The elevator stops on the third floor and the couple gets out, leaving us to our privacy.
Paige has quite a requirements list—I’m surprised she’s not still a virgin. I’m not as picky, but I admit my list isn’t all that short. Difference is that mine is more reasonable.
“Just remember we’re here to work,” I say. “And unfortunately, I doubt we’ll have time for hot breakfast, much less hot bartenders.”
“I know, I know,” she says. “But there’s nothing wrong with flirting while we work, y’know. Am I right or am I right?” Her lips spread into a broader grin and she looks across at me under hooded eyes the way she always does when she’s trying to shift my attitude.
She wins.
“Yeah, you’re right.” I give in and then shake my finger at her. “But don’t make me regret getting you hired on under me, Paige.”
She turns to me, a bright smile plastered on her sun-kissed face. “I’d never put you in a bad position, and you know it,” she says, collapsing her hands about my upper arms and pretending to look all serious.
I smile, pursing my lips on one side, and then slip my arm around her.
When we arrive at the glass wedding pavilion on the wave-washed edge of the beach, a tall, dark-haired girl with long bare legs swishes her hips underneath a pastel flowered dress, sashaying like a model down the center aisle toward us. Her hair is like a wave of dark silk flowing unrestricted against her bare back.
“You must be Sienna Murphy,” she says in a confident, dramatic voice, reaching out a dainty ring-decorated hand to me. “I’m Veronica Dennings, sister of the bride-to-be.”
I get the feeling she expects me to be impressed. I’m not, so I fake it. I’m good at faking these kinds of things—a skill I’m proud to have mastered in this job.
I know the look of disgust on Paige’s face without having to actually see it.
Veronica barely touches my hand with her fingers, as if she’s afraid to mess up her newly manicured nails.
“It’s nice to meet you, Veronica,” I say brightly, strategically placing my fingers about her hand without touching her nails. “This is Paige Mathers, my assistant.” Veronica’s dark blue eyes barely skirt her. “You must be so excited for your sister.”
“Of course,” she says. “As I’m sure Valerie will be excited for me when my wedding day comes.” Her hand goes up and lightly brushes against her dark hair, pushing it away from her shoulder with such a self-important grace that it actually makes me feel momentarily inadequate—until I realize how ridiculous that is.
I smile slimly in response and glance around the area suspiciously, noticing right away that she has already been draping the guest chairs with extravagant fabric—made of a design that is entirely different from what was agreed on two weeks ago. Paige notices the look on my face, and I straighten it out quickly before Veronica sees it, too. But I’m too late and she notices anyway.
Veronica waves her hand about the room in a sophisticated fashion. “I know my sister’s taste better than our mother,” she says about the fabric. “That hideous floral pattern Mother chose without consulting me just had to go; don’t you agree?” An arrogant smile glows on her face.
That “hideous” floral pattern is what your sister, the bride picked out.
I nod slowly. “I respect your concerns,” I say with a kind expression, “but I think it’s best we keep what the bride chose. I’d be happy to talk with her about your ideas, if you’d like.”
Veronica looks quietly stung, but she raises her chin as if to look important and then shrugs it off as if she doesn’t care either way.
“Whatever. Do what you like. But it’s hideous.”
Then she motions for Paige as if she were merely an errand girl and puts her to work right away, insisting she find a Starbucks before she loses her damn mind.
Paige eyes me secretly from the side and mouths, You’ve got to be kidding me.
“What will you have?” Veronica asks me.
I put out my hand, palm forward. “No, I’m good, but thanks.” Really, I just don’t want to contribute to the balancing act I’m sure Paige will have to do carrying the drinks back. And sure enough, she’s got a list with the needs of Veronica’s two assistants who just walked up—petite, bubbly, one more stuck-up than the other, pretty, and wearing Daddy’s bank account from their colored roots to their glittery pedicures.
What’s happening here? Did Paige and I just become Veronica’s assistants, too?
I swallow down my disappointment; my kind, professional smile is still intact as always, though already it’s becoming more difficult to pull off. I like my job. I enjoy creating an event to remember for my clients, but every now and then I get one like this where I don’t really get to put my creativity to work.
Once Paige is out of earshot, I say in a respectful, even manner, “You know, Paige has a great eye for this stuff. She can really help out with the setup.”
Veronica tosses her head back majestically and laughs in a gentle manner so as not to overly alter her smooth complexion. I’m not sure what to make of that, her laughing, but it leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
I look over when I feel her hand touch my shoulder.
“I’m sure she’s helpful,” she says with a twinkle in her deep blue eyes. “But today she’s the perfect coffee girl. Come. I’ll show you what I intend to do with the archway.”
Wow. Talk about a sour taste …