Authors: Lynn Galli
Tags: #Gay & Lesbian, #lesbian fiction, #Fiction, #Romance, #Lgbt, #Retail, #Genre Fiction, #Lesbian, #Lesbian Romance, #Literature & Fiction
When the show ended, the EP turned to me. “Where’s Eva?”
“She was intoxicated at work. I let her go.”
“Dammit!” He started pacing. “How am I supposed to run the show now? You think it was easy to find someone like Eva?”
“You almost missed a live broadcast because she wasