. This was not usu-
al for Tiffany Weddings, but it worked out
great for me. I was a novice planner not an
expert. When I first saw the pile of folders on
my desk I wanted to quickly walk away. After
the first few weeks I managed to impress my-
self with my ability to plan for my brides.

Bridal consulting was the first job I

actually loved doing, the first job I saw as a
career and the first job I was afraid of loos-
ing. Tiffany Weddings had come to mean so
much to me in such a short period of time.

My first bride was set to be married

on May twenty-first. Excited? No. I think

43/266

nervous would be a more appropriate word
to describe what I was feeling at that time.
Stefanie had hired us to be the wedding day
coordinator, which made my job more diffi-
cult. I had talked to Stefanie once in order to
introduce myself and arrange a time that we
could meet. With that one phone call I found
out what type of bride Stefanie was. She fell
into the category that I call “the know-all,
do-all bride”. The only help she wanted was
maintaining order on the wedding day and
therefore meeting with me to discuss the
wedding was not necessary. I understood the
need to see that things were done precisely
as she wanted, but knowing exactly what
those things were was something that would
have helped me immensely.

Brendon had once told me I was born

to worry. I worried about vacations that were
a year away, bills that hadn’t come in yet and
dinner that wasn’t for another four days he

44/266

had said. He thought I was crazy for stress-
ing what he called “the small stuff”.

I worried about vacations because I

was the only one planning them, bills be-
cause their arrival was imminent, and dinner
because I was the one shopping for it.

I worried about everything. I made list

for everything, but I saw my behavior as an
asset. My advanced planning always worked
out for the best. When Brendon was having a
phenomenal time in Tuscany I didn’t hear
him complaining. When our credit limit was
raised because I paid the bills on time he was
the first to spend the money. When he came
home to a well prepared dinner he was the
first to eat it. I might have worried about
everything from retirement plans to match-
ing my underwear to my outfit, but the bene-
fits far outweighed the worry.

“T-minus two hours and counting

Tay.”

45/266

“Are you nervous?” My entire career

depended on Evelyn’s decision. Shelly had
made it perfectly clear that there was no
margin for error at Tiffany Weddings. I
would say not having a venue in time for the
wedding would be considered a serious er-
ror. I would have to convince Evelyn to take
this new place at all cost. “Of course, Evelyn
is bridezilla on speed.”

“I wasn’t talking about that. I’m talk-

ing about Alex.”

“He’s already offered the place. I don’t

think there will be a problem on that end.” I
knew that wasn’t exactly what she had in
mind when she asked her question.

“Tay it’s not even like that. It’s strictly

a business arrangement.” Alex is definitely
the type of man that can set a woman to
thinking. I; however, was not looking for a
relationship. I was on a break from the dat-
ing scene. That’s what I tried to convince my-
self of anyway.

46/266

“Right, sure, I believe you. Business has
you spending an extra thirty on hair and
makeup.”
I looked at my perfectly pushed up hair
and flawless makeup. “And how long did
it take you to pick out your outfit?”
Two hours and twenty minutes, but
who’s counting. “Not long,” I replied.

Taylor, despite my protest, knew the

unmistakable lift in my voice and she had
made it her mission to see that the lift stayed
right where it was.

I liked Alex, but I was afraid. My track

record with men had not been that great. My
first boyfriend, Nate Baxter, had paraded me
on his arm to the junior prom and paraded
Missy Casper out of it. My second boyfriend,
Hank Lankan, seemed oddly fascinated only
with the help I could give him with calculus.
I worked on the homework while he went to
the college games.

47/266

Whoever coined the term “third time’s

the charm” apparently knew nothing about
relationships. Brendon was my third, and
supposed last, boyfriend. I married him and
he walked off with my heart. I could honestly
say the third time was not the charm for me.

“You’re strong Anise you’ll bounce

back,” Taylor had said. Sure I was strong,
feisty and usually ready to take on the world,
but there was that other part of me. It was
the part that never truly realized just how
much I would miss being held until there
was nobody around to do it.

As a bridal consultant, no matter what

my personal feelings were I was supposed to
know how to put my professional face first.
Something I had lapsed in doing a couple
times, but I vowed to get better. No tearing
up, crawling, mumbling or bad recommend-
ations—at least that was the plan.

The office had been crazy that week. I

had attributed the lack of usual Tiffany

48/266

perfection to the fact that we all had impend-
ing nuptials within the few weeks to follow.
Paul and Donna were exceptionally busy,
and Shannon, well I hadn’t seen much of her.

It was at about nine o’clock Thursday

when it all seemed to go south. Shelly, in all
her gracefulness, called a consultants meet-
ing. While I was happy to know I wasn’t the
only consultant with the bride from hell, I
wasn’t happy to be put on the spot. Donna
mentioned my brides name in a calculated
effort to divert attention away from her
many mistakes.

“How is the Chase affair going?”

Shelly frowned in the only manner that a wo-
man with too many Botox injections could.
The truth was what I had assured myself I
would tell.

“It’s going great.” Then again it was

not as if I were working in a very consultant
friendly environment.

49/266

“Last I heard you still didn’t have a

venue.” Donna’s smile was genuinely evil.

“The venue is taken care of, but thank

you for your concern Donna.” I kept my
voice professional. “No need to worry Shelly,
my brides will be ready to float down the
aisle right on time.”

Shelly looked at me, and for a mo-

ment I wondered if she could see my deceit.
“That’s good Anise. I only wish the rest of my
consultants were so adequately on top of
their weddings.” I fought the smile ap-
proaching my lips. “You should all take a les-
son from Anise.” Shelly pursed her pink
painted lips tightly together. I looked at the
other consultants and I realized I was going
to pay for that compliment. At that moment;
however, I was simply taking delight in the
knowledge that I had fooled them all, includ-
ing Shelly “perfection” Pratt.

50/266

At precisely 10:50 I arrived at my des-

tination. “No pressure.” I told myself, though
somehow I knew there was enough pressure
to draw blood from a stone. I had no idea
what my next step would be if Evelyn didn’t
decide on the new venue. Alex wasn’t going
to cave, and if Evelyn didn’t break we were
going to be one wedding down. “No
pressure.”

“That’s right gorgeous. No pressure.” I

turned to see Alex standing within inches of
me. God he was cute. Business as usual, but
the black suit did nothing to hide his muscu-
lar shoulders.

“I didn’t hear you arrive.” If I had I

would have leaned on the car like one of the
women in those sexy wine commercials. I
wanted to say something clever, but the hum
of Evelyn’s blue VW bug interrupted me.
“Let’s get this show on the road.” I took a
deep breath, hoping to calm my nerves.

“Evelyn this is…”

51/266

“Don’t think I’m changing my mind.”

Her tone was pleasant, but the meaning be-
hind the words was the same. “I agreed to
see this place only because you’ve been so
nice to me. But I want North Point Anise.”

I wanted a million dollars, Hugh Jack-

man’s clone and a villa in the south of
France, but I wasn’t stomping my feet and
pouting. I had learned long ago that we can-
not always get what we want. Unfortunately,
this red-headed vixen hadn’t yet reached that
lesson. I wondered if the unemployment
lines were longer on Tuesdays or Wednes-
days. Those are the breaks I guess.

52/266

Death of a Career

“Anise! Get in here!” Shelly yelled. I could
tell that something was not right at the of-
fice. Unfortunately, Megan was no where in
sight.

I tried to think of positive reasons for

Shelly to be yelling for me. The only thing I
could think of was the fact that Donna hated
me. If she could find a way to get me fired
she would. Megan had already warned me to
lock all of my files up at night.

The morning we walked into my office

and saw the Kroger file lying open on my

desk Megan had said, “I thought I told you to
lock all of your files away.” Megan raced to
my desk. It was not as if we had been robbed.

“Calm down,” I dismissed her panic.

While I knew leaving a file out for the clean-
ing people to find wasn’t the best idea, I also
knew accidents happened.

“You don’t understand that’s how

Heather went down. She…” I turned to see
what had stopped the flow of the much
needed information. What I saw was the dev-
il herself.

“Morning Donna,” I tried my hand at

polite conversation when I really wanted to
tell her what a stuck-up, maniacal witch I
thought she was. She nodded with a small
grin that told me she had something up her
sleeves and then she walked away. A week
later and I had already forgotten and started
to relax, until Shelly started yelling my name.

I started to think about life after

Tiffany Weddings. I couldn’t envision it. It’s

54/266

not as if my life was terrible beforehand and
the thought of leaving Tiffany’s sent me into
total shock. Sure I had gone through jobs like
a baby goes through dippers, my husband
had left me and recently I had actually found
myself reading the “strippers wanted” ads,
but life wasn’t devastatingly unbearable.

When I started wedding planning

nobody thought I would last at this new ca-
reer move. I had only taken the bridal course
because I liked helping my friends out with
their weddings and I thought it would be
something fun to play with. When Brendon
left me I realized that I might have to take
my new hobby and make it a career. My
track record with jobs had my odds at stay-
ing at this job longer than a month right up
there with the Cleveland Browns going to the
Super Bowl. In fact, I think the Brown’s had
better odds.

55/266

“Anise!” I had already cracked open

the door when Shelly bellowed out my name
again.

“You wanted to see me.” I walked

steadily to Shelly’s desk, shocked by the con-
fidence in my tone.

“My headaches are back,” she rubbed

the tips of her fingers against her temple. We
all knew this signal. It wasn’t an indication of
pain. It was Shelly’s way of drumming up
sympathy while showing off perfectly mani-
cured nails.

“Sit down Anise.” I hesitated. I might

have been on shaky ground, but I deserved
more respect than a command that someone
would shout at a dog. “Please.” She directed
me to sit. I decided to sit since she had asked
so politely.

“What a day.” The idle chit chat an-

noyed me, but I smiled anyway. I knew that
at some point Shelly would reach the point of
our impromptu meeting. “Anise I swear

56/266

sometimes this place is falling apart.” Once
again she massaged the side of her temples.
“I had to fire Shannon today.” Shock waves
flowed through my brain. Was I on the same
station as Shelly? Had she really fired
Shannon?

“Why?” I didn’t want to pry, but I was

curious.

“Oh never mind that,” she pursed her

lips and looked at me. This was my indica-
tion to let the discussion rest. I knew I could
always ask Megan later.

I braced myself, relieved that I wasn’t

being fired and afraid that Donna had man-
aged to convince Shelly that I was a super
bridal consultant who could handle a heavier
case load.

“I have divided her work between the

others. I called you in here to congratulate
you on a job well done. Evelyn called. She’s
very pleased with this new venue. She had

57/266

nothing but praise for you. I knew you could
do it Anise.”

Shelly’s confidence in me was both a

boost to my ego and a blow to my con-
science. Before Evelyn uttered those three
magic words, “I’ll take it,” I had no clue as to
what I would do next.

I should have been wallowing in de-

light, but when Shelly called me her lead
bridal consultant I started to feel guilty. She
respected and trusted me. I was lying to her
about my credentials everyday. I didn’t feel
guilty enough to come clean.

“It wasn’t easy.”
“It never is,” she replied. “It takes a

certain something to make it work, and you
obviously have it Anise.”

After what one can only describe as a

day of triumphant highs and lows, I needed
to celebrate my one moment of victory. I had
called Taylor, but she had plans of her own.
She told me she had a bottle of red wine and

58/266

a sexy night with her husband planned. As
much as she wanted to celebrate with me,
she wanted to be with Dan more. So I did the
next best thing; I called Alex. I had just lost
my nerve and was getting ready to hang up
the phone when he answered.

His deep, sexy voice captivated me,

and for a moment I felt as if I had forgotten
how to speak. “Alex, it’s Anise,” I rambled
on. At some point I must have come to the
point of my phone call because he said he
would be right over.

After resolving to put on my worn,

dark blue jeans and a pale pink t-shirt, I
busied myself with fixing the only thing left
in the cabinets—popcorn. Not the mi-
crowave, done in three minutes kind, but the
kind my mom made for us when we were
kids; the fresh, hot off the stove, real melted
butter popcorn that brought us all together
at the end of the week.

59/266

Alex arrived just as I was taking the

popcorn off the stove. “I wasn’t sure what to
bring.” He stood there with a case of beer in
one hand and a bottle of red wine in the
other.

“What goes best with popcorn?” We

laughed. The entire time I couldn’t stop
thinking about how great he looked in that
baby blue button down, and how amazing he
would probably look out of it too.

“Your job is still in tact I take it,” he

smiled. He had a gorgeous smile. It was the
kind of smile that lingered forever. I told him
about my day after we met with Evelyn. I
listened as he spoke about his day. I had to
remind myself to stop watching his mouth.
He had the most luscious lips I had ever seen
on a guy. They were inviting, intriguing and
arousing. I imagined him to be a good kisser.
I imagined it because I hadn’t actually had
the nerve to lean in for a taste.

60/266

One would think I would have been

past the adolescent school girl insecurities,
but I wasn’t. Instead of saying what I wanted
to say I kept speaking about the unimportant
aspects of our work day.

I was mid sentence when he interrup-

ted me. “I’d much rather talk about you,” he
smiled again. I don’t know how he expected
me to think when he kept smiling at me. “I’m
curious, how do you manage to find yourself
in such awkward situations and still look so
unbelievably sexy?” I was sure the awkward
situation Alex was referencing was my North
Point incident. At that moment the only
thing on my mind was that he had just called
me sexy.

“I don’t know. I guess it all stems back

to my childhood.” He gave me a look that
told me he wasn’t sure I should start therapy
without the therapist. “Really,” I laughed. “I
was always falling down stairs, bumping into
something, getting my skirt stuck in my

61/266

underwear. After a while I guess I just
learned how to recover gracefully.”

Crawling around on the floor of an

upscale resort wasn’t exactly graceful, but
everything turned out fairly well. Ray was
rushing Evelyn’s invitations to print. Shelly
was content with my work. I was safely in
her good graces. Alex was interested in me
and life was good, well almost good.

Despite my intentions to move past

Brendon’s betrayal I still found it difficult to
plan his wedding. I wasn’t sure if that meant
I wasn’t ready to move forward in a relation-
ship, or if it just meant I still had some grow-
ing to accomplish.

What I did know was that I wasn’t

ready to risk missing out on a potentially
good relationship. I leaned in, softly planting
my lips on Alex’s lips and kissing him gently.
I pulled away slightly, not far enough to look
in his eyes, but just enough to see if he would
lean in for more. He did.

62/266

I leaned in again, softly kissing his

lips, slowly deepening my caress. His fingers
slipped through my soft curls. His hand em-
braced the back of my head, pushing me
deeper into the moment. “Hmm,” the moan
escaped me before I could hold back. He
deepened his kiss. His tongue softly dancing
with mine until slowly, he pulled back and
looked into my eyes.

“Wow,” he said.
“My thoughts exactly.” Talk about

sparks and passion.

63/266

Another Day at the Office…

I realized that getting the job and keeping
the job were one in the same. If I could con-
vince Shelly that I was phenomenal enough
to be hired on to a top spot at Tiffany Wed-
dings, then I could very well overcome
Donna's high school sports antics and keep
my job. With that resolve I ventured into my
meeting with bride number one with more
attitude than before.

“I know this is just a day of planning

effort, but you don't want it to come across
that way to your guest.” I pushed the list of

task in front of Stefanie. “I need to be sure of
exactly what you're looking for and the best
way to do that is for us to spend more than
five minutes with each other.”

I proposed that we actually have

lunch as opposed to a quick sip of our drinks
and moving on. It must have been my take
charge attitude because Stefanie sat back,
ordered a chicken salad and actually listened
to what I had to say. With some recaps of her
dream wedding and finalization of small de-
tails I was sure I could handle her wedding
day coordinating with no problems.

Back at the office the day went back to

its usual office backstabbing, knife wielding,
cut throat behavior. Shelly had called Donna
and me into her office for an impromptu
meeting.

“How

are

your

brides,”

Donna

smirked. I knew the look, but I wasn't sure
why Donna could confidently ask me that
question in front of Shelly.

65/266

“Stefanie is all set to walk this week-

end, Evelyn selected her venue, Toni is ready
with only a few minor details to attend to, Al-
lison is still dress shopping and Nicolette and
I have a meeting this afternoon. How are
your brides Donna?” I smiled semi-
pleasantly.

“My brides are fine. In fact, Nicolette

called me this morning and asked if I could
be her wedding day coordinator. It would
seem that you're not really giving her the at-
tention she needs.”

I was shocked. None of my conversa-

tions with Nicolette indicated that she was
unhappy. I realized why the Kroger file had
been on my desk that morning. Donna had
managed to steal my bride; worse, she made
that fact known in front of Shelly.

“What a shame,” Shelly's tone didn't

seem as if she were ready to lecture me on
the importance of giving all of our attention
to every bride. “Donna since you are now

66/266

busy, and Anise now that you have a free
space, I'm going to give the Lexington wed-
ding to you.”

It was the most coveted wedding in

the company, and it was mine.

“But...”
“It is a shame Donna. I was going to

give it to you, but now that you're busy I’ll
pass it on to Anise. You'll have plenty of time
dear,” Shelly rubbed my shoulder and then
walked back to her oversized antique chair.

The first thing I needed to do was

make contact with my new bride-to-be. I
knew of Stacey Lexington. She was a Scotts-
dalian socialite. Everybody knew of her fath-
er’s money. His cosmetic surgery business
was the most successful in town. The gossip
columnist hadn’t been able to pinpoint which
of the seven currents was going to become
the one permanent for Stacey. There’s a
small sense of victory in being in the know

67/266

before everybody else. I just had to get my
hands on the Lexington file.

“Anise you're meeting with the groom

this afternoon.”

I was used to selling the bride, not the

groom. Every consultant knew that no mat-
ter how grounded in reality the bride was,
there was still that hint of little girl fantasy
left. Every bride wanted the “perfect” wed-
ding. She wanted to stand out, look gor-
geous, and feel like a princess.

The grooms usually sat by and went

with whatever the bride wished, with the oc-
casional input on guest, food and music. Sit
back and let the women do the work was the
unspoken rule among the men. I’d seen this
many times. My wedding had seen this rule
amplified one hundred times. The more I
tried to involve Brendon the less work he
did.

I believed that selling the groom

would be difficult, but my meeting that

68/266

afternoon proved the opposite. I was almost
positive that Mitch was the most laid-back,
easy to please groom in the history of
grooms.

69/266

Diva in Dressing Room Four

“Don’t smile too much. Don’t keep a static
face. Never frown and never look shocked,
puzzled or just plain lost.”

I listened to Shelly rattle off her list. I

dreaded her next question. She would want
to know how the Meyers/Hildegrant wed-
ding was coming along. It wasn’t something I
wanted to share with the entire office.

Our staff meetings generally went the

same way. Shelly would give us a lecture on
Tiffany etiquette, and then she would pro-
ceed

to

circle

the

room

gathering

information on our current projects. She
would always start to her right and gradually
move around the perfectly pressed room.

Usually I was sandwiched somewhere

in the middle, but on that particular occasion
I had managed to get the only chair left avail-
able in the room. I was sitting right next to
Shelly; I knew that meant I would go first. If
I hadn’t spent a half hour assuring Evelyn
that the invitations had gone out on time, if
“on time” was even an option, I could have
arrived at the meeting on time. I had walked
into the meeting ten minutes late. I hadn’t
gone unnoticed. Nobody had ever made it to
a Tiffany staff meeting late.

When the question came I decided to

do what I had been doing from the begin-
ning, I lied. “It’s going very well. We’re dress
shopping today.”

“Flowers?”
“Check.”

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When Shelly wanted to know what

type the bride had settled on I knew hesitat-
ing would sink me, but I couldn’t lie this time
either. “She wanted sunflowers.” I saw the
look of horror on Shelly’s face. Sunflowers
were not a guest at any of Tiffany Weddings
bridal events. “I’m working on making the
sunflowers fade into the background.” Shelly
smiled at me. Somehow that one smile let me
breathe easier.

I had no intention of changing the

flowers, or even suggesting a change. I
planned to leave the hideous yellow mon-
sters floating around the room. I wanted
them on every table, in every corner, and if I
thought I could have done it, I would have
had the bride walk down with a bouquet full
of them.

“How are your other weddings?”
“Just fine. The Chase affair is moving

along nicely.” I explained that I was late to

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the meeting because I had been reassuring
Evelyn of the smooth sailing ahead of her.

“Such dedication.” Shelly patted me

on the head as if I were a puppy.

I finished up a morning at Tiffany’s

only to make my way to my next chal-
lenge—dress shopping with the enemy. Allis-
on was late again and the bridal shop wasn’t
exactly thrilled.

“We do have other brides Ms. Mey-

ers.” I had been told. I can’t control how or
when a bride shows up for her appointment,
and it was as much a waste of my time as it
was the shop owner’s time.

After the first five minutes of her

tardiness I was still able to put on a smile
and say, “she’ll be here soon.” Soon had
turned into twenty minutes late and Mrs.
Kruvich wasn’t getting any more patient.

The door opened. I had hoped to see

Allison coming into the store. “Hey, what are
you doing here?” Ray hugged me. Mrs.

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Kruvich focused her attention on us. She was
trying to figure out if Ray and I were an item.
In other words, she was trying to drum up
future business.

“I thought you might need support

today,” he took my hand and guided me to
the bench. This was not my first experience
dress shopping with Allison, but that didn’t
stop Ray from hiking up the drama meter.

“She’s not here yet.” I had already

called her twice and each time she told me
she was almost there. Ten minutes later, and
thirty minutes late for her appointment, Al-
lison finally showed up.

“I’m sorry I’m late. I just had to get

my nail fixed.”

I would have laughed if it weren’t for

the fact that Mrs. Kruvich seemed more an-
noyed by the excuse than amused. I guess on
some level she must have thought if Allison
were late due to accident or death in the

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family then it would be okay that she wasted
thirty minutes of her appointment time.

“You see the polish had chipped and I

hate that,” she glanced at my nails. I rarely
had time to do them, and often the polish
would chip off. I had tried to solve that prob-
lem by wearing a neutral shade. It didn’t look
nearly as bad when the polish started fading
and chipping away. Her gaze drifted to my
hands. I instinctually curled my fingers into
a loose fist to hide my nails.

“We can get started now.” She ordered

as if she were really in a position to give or-
ders. Mrs. Kruvich rolled her eyes and took
the first dress for show to the dressing room.

Once Allison was safely tucked inside

the dressing room Mrs. Kruvich came over to
me. I thought she was going to have it out
with me for not keeping a tighter reign on
my bride, but instead she patted my hand
and said, “I understand dear.” Ray snorted
back a laugh and I gave a simple smile that

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said “thank you for understanding, but it
gets worse”.

This was my second time shopping

with Allison. She had gone twice on her own.
I received a call from Hank at Lander’s
Bridal when she had left. He put it rather
nicely, but in short—no more brides that
can’t pick a dress even after they’ve tried on
practically everything in the store.

I checked my watch. “Have some-

where you need to be love?” Ray asked me.

“Date with Alex.” He nodded in a

fashion that told me he understood, and that
he would do whatever he could to move the
dress shopping process along.

“He’s a cutie,” he said and I laughed.

Unfortunately I laughed just as Allison was
walking out the dressing room. She assumed
I was laughing at her.

“Well that is certainly not the reaction

I want when I walk down the isle. Bring me

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another one.” She practically sashayed back
into the dressing room.

Ray looked at me, I looked at him and

we both said, “Oh boy.” We knew we were
going to be there for a while.

“What time is your hot date?”
“Seven,” I mumbled. I knew that it

was only one o’clock in the afternoon, but my
last dress shopping experience with Allison
told me it might just take a good five hours
for her to decide.

“You’re not wearing that are you?”
I looked down at my black pants and

my yellow top and said, “What’s wrong with
it?” He snorted again and waved his hand in
the air as if I were a lost cause. “No really,
what’s wrong with it?”

“Honey, you want the man to jump

you. You need something sexy!”

Going from work to a date might not

have made the sexiest ensemble, but I didn’t

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think I would have time to drive home and
change.

“You should wear a sexy dress to show

off those legs. You’ve got great legs.” His eyes
traveled the length of my legs.

“Compliments of ten years of belly

dance.” He gave me a look that told me he
was wondering if I had really taken dance. “I
performed a little too.”

“Well I’ll be damned. Please tell me

you wore more makeup than that? Honey
subtle is one thing, barely there is another.”

I had been busy and I hadn’t had a

chance to do the full eye shadow, mascara,
blush ordeal. I wore just a hint of foundation
and a little slither of lip gloss.

“Highlight your eyes before you go.

And for God’s sake put some lipstick on.” He
always told me I should wear a bolder shade.
Not too bold he would quickly add, but
something that brought out the lusciousness
of my lips. He did like the fact that my lips

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and my eyes seemed to have a natural line
that stood out despite my lack of makeup.

“I’ll try to get home to change, but I

don’t want to be late.”

“Keep ‘em waiting, that’s what I al-

ways say.”

Allison surfaced again. The second

dress was even worse than the first. A bow in
the shape of a rose sat centered on her butt,
which made her butt look bigger, the feath-
ers on the side made her look like the white
version of Big Bird and the puff sleeves were
entirely overstated. She took one look at our
faces, blew out a huge puff of air, turned on
her heals and headed back to the dressing
room.

Though it would have given me great

joy to see her walk down the aisle in that
hideous thing, I just couldn’t do it. I guess
there was some level of maturity left in me
after all. Not that I was going to offer any

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suggestions, but there were several cute
dresses on the rack that she could have tried.

I saw one I would have bought. It was

mahogany colored, simple and a-line with a
bit of rhinestone accent lining the bust. It
was strapless and had a slight train. It was
perfect. I had been eyeing it since I walked
in, and that hadn’t gone unnoticed by
anybody.

“You can wear it to one of those

shindigs Alex is bound to take you to,” Ray
said. He had a point, but spending nine hun-
dred dollars on a dress wasn’t really my style.

Allison came out again. The dress was

almost perfect. In fact it probably was per-
fect. It had a full skirt, almost princess-like,
and strapless. “It’s nice.”

“I don’t want nice,” she frowned. “I

want spectacular, sexy, all eyes on me,” she
darted back in the dressing room and called
out for another dress. Mrs. Kruvich rolled
her eyes. I was fully aware the gesture was

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not directed at me. It was directed at the diva
in dressing room four.

Three hours later and we were still sit-

ting there waiting for Allison to find the per-
fect dress. Mrs. Kruvich had long since taken
a seat on the bench beside us instead of do-
ing her normal duty of catering to the bride-
to-be. She pushed back her perfectly curled
brown hair and leaned her elbow on her
knee.

“Honey I’m not sure they’re going to

let her in any of the other bridal stores.”

Mrs. Kruvich looked up, “she’s not

coming back in here.”

I apologized. Fortunately she hadn’t

thought I needed to. She assured me that I
was welcome anytime, just so long as I didn’t
have another bride like Allison.

When Allison emerged again she was

in a straight a-line, ivory gown. The front
showed just the right amount of cleavage and
the back dipped almost to her bottom.

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Maybe not the most appropriate, but if any-
body could pull off she could. She had a phe-
nomenal body. Tall, slender, very few curves,
but her breasts were big enough to get her
noticed. She had kept her hair blonde with
constant retouching. She was practically
perfect.

“You look amazing,” Mrs. Kruvich

said and Ray seconded. He was less en-
thused. He had already made it his mission
to hate her simply because he had seen the
way she flaunted this wedding in my face.

“All eyes will be on you,” I said. For

the first time in a long time I actually didn’t
feel any since of remorse for paying her a
compliment.

“I’ll take it.”
I got Allison wrapped up with pay-

ments and scheduling for the fitting, that
had she picked sooner Mrs. Kruvich could
have started that day, just in time to get out
the door and get ready for my date. Ray

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wasn’t thrilled with letting me go looking as
if I’d just stepped out of the office. He called
a friend and told her to clear the floor be-
cause we were coming in.

“I’m tired of shopping.”
“Too bad. You’ve got two hours before

you have to meet him. The store is only
about fifteen minutes from the restaurant
and you are not going looking like that.” He
pointed up and down my body as if I had
been wearing a fashion disaster. “It’s good
for work honey, but not for a date with the
most delicious man this side of Texas. Well,
maybe other than me.” He said this so seri-
ously that I had to fight back a laugh.

I agreed; not as if I had much of a

choice. It had been years since I had done
serious shopping, and I wanted some new,
sexy clothes anyway. Thank God it didn’t
take me as long as Allison to decide on
whether or not I liked an outfit because I
really didn’t have that much time.

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I managed to buy three pairs of pants,

five dresses, three skirts, four blouses and
two sexy pairs of shoes. There was no way I
was wasting Ray’s expertise on one outfit.

Ray made sure I had a fresh coat of

neutral polish over my nails since I didn’t
have time to have them “properly” done. He
even touched up my makeup. I thought he
might have a fight with the makeup artist at
the counter when he took over, but she
stepped aside and let him work.

Ray had pulled my hair back into a

ponytail at the base of my neck and fastened
it tightly with a sexy sparkling clip. I had to
admit it; the man had an eye for fashion. At
six forty-five I was on my way out the door. I
knew I would be a little late.

When I arrived at the restaurant Alex

was already waiting for me. I apologized for
being a little late and he smiled and said, “No
problem.”

“How was your day?”

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I wasn’t sure what to say. A part of me

wanted to really tell him about my day, but
the part of me that hates to be a bother
kicked in and I said, “Fine.”

“Okay, now that we’ve got that out of the
way. How was your day?”
“You’re crazy.”
“No, I just figured your first answer
would be standard and if I asked again I
might actually get the whole truth.”

He explained to me that he really

wanted to know how my day was. I could tell
he wasn’t the type to just ask and move on. I
had friends in my life that never really
wanted to hear the truth—unless it was per-
fectly wonderful, but Alex wasn’t like that. So
since he asked for it I decided to tell him. If
he thought I was crazy afterwards, well it
would be his fault because most people
would have stopped when I said it was fine.

“I had dress shopping with Allison.

She couldn’t pick a dress,” my hands started

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moving in the over exaggerated gestures that
I always do when I’m excited or angry about
something. My mom often laughed at me
whenever I got like that. She would always
say, “You’re so hyper.” I really wasn’t that
hyper. I just had an animated approach to
telling a story. “She must have tried on prac-
tically every original design in the store be-
fore deciding.

“That’s not even the worst part. Do

you want know what the worst part was?” I
didn’t give him a chance to respond before I
lit in again. “She was late for her own ap-
pointment. Poor Mrs. Kruvich looked irrit-
ated and stressed about the fact that Allison
had kept her from something important. Oh
and she was rude. How can you be rude
when you’re the one that’s late? I don’t mean
rude in the standard sense, but rude as in
bossy, and uppity. When she finally made it
to the shop her excuse for being late is a
chipped nail. Not even the nail really as

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much as the nail polish. Of course she always
makes some gesture that makes me feel
about as big as an ant…”

“Ants have amazing strength for their

size.” He said this as I paused to take a
breath.

I sat puzzled for a moment and then I

started laughing. He seemed to have a way
for calming me down. I loved the way he
listened. I also liked the fact that he hadn’t
said I was stressing the small stuff, or that I
was making too much out of nothing. I al-
ways hated when people would say things
like that to me.

Since he had been so understanding

and patient I felt a little guilty for going off
on a rant about Allison. “I’m sorry. I just got
a little carried away.” On the other end of
that, it’s not as if I didn’t get carried away of-
ten. He would probably see that side of me a
lot, assuming he stuck around.

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“You’re cute when you’re ranting.” He

smiled. I guess that’s when I knew he would
get used to my antics. “Now that your day
with Allison is behind you how do you feel?”

“Now that I’m here with you, I feel all

right. I had a little transition before I came
here. I wanted to look nice for you.” I real-
ized once that sentence had come out of my
mouth that I sounded like a love struck
schoolgirl. “I mean I always want to look
nice. I just didn’t want to look as if I came
straight from work.” I tried to tell myself to
shut up before I put my foot even further in
my mouth.

“You look great.” He took my hand in

his. “By the end of the evening I hope to
make you feel better than all right.” He had a
way of making me feel as if I were the only
person in the room.

“I’m fine, really.” I laughed. “I think go-
ing from work to a date night is

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probably not the best idea. I seem to be
a little…”
“Tightly wound?”
“Cute…but yes. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not always in a good

mood either.” He laughed. Thankfully he
wasn’t expecting perfection. I certainly
wasn’t the woman to offer perfection. I could
be temperamental at times. Obviously I tried
to keep my moods in check, but like every-
body else, I do have moods. I like to think of
it as being emotionally diverse. It’s healthy.

For the rest of the evening we talked,

laughed and held hands. After dinner we
went for a walk around the Commons and
then we drove back to my place. He insisted
on seeing me home. I’m sure he would have
insisted on picking me up too had I not been
coming from work.

He walked me to the door. We stood

there for about fifteen minutes just talking.
Lucky for me, my outside lamp was on a

89/266

timer so it had already clicked on. I knew I
should say goodnight, but I didn’t want the
moment to end. Instead of saying goodnight
I stood there and talked to him some more.

At some point he looked at me and

said, “You should probably get some rest.” It
was getting late and I knew I had a long day
ahead of me, but I wanted to freeze time.

“You’re probably right.” I said. The

evening had been amazing, but I truly did
need to get some sleep.

I leaned in and gently touched my lips

to his. One little goodnight kiss couldn’t hurt
anything.

The Best Ever

90/266

Alex and I hadn’t been dating that long so
obviously I was not going to just fall into bed
with him. Okay, you’ve got me. I did fall into
bed with him. What can I say? The man
knew exactly how to make me melt.

We both had been holding back our

passions. I think he wanted me to be sure I
was ready to take on a new relationship, and
I wanted to be sure he was ready to take on
me—baggage laden though I may be.

I had barely pulled away after my light

series of kisses. He leaned in. He smelled
fresh and utterly masculine. I held on to
every second as if it were my last chance to
be that close to him. He didn’t speak. He
slowly caressed my lips with his. Our tongues
moved in an elaborate dance of slow, quick –
quick, slow. I managed to open the door

91/266

somehow and we went inside. I don’t re-
member being apart from him for too long.

I slipped my hands beneath his shirt,

pulling and tugging until I realized it was a
button down and not a pullover. I changed
my tactic and started pulling on the buttons.
Before I realized it, we were both naked. He
had carried me to the bedroom.

“Do you have something?”
“I’ll be right back.” I bolted from the

bed and into the bathroom. I rummaged
through my vanity drawers for my dia-
phragm. I bypassed the vibrator Tay had
bought me after the divorce and finally found
what I was looking for. It was dusty, but
what the hell. I blew the dust off, popped it
in and ran back to the bedroom. I couldn’t
remember how long I was supposed to wait
after putting it in. It had been a while since I
actually used it.

That night was the first of many great

nights. If I were asked, I would have to say

92/266

he was the best ever. Alex just had a way of
taking his time and doing things right. He
made me feel beautiful, sexy, hot, and like
the only woman in the world for him. I liked
that feeling a lot.

The next few nights after our first

night together we spent at his place, then
back to my place. I think we must have
christened in every room. We also bought
the condoms for all future excursions. One
can never be too safe, especially given the
fact that my diaphragm had dust on it.

We were back at my place, and I had

made it my mission to help Alex relax. He
had had a long, hectic day. When I called
him to invite him to dinner he told me he
might not make the best company. At my in-
sistence he came over anyway.

I figured that since he had been there

as my pick-me-up I could be there for him. I
had dinner and cuddling in mind; he had in
mind a night in bed exploring each other.

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Something had been gnawing at me

all day. It was as if a storm was brewing, and
I’m not talking about those Arizona dust
storms either. Alex and I had made love for
the third time, and I was near falling asleep
when the doorbell rung.

I almost didn’t answer the door, but

eventually I pulled myself out of bed. I slid
my robe over my shoulders and went to an-
swer the door. To my surprise I found one
very drunk ex-husband.

“What are you doing here Brendon?”

He casually staggered into my house. I
hadn’t exactly invited him in, but when you
open your door to a drunken man you get
more than you bargain for every time.

“I should’ve stayed with you,” he said

and my eyes widened.

“You’re drunk and I think you should

let me call you a cab to take you home.” I was
hoping he hadn’t operated a vehicle in his

94/266

condition. I checked the drive, and then the
street.

“I walked.” He answered the question

I hadn’t asked. The new country club a few
blocks away was the only place he could have
gone. It was the closest place with alcohol. I
know they say people who are inebriated
have increased stamina for stupid things, but
I doubted he would have walked more than a
few miles to get to my house.

“I’m still in love with you and I’m not
marrying her,” he pulled me into his
arms. I tried to pull away but he held on
tight.
“Look,” I had tried prying myself away
again. “You’re drunk and not thinking
straight. Go home and sleep it off.”
“I’d rather sleep with you.”

“Well you’re not going to because you

made your choice a long time ago and now
you have to live with it. I don’t know if you
two had a fight, and I don’t care. I’m calling

95/266

you a cab and you’re going home.” I man-
aged to pull away. I staggered back a few
steps before I caught my balance.

He got loud. I got louder. When I fi-

nally looked past Brendon and back toward
the hallway I ended up staring at the most
beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen. Though
I would have rather he had not been staring
so earnestly. Brendon turned, saw the half
naked man in the doorway and decided it
best that he leave.

“Didn’t know you were busy,” he said.

He didn’t want a cab. I wouldn’t let him leave
until I called one.

Once he was safely tucked inside I

gave the driver instructions to take him
home, paid him and hoped for the best. If he
didn’t make it I’d feel no guilt. I had to deal
with Alex and whatever thoughts were going
through his mind. By that point I just wanted
to go to sleep, but Alex looked as if he had
something to say. I had to remind myself to

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calm down and not take my newfound anger
out on an innocent man.

I took one look at Alex and I started

crying. Reality hit me at that very moment. I
was risking losing my job and Alex. If Bren-
don didn’t get married Shelly would hate me
forever for ruining the perfect Tiffany Wed-
dings’ record. Worse things would certainly
happen. Alex was looking at me as if he
wanted to pull on his shirt and bolt.

“Shh…” he pulled me close. I leaned

into him.

“I’m sorry. It’s just you hate me, I’m

going to lose my job, and you hate me.”

“You already said that part,” he

laughed. My head slung up so fast that I al-
most hit him in the chin. “I can’t speak for
your job, but I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t?”
“Not unless you’re still in love with

him. I can tell from everything that just
happened that you’re not.” He smiled. His

97/266

words were so sweet, so gentle that I re-
mained. “Right now I hate myself for think-
ing more about getting you out of that robe
than letting you mourn the loss of a job that
you haven’t lost yet, and might not lose.” He
laughed a little.

Alex truly was the best guy to ever

come into my life. I’m not just talking about
in the bedroom either. He listened when I
talked, held me when I cried and tried to
keep me grounded whenever I started to
stress about things I had no control over.

98/266

You’ll Walk if I Have to Drag

You…

There was this little hint of calm in the air
that morning. Shelly hadn’t fired me. Donna
hadn’t even walked past my office, which was
actually a little scary. Megan was still boun-
cing off the walls as if nothing out of the or-
dinary was going on. Either I was still asleep
and dreaming or trouble was just around the
corner.

I wasn’t asleep and dreaming, so I

guess one could safely say it was the later. At
about three o’clock Brendon walked into my

office. I took a deep breath and prayed. Yes,
prayed that I wasn’t going to have to kill him.

“You’ll walk even if I have to drag

you.”

“I’m not thinking of calling off the

wedding. I’m not sure where that came from
the other night, and I just wanted to apolo-
gize for making the situation awkward.”

I relaxed. “It’s good that you’re plan-

ning to show up on your wedding day and
say I do.” I emphasized the last part because
I wanted to make sure he knew that showing
up and committing weren’t one in the same.
“It’s not good that you don’t know where the
other night came from.” Brendon did have
his redeeming qualities; being drunk wasn’t
one of them. “You never get drunk. What’s
going on?”

“I just got scared for a minute. It’s like

foreverrrr,” he dragged it out as if that were a
bad thing.

100/266

“I see. Forever is longer than you’re

willing to give,” my tone must have seemed
harsh, but he needed to hear it. “Brendon
you have to realize at some point that there’s
somebody out there other than you. Allison
is a nice woman,” well that might have been
stretching it, “and she deserves somebody
that will respect her enough to show up on
the wedding day and all of the rest.” I guess
my bridal consulting training had kicked in
because I went into therapist mode easily.

“You’re right Anise. I realize that. I’m

ready this time. I screwed up before, but this
time it’s going to be different.”

Donna walked into my office after

barely knocking and not waiting for a re-
sponse. She smiled at Brendon, dropped a
folder on my desk and smiled at Brendon
again.

“We’re ordering in if you want any-

thing,” she said without taking her eyes from
him.

101/266

He gave her the look—it was the look

he had given me the first time we met. As she
walked out of my office, twisting her hips, his
eyes followed. That’s when I knew this time
would not be different. This time would be
exactly like the last. The only difference
would be that a different woman would be
cast in each role. That man wouldn’t know
how to be faithful if he had a training
manual.

“Now that we have that solved, why

are you here?” I know it’s my job to meet
with my clients, but I preferred putting this
client on the calendar.

“Allison told me of all the help you gave
her on the dress and I wanted to say
thank you.”
I had given her help? Well, okay. “You’re
welcome.”
“Anyway, I know this couldn’t have been
easy for you and I just wanted to say
that I’m sorry.”

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“What do you want?” I knew there

was something. This was Brendon. We had
been married for ten years and I knew ex-
actly how he talked to me when he wanted
something.

“Nothing I—”
“Can it and talk buddy.”
“So who’s the guy?”

I looked around the office pretending

to look for some guy as if I didn’t know what
Brendon was talking about. “I don’t see a
guy. Would you like me to call your psychiat-
rist and ask him to strengthen your meds?”

“The guy at your house last night—the
naked one.”
“There was a naked guy at my house?” I
faked a shocked expression, the best I
could given the circumstances.
“Almost naked,” he said a little more ir-
ritated then before.

103/266

“That would be my business, which is
none of your business.” I hadn’t blinked,
but neither had he.
“Is he…”
“Good in bed?” I knew this was what he
was silently asking me.
“Yeah,” once again he sounded slightly
annoyed.
“Better,” my lips curved into the most
salacious smile.

“Is he better than me?” His question

was loaded, and I wasn’t sure how to answer
it. Luckily, Megan popped her head in to tell
me my four o’clock was early and that let me
get rid of Brendon without answering his
question.

“Can we continue this later?”
“No. You need to take one last look at

the RSVP list, and let me know the exact
count for the caterers.” Allison had insisted
on holding on to the list. Actually, she had
done it for her mother—which was kind of

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sweet. Her mom wanted to be involved on
some level. The RSVP list was the easiest
thing for her to do.

“We’re really close now and I’d like to

tie up some of the ends. Please call Megan
with the final count.”

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Wakeup Call

My phone sprung to life at around two
o’clock in the morning. I know for sure it was
about that time because after I fell out of the
bed and managed to grab my phone off the
night-stand, I looked at the clock wondering
what lunatic would call at such an insane
hour.

“Are you okay?”
I hadn’t remembered answering the

phone. Then I remembered that Alex had
been lying next to me in bed—that is before I
fell out of it. “Yeah.” I wasn’t sure if I was

answering Alex’s question or rudely greeting
the person on the other end.

“Anise,” I heard the quivering in Tay’s

voice and I knew something had to be wrong.
She would have never called me at two in the
morning unless there was something wrong.
I mentally slapped myself into the waking
world and started to try to string together a
coherent sentence out of her words.

“Oh my God! Honey what hospital?”
“I think he…I think he had a heart at-
tack. What if he dies?”
“Sweetie calm down, and tell me again
which hospital.”
“Power Road,” she said, and I immedi-
ately knew where I needed to go.

“I’ll be there in about a half hour.” I

practically sprinted around the room. I
tugged a pair of sweats from the closet and
pulled them on. I threw a tank top over my
head. I hadn’t noticed Alex was up and
dressing too.

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“Oh honey you don’t have to leave.”
“I’m going with you.”
I didn’t have time to argue. I grabbed

my purse and my keys and jumped in my car
with Alex right behind me. He offered to
drive, but before he could finish his sentence
I was already peeling out of the garage.

I parked the car, and ran inside. I im-

mediately spotted Taylor, and she spotted
me. Her eyes were getting puffy, her hair was
a mess and she was still in her night robe.

“Is there any news?” I pulled her into

my arms.

“No, not yet.” She pulled back, and

tried to keep from sobbing hysterically. She
wiped away a tear and looked behind me.

“Tay this is Alex,” he nodded and she

nodded back. She gave me a look that told
me she wanted to talk about it, but we would
have to do it later. I agreed. Silently we sat
waiting for the doctors, nurses or anybody to

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give us some news. She curled up in my arms
like a child while Alex sat across from us.

The doctor smiled, and he said that it

was just indigestion. A collective sigh came
from the two of us, and Taylor sunk down
onto the couch. The weight of the evening’s
events was just too much for her.

“We’ll

be

bringing

him

down

shortly…” he kept talking, but I gathered it
was at that point that Tay stopped listening.

“Damn him,” she said. “That’s it for

the Mexican food. He scared the hell out of
me!”

“I should say so,” the doctor said be-

fore smiling at us. He agreed that Dan
should refrain from eating spices for some
time. He reassured us that it wouldn’t be
long before Dan could leave; we just had to
wait on all the paperwork to be completed.

“Thank

you

for

coming,”

she

whispered.

“Anytime.”

109/266

We sat there for another hour before

they brought Dan down for dismissal. By five
o’clock we were all out the door and on our
way back to our respective homes. Alex of
course was on his way back to my place, and
I still had to get showered, dressed and off to
a wedding.

“I wish you could stay in.”
“Me too,” I yawned. “My bride is

walking down the aisle, and I have to get
things ready.” I yawned again.

“I was wondering why I love you so

much and now I know,” he said. I froze.
“You’re an amazing woman with a good
heart, a little hyper sometimes, but amaz-
ing.” I was still stuck on the fact that some-
where in there he had said he loved me.

“I love you too.”
Softly, he pressed his lips to mine. The

last thing I needed was to get sidetracked
and end up back in bed. He pulled away just
enough to let me know I had things to do.

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“Right,” I smiled. “Wait a minute. Did
you call me hyper?”
“I was wondering when you’d get
around to that,” he laughed.
Okay, so I was a little hyper sometimes,
but only when the situation called for
it—honest.

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June 4th and Counting

After Toni’s nuptials I would have two brides
left to walk down the aisle within about a
week of each other. Evelyn’s wedding was
July second, and Allison’s wedding was July
sixteenth. My recent addition, Stacey Lexing-
ton, wasn’t due to walk until August twenti-
eth. I got the impression from the groom that
there wasn’t much of a hurry.

Normally I would have been worried,

stressed, falling to pieces about all of it, but I
had enough worries to keep me busy. I
figured I would let the Lexington event take

a back seat, as much as I could anyway. I
might not have been stressed, but Shelly was.

It was actually the first time I had

seen her in her less than perfect mode. She
seemed frazzled. I asked her if she were
okay; she smiled at me and thanked me for
asking. She then told me if I messed up the
Lexington wedding that I need not show up
for work the next day. The Lexington event
was over two months away, but the high-pro-
file status had Shelly stressed more than any
of the other weddings.

Thankfully, I had some time to focus

on the Lexington event. I would have pre-
ferred more, but since Stacey had just fired
her consultant and come to Tiffany’s I didn’t
have as much planning to do as I would have
for a bride starting from scratch.

The hall was already booked, the

dress was already picked, flowers were
already purchased and the caterers were
pretty much in place. My job was to bring it

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all together. I first had to organize the previ-
ous consultants file, but that wouldn’t take
too long. I had to get music set, make sure
invitations and RSVP’s were taken care of,
some other minor things, but Stacey’s wed-
ding had thus far been the least stressful of
my brides.

When they say every bridal consultant

has one of those weddings—the one where
everything seems to go wrong right before
the ceremony—they would be right. From a
ripped dress to a delayed minister, Toni’s
wedding had me running in overdrive. For-
tunately, things came together, and the bride
and groom had their day. I had another suc-
cessful wedding under my belt. Life was
good, well relatively anyway. I still had that
little issue of one ex-husband that suddenly
felt the need to spy on my relationship with
Alex.

I thought I was going home to a relax-

ing evening. I envisioned Alex and me

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spending several hours making love, taking a
hot shower and then falling asleep in each
other’s arm. The reality was much more
surreal.

I walked into the living room and

there stood Brendon and Alex. There was
definite tension in the air, and I wondered if
I were walking into a fight or the end of one.
After realizing nothing in the living room
seemed to be broken, there was no blood and
no police officer, I opted for walking into
one.

“What is going on here?” I knew at

first sight that my relaxing evening had just
gotten complicated. After being on my feet
all day I didn’t want complicated.

“Your ex was just telling me that you

deserve better.” Alex’s shoulders were
squared. I had known him long enough to
know this wasn’t the sign of a happy and
peaceful man. I stepped in between them. I
wondered why Alex would let Brendon in the

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house. I also wondered why Brendon sud-
denly cared so much.

“Brendon, this is none of your busi-

ness and I thought I made that clear to you
yesterday, and the day before that, and the
day before that…” I said in an exaggerated
manner.

“Well I think it is. You’re vulnerable,

and you don’t need some yahoo coming in
here breaking your heart.”

“No, that’s what I had you for.” He

started to speak, but I kept going. “Alex isn’t
you Brendon. He’s not breaking my heart,
and even if he were it’s none of your concern.
I’m not vulnerable because I’ve been over
you for a long time. Now,” I came up for air
just long enough to catch my breath. I didn’t
need to add hyperventilating to the situation.
“I think you remember where the door is.
Don’t let it hit you where the good lord split
you on your way out of it.”

116/266

He knew that I was serious, but unfor-

tunately I don’t carry as much weight as a
two hundred pound man. He just stood there
looking at me as if I had lost my ability to
think straight.

“It’s the sex isn’t it,” he stated more

than he asked. “You know I gave you better.”

I was angry and confused. I was con-

fused because my sex life wasn’t a part of a
conversation Brendon and I should have
been having.

Brendon looked as if he were going to

knock me out of the way to get to Alex, and
Alex stood there looking like he was ready to
beat the crap out of Brendon.

“Alex.” I tried to remain calm. I knew

what we needed was calm, not craziness.
“Please wait for me in the bedroom.” I could
handle Brendon much easier without Alex in
the room.

“Not a chance.”

117/266

“Fine. This is it. I’m sick of it. Bren-

don get your sorry ass out of my house, and
go home to your fiancé. You know, the wo-
man you’re going to marry in a few weeks!”

He looked at me with a shocked expres-
sion on his face. “You cursed.”
I rarely cursed. “Out!” I pointed to the
door like that would solve this problem.
“I’m looking out for you.”

“No, you’re not. You’re worried that

I’m going to move on. Well I have Brendon. I
moved on a long time ago. Get over it, move
on, marry Allison and have a wonderful life
with her. What we had ended for both of us a
long time ago.”

“Damn, I’m sorry Anise,” I figured he

had realized the ludicrousness of his actions
and he was ready to move on. “You’re right,
this is your life and you deserve to be happy
with whomever you decide to fuck.”

I felt every muscle in my body tense

up. Forget yelling, I needed my butcher

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knife. I relaxed a little because I realized he
wanted me to get angry. He wanted me to get
so angry that I would start to throw things
and holler and run myself ragged, so he
could gloat over the fact that he could still
get to me.

Alex was standing right beside me,

and I had my arm out to hold him back.
“Good. I’m glad we’ve got that clear because
I love him, and he loves me. I plan to fuck
him for the rest of my life.”

I could see the look of sheer horror on

Brendon’s face. I was more concerned with
Alex. He had an expression that I couldn’t
read and I was hoping that I didn’t scare him
away with my “rest of life” statement and all
the cursing I had been doing. It’s not lady-
like; but when I get angry I forget the other
words I learned through my years of growing
up and only the bad ones tend to stick.

“Well shit,” he said, and I knew that

he finally got it. “Guess you are over me.” He

119/266

looked almost sad. “Well all right Anise Mey-
ers I get it; you don’t have to spell it out.”

I did have to spell it out, write it on a

good year blimp and translate it into a hun-
dred languages until he got it.

“We’re friends. I guess I can’t cheat on

my current with my ex,” he winked. I had the
natural reaction of wide eyes and wanting to
say something, but not knowing what to say.
“Just kidding,” he said. I doubted that he
was.

“I’ll have Allison make sure she gets

the correct count over to you first thing
Monday morning.” He gave me a look that
told me he was giving up…for a little while
anyway. “Nice meeting you Alex.” Brendon
didn’t wait for a response before he turned
and walked away.

I waited for the door to close, walked

over and locked it. I took a deep breath be-
fore turning around. I knew Alex and I would
need to discuss Brendon yet again.

120/266

“How the hell does he have a key to

your place?”

“What! He has a key? Why didn’t you

tell me that?” I opened the door, but Bren-
don was already gone. “Now I have to change
the locks.”

“You didn’t know?”
“No I didn’t know. If I knew I would

have changed the locks already. How did he
get a key?” It took a minute to register, but
then it did.

“I’m going to kill her,” I said through

gritted teeth. I remembered that two weeks
after I had moved into my new home I had
given Tay a key. I went off to that luxury re-
sort my mom insisted I go to in order to re-
cover from my impending divorce. Tay kept
an eye on my place for me; when I came back
I never asked her for the spare key back.

I picked up the phone and angrily

punched in Tay’s number. “Tay why did you

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give Brendon a key to my house?” I yelled
without even saying hello.

“Uh...”
“Well!”
“Oh. Um, I should talk to you about
something.”
“So talk.”

“Well I got drunk one night after Dan

and I had a fight…” Tay drunk is never a
good thing. “I couldn’t drive so Brendon
drove me to your place. I don’t know why
other than it was closer. I think I passed out.
I woke up naked. I don’t think we did any-
thing. At least he says we didn’t, but I don’t
really remember getting naked. He said I
dumped my purse in his car while I was look-
ing for the key.” She started crying, and I
started feeling guilty.

“Don’t worry. I’ll buy a new lock today.”
“Anise I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. It happens; just go easy on
the alcohol okay?”

122/266

“Okay, I promise.”
“By the way, you always get naked when
you’re drunk. It’s why Dan carted you
home from my bridal shower.”
“I did not!”
“Yeah, you did. I redressed you.”
“You did?”

“Dan didn’t exactly want to take you

home naked. I figured you wouldn’t want
anybody else helping you back into your
clothes and since Dan was several minutes
away, I decided to dress you myself.”

“Well damn,” she said. She could fully

understand why we kept telling her not to
drink so much.

I hung up the phone and looked up at

Alex. “Road trip?” He smiled at me. I real-
ized he had calmed down enough to talk to
me without being angry.

“I’d follow you anywhere,” he grinned.

It was a devilish grin. I knew where it was
leading, but I pretended as if I didn’t. “Since

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we’re going to be having sex so often for the
rest of our lives then I think it’s best I keep
right on your heals. You know, be ready at
any moment.” He laughed and I realized he
wasn’t scared about the “rest of life” com-
ment, and he had a sense of humor about my
temporary potty mouth.

So that moment I mentioned earlier,

that was it. Today was the turning point in
my war on cheating husbands. I had to make
the ultimate decision, and I decided to be the
adult no matter what happens. I do not have
any intention of correcting past errors in
judgment, but I won’t, in anyway, sabotage
Brendon’s marriage to Allison. I will give
them all the professionalism I would give any
other bride and groom.

Now that you know the history of An-

ise and Brendon Meyers, maybe we can
move forward. I still have several weddings
to plan, including Brendon and Allison’s
wedding.

124/266

125/266

Confessions

I had a huge argument with my ex and a bor-
derline blowout with my current; and my
current is still here. At the end of the day all I
can say is “what a weekend”. Alex pulls me
into his arms and holds me. I’m thinking this
is good—very good, and comfortable too. I
settle against him a little more, and let my
arm drape around him. He kisses my fore-
head so sweet and soft that I can’t help but
cry. I know this is crazy, but tears start
streaming out the corner of my eyes.

“It’s okay. You’ve had a long day.”

“You’re so sweet to me. I just can’t be-

lieve I have you in my life, and I’m so
happy.” At this point I’m nearly sobbing.

“I’m glad I have you in my life,” he

pulls me closer. “Actually, I’m glad you didn’t
give up on North Point because if you had we
might not have ever actually met.”

I can hear the smile in his voice, so I

wipe my eyes with the back of my hand and
look up at him. He’s definitely smiling. He’s
nearly laughing, and I wonder if he’s remem-
bering my crawling around on the floor
routine.

“I thought you were going to scale the

wall after the last time you were escorted
out.” He laughed, and this is how I know that
he’s making fun.

“Don’t make fun.” I try to be serious,

but even I can hear the laughter in my own
voice.

“Are you kidding me? I watched you

every time you came into North Point.

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Security has great monitors. After the last
time I told them to call me if they spotted
you. Lucky for you they listen to me more
than Eric.”

“You rat!”
“I saw it all Anise. You gave Eric a run

for his money. On your last visit I thought I
should actually come down and greet you be-
fore you got caught by somebody else.”

I laugh because I realize how crazy I

must have looked. Most people probably
would have resorted to phone calls in an at-
tempt to make contact, I resorted to a little
breaking and entering—for the record I
didn’t break anything.

“You know,” I look up and he is grin-

ning. I wonder what’s prompting that grin.
“You’ve got the cutest ass. All the guys in se-
curity think so. I had a hard time keeping a
straight face when I had to tell them how
wrong they were to watch your butt up in the

128/266

air as you crawled down the hall to the
elevators.”

“Well, what can I say? I’d do anything

to ensure the perfect Tiffany Wedding,” I
mock in Shelly’s tone, which of course he has
no clue because he hasn’t talked to Shelly.
He laughs anyway.

“If I had known that I might have

tried to get in your pants the first day.”

I slap him playfully. “Almost any-

thing.” He laughs again. “I wouldn’t have let
you in my pants on the first day. I didn’t
know you well enough.” My first impression
of Alex was less than flattering.

“And now?” His voice was low and

sultry. It’s hard to think when he talks to me
like that.

“Now, every time you leave I feel this

sudden loss. I want you back in my arms
each time. I can’t wait until the end of the
day so I can see you again. It’s as if I’m crav-
ing you.” Craving, addicted, and whatever

129/266

else described it, but I definitely feel as if I
want forever with this man.

“Then maybe we should satisfy our

craving.” In a millisecond he’s back on top of
me, resting between my legs and slowly en-
tering me with such ease that I want to cry
all over again.

Monday morning, and two hours be-

fore I need to be at work, I don’t want to pull
myself from the bed. I look out the bedroom
door thinking of how much I really should
get up and make the long walk to the shower.
It’s not really that long of a walk. It’s really
just outside the door. I feel Alex stroking my
back and I know if I stay here one more mo-
ment I’ll never get out of bed.

“Good morning.” I pull myself up and

decide it best if I head to the shower right
now. I have that morning taste in my mouth
so I decide brushing my teeth first is better.

130/266

I step into the shower. I’m glad I

bought that massaging water head even
though my mom swore to me a shower head
was a shower head and there was no need to
buy the more expensive one when I could get
the same product for cheaper.

The shower curtain pulls back and

Alex is standing in front of me. I’m hoping he
brushed his teeth too. He steps in and I real-
ize that he’s missed me those few minutes
I’ve been gone, and that when I left the bed
he was actually ready for something more.
He pulls me in and his breath is mint fresh.
If I don’t put down some ground rules I’m
going to be late for work.

I push him back just enough to state

my case. He apparently isn’t willing to listen
because he picks me up and braces me
against the wall with his body. My brain and
my legs are not working in sync. My legs in-
stinctually wrap around his waist, and I for-
get why I pushed him away in the first place.

131/266

Oh wait, now I remember. “Alex stop.

I have to go to work,” I say this in the most
motherly voice that I can. Alex isn’t listening.
“Alex,” I slip my hands through his hair and
pull his head away from my neck. “I really
have to get ready for work and you’re not
helping me here.”

“Sure I am,” he mumbles and then

dips his hand lower which of course makes
me react by letting go of his hair and rocking
against his hand. I’m so going to have to set
down some ground rules…maybe later.

I manage to make it to work with a

few minutes to spare. Today is host to our
usual Monday morning Tiffany staff meeting
and I don’t want to be late. I bypass my of-
fice, avoiding my perky assistant, and head
straight for the conference room. When I get
there I see there are only two spaces left. Sit-
ting next to Shelly is not exactly where I want

132/266

to be. Then again, next to Donna isn’t ideal
either.

I stand there weighing my options

when I decide that I would rather be next to
Shelly than next to Donna. I fear Donna will
read my notes, and try to steal my ideas. Or
worse, she’ll try to steal one of my clients
again. I opt for being within the reach of the
woman who tends to pet me like a poodle. At
least my hair isn’t at its best today so there’s
no need for me to worry about her messing it
up. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not bad; it’s just
not good either. Thanks to the Arizona heat
my hair dried practically as I walked out the
door, but thanks to my genetics, it dried
wavy at the roots and spiraled at the ends so
I have a Diana Ross look—without the poof.

“Sexy,” Paul says.
I realize that he’s talking about my

hair. I smile and say thank you. I’m not sure
that was the PC thing for him to say, but I’ll
take the compliment and move on. Paul will

133/266

not let it drop so I hear for the next couple
minutes that it’s a good look on me. I have
been told that before, and occasionally I go
for the look, but mostly I like it straight. I
usually take the time to blow it out and flat
iron it. This morning I was busy with other
things and hair was not at the top of my list.

“Thanks,” I say again because I’m

hoping he’ll drop the subject and move on.

“It does look nice,” Donna says. I

manage to say thanks through gritted teeth,
but I’m wondering what’s up her pitchfork. I
have been guarding my clients like the Secret
Service, so there’s no way she’s taken anoth-
er one. Toni’s wedding, though flocked with
problems, went off wonderfully in the end.
As far as I know I have done nothing crazy.
Donna’s compliment makes me feel a bit
more, shall I say, paranoid.

“No really,” she says. “It looks nice.”
Now I’m really suspicious.

134/266

“If you’re into French poodles with fuzzy
butts.”

“I like poodles,” Kelly says. Kelly is

really nice. She’s also a bit of a flake, so she
has no idea that Donna meant her words as
an insult. I hide my annoyance with a casual
glance at my notes.

“Why would you do your hair like that

anyway?”

I contemplate not answering. “Well if

you must know I was having sex with my
boyfriend this morning and I didn’t have
time to blow it dry.” I manage to shut Donna
up and I can now focus on other things.

I never knew the world of bridal con-

sultants could be so cut throat. Maybe it’s
just a Tiffany thing, because from what I
have read consultants help each other
out—with the wedding that is, not out of
their job.

I think it’s time I start being meaner.

People have always told me that I didn’t have

135/266

a mean bone in my body, but after telling
Brendon off I have this distinct feeling that I
am ready to take on the world. Well maybe
not the world, but definitely Donna. It’s time
to fight fire with a truckload of sand. Smoth-
er her tactics until she chokes on them—not
literally choke of course.

I might need Megan’s help. I know

she’s warned me that she’s not to be trusted.
She has helped me out so far, and I really
could use her help finding out what Donna is
up to. Besides, she’s sticking to whoever hap-
pens to be in my office and currently that’s
me. I would like to keep it that way, and I’m
sure she would rather not work for Donna. I
know this because I have seen the way she
rolls her eyes whenever Donna approaches,
or the little signs she makes behind her back.
I have also seen it in the way she covered for
me when I was kicked out of North Point.

Megan told Donna that I managed to

get my foot in the door that time and that I

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would probably be meeting with the owner
soon. I did not have a meeting with Alex at
that time and she knew that, but instead of
outing me and giving Donna more arrows for
her fork, she covered for me. I thanked her
and she dismissed me with her “well you’re
still in the office,” statement.

There are times when one should

know when to keep silent and when to speak.
Fortunately for me, I have pretty much
figured those times out. Right now would be
case and point.

Shelly always rambles on about

Tiffany etiquette. I think she does this know-
ing at some point we’ll actually forget that we
can’t sleep with the bride or groom in one
last hoorah before the big “plunge,” and she
just wants to remind us. She seems to be
looking in Paul’s direction, and I wonder if
there’s some juice behind this lecture after
all.

137/266

I sneak a glance at Paul. He looks un-

disturbed by this latest in the series of
Tiffany lectures. I shift casually and lean in
so I can pay more attention. For some reason
when Shelly starts lecturing I tune out. I fig-
ure if I sit in an attentive position then
maybe I’ll actually keep listening.

“And that’s why I had to let go of one of
our consultants.”
I had asked Megan what was going on
following Shannon’s haste departure
and even she didn’t know.
“Rekindling an old flame with someone
that is getting ready to walk down the
isle is unacceptable of a Tiffany
consultant.”

I wonder why we are having this dis-

cussion so long after the fact. I try to stop the
thoughts in my mind because Shelly’s lips
are still moving which means I’m missing
something important.

138/266

“You’ll probably read about it in the

next issue of Valley Bridal magazine,” she
massaged her temples again. She always
does this when she’s looking for sympathy,
but this time I’m actually feeling her pain.
Tiffany’s is the crème de la crème of consult-
ing firms. A scandal hasn’t happened
here—ever actually.

“The Lang wedding was called off,”

she says. I can only think of the fact that the
perfect Tiffany Weddings’ record is gone.
“Lacey and Shannon have,” she stops and
takes in a deep breath. “They’ve moved in to-
gether.” That was Shelly’s delicate way of
saying the bride to be left the groom to be for
her female wedding consultant.

Shelly didn’t have any plans to say

anything more. I could tell by the way she
straightened up and pulled her check list in
front of her. There weren’t any questions to
be asked or answered. If we had question we
would have to hold off until lunch; the staff

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lounge would be buzzing with the latest
gossip.

Shelly has worked hard trying to take

Tiffany’s to the top. In an onslaught of bridal
agencies and free-standing bridal consult-
ants this really isn’t the easiest business to be
in. This might not destroy her, but it would
certainly set her back. Shelly could handle it
though. I’m sure of that because she’s a
strong business woman, and reporters won’t
stand a chance at unnerving her.

“Anise I’ll need you to meet with Ellie

Manson. She’s the reporter from Valley
Bridal. They’re giving us a chance to com-
ment before they go to print.”

Why me? I hardly knew Shannon. I’m

new to Tiffany’s, well relatively new. “I don’t
think so,” I say this with more of a ‘not going
to happen’ tone then I intended.

“You’re going to have to be my voice An-
ise. I just can’t do it.”

140/266

She has a sad puppy dog look. This is a
look I haven’t seen before, and it com-
pletely shatters me. “When is the
interview?”
“In an hour.”

“An hour?” I half yell this and then I

remember that I’m talking to my boss. I do
feel guilty for lying my way into this job, and
I can’t just walk out on her. She looks at her
watch.

“Forty-five minutes actually.”
“So you’re telling us all this now so

we’ll know how to react if we’re asked any-
thing.” She is gearing everybody up so we are
not blindsided by the reporter.

“Yes. And so that you can think of

what would be appropriate to say.”

Me? I just spent the weekend cursing

like a sailor because my ex-husband made
me angry? On the other hand, I do have a
certain finesse about me.

“Shelly we’re going to have to talk.”

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“Later,” she says.
“No. Now. I need answers before I’m

asked the questions.” I’m proud of my non
pushover status right now, but I wonder if
I’m pushing it too far.

“Okay.” She whispers and the rest of

the crew realizes it’s now time for them to
take their leave.

“We’re behind you one hundred per-

cent Shelly,” Paul says. I think of how sup-
portive he’s being. I also realize if Tiffany fal-
ters so do they and nobody wants that.

After everybody gives their comments

of support they file out the room as if some-
body just died. Thrilling, but I’m hoping they
can muster a smile and the usual Tiffany
cheer before the reporter gets here. Well
maybe not the usual cheer, as that would
scare that reporter right out of here.

I wait until the door closes behind the

last consultant before I speak. “Shelly sit
down.” I say this calmly because I can tell

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she’s about to fall apart. She has the same
look I had when I found out my marriage
was ending.

“Listen,” I take her hand in mine.

“We’re going to get through this. Our con-
sultants have been doing an amazing job and
you’ve got the best wedding etiquette in the
Valley. This isn’t going to sink your ship.”

“She wants to sue me because I fired

her.” She says and I realize it’s worse than
just a reporter.

“She can’t sue you.” I notice Shelly

doesn’t really seem to be agreeing. “Shelly we
all signed a contract—in which was a long ass
bridal creed.” She looks at me, and I realize
I’ve once again cursed. “Sorry,” I smile. “I
don’t know if they read it, but I did. Rule
number two eighty states no sexual relation-
ships among clients.” I remembered that rule
because I went back and double checked
when I found myself very attracted to Alex. I
wanted to make sure he didn’t fit in the no

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sexual relationships category—and he didn’t.
Contract or not, it’s against the bridal creed
anyway.

“Really?”
“Don’t you read your own rules?”
“They were my mom’s rules. I just in-

corporated them into the business. I figured
my mom had the strictest regimen when it
came to brides. I knew that everything in
there had to work.”

She too had obviously found it too

long to read.

I wondered why Shelly had ventured

into bridal consulting, and now I knew. Her
mom was the bridal consultant that had in-
spired her. None of us had taken the time to
get to know Shelly. If we had taken time to
get to know her we would have seen she was
just like us. Instead, we saw her as some su-
per diva that didn’t really need any of us at
Tiffany Weddings. I guess we all thought she
probably could run the place on her own.

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“Well it’s in there. And I guess that ex-

plains rule number two eighty-five about
wearing stockings when we meet a client.”
She laughs, and I know that she’s relaxing a
little. “Make sure your lawyer looks at that
when he’s putting together the case.”

“My lawyer just dropped me.”
“What!” Okay, that wasn’t so calm.

She starts to cry.

“He doesn’t want this kind of case.”

She says, and I think what a coward. What
lawyer would turn his back on his client
without first seeing if the client’s guilty?

“Asshole,” she says. Now I’m thinking

we have more in common than I originally
thought. We both have potty mouths when
we’re angry.

“I know somebody who won’t back

away.” Finally she wipes a tear from her
cheek and looks up at me.

“Really?”

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She’s breaking my heart. “The best

lawyer this side of Texas.” I smile and finally
she smiles. “My ex. The man is lousy at fidel-
ity, but great at business. He’s only lost two
cases—and for both of those he struck a set-
tlement.” I pick up the conference phone and
I call him. I have him on speaker because I
am not sure how he’s going to react to me
and I think if he’s on speaker he’ll be less
hostile.

“Hey Anise.” He sounds as if he’s back

to normal. I swear that man has a split
personality.

“We need your legal services.” I ex-

plain the problem in as much detail as I can.
This case is right up his alley. He loves rip-
ping other lawyers apart. Mister Big Time
Corporate Lawyer is what we always called
him. His business major in undergraduate
studies and then law school were a lethal
combination.

“I can be there at three.”

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Shelly shakes her head yes. I tell him

that’s fine, and we’ll see him then. I say we
because Shelly has my hand again, and she’s
squeezing it rather hard. I can tell she is
stressed about facing this legal meeting
alone. I say my pleasant goodbye, still
amazed at how he can act as if the weekend
didn’t happen.

“Thank you,” she smiles—a real one

this time.

“You’re welcome,” I pat her hand. I

mostly want to let her know I need my hand
in tact, and I’d like it if she would stop
squeezing it so hard.

“Shelly I have to tell you something.”

I’m not sure now is the right time, but if I
don’t do it now then I won’t ever. I just can’t
lie to her anymore. I take a deep breath. “I
have been lying to you. It’s just I wanted this
job so much, and then once I was here it was
the only thing I thought I might be good at.”
I take another breath because she has this

147/266

unreadable expression on her face. “I haven’t
planned fifteen weddings, let alone fifteen in
one summer. I did help my friends, but in
their haste to help me move on after the di-
vorce, and find a good career path, they em-
bellished with a really huge ship of lies. I
didn’t know before you read it and after I
was just too scared that I might lose this…” I
can’t go on. I feel so utterly terrible.

“Oh honey,” she pats my knee. “I

already knew that.” She smiles at me.
“Sweetie I check everybody out very thor-
oughly. Maybe not thoroughly enough,” she
rolls her eyes as if she’s mentally making a
note to make some changes in the future. “I
figured if you would go through so much
trouble to get the job, you’d probably go
through more to keep it. It’s why I hired you
Anise. You have spirit and determination. I
don’t find that in everybody. You were the
dreamer, the perfect consultant for the per-
fect wedding. If you could put together a

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portfolio that professional, convince people
to write recommendations, and on top of
that they lie without you asking them to,
then you can convince a bride that her last
minute jitters are just last minute jitters. I
had faith in you, admired you and respected
you. I still do.”

Now I want to cry. “Really?”
“You reminded me of me at your age.

You’re full of life, fresh out of a divorce, yet
you still believed in love and romance. My
mom was good at this, but she never really
believed in the dream.”

She was right. Every bride I had

worked with believed in the dream wedding,
the dream marriage, the happily ever after
even when it’s clear that it takes a lot of work
to get there, and even then, happily ever
after doesn’t truly exist.

“I didn’t know you had been married.”
“Oh yes. It was a long time ago. I

planned his wedding.” She laughed. “We

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were friends. It was a very amicable divorce.
Actually we were better friends than lovers,
and that’s why we divorced. I figured if I
could do it, so could you.”

“But that’s different. Brendon and I—”
“Divorced and you had to move on.

When Donna suggested it, I knew what was
going on. When I got a call from Brendon the
same day requesting you, I knew then too. I
figured this would either help you get over
him and realize you’re better off, or you’d
wash out and quit. In which case I would
have been very disappointed Anise Meyers.”

“Well thank you. I think I was over

Brendon a long time ago. I just had to deal
with his betrayal, and planning actually
helped.” She smiles as if she knew that would
happen.

“Though I don’t think you will be

friends like David and I are. Your ex looks at
you as if he’s ready to strip you and take you
right where you stand.”

150/266

I’m shocked. I actually haven’t seen

Brendon look at me like that, but I’m more
shocked at Shelly’s verbiage. There’s a lot
about her I don’t know.

She laughs. “I’m glad you don’t return

the look or I’d have to oust you for that. No
way am I losing two weddings in one year. I
don’t think I need to worry. I hear your hair
looks like that because you spent the morn-
ing having sex with your boyfriend.”

I nearly fall out the chair. She must

have been rounding the corner when I men-
tioned it to Donna. “Oh my God,” I lower my
eyes unable to hold her gaze. She laughs.

“Oh please, been there...” she stops.

She looks at me with this strangely devilish
look. “In fact I’m still there.” We giggle to-
gether and I realize that we could be really
good friends given a chance.

151/266

In With the Reporter; Out

With the Trash

I tried to prepare myself, but I have to admit
that talking to this reporter makes me
nervous. Brendon had said it was definitely
okay, but to watch what I say. He didn’t have
to tell me that; I remembered as much from
the Perry Mason episodes my mom and I
used to watch. I know not to make any com-
ments I don’t want to bite Shelly in the butt
if this case goes to trial.

I also know not to mention too much

of the legal possibilities to Ellie. I’m sure she

knows about the possible lawsuit since she
got the first half of the story from Shannon. I
just don’t want to be the one to drag Shelly
through a media legal battle any sooner than
she has to be.

Ellie is beautiful. Light blonde hair,

beautiful cerulean eyes. She’s slender too,
which probably puts her in the category with
“soon to be on TV” news reporters. If her
bridal magazine ever goes on air, she defin-
itely has the lead anchor spot. I’m sure of
this because she’s drop dead gorgeous, and
obviously good enough at her job to grab the
story of the decade in the bridal world—the
Arizona bridal world anyway.

“I know you’re busy.” I think about

the fact that I’m really not that busy today.
“I’ll keep this as short as possible.”

I wonder if short is good. On one hand

it gives me less of an opportunity to screw
up. On the other hand it gives me less of a
chance to state all the facts.

153/266

“We would like to thank you for meet-

ing with us on such short notice.” Ellie could
have written the story on Shannon’s inter-
view alone.

“I hate one sided pieces,” she says

with a smile. “I like to present the facts. Hon-
estly, I wasn’t sure Ms. Pratt would agree to
this interview.

“Shall we start?” She turns on the re-

corder, and I instantly feel as if I’m sitting in
an interrogation room instead of my office. I
had insisted on my office because I thought I
would feel more comfortable.

I remind myself not to fidget. For-

tunately, my nervousness seems to be lost on
Ellie.

“Shannon says she was fired because

of her sexual orientation.” Since she left a
pause I feel a need to reply.

“Sexual orientation has nothing to do

with it. We all sign a contract when we join
the Tiffany family,” I say family because it

154/266

makes us sound close. “In that contract we
have a set of Tiffany Etiquette Rules, and
conducting a sexual relationship with a client
is forbidden.”

“But fired, is that really necessary?”
“Well think about it. If I were plan-

ning your wedding,” I say this because I no-
ticed the engagement ring on her finger the
moment she walked through the door. It
could blind someone in Kansas as much as
it’s sparkling. “You would want to trust that
your fiancé could come in here and handle
some of the minor details that you can’t get
to without having me trying to seduce him
into my bed. It’s about trust. If a bride can’t
trust her consultant then they can’t form a
solid relationship. The consultant can’t do
her job, and the bride doesn’t get the wed-
ding she deserves. The action of one person
in this office reflects on the whole.”

“Like a domino effect,” she adds and I

nod in agreement.

155/266

“The next bride that comes through

the door might think, hey this happened here
before and the consultant’s still here. How
do I know Anise won’t try to sleep with my
fiancé? That’s bad for business, but also for
moral. There are rules in the contract we
signed here and the code that we commit to
when we decide to become a bridal consult-
ant. If one person can break it without con-
sequence, then why can’t the next, and the
next, and the next.” I say and I notice she’s
nodding, but I don’t know if this is a fake “go
on,” or an “I understand” type nod. I keep
going.

“Shelly is happy for all of us when our

personal lives are flourishing. She tends to
think it adds to our ability to create the
dream wedding, but she does draw the line
at sexual relationships with clients.”

“Now from what I understand you’re
divorced.”
I tell myself to stay calm. “Yes I am.”

156/266

“And you’re planning your ex-husband’s
wedding.”
“He’s one of my clients, yes.” I laugh
slightly because I don’t want to seem as
if I’m going on the defensive.
“How does that help you keep with the
dream Tiffany wedding?”

Right now I’m wondering if she’s

comparing my situation to Shannon’s. “Well,
I guess you could say I have always been the
hopeful romantic. I’m realistic, and this past
year has made me even more of a realist. I
still love to believe in the fairytale of happily
ever after. Every relationship takes work and
marriage more so because you have two
completely different people trying to work as
one. There’s bound to be some problems.”

“I understand he cheated on you with

the girl he’s marrying now.”

I could kill Shannon. “Yes he did. It

was difficult at first. I think I wasn’t sure
how much I could forgive and move on, but

157/266

honestly it’s been sort of a healing process
for me. Planning their wedding has made me
put my own life into perspective. I seriously
hope they’ll make it work.”

“Really? I was told you didn’t seem

happy about it.”

“Well who would be?” I laugh

nervously. “I started off scared. My ex and I
could fight until the cows came home and
we’d still never settle an argument. I envi-
sioned planning the wedding to be the same
struggle, but it hasn’t been.”

“Are you seeing anybody?”
When did this interview become

about me? “I’m dating a rather charming
man.” I say with a smile, and she lights up. I
wonder what happened to the brief interview
that she promised.

“That’s great. And it all works with

working here?”

“Sure. I balance it. I try to make sure I

don’t spend too much time away from work

158/266

working on work, and I try not to bring home
here to the office. I think it’s what any em-
ployer would want from their employee.
There has to be a balance.”

“I agree,” she taps her pen on her

notepad. “So planning dream weddings still
leaves room for romance.” She states, not
ask, so I don’t answer.

I sit through more questions about

planning Brendon’s wedding and my post di-
vorce relationship. I really do want to know
where this is going, but I keep going because
I’m not sure breaking the process is a good
idea. It’s like Brendon always used to say,
when you go in with the reporter, the report-
er is usually going out with the trash.

“So you think this is a family here?”
“To an extent, yes I do. We’re kind of

like an extended family. Shelly is the mom
and all of the consultants and assistants are
brothers and sisters. We have our moments
when we’re stressed and we help each other

159/266

out, and then our moments when we’re try-
ing to show off to our mom.” That was actu-
ally almost a true statement.

“For instance, Megan, my assistant, is

like my right hand. She keeps me on sched-
ule, keeps me up to date when I miss a day at
the office. At the same time she’s the first
person to walk in this office and ask me how
I’m doing. I know that seems trivial, but it’s
nice to come in to somebody who truly cares.

“Planning a wedding is tough. You’re

dealing with families, extended families, ar-
guments, tears and laughter. At the end of a
stressful consult it’s nice to know there are
people here who will give me that pat on the
back so to speak. They really have made me
feel welcome here.”

“Does that include Donna?”
I now know Shannon has done some

major dishing. Why doesn’t she just write a
book or something; she could call it Tiffany
Weddings—the drama behind the façade.

160/266

“Donna and I are more like, oh not

sisters per se, but we’re more like two kids
fighting for Shelly’s attention and approval.
We both have something we want to prove;
whether that’s to ourselves or to each other I
don’t know. I do have to say that I think we
keep each other on our toes.” That was the
truth. I was always alert to her scams, and
she seemed to be forever alert to what was
going on with my brides.

“It sounds like a soap opera.” We both

laugh.

“I think that’s life in general. We have

all the drama of a soap, and it takes just as
long to wrap up the storyline.” We laugh
again. “Seriously,” I say as I come up for air.
“This is the best job I’ve ever had, and the
only one I’m afraid I’ll screw up and lose.”

“Well I don’t think you’re going to

have to worry about that. I get the feeling
you’re doing just fine,” she says before she
switches off the tape recorder. “Thank you

161/266

for your time Ms. Meyers. The article will be
in the August issue. You can check the stands
in another week or so.”

“Wow! So soon?” I know this already,

but for some reason hearing her say it makes
it seem more final.

“This is a last minute rush piece, and I

have to get this in tonight. My honey is not
going to be happy.” She doesn’t need to elab-
orate. I know what she means. I smile pleas-
antly and shake her hand before seeing her
to the door.

I open the door. Megan nearly falls.

She’s had her ear to the door the entire time.
Ellie and I laugh again. I give Megan a scorn-
ful look—well the best I can muster anyway
before I start laughing again. I can only
guess that any phone calls went straight to
voicemail. I seriously doubt Megan pulled
herself away long enough to answer any
calls.

162/266

Shelly would be pleased to know that I

didn’t get angry during the interview. I held
my temper when she started getting too per-
sonal, and I actually had some fun. Maybe
she won’t be too pleased about the fun part,
but I think I did okay. Then again, a friend
told me reporters are a tough breed. That
friendly interview might have just been a
front to cover over the gavel that might be
waiting to drop.

All eyes are on me as I take the short

walk to Shelly’s office. I think they want to
know how it went, but I’d rather talk with
Shelly first. She’s waiting for me at her door.
I figured she would be on edge, but I swear
she is almost in tears again. I shut the office
door behind me, and I tell her that I think it
went well.

“Somehow we managed to spend most

of the interview talking about me, planning
Brendon’s wedding and we talked about the
office. I think I put a good spin on things.” I

163/266

say this quickly. I am sure she probably fears
the office gossip will end up in the papers.
“Shelly, I did the best that I could.”

“I know,” she smiles. “I had no doubt

that you would.”

I know she didn’t or she wouldn’t

have put me in that position in the first
place.

If ever there were a time when I felt

the need to kick myself now would be it.
When I first started at Tiffany’s I saw Shelly
as a hard-nosed, sophisticated bridal con-
sultant extraordinaire. I prejudged her.
Granted she did kind of toss that persona out
there, but this crisis has showed me that
Shelly is just as insecure as the rest of us.

Thankfully we all make mistakes,

which means we’re all entitled to the occa-
sional slip in judgment. Shelly turned out to
be an amazing woman in more than just her
business sense and her consulting, and I was

164/266

determined to stick by her. My new mantra
is bring it on.

Actually I am hoping Shannon won’t

bring it too much because Shelly is slightly
fragile right now and I’m not sure she is up
for a fight. Then again with Brendon as her
lawyer she doesn’t have to be, she just has to
show up. He has enough fight in him to kill a
buffalo.

165/266

Just the Facts

“Anise,” he smiles, and then he winks at me.
It’s the same smile and wink he gave me
when we first met. Shelly gives me a look
that tells me she’s not pleased with the way
he’s flirting with me. I am not sure if she is
trying to warn me before he sweet talks me,
or if she is telling me she can’t take another
scandal. I can assure her there is no need to
worry.

I long ago stopped falling for Bren-

don’s sweet talk. I stopped falling for it right
after we got married. It’s when I realized that

he was winning more arguments, not be-
cause of his legal skill, but because he could
charm his way out of practically anything.
Charm is how we ended up displaying that
hideous china instead of leaving it tucked
away in the cabinet somewhere.

Watching Brendon work has always

fascinated me. He’s a legal genius. He’s the
guy who always seems to have the perfect de-
fense. He speaks at the right time, says the
right thing and wraps the case up before the
other guy knows what hit him.

Shelly seems to be doing fine too so I

guess Mr. Legal Genius has won her over as
well. I contemplate leaving. It’s not as if they
really need me here. Shelly has the story in
the bag and Brendon has that same glowing
look on his face that he gets every time he
knows he has winner. So when Shelly finally
surfaces for air I stand to leave.

167/266

“If you all will excuse me,” I try to

leave. I do have other things to do. Brendon
grabs my wrist.

“I’ll need you here Mrs. Meyers.”
I want to remind him that the divorce

made me a Ms., and that I don’t like the im-
plication in his tone when he called me Mrs.
Meyers, but the tape is still going and I am
not sure who will hear it, so I refrain from
airing our dirty laundry.

I sit back down in my chair, hand off a

polite smile and nearly yank my wrist free
from his hand. He is taking great liberties
with my request for his help. Give that man a
lane and he takes the entire roadway. If it
hadn’t been for Shelly nearly breaking down
on me I might not have called him in on this.
Why give him the satisfaction of knowing I
asked for his help if it weren’t absolutely
necessary?

“I don’t think you have anything to

worry about.” I see Shelly’s shoulders finally

168/266

make their way down from her ears back to
where they belong. “I think I can settle this
out of court. I’ll have a talk with Shannon’s
lawyer…” I listen to him ramble on, and as
usual I drift off into what needs to be done
next mode.

I start thinking about my brides. I try

to calculate my time based on which brides
are left and who needs what. I guess I should
think about my one groom, as I haven’t actu-
ally talked with his bride. Most pressing is
Brendon and Allison, and of course Evelyn.
She’s getting ready to walk too. In fact she’s
walking next weekend.

“Anise?” Shelly looks at me and I’m

thinking I should really stop going a drift be-
cause I believe I have missed a question. “If
you want me to stay,” she says. I’m wonder-
ing what happened in the few minutes I have
let my mind wander to my list of things that
need to be done.

169/266

“It’s okay.” I usually respond even

when I’m not sure what’s going on, which
usually gets me in trouble.

“It’s just a few questions about the in-

terview,” Brendon says, and I think both
Shelly and I relax a little.

“Well I’ll be in my office if you need

me,” she smiled at me and then shook Bren-
don’s hand. “Thank you so much for your as-
sistance Mr. Meyers. I know it’s short
notice—”

“Don’t mention it,” he smiled.
We both wait for the door to close be-

hind Shelly before we start speaking.

“I think the interview went rather

well.” I ramble on about what I was asked
and what I had to say. I skirt around some of
the personal stuff, but I mention just enough
to let him know we discussed it.

He’s frowning which makes me think

maybe her questions about my relationship
with my ex wasn’t exactly innocent, and

170/266

maybe they’d have some impact on this case.
I get a gut wrenching queasy feeling, and I’m
sure if I find out I screwed up I’m going to
cry.

“I thought it would be okay.”
“I’m sure you did fine I just wanted to

talk to you about the guy in your house the
other day.” He says this and I think that I’m
going to have to remain calm. Once I start
yelling they can hear me in China. I take a
deep breath and I stand up.

“This conversation is over.” I’m leaving.
At least I’m trying to leave, but he has
my wrist again.
“I want a do over.”
“A what?”
“A do over. You, me, hot sex.”

“Let go of me.” I say this in a tone that

will let him know I’m serious, but he doesn’t
let go. Instead he pulls me in and plants his
lips firmly against mine. He’s the master at
kissing, and within moments his tongue is

171/266

slipping inside my mouth. I’m not kissing
him back…let me check…no I’m not kissing
him back, but I haven’t pulled away either.

I plant my hands on his chest and

push just a little; I don’t want to fall back-
wards. I want him off of me, but he pulls me
in harder. I don’t have enough leverage to
push him away with any measure of force, so
I am now stuck in this precarious position.

I pull my head back despite his hand

pressing at the back of my head and then I
manage to push against his chest a little
harder.

“Brendon what the hell do you think

you’re doing?” I’m still keeping a low tone. I
don’t want this floating around the office.

“Just checking.”
My eyes narrow. I’m clinching my fist

and grinding my teeth. I’m ready to let go
with the full force of my wrath. I’m just
barely holding on here.

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“I wanted to make sure you weren’t

just out with Ken because you’re trying to
make me jealous.”

“His name is Alex.” I hate the Barbie

reference. “And I have no need to make you
jealous Mr. Meyers. You’re of no con-
sequence to me.”

“Ouch.” He says, but he has a smile on

his face. “I’m sure you’re not trying to make
me jealous. If you had been you would have
kissed me with a little more passion.”

“I didn’t kiss you at all.”
“I disagree.” He says in a sultry voice.
“You were never that great at facing

the facts outside the courtroom Brendon. Let
me spell it out to you. I don’t want you in my
life. Not as a friend, not as a lover, not as
anything. Once your wedding is over I want
you to move forward in a northward direc-
tion while I move quickly south. That way
there’s no chance of us meeting again.”

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“Well that’s going to be difficult,” he

says with a chuckle. I realize that Brendon is
in lawyer mode. When he is like this I never
seem to get a point across to him.

“Just the facts,” he states more than

he asks. I wait to hear what he has to say.
“You’re going to have a hard time avoiding
me when Allison and I just bought the house
across the street from you.”

He picks up his briefcase and walks

out the door, leaving me standing there with
my mouth open and a look of pure horror on
my face. With Brendon across the street I’ll
never get rid of him.

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It’s Complicated

I gave Alex a key after I changed the locks. I
knew there was no way he was getting drunk
and giving Brendon a key, and I liked having
Alex at my home. I liked being at his house
too. If I plan to keep my sanity after Brendon
moves in across the street I will have to
spend more time at Alex’s house than at my
house.

Alex having a key was convenient in

more ways than one. I loved coming home to
a nicely prepared meal. When I came home
today and found Alex in my kitchen cooking

and inquiring about how my day went, I
hadn’t exactly expected to blurt out the truth.
The truth was just too strange for reality, and
I would have rather made up a story. I was
getting good at that.

“It’s complicated,” I said instead.

Standing there and watching Alex toss the
salad made me feel like this was perfect. It
was as if the last ten years of my life were
leading up to this bliss, and I wasn’t about to
ruin it with more news about Brendon.

“I’m listening.”
Suddenly, I was reminded of the fact

that he was actually the type of guy who
really wanted to know the answer to his
question. He didn’t ask me how my day was
to hear “it’s complicated,” he asked because
he really wanted to know. My heart starts to
ache because he really is the right guy for me
and I really do love him. When you love
somebody you just should be able to tell the

176/266

truth. Then again, some truth is best left
untold.

“Well?” He looks at me, and I’m ready

to melt.

“Well,” I take a deep breath. I tell him

about Shannon and the scandal at Tiffany’s.
He nods in understanding. He too knows the
reputation of Tiffany Weddings, so he knows
this is not a welcome event. I tell him about
the reporter my call to Brendon for Shelly. I
emphasize “for Shelly,” and then I say, “I
guess it’ll all work out.”

I turn to leave. I realize I haven’t

asked him about his day, and I feel real guilty
about that, but I’m trying to make a mad
dash for the shower. I don’t want to answer
more questions.

He’s smart. He follows me, and waits

until I’m naked and incapable of running
anywhere else before he corners me in the
bathroom. I try to step around him and get
in the shower. I have my fake debutante

177/266

smile on my face, but he smiles and traces a
line up my arm. Okay sex is a good conversa-
tion stopper. I link my arms around his neck
and lean in for a kiss, but he moves my arms
from around his neck and looks down into
my eyes.

“You may be naked and enticing me,

but we weren’t finished with the conversa-
tion.” He has too much self control for a guy.

“So what did Brendon say?”
“Oh not much.” I back away. Then I

realize I shouldn’t lie because then he won’t
be able to trust me and that’s divorce court
101; in this case it would be end of the rela-
tionship 101.

“He told me he bought the house

across the street.” I point as if the house
across the street is actually in view at this
moment. “And he…” I can’t even look at Alex
right now because I’m sure he’s got that
really intent stare. “Hekindofkissedme.”

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“Was that a language?” He obviously

hadn’t made out what I said. The point is
that I said it, and so I feel as if I have done
my duty.

“Yes, English in fact.” I say this in a

very casual manner.

“How about you back up to the last

thing you said and say it slower.”

His eyes are forming into narrow slits

and I’m not sure if he’s angry at me or Bren-
don. I know he hasn’t fully understood what
I have said, but he translated enough to
know he should be pissed. I can be evasive
when I need to be, so I decide to play it cool.

“Yes…English…in…fact,” I say slowly

as if I don’t know this isn’t the sentence he
was talking about.

“Smart—”
“Hey! I may have a potty mouth when

I’m angry, but I’m not a huge fan of people
cursing at me.” He looks at me with that look

179/266

in his eyes that tells me he isn’t in the mood
for my sass.

“I said he kind of kissed me.” I try to

walk away as if this is the end of the conver-
sation. I’m going to take a shower because it
was just a kiss—no big deal.

“He kissed you.” He states this in a

very dry and almost angry tone. I’m starting
to feel my stomach go queasy.

“Uh, yeah.” I say. “I pushed him away

and then told him after his wedding was over
I didn’t want to see him again, and that’s
when he told me he bought the house across
the street.”

He muttered a curse, I’m not sure

which one, but I know it was a curse. He
sweeps me aside and swiftly walks out the
door. I follow because there is no way he is
getting angry with me when I did not kiss
Brendon back.

He’s out the door in what seems like

seconds, and I’m right behind him. Mr.

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Webster is outside washing his car. I notice
he’s staring in my direction. He seems to be
washing the rocks more than he’s washing
his car.

“Anise!” Alex yells and I finally

realize.

“Oh my God!” I dart back up the walk.

I’m stalk naked, and Mr. Webster isn’t gen-
tlemanly enough to turn around or divert his
eyes. I can’t help but think that he’s a dirty
old man. He’s at least sixty and while that’s
not really old, it’s old enough to know how to
pay a little respect.

I try the door, and it’s locked. I have

nothing to hide behind. My Arizona house
isn’t exactly surrounded by trees and bushes.
I push at the door again, until I realize I’m
just making my breast bounce around even
more.

I feel Alex behind me. He’s trying to

shelter me so I turn into him. “Please tell me
you have the key.” I say this in the calmest

181/266

voice I can, but already I’m near dying of
embarrassment.

“Uh, no. I don’t even have my car key,

that’s why I turned around.”

I must have done something wrong

when I was changing the lock because this
isn’t one of those doors that should just lock
automatically. “I’ll break a window.”

He assures me that I won’t. “We’ll just
call the fire department.”
“No we won’t.” The fire department will
not see me looking like this.
“It’s a small development they’ll come
out.” He says, and I want to slap him.

“You were going to leave me.” I almost

yell, but my voice is coming out strange. Oh
Christ. I’m hyperventilating. He tries to sit
me down, but I don’t want my bare bottom
down there with tiny crawling insects.

“It’s okay, just calm down. I wasn’t

going to leave you.” He looked down at me
and then back over his shoulder. Mr.

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Webster is still washing the rocks instead of
his car while he tips and leans to get a better
view.

Alex inched me closer and tried his

best to keep me concealed. “I got all alpha
male on you and I was going to kick his ass.”

Finally I start to breathe a bit more

normally. “No, don’t move.” I say this be-
cause if he moves then once again I’m giving
a peep show. “I’ll call Tay. Do you have your
phone?” He does. It’s in his back pocket.

“You gave her a key?”
He looks at me, and his lips curl into a

grin. I didn’t give her a key, but Dan happens
to be a locksmith and he can get me in. I
don’t know his number by hard. Without my
phone I’m not getting in touch with him un-
less I call Tay.

“I am so never going to live this down.

She’ll be angry that I didn’t give her a key
and she’ll laugh at the fact that I’m outside in
the buff.”

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“Don’t worry. You look really, really

good naked.” His lips caress mine, sweet and
tender at first. I think we’re going to be in
deep trouble. Sex outside in public is still
against the law.

I catch a glimpse of movement out the

corner of my eye. “Hi officer.” Alex pulls me
into him a little more. I rise on tip toe so I
can see the officer standing just off to the
side. I’m sure I’m flushed, but I think it’s
best if I explain why he caught a glimpse of
my nudity while patrolling the street.

“I locked myself out—naked.” I say

this as if he can’t see that I’m naked. I’m sure
he’s fighting back a laugh. I’m also sure that
he hasn’t tried to divert his eyes. From his
angle, he has a barely obscured view of the
side of my behind. I thought cops were sup-
posed to protect and serve with dignity. Then
again, it’s my dignity on the line.

“I’ll be right back,” he says before

walking away.

184/266

My God this is getting worse. If it wer-

en’t like a hundred degrees outside then
maybe Alex could have been wearing a coat.
Then I realize. “You,” I slap his shoulder as
much as possible in my given position. “Why
didn’t you just take off your shirt and give it
to me?” The officer is back by now and I
know I’m not getting an answer to my ques-
tion. He has a blanket for me to cover myself
with, so I do. “Thank you.”

He laughs at me when I ask him to

pick the lock. He assures me he can’t do that.
I wonder if it’s a legal issue because I am al-
most sure he must know how. Then I finally
start to think. I smile prompting the two gen-
tlemen to look at me strangely. It’s not like
I’m offering sex for a free pass into my
house.

“Bedroom.” I feel the need to contin-

ue, “The bedroom window slides open easy
even when I think it’s locked.” I meant to

185/266

have it fixed months ago. It’s been on my list
of things to do since I moved in.

“That’s not safe Miss.” He uses his cop

tone on me, and I feel as if I’m back in grade
school getting a lecture from my teacher.

“That’s why I have a little alarm on it

until I can get it fixed.”

I try to avoid impending argument by

walking around to the side. I notice the rocks
and the hot ground as I’m stepping around,
but my pride is too important to step back
and let one of the men do it. I already feel
like an idiot. I don’t want to look like a bigger
idiot just because I forgot rocks would hurt
my bare feet.

I push open the window. As luck

would have it, it sticks just as I get it halfway
open. It is a good thing I came back because
I can fit, but they won’t. I switch off the
alarm, thus proving the point that the officer
was trying to make.

186/266

I get one leg in, and I try to graciously

get the rest of me in while keeping the
blanket wrapped around me. I feel the tug at
the blanket before I fall forward, dragging
my left leg and the rest of my body in
through the window. I gasp and try to cover
the pertinent parts. I also try moving to
crawl away, which if I were thinking I would
realize this is not a good idea. I now have my
butt tooted up in the air with one officer and
one lover staring at my rear end.

“I’ll get the door.” This has to be the

most humiliating experience of my life.

“Put some clothes on first honey.”
There are so many things I can think

of to do to him; all of them involve pain. I
close the window and grab a wrap dress from
the closet putting it on as quickly as I can. I
quickly make my way to the front door.

“Thank you officer.” Once again I am

probably turning red all over.

187/266

“Officer Yates.” He smiles and slips

his sunglasses back on. “It’s not a problem,
just try to go out with clothes on next time.”

I could see him laughing once he got

in the car but there was nothing I could do
about that one. Alex on the other hand, I am
sure I can find a way to punish him.

“Now you’re definitely on the couch,”

I say as I walk away. I suddenly remember I
left the shower going and I run in to shut it
off. I don’t quite make it to the shower.

“Like hell I am.”
I turn to see Alex behind me. “Oh yes

you are buddy.” I try to muster some sense of
finality, but even I know he’s really turning
me on right now. He kicks the door closed.
This is a side of him I haven’t seen before.
“I’m serious Alex.” I move back. He walks
closer, and I can tell he’s intent on taking
what he wants. It’s okay because I’m intent
on giving it to him too, but I really do want to
make him wait.

188/266

He pulls me in so swiftly that I’m try-

ing to remember when I let my guard down.
Two seconds later he’s got my wrap dress
pooled around my feet and I’m naked again.

“You shouldn’t have been enticing me

with all that activity.”

“Activity!” I know what he means. My

jiggling and flashing, falling and crawling
with my butt up in the air is the activity he’s
referring too. “I…you should have given me
your shirt.” I finally manage a glare. He
doesn’t seem to notice.

“Hadn’t crossed my mind. If you wer-

en’t so damn sexy it would have, so it’s your
fault.” He growls this. I realize he is entirely
turned on.

I’m still not ready to give in. “My

fault! My fault! How is it my fault?” He
presses his hand to my breast. I forget why
I’m yelling.

“Your fault because you’ve got me so

hard with just one look at you that I could

189/266

come while trying to get out of my pants.”
My knees go weak. “What gives you the idea
that a man can think when you’ve got him in
that position?”

“You were thinking earlier.”
“You were being evasive earlier.”
“I wasn’t.” I should keep up my end of

the conversation, but I can’t think with him
touching me. It’s not as if we haven’t had sex
before, but I feel almost dazed with anticipa-
tion. For a man that’s nearly about to shatter
he surely isn’t helping me get him naked.

“Uh no,” he says. “I think you should

have to pay for trying to keep a certain point
from me earlier.”

Pay! I think not. I remember what he

said about being close…very close. I reach
my hand down and he instantly knows what
I’m going for. He pins me to the wall with my
hands forming a frame for my head. He dips
his head to plant a soft series of kisses on my
lips. I try for more but he pulls away.

190/266

“I have great restraint.” He has a dev-

ilish grin on his face. I’m squirming trying to
get free. I want to get him naked right now. I
seem to be the one suffering even though he
was so close just a few seconds ago.

His lips trail down my neck, lingering

and kissing in all the right places. His teeth
nip at my skin, and his tongue dances over
my flesh leaving cool, wet patches on my
breast.

He makes love to me and there is

nothing slow or gentle about his method. I’m
anchored to the wall only by the weight of his
limp body. As my brain starts to come out of
its hypnotic haze, I realize that I am going to
have one huge water bill because the shower
is still going. I am probably out of hot water
too.

I’m not sure I can stand on my own,

but I try to untangle my legs from around his
waist anyway. He doesn’t let me. Instead he

191/266

straightens up and clumsily climbs into the
shower. Oh, the water is still hot.

After a long, hot shower we pull

ourselves together long enough for me to put
some clothes on and for Alex to stand by en-
joying the view. He doesn’t take long to re-
dress, but while he’s doing it I remember
that he’s cooked dinner for me. I smile at
him and he smiles back at me. “So can we
have dinner now?” I say this with a grin on
my face that might just be turning him on
again.

“Sure,” he says as he takes my hand

and leads me into the kitchen. I’m hungry at
this point. I would probably eat it without
him reheating it, but he insists on sticking it
in the oven. I try to pick a little slither of
chicken out the pan, but he pushes my hand
away.

“I’m hungry.” I moan. “You made me

work up an appetite.”

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“I made you?” He looks at me with a

funny grin on his face as if he’s contemplat-
ing the accuracy of my statement. He holds a
small slice of seasoned potato to my mouth.

I do realize that with Alex sleeping

over so often I’m going to have to set more
rules as to when and how often we explore
each other. Right now I would usually be
plotting for my brides. With Alex staying
over so often I seem to be doing less work at
home and leaving more work for the office.
Maybe that’s a good thing.

193/266

Missing: One Sane Bride…

Another night quickly fades into daylight.
Alex paid attention to my ground rules for
sleeping over, and I was able to get out the
door on time this morning. I called Tay and
scheduled lunch. I need to discuss the Bren-
don situation with her, and I’m feeling a little
guilty about not giving her a key. I’m plan-
ning to eat my words and have a copy made
for her.

We’re meeting in Scottsdale. I hate

going up to Scottsdale. The traffic is awful,
the prices are ridiculous, and the speed traps

are enormous. I’ll be sitting in traffic for an
extra hour, which is a complete waste of
time.

I’m also stuck listening to wedding

music. My new Scottsdalian bride is too busy
to pick her own music, so the groom and I
are doing the honors. We’re even picking the
music for the first dance. Since I’m doing the
decision making for the bride, I’m hoping I
won’t have to stand in for dance instruction
as well.

Mitch is into rock music. So far, every

song he has picked has been heavy on the
drums. Mitch and Stacey are polar opposites.
He’s more eighties grunge, and though I
haven’t actually met Stacey, she seems more
upscale. Her mother assures me that she is
doing this to spite them. They want her out
of their house so they’re going along. I have a
feeling this isn’t a good sign for Tiffany Wed-
dings’ record. One lost nuptial might just

195/266

turn into two, and maybe even three, if Bren-
don doesn’t get his head on straight.

Mitch is a nice guy and he works hard.

He’s an artist of sorts. He sculpts. Apparently
that’s how he met Stacey. She was at an art
show in Tempe, and he had one piece in the
show. He is thirty-five, not really a new artist
either, which I guess is why Stacey’s parents
weren’t too happy about her choice.

Mitch and Stacey is high profile, but

my primary concern right now is Evelyn.
She’s walking this weekend. Evelyn’s going
to be fine. I have only heard from her twice a
day every day since we set the venue. This is
down from the usual six times a day, so I
guess she’s feeling ready now. She has her
dress. She has the catering set. The reception
is going to be great, and the groom still
wants to go through with the wedding. Every
time she calls I have to reassure her that the
wedding is going to be fine, the guest are go-
ing to show and the food will be great. I hope

196/266

all of those things will happen, but as I have
learned, in the world of bridal consultants
and Tiffany Weddings, anything can happen.

I arrive at my Scottsdale location to

find Stacey deeply involved in a photo shoot.
She is not a model. Stacey just likes to have
new pictures of herself taken once a month.

“I’ll be right with you sweetie.”
I’m not a person to cringe when being

called sweetie, but that just made me cringe.
I hope she remembers my name soon or I’m
going to have to find a way to remind her.

“We can take a break.”
“We still have more to do.”
“I need to give the memory card a
break.”
I almost laugh. I guess this is one photo-
grapher that has figured out how to ma-
nipulate the situation to get what he
wants.
“Andrew.”

197/266

“Anise.” I say this loud enough for Sta-
cey to hear me because I would rather
not be called sweetie the entire morning.
“So Anya.”

“Anise.” I say this with a bit more vig-

or. I find it extremely disrespectful for some-
body to consistently call me by the wrong
name.

“Right sweetie. Anyway, Mick tells me
you’re doing a good job.”
For a moment I start to wonder if I’ve
met the wrong groom. “You mean
Mitch?”
“Yeah, him.”
Oh God. We’re going to be two weddings
down this season, I am almost sure of
that.
“He says you’ve got great taste in music.
I hope you’re picking the right stuff.”

I’m feeling just a little annoyed at this

point, but I smile anyway when I say, “It

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would be better if you were actually in on
this stage of the planning.”

“Oh no, I don’t care really. I figure

we’ll be divorced in a year, and I’ll do it all
over again.” I don’t know what to say to that.

“Hey, you can be like my personal

consultant.”

“I think you’ll want somebody differ-

ent. You know, give you a different flavor to
your wedding.” I see the smirk on Andrew’s
face, and I know he too understands my de-
sire to get rid of this bride.

I am starting to think Shelly is testing

me. I seem to keep getting the difficult brides
and that is certainly not a coincidence. I’m
thinking of taking out an ad. It’ll read, Miss-
ing: One Sane Bride. I figure there has to be
some sane women getting married in this
state. Or maybe they all turn into crazed psy-
cho women the moment the ring goes on
their fingers.

199/266

“True. Anyway, I like a little bit of jazz

and rock and that new classical stuff. But we
need some hip hop for the kids and maybe a
bit of afro-centric in case daddy invites some
black people.”

I’m biting my tongue—hard.
“I’m sure you’ll know what works there.”
Why, because I’m mixed and the color of
my skin is leaning more toward a
smooth mix of caramel and cocoa?
“Oh I’m sorry sweetie.”
I realize that I must have my obvious
fake smile plastered on my face. I try to
stay pleasant.
“African-American.”

“I’m not African.” I am sure my tone

is out of the business-professional arena and
smack dab in the middle of the pissed off
arena. “In fact I have never even been there.”

“Oh, that’s too sad. You should go back
and see your people.”

200/266

“Stacey go touch up your makeup, it’s
smearing in this desert heat.” Andrew
gives me a look that tells me he
understands.
I watch her skirt swoosh from side to
side as she pops over to the car and pulls
out a mirror.
“I’m sorry about that. She still has a lot
of growing to do.”

“It’s not your fault.” The way I see it

I’m being punished for lying. It’s the only ex-
planation for the load of crap I’m being
served lately.

“She’s really annoying. When I first

started as her photographer she said she
couldn’t believe my parents didn’t name me
after one of my ancestors. She thought that’s
what Chinese people did.” He snorts and cuts
me a look. “I’m Japanese.”

“So why do you stay with her?” Or more
like how does he stay with her?

201/266

“It’s good money. I shoot for her once a
month and it funds my true passion.”
“Which is?”
“Artistic photography. Nudes mostly.”

“Oh.” I wondered if he had any gallery

showings, but I didn’t have time to ask be-
fore he pulled out his card and handed it to
me. My mind quickly drifts to another press-
ing question. “Does she always do that?”

“Yeah she does her own hair, makeup

and wardrobe. She says nobody else can
make her look as good as she can.” We both
laugh. Stacey would probably take her own
photos if she thought she could.

I sit through the photo session, occa-

sionally getting a response to my questions. I
wonder how Mitch fell for her, but I guess
there must be some redeeming qualities in
there somewhere. Or maybe Mitch is looking
for a free ride so he can pursue his passion
too.

202/266

“Mitch wants a chocolate wedding

cake.”

“Whatever he wants.”
If she has no opinion on things then

why did I have to drive forty minutes in
traffic to get here? Instead of asking the
question floating around in my brain, I smile
casually.

“So if you need nothing further from

me I have a few more appointments, and I
still need to call the resort owner to discuss
your wedding arrangements.

“Oh sweetie, I canceled that.”
“When?”
“This morning. I decided I want
something different. Something nobody
has ever done before. Something like
North Point.”
“North Point isn’t accepting weddings.
We’ll need to find something else.” I
state this as if there’s no choice.

203/266

“No. I want North Point. Donna told me
you’re sleeping with the owner. I know
it’s doable. Just make it happen.”
“It’s not doable and it’s not going to
happen.”
“Are you saying no to me?” She holds up
her hand as if she’s letting Andrew know
he needs to stop shooting now.
“I am.”
“You can’t say no to me.”

“I can, and I did. It’s my job as your

consultant to see that your wedding is as per-
fect and dreamlike as possible, but I’m not
here to aid in your delusion. If you can’t
handle that then I suggest you find another
consultant.” Wow that felt good. Of course
there’s a little matter of my job to think
about here.

She looks at me for a moment. I think

she’s considering getting another consultant.
“Okay, no North Point. So you need to call
the Talbot back and rebook my room.”

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Me? I need to call? I didn’t call to can-

cel it in the first place.

“Not a problem.” I know that I can

take care of this little detail. I also know that
Donna is going to catch hell when I get back
to the office. Assuming I’m still angry by that
point. Whenever I meet with Tay I tend to
calm down. Actually I have a couple hours
before lunch so I think I’m going to head
back there now. I can always get Tay to meet
me in Phoenix. She’ll like that better than the
drive to Scottsdale anyway.

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Office Confrontation 101

I arrive at Tiffany’s with my mission in
mind—find Donna and set her straight.
Without pausing to give a suitable greeting
to Paul and my chatty assistant, of which I
really do think they’re back on in their on
again off again sexual relationship, I head
straight for Donna’s office. Casey, Donna’s
assistant, bolts out of my way when she sees
I don’t intend to stop for permission to enter.

“We need to talk.” I manage to say

this with some civility in my tone. Office
Confrontation 101 is to try to keep things

below a bellowing scream. I’m not angry
enough to cause a scene, but this feud is get-
ting out of hand.

“Later.”
“Now.”
She puts her pen down and gives me

her attention as if I’m an interruption to her
day. I don’t care if I am. I have something to
say and she’s going to listen whether she
wants to or not.

“I don’t know what your problem is

Donna, but discussing my personal relation-
ship with my client, or any other client for
that matter, is highly unprofessional. I know
you told Stacey that I’m seeing Alex because
she told me when she tried to get me to get
North Point for her. It would seem that was
at your suggestion too.”

I don’t give her a chance to deny or re-

spond because I’m not finished. For once I’ve
learned how to argue like a lawyer, and talk
until I’m done. “Whatever bug you have up

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your butt I suggest you pull it out or learn to
live with it. You’re not in that office because
your lack of professionalism is stopping you
from being a great consultant. Don’t blame
me. Don’t blame Paul or Megan or Casey or
anybody else. Blame yourself. Get over it and
move on. Maybe one day you’ll earn the right
to sit in there.”

I wait to see what she has to say. For

once she doesn’t seem to have anything to
say. Her eyes are fixed on me and her mouth
is hanging open. I decide that I got my point
across.

I turn to find Megan, Paul, Casey and

a rather angry looking Shelly standing at the
door. I know I wasn’t yelling. I’m absolutely
sure of that.

“I saw the line of consultants and as-

sistants following you and I wanted to know
what the hell was going on now.”

Shelly has now shocked the entire

group of onlookers because they seem more

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floored that Shelly Pratt has just cursed. I
have heard her curse, so this in no way
shocks me. I’m guessing they have probably
heard it too, but it’s been so long that they
have forgotten that she can, and will, curse
when she wants to.

“Donna, did you tell Anise’s client of

her

intimate

relationship

with

Mr.

Covington?”

“It might have slipped,” Donna says

this so sheepishly that most people would
probably feel sorry for her. I don’t feel sorry
for her because I know it didn’t just slip.

“You weren’t even to be talking to An-

ise’s client let alone divulging such informa-
tion. That’s not a part of our lives that we let
clients see. Is that understood?”

“Yes.”
“That goes for all of you.” She turns,

and I realize the crowd gathered at Donna’s
office door is bigger than I thought.

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“Donna I don’t have to tell you how

disappointed in you I am.” She pauses for
emphasis. I’m sure it’s not needed. Donna
certainly must be feeling smaller by the
second. “It’s this type of childish behavior
that kept you out of the lead consultant posi-
tion. I had hoped you would learn and grow
up, but I’m seeing that you aren’t doing
either. There is no room for vindictive back-
stabbing at Tiffany’s, and it’s time I clean
up.”

I realize that she means it’s time she

take back Tiffany Weddings, and keep a
tighter reign on her consultants. I agree actu-
ally. Things have been going haywire lately.

“Anybody who steals a client from an-

other consultant, spread rumors, lies or
truths, about a consultant to a client will be
fired.

No

second

chances.

Is

that

understood?”

I hear emphatic yes’s coming from the
crowd and then I notice that Shelly’s

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looking back in my direction so I agree
as well.
“Not you dear.”
I realize that somehow I have lined up
with Donna in Shelly’s line of sight.
“Yes.” Her voice is soft, unlike her usual
vociferous mannerism.
“Good. Now that we have that clear you
owe Anise an apology for being
uncouth.”
Wow, now I’m scared of Shelly.
“I’m sorry Anise.”

Shelly looks at her and then at me,

and I’m wondering if she wants me to apolo-
gize too. I’m trying to think if I’ve done any-
thing to Donna that merits apology, other
than a few not so nice thoughts that is.

“I should have been more professional

and spreading your personal business was
not my place. I am sorry.” She says this, and
I realize Shelly’s look prompted this attempt

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at a heartfelt apology. I don’t buy it, but I’ll
meet her half way.

“Apology accepted.”
I’m not ashamed of my relationship

with Alex. If I thought it were appropriate I’d
probably shout it from the rooftops, but hav-
ing a client blindside me with that, in front of
somebody else, was just humiliating. Maybe
more so because the implication was if I’m
sleeping with him then I should get what I
want, and that makes me sound like a
prostitute.

It’s not until I step out into the hall

that I notice most of the consultants are
standing out there listening. Paul pats me on
the shoulder, and gives me a smile as if to tell
me I’ve finally staked my claim as lead con-
sultant. Megan gives me a quick thumb up. I
see several other staff members smiling at
me and winking, as if I’ve just accomplished
something they’ve been trying to do for
years. I put Donna in her place. If we’re lucky

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Shelly has managed to de-fork her pitchfork
and we can all work a little easier now.

I walk back to my office with about fif-

teen minutes to spare before I need to leave
for lunch. I figure I’ll get a little work done
on Evelyn’s final preparations before I go.
That idea is short lived. Megan is already
plopped down onto my couch.

“Nobody other than Paul has been

able to tell Donna off and walk away
unscathed.”

I hadn’t realized she and Paul had

been on the outs so I ask, and of course, I re-
ceive the answers I want. I think gossiping is
about as contagious as the flu or the common
cold.

“Oh yes, he told her off when she tried

to steal one of his clients. Actually she had
almost succeeded, but he got his client back.
He told her off, and she’s been kind of nice to
him ever since. Nobody has ever humiliated

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her in front of the entire office before
though. Definitely not in front of Shelly.”

I wasn’t going for humiliation. I just

wanted her to know things had to change.
I’m going to be here at Tiffany’s for a long
time, and I’d rather that be a pleasant long
time than one filled with paranoia and
worry.

“Not many people can stand up to

Donna. You are definitely an amazing wo-
man.” And with that she pulled herself off
my couch and went back to her normal office
duties.

I figured the Donna and Paul dispute

must have been before most of the present
consultants came onboard. Nobody seemed
to remember it except Megan, and as far as
assistants went, she had been there the
longest. Six years I think which is about the
same as Paul, but Donna has been here for
only five years. I guess she came in wanting
to take over.

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I had wondered why Paul hadn’t been

promoted to lead consultant. Though now I
realize he has about the same amount of cli-
ents as a lead, he works hard, but putting
Paul in the lead position would be opening
Tiffany’s up to an entirely new stock of law-
suits. He can’t keep his highly inappropriate
comments to himself long enough to hold a
decent conversation with any of the pretty fe-
male staff. I couldn’t imagine if he had the
power to hire and fire too. It would be like
Playboy meets Dynasty.

I managed to get one thing sorted for

the upcoming Chase affair. I rechecked the
guest count with the caterer. Everything
seemed to be set, so I put my computer on
lock mode and left for my lunch with Tay.

I’m almost sure I’ll be eating humble

pie if I mention the incident of being locked

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outside naked so I don’t mention it. I just
slide a key over to her.

“I was wondering when you’d forgive

me and give me a copy.” She says this as if
she knows I waited because I was still angry.

“Well you’re my best friend and I

don’t mind if you have a key.”

“I get it.” She laughs.
“I gave your card to an artist today,” I

know how much she really hates surprise
phone calls from aspiring artist. “I haven’t
seen his work, but I have a feeling he might
be good. He shoots artistic nudes and he
might be calling you.” She nods as if it’s
okay. She jots his name down on a napkin
and stuffs it in her purse. Tay may seem dis-
organized, but she’s not. I know that as soon
as she gets in the car she’ll transfer his name
into her memo book.

“Brendon is making my life hell.” She

perks up now that I’ve moved past the small
talk. Tay is a sucker for any type of drama. I

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tell her about Alex and Brendon, and the
episodes I’ve been having with the two of
them. I tell her about Brendon’s kiss and for
a moment her eyes widen, then she sits back,
so I continue on until I have blabbed
everything except for the naked incident.

“But I guess that’s life. Just when

you’re coasting along at a normal speed life
slaps you in the face and tells you that there
are no unauthorized changes allowed.” She
nods in agreement. We both know a thing or
two about unplanned events happening at
the wrong time in our lives.

“That man is an asshole. You’ll get noth-
ing from him but shit.”
I laugh at Tay’s ability to think on her
feet.
“I’m serious Anise. Don’t you dare let
him sucker you in this time.”
“And give up great sex, a really loving
man and the potential for a wonderful

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future as a married woman? I think
not.”
“Well I didn’t think you were stupid, but
I felt the need to give you my advice
anyway.”

Tay’s advice was more like an order,

but it’s okay. She’s Tay, and I know at some
point in our past I have ordered her around
too.

218/266

There are Men, There are

Women and Then There are

Brides…

Alex spent the night again. I’m starting to
think he spends more time at my place than
he does his own. Despite his presence in my
bed I managed to get up, shower and make it
to the ceremony site on time. I had
everything moving along smoothly, and then
my bride walked down the stairs.

She looked amazing. Her hair was

pulled back in a tight bun. It complimented
the strapless, ivory wedding dress nicely. She

had a magnificent strand of pearls softly em-
bellishing her neck. She was simply classic.

The traditional wedding march played

as she took to the steps. Somehow, when
they say step by step I think they mean to
take those steps with one’s feet, not their be-
hind. Her heal got caught on her dress and
she slipped and slid down from the second
from the top step to the bottom. It could
have been worse. She could have rolled.

Audible gasp permeated the hall. I

didn’t have time to stand there looking
shocked. I ignore the gasping sounds and I
casually walk over to Evelyn. I help her up.
First I make sure her dress isn’t ripped in
any places. I check to see if she’s okay and
she is so I say, “Smile”. For once she listens
to me without hesitation, and she smiles.
“Now wave it off as if you’re fine,” and not
humiliated. She waves it off. “Now give a
faint laugh, and take your bouquet from my
hand.” I have to say this through gritted

220/266

teeth. I still have a smile on my face so the
others won’t know I’m coaching her.

“Now walk down the aisle.” I step out

of the way so she can finish her walk to the
alter. I notice she still has her head held
high, which is good considering what just
happened.

There is serious irony here. When it

comes to categories, there are men, there are
women and then there are brides. The one
thing my at home course hadn’t prepared me
for was the onslaught of emotion, especially
the yelling and screaming stage. I used to de-
fend women when guys would complain
about how crazy their wives were right be-
fore the wedding. After all we all have our
moments of insanity.

Out of all the major blowouts thus far,

each one of them has been strictly the brides
doing. The men seem to sit back and take it. I
guess that says something for their intelli-
gence because there is no way anybody

221/266

wants to step between a bride and the perfect
rehearsal.

There was an unspoken fear between

the bridesmaids. I could sense this fear last
night. When I first walked in the room the
women seemed to be huddled in their
corner—without Evelyn. I had dealt with
Evelyn, so I had an idea of how “my way or
the highway” she could be, but this feeling of
sheer panic was something new. The flower
girl appeared to be walking as if she were on
a thin layer of ice. Whenever it was her turn
to walk down the aisle and pretend to throw
the flowers she would give her mother a look
that pleaded for help. Her mom would
merely smile and wave her down the aisle.

I would have attributed little Lindy’s

fear to nerves, but the first bridesmaid to
walk down the aisle nearly stumbled on her
evening dress, and Evelyn had a screaming
match that would have scared a Marine.

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“If I wanted klutzy I would have asked

my sister to be here,” she had said. She
hadn’t stopped there. She went on about how
slow they were walking, how fast the flower
girl had been walking and how stiff all the
guys looked while standing in front of the al-
ter. I calmed her down a little, but even a
consultant’s powers fail when it comes to an
angry, uptight bride.

I’m sure Felicity, the unfortunate

catalyst to last night’s yelling, is probably
holding back laughter right now. The good
thing is that these women will most likely go
back to being the best of friends once this
evening is over. I’m sure of this because
there are men, there are women and then
there are brides. Once the wedding is over,
and all hormones return to their pre-bridal
luster, the bride goes back to being a woman.

Nobody want’s to be that bride—the

one that falls down the stairs, spills a little
pre-wedding wine on her dress, has lipstick

223/266

on her teeth or gets left at the alter. Well,
three out of four isn’t bad. At least I hope
that is how she will see it. I also hope she will
be able to make it through the ceremony
without bursting into tears. I know she is
embarrassed. I also know she’s stubborn,
and there’s no way she wants anybody else to
see that she is utterly humiliated.

I watch the ceremony from the back

as usual. Somehow this wedding takes me
back to when I first got married. I don’t
know why. I’ve been to weddings since the
divorce. I should be past the nostalgic feel.
Obviously I’m not. I think back to the day my
mom helped me dress. Tay gave me the last
minute advice about newlywed life. The
dress needed a last minute alteration, and we
used clothes pins to pull it together. This
time, when I see myself walking down the
aisle I see Alex waiting for me.

This wedding is an event for the

books. My bride takes to the stairs like a

224/266

baby on ice skates and the photographer has
to be told to move the paper from blocking
the lens. At least I’m not at fault for either of
these problems. I told Evelyn to hire a pro-
fessional instead of her cousin, who just hap-
pens to be in his second year as an art major
at the community college. I also have no con-
trol over a bride falling. I would like to state
for the record that I am fully dissolved of all
liability here.

For all that Evelyn has put me

through she deserves a beautiful memory.
When I find her in the lady’s room crying I
immediately start to think of what I can do to
make this better.

I touch her shoulder because I’m not

sure what to say actually.

“I can’t believe I fell.”
“Honey trust me, nobody is thinking

about that right now.” There goes lie number
one. “I’m sure of that because I have been
walking the room all evening and several

225/266

women raved about how beautiful you
looked.” That is the truth. I heard some envi-
ous chatter too, but I leave that part out.
“The men were saying how sexy that slinky
dress looks on you.” Her slender, red tinted
lips part and she’s showing pearly whites
now.

“See at the end of the day people re-

member how gorgeous you look and how
happy you are. How wonderful the two of
you danced, and how great the food is. It’s
not about one moment Evelyn; it’s about all
of them. And right now you’re missing some
of the best ones.”

I gently dab a handkerchief at her

eyes.

“You’re right, it is.” She says this in

her usual I’m ready to take on the world tone
and I know that I have her right where I need
her to be.

“Well,” I extend my hand realizing I’m

treating her like a little child, but I can’t help

226/266

it. “You should get back out there.” She
smiles again, and I know she’ll be fine.

“Anise, you’re the best bridal consult-

ant ever.” I smile and thank her. “I mean it.
You put up with me.”

Compared to Allison, she’s a walk

through the park.

“You didn’t get me North Point, but

this is better. Thank you for not walking out
on us. A few others have. Tiffany Weddings
was kind of our last stop. It should have been
our only stop.” She smiles again and pulls me
in for a hug.

These are the moments that make my

job seem worthwhile. I fight back a tear my-
self, and then I smile. “You’re one of my bet-
ter brides,” she looks at me with a hint of dis-
belief visible in her eyes. “Seriously, you kept
me on my toes. I normally don’t discuss my
personal life with clients, but I think that be-
cause of your North Point dreams I met the
man I was meant to be with.”

227/266

“He was so checking you out while we

were looking here.” She giggled. “I guess we
both have our reasons for loving each other.”
She hugs me again. Love was a tad strong.

“Get back out there and dazzle your

guest.” She laughs and then practically floats
out the door. I follow behind making sure no
running kids step on her dress or spill their
drinks.

I stay until the reception is over. I

make sure caters are happy, the rental hall
staff doesn’t have much to clean and that
every guest is either sober enough to drive
home or tucked into a cab. I step outside and
see Alex sitting on the hood of my car—that
would be my new BMW convertible I just
bought at a really good price. It’s used actu-
ally, but it’s new for me. I could kick his be-
hind all over the street if he has one scratch
on my creamy navy-blue car. He smiles as if
he knows what I’m thinking.

“I thought I’d ride with you.”

228/266

“You didn’t have to—”
“I know. I missed you. You’re not going
home, and I thought I’d ride with you.”
“I’m going home.”

“No you’re not. You have a date.” He

tells me that he had the driver drop him off
so he could take me on this date that I knew
nothing about. He rarely used the driver. He
usually saved that for the big spenders that
came to his resort.

“Honey I’m tired.”
“I know. That’s why you have a date.

You have the rest of tonight and tomorrow to
relax. I’m taking you to the best place in the
Valley for a little R&R.”

Now that sounds fun, but I’m not

really dressed for an overnight stay.
“Clothes,” he holds his hand up to shush me.

“It’s already taken care of beautiful.

All you have to do is get in the car.”

I take the keys out, which he takes

from me. He walks me around to the other

229/266

side. I’m hesitant. I have not let anybody else
drive this car. I have had it about a week and
I am not too thrilled about taking it out. My
last car killed over, so I have no choice but to
drive this baby.

Alex laughs and more than helps me

into the passenger seat before walking
around to the other side and easing in be-
hind the wheel.

“Ready?”
“Yeah sure,” I am feeling a little more

confident in letting him drive. It is just a car
after all. “Just be careful when you shift, and
don’t take off too fast and…”

“Yeah, yeah. Trust me baby I know

how to drive a stick.” His voice is seeping
with innuendo.

Once he puts the car in motion I real-

ize he really does know how to drive a stick.

I quickly realize that when Alex says

relaxing he means relaxing. He took me back
to his place. I was expecting upscale resort

230/266

from the way he was talking, but this is much
better. We spend the night talking while he
gives me a massage. He obviously picked up
a thing or two while running his own resort.
After a while it becomes evident that he has
something on his mind, and I really wish he
would come out with it because I want to
drift off to sleep. I’m trying to stay awake for
him.

I realize I have heard about a quarter

of the conversation. I am sure I have drifted
off to sleep, and that I only awake when I
hear my name. I decide that being in his
arms while he’s stroking my shoulder so
gently is really just lulling me to sleep, so I
sit up. He looks at me wide eyed.

“I didn’t want to fall asleep on you.” I

smile.

“You’re exhausted I should let you

sleep. We can talk in the morning.”

“No. I can tell there’s something on

your mind so fess up mister.” He laughs. It’s

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a nervous laugh though, and it makes me
wonder what he has to say. I know if he
doesn’t get to the point soon I am going to be
asleep in seconds and miss whatever it is
that he has to say.

“Would it be too soon if I asked you to

marry me?” He keeps his eyes straight
ahead. He’s fisting the sheet in his hand.
He’s so cute.

“Would it be too soon if I said yes?”

Finally he looks at me as if he is relaxed a
little. “We love each other. We’re more than
intimately familiar with each other; I don’t
see where that would be too soon.” If he’s
referencing the Brendon drama, I can’t con-
trol that. I could move to China and Brendon
would still find a way to haunt me.

“True,” he says. “Anise, will you do me

the honor of sharing your life with me? As
my wife,” he says. Before I know it he has a
little treasure chest in his hand. It’s no bigger

232/266

than the palm of my hand. I know the ring is
in there.

“Yes Alex I would love to be your

wife.” I must be beaming. I think I have al-
most forgotten how tired I am until a huge
yawn escapes my lips.

“Well,” he laughs. “Great, but I guess

as tired as you are I should wait until morn-
ing to give you this.” He starts to put the
treasure chest away. I stop him. He laughs
and gives it to me so I open it, and there is no
ring inside. There’s a note. “Come find me,”
it reads. I give him a look that says I am not
in the mood to hunt for a ring, and if he
makes me do it he is going to regret it later. I
can think of some ways to make him pay for
the fun he is having at my expense.

“So where do you think it is?”
“Hmmm…” I tuck my hand beneath

the sheets. I quickly find the waistband of his
boxer-briefs, and I slip my hand inside. I can
feel him jerk beneath my grasp. I fondle and

233/266

play a little before I smile and say, “it’s not in
there.” I withdraw my hand listening to him
moan in discontent.

“Would you care to give me a hint?”
“While you were drifting off to sleep
after the massage I made a few changes
to the living room.”
I did not fall asleep. At least I didn’t
think I had.

“Fine,” I crawl out of bed. I’m still na-

ked, but I want my ring. He has hidden my
clothes too, so I go off to the living room
without covering myself.

I see a single gladiolus in a clear glass

vase. I quickly head over to it. I’m pleasantly
rewarded with another note. “You’re getting
closer.” I look back at Alex. I think I’m going
to seriously hurt him if I have to keep walk-
ing around naked. He doesn’t seem to mind.
In fact he’s admiring the view.

I see a book on the table. I’m almost

certain it was not there before. I lift the book

234/266

to find another note, “not even close”. He
has an imagination I would like to put a lock
on for the evening. I turn and see him
smiling.

“Follow the petals.”
For the first time I notice there are

petals down the hall floor. I take off at a half
walking half skipping pace. I’m sure
everything that can shake and jiggle is now
shaking and jiggling. He’s still behind me as
I round the corner and walk back into the
bedroom. The petals lead right back to the
bed. I realize the treasure chest is now on my
pillow. It wasn’t there before. Since the
petals lead right back to the bed I decide to
pull the treasure chest open once more.

My eyes light up when I see the three

karat, marquis cut stone. “Alex it’s beauti-
ful.” He had placed the ring back in the box
and followed me out while dropping the
petals on the floor. I was intent on getting to
the living room, and I missed that detail.

235/266

He takes the silver chest from me and

pulls the ring from the center before kneel-
ing in front of me. I hold out my hand in-
stinctually. I’m shaking as he slides the ring
on my finger.

“At least I got a chance to have fun

watching you move through my house na-
ked.” I slap his shoulder.

“Seriously you were a woman on a

mission. I’ve only seen people move that fast
at the after Thanksgiving sales.”

I would say something to let him

know I disapprove of this analogy, but he is
right. I had been moving rapidly trying to get
to my ring.

I hold my hand out and smile. “It’s

perfect. Thank you.”

“Thank you.” He looks in my eyes, “for

saying yes.” As if I would have said anything
else.

I want to call Tay, but I need to call

my mom. Actually I need to do a thousand

236/266

things, like think about the date and where
we’ll marry. Suddenly, I realize I have my en-
ergy back. I am ready to take off with plan-
ning this event. Alex must know this because
he places his hands on my hips and anchors
me to the bed.

“We’ll get married sooner rather than

later.” I feel the faint wisps of air brush
across my belly. “Maybe after the bulk of
your wedding season is over we can make
this official. October?”

“Eww! No way. That’s the month for
Halloween. Too creepy.”
He laughs. “November?” Heat pulsates
through my body as his tongue teases
my navel.
“No, too many holidays.”
He frowns before saying, “December.”

“My birthday.” I shake my head no

again. I see the look of frustration on his
face. I’m sure he wants to get married this
year. “How about the end of September?”

237/266

That left us with about two and a half
months or so to plan, but I could do that. His
lips stretch from corner to corner.

“I want North Point.”
He lowers his head as if I have just

asked for the moon. “You’re going to make a
liar out of me huh?” I laugh at this because
he seems so serious.

“You know I can’t say no to you. God, I
swore there would never be a wedding at
North Point.”
“You said no before.”
“That was different. It wasn’t for you it
was for somebody else.”
“You would really let me marry you at
North Point?”
“Yeah I would.”

I know he really doesn’t want North

Point to fall into the same wedding laden
status as many of the other local resorts.
“Good to know, but I really don’t want to get
married there. I’m thinking cruise ship.”

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“Thank God.”
“It’s really sweet of you to comprom-

ise so much,” I press my lips to his for one
long, passionate taste before pulling him up
to the bed. Phone calls can wait for right
now. I just want to be in his arms.

“Actually it’s you who’s doing the

compromising,” he says.

“How do you figure?” I know he

would never ask me to quit my job for the
housewife routine. It’s not that I would mind
being a stay at home wife. I have done that
before. It’s just that I really like Tiffany’s.

“You’re marrying a man who can’t get

enough of you. There will be mornings when
it won’t be your alarm clock waking you up.”
He says this in his husky voice. “I want to
give you everything Anise. I know you’re not
the type of woman to take it for granted. In
fact I have a feeling I’ll have to force this on
you.” He pulls out another box that is much
bigger than the treasure chest.

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“Alex,” he places his finger over my lips
and traces them softly.
“Open it.”
I take the black velvet box from him and
I open it. It’s a diamond necklace.
“Alex I can’t…”
“You can and you will. I’ve been waiting
to give that to you for weeks. I wasn’t
sure how to get you to take it.”
“Oh, and you think telling me that I’ll
take it will get me to take it?” I laugh.
“No, I think telling you to wear it with
your wedding dress might get you to
take it.”

“We have to get one thing straight.” I

really want him to focus. I slip my finger be-
neath his chin and lift so our eyes will meet.

“I carry my own weight. Just because

you have money doesn’t mean that I don’t
want to contribute. I want to buy you gifts,
vacations or tickets to the game.”

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He takes my hand in his, rubbing it

softly with his thumb. “I am not trying to
change you Anise. I just want us to share our
lives with each other. Good times, bad times,
richer or poorer—preferably richer.” He
winks, and I laugh.

“I don’t want children.” I remember it’s
not a topic we’ve discussed.
“Me either,” he says. “I’m a bit selfish. I
just want it to be us.” He hugs me tight,
and I hug him back.
“Well then my future husband, how
should we celebrate this occasion?”

His lips curve into a devious grin, and

I know what he has in mind. He starts to kiss
me tenderly as he always does. He pulls back
and stares at me. I can tell his mind is work-
ing on something, but I don’t know what.

“Are you thinking cruise ship because

you don’t want Brendon to crash the
wedding?”

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“You bet ya.” I press my lips to his

chest. Smooth, warm flesh greets me. “It has
also been a dream of mine. I just want a
small wedding with friends, family and a
built in honeymoon.” I nibble at his skin. I
slowly kiss my way back to his lips. “And,
there will be no where for you to run in case
you change your mind.”

He laughs before lifting my chin for

our eyes to meet. “No chance of me changing
my mind.” His lips connect with mine, pas-
sionately exploring, drinking his fill.

There’s an obvious chain of command

when spreading engagement news. Generally
it starts with the parents, then siblings, then
friends and then anybody else who might
need to know. I need to keep from blabbing
before my mom makes it back from her ex-
tended vacation. If my timing is accurate,
she is somewhere in the South of France. I

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received the mandatory post cards, but my
mom was less about talking on the phone
and more about seeing all the sites. I tried
my dad, but I didn’t want to leave a message
on the machine. I decide I won’t torture my-
self by trying to wait.

Taylor moves to number one on my

list. Alex has already called his parents. Even
though they have never met me they were
thrilled. They too are world class travelers,
and they spend most of their time in Italy.

I’m excited. It’s no surprise that when
Tay finally answers the phone I’m
already bursting with delight.
“What’s going on?” She says in a dry
tone.
“Are you okay?”
“Dan and I were about to go for round
two if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, well I’ll let you get back to it

then. I just wanted to tell you that Alex and I
are getting married.” She must have shot

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straight up because I hear Dan yelp “ouch,”
and moan something about his head. She
says sorry, and then returns her attention to
me.

“Married?”
“He asked last night.” I’m sitting on

the edge of the bed—naked. Alex assures me
he has clothes for me, but I have yet to see
any of them.

“And you’re just calling me now!”
I can sense that she wants to hit me

rather than hug me. I am glad that I am on
the phone with her instead of delivering this
news in person. “One thing led to another,
and then I fell asleep.”

“I want to know everything.” I laugh

at this, and then casually make arrange-
ments to meet her for lunch on Monday. She
and Dan were in the middle of something,
and I really don’t think I can dish the skinny
in thirty seconds or less.

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I suddenly remember that this is one

Sunday that I’m supposed to be working. Al-
lison is going in for one last dress fitting. She
told me it was mandatory for me to be there.
I check my watch and realize I have an hour
to find some clothes and get up to Phoenix.
Make that find clothes, fix my bed worn hair
and then get up to Phoenix.

“Going somewhere?”
“I forgot I have to work today.” I search
for my clothes. “Alex,” I look up and
smile.
“I don’t know. I’m supposed to keep you
relaxed this weekend. That was the plan
anyway.”
I smile again because I know he can’t
resist me naked and smiling at him.
“All right,” he goes into the bathroom
and comes back with a nice pair of black
slacks and a cute button down coral top.

“Thank you honey.” I quickly start to

dress. “I wish I had time to eat, handle

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makeup,” I run off the list of things I’d like to
do before leaving. I’m glad I was the first to
shower this morning or else I wouldn’t have
time for that either. “Allison swore to me it
was vital I make the last dress fitting.”

“When you come home I’ll help you

relax all over again.”

“Now that sounds like a plan.” I kiss

him quickly. He’s not satisfied with that. He
pulls me back in and rewards me with light,
sweeping kisses that barely allow our lips to
connect. I could get stuck here. I would love
to explore this more, but I do have to go. “I
have…to…go,” I manage to say this between
kisses. He finally releases me and out the
door I go.

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Tailor Made…

“No dear.” I look up to try to figure out what
I’m doing wrong. “Black,” Mrs. Kruvich
points just past my shoulder, and then she
returns to her phone conversation. She too
has had just about enough of Allison. I hold
up the pin cushion trying not to speak. “Yes
dear,” she says as if she’s perfectly okay with
carrying on two conversations at once.

“The wedding is next weekend.” I see

her face scrunch up into what appears to be
the makings of a pout. I am hoping there
isn’t a problem with the tailor. Allison

insisted on having the professional tailor
down the block alter her dress. The problem
is that he won’t alter it unless the fitting is
already done. He assured me that he was far
too busy for last minute alterations, but be-
cause it’s for Tiffany Weddings he will help
us out of our predicament.

Javier has been said to be the best. Al-

lison just can’t pass up the best, no matter
how much of an inconvenience “the best”
will be.

“You can’t get this done? There’s not

that much to do. Just make the changes and
get the damn thing off your list.” I realize Al-
lison has driven Mrs. Kruvich past her break-
ing point. This is the first time I have heard
her curse.

“Will you pick up before the wedding,

or do you want it delivered?” Mrs. Kruvich
speaks over her shoulder, and just barely out
of the mouthpiece of the phone.

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“Delivered!” Allison yells from the fit-

ting podium. I know that she would like
nothing more than to show off her choice of
tailors to her friends.

“Great.” She hangs up the phone.
“They’ll deliver to the wedding site.”
“Great. Thank you so much for your help
Mrs. Kruvich.” She smiles, and I realize
just how powerful those words are.
I watch as she pushes pins into the bot-
tom portion of the dress. “I want the
split to stay.”
“A few seconds ago you wanted it to go.”
She says through gritted teeth.
“Well now I want it to stay.”

I’m sure she is now trying hard not to

stick Allison with all the pins on the cushion.
“Then what would you like done to the
dress?”

“Just adjust the bust a bit.”
As if it could get any tighter. I watched

as Mrs. Kruvich tucked, squeezed and

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pinned before Allison finally decided she was
satisfied.

“So we’re all done here?” I want to get

back to my weekend of relaxation.

“Maybe.”
She glances at my finger again, and I

realize I still have on my ring. I casually
change the subject to discuss anything re-
lated to Allison. I know she would rather talk
about herself than anything else, and so I use
it to my advantage. I might be able to justify
telling Tay before my mom, but I wouldn’t be
able to justify telling Allison first. Beyond
that, I really feel no obligation to tell Allison
at all.

When I first took this job I wondered

how any consultant could possibly plan so
many weddings this close together. I thought
it was impossible, but what I found out was

250/266

that with a little planning and a lot of confid-
ence I could make it work.

The week starts to quickly pass by

again. This always seems to happen when I
have a bride getting ready to take to the aisle.
This time I think it’s going so fast because
this is the bride. I am not really eager to be at
their wedding. I guess that would be the
reason it’s quickly approaching. I do realize
the week is not really moving any faster than
the rest of the world’s twenty-four hours in a
day mode, but it sure feels that way.

I have been dealing with repeated

phone calls from Brendon wondering what
the ring Allison saw on my finger was actu-
ally doing there. “The same thing the one on
Allison’s finger is doing there,” I had said.
“Somebody put it there to let the world know
I’m taken.” I quickly ended the conversation
before he could start in on me. He’s like the
flu, he just keeps coming back stronger and
with different ways of attack.

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Shelly walks in my office. Generally if

she needs something she just bellows out the
consultant’s name, and we gladly get up and
go to her office.

“It’s here. You were amazing.” She

says. “Best of all, Shannon will not be suing
me.” She drops the Valley Bridal magazine
on my desk. The page is marked. I open it up
to see the headline. “Perfect Tiffany Re-
cord—Gone. Perfect Tiffany Wedding—Still
In Style.”

I know the article must be good. Espe-

cially since Shelly is standing here with a
smile on her face. Of course she did go in for
another injection of Botox over the weekend,
and her face could technically be frozen in
that smile.

“Keep reading.” She says, and then

tosses another copy on my desk. “You’ll want
to frame that.”

I keep reading aloud. When I’m fin-

ished she winks at me and says, “You’re a

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damn fine consultant Anise.” And then she
walks out of my door. I’m still smiling. I can’t
stop. This is right up there with getting a
raise, shopping spree with somebody else’s
money and authentic pasta. This is good. I
immediately pick up the phone to call Alex.

It rings a couple times before he an-

swers. He wants to know what’s wrong.
“Nothing.” It’s not as if I would only call him
in the middle of the morning because
something’s wrong. He is a busy man, and he
is probably trying to get some work done, but
I am sure he is okay with me interrupting his
day.

I start reading the article. “Forget

about squabbles within the agency and the
recent controversial dismissal of a Tiffany
consultant for running off with the bride.
The real drama lies with Anise Meyers. Ms.
Meyers landed in the lead consultant role,
and she hit the ground running. Besides
planning a high profile wedding for Stacey

253/266

Lexington, she’s dealing with planning her
ex-husband’s wedding to the woman he left
her for. She is more than a beautiful fixture
at Tiffany Weddings, she’s a top-notch pro-
fessional. She’s the first to admit that the
situation was a test of her maturity, and a big
help in finding closure. She has also found
love with one “amazingly wonderful man” as
she says…”

I keep reading. Ninety-five percent of

the article is about me. I can’t believe it. Alex
congratulates me. He had no doubt that I
could wow the pants off of any reporter, and
he is also glad that I managed to mention
how amazing he is. Stroking his ego is all
part of my new role as fiancé I guess.

I know I need to let him get back to

work, and at this point Shelly is calling me
from a far. I know I need to get my behind in
gear pronto. I halfway skip into Shelly’s of-
fice. She asks me to close the door. I can’t
imagine that anything has gone wrong in the

254/266

few minutes since she left my office, so I de-
cide this is probably a social visit.

“Nice rock,” she says. I smile and sit

down in the chair across from her.

“He asked over the weekend. We’re

getting married in September.” I realize this
is the perfect time to ask for some time off
for the honeymoon. “It should be a little slow
here and we would like to be able to take a
honeymoon. We’re planning a cruise ship
wedding. I’ll need to take at least a week.”

“You’ll take more than that.” She says

this as if she has read my mind. “Two weeks,
three, whatever you need. I want pictures.”
It’s as if we’re bartering my vacation time.

“Deal,” I say.
She also assures me that I shouldn’t

try to plan the wedding myself. “Let some-
body else do the hard work,” she said. That
somebody else she had in mind was Paul.

“He’s one of the best. Destination

weddings are no problem for him, and he

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can coordinate with the ship’s event plan-
ner.” She had a point. I could do without the
stress of planning my own wedding.

She stops smiling. This is Shelly in

serious mode, so I decide that I too should
stop smiling and be serious as well. “Are you
okay for this weekend?”

“Of course. I’m not thrilled about seeing
all of our old friends under this condi-
tion, but I’m a professional. I can handle
it.”
“That you are, and I know you can.”
“T-minus two days and counting.” I say
as I stand to leave.

“At least it’ll be over soon.” She

laughs, and then stands and crosses the
room to hug me. I get the feeling she’s
grooming me for something. I just don’t
know what that something is—not yet
anyway.

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And The Bride Wore…

“Black!”

I don’t know what to say. I don’t know

how it happened or why, but that is defin-
itely her dress, and it is midnight black. I
would be horrified too, but seeing as though
I am the wedding consultant here, I need to
keep it together. It doesn’t help that she’s
yelling at me profusely.

“My wedding dress is black!” She yells

again. It’s not as if I can’t see this. “I can’t do
this. We’ll just have to postpone.” Like hell
we will. I’m not going through this again.

They’re getting married if I have to steal a
dress off one of the hostess.

“Well, think of it this way.”
“No way in hell!”
“You said you were feeling a little fat

today,” I play to the delusions of a model
thin woman. “In that dress you won’t be able
to tell.” I can see her thinking. “And the new
trend in Hollywood is sleek and sexy wed-
ding dresses.” Maybe not black wedding
dresses, but I’ll go with it anyway.

“Really?”
Why stop lying now? I’m getting

rather good at it.

“Yes. Sleek and sexy is in. You’re go-

ing to be ahead of the trend.” This probably
isn’t helping Brendon and Allison have a per-
fect wedding, but there is just no way I can’t
sit through planning this event again.

“I can set Arizona on fire with style.”

She says, and I know my work is done. If Al-
lison thinks she will be the center of

258/266

attention and the next fashion trendsetter
she’ll go for just about anything.

She keeps rambling on about how

great she’ll look while she stands behind the
dressing divider and changes. I start to inter-
rupt just to make sure she doesn’t want her
dad to walk her down the aisle, but I decide
not too. Allison had already assured me
more than once that when she walked down
the aisle she wanted all eyes focused on her.
“Another body will only be a distraction,” she
had said. I guess she’ll get her wish. I can’t
imagine that anybody will be able to focus on
anything other than Allison and her black
wedding dress.

I think Mrs. Kruvich and her multiple

conversations would be the reason behind
the madness. She wanted the black pin cush-
ion; the tailor must have been asking about
the dress color so he could make sure he had
matching thread. When he heard her say
black, and then saw an ivory wedding gown,

259/266

well he must have assumed she wanted him
to change the color. Maybe it’s karma.

I leave the room to keep from laugh-

ing. On my way down the hall I see Ray and
Mrs. Kruvich.

“She invited us honey. I couldn’t miss

this.” Mrs. Kruvich seconds Ray’s position.

“Well there was a little mix up with

the alteration instructions. Don’t look
shocked when you see her. If you do and she
doesn’t go through with this the two of you
will be supporting me for the next year and a
half.”

“Well you won’t need much.” He points
to my finger.
I shush him. “We’ll talk later.”
“You bet we will.”

“Go sit.” I shoo with my hand, and

they take a seat at an aisle table in the back.
The walk path is so long that I know they
won’t see much of the ceremony from so far
back, but they won’t miss the dress.

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The minister is ready to start. I get the

ladies together. I make sure the men are in
place. They opted for standing in place in-
stead of walking down like the women. I
watch the flower girl, followed by the first
bridesmaid. Then the second, third, fourth
and subsequent numbers up until brides-
maid number seven and then the maid of
honor. At this point I have Allison off to the
side out of view. She’s waiting for the wed-
ding march to start.

Thus far this morning I have already

received several condolences on the fact that
I have to be here when Brendon is moving
on. I think black goes well with condolences.
My promise was not to do anything to inten-
tionally mess up this wedding. I haven’t
since I made that promise. In fact, this isn’t
my fault at all.

The wedding march plays in a loud

symphony like orchestrated moment. I give
Allison her cue. She walks with her head held

261/266

high, and I’m still off in the back out of sight.
I can see the room clearly.

I’m hoping nobody laughs because

she might just make a run for it. What I hear
instead is very audible gasp. It’s shock not
admiration, but Allison doesn’t notice. She
keeps marching with a beaming smile on her
face and her head held high, as if she’s the
best looking woman in the room. The dress
is beautiful, even if it is the wrong color.

I look over at Ray and he looks at me.

I can read his face clearly. He too is trying to
resist a laugh. Mrs. Kruvich looks horrified.
Brendon looks as if he’s in shock too. I am al-
most sure he blames me for the dress color
since Allison told him I gave her so much
help with the dress.

I have to quickly step back behind the

curtain to avoid being seen as I hold in what
could be uncontrollable laughter. If the shoe
were on the other foot I’d probably be morti-
fied, but somehow I think she’s getting

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exactly what she deserves. You just can’t be
that cruel to people and not get a kick in the
butt later.

I see Taylor sitting off center. She had

told me there was no way that she would at-
tend, but I told her she had to go. I figured
she’d provide a little support in case I needed
it. I can tell she too is laughing. She is not
laughing as discreetly as the other few wo-
men who have dealt with Allison. Tay has a
wide grin on her face and she’s flashing
pearly white teeth while holding in the aud-
ible part of her laughter.

What can I say? Brendon got his

bride; Allison got her unique wedding. I got
the job, closure and the right guy. What’s my
next stop? Wedding planning with Paul—for
me and Alex of course!

263/266

About the Author

Shunta Montgomery

Shunta Montgomery also publishes under
the name Capri Montgomery. She is the best-
selling author of ebooks such as Ride A Cow-
boy, Across the Lake, The Thirteenth Floor,
1965 and The Bride Wore Black. She enjoys
nature—unless the insects are biting her,
traveling, old movies, art, photography and
music.

Find more books by Shunta Montgomery /
Capri

Montgomery

at:

www.lulu.com/

haremnights

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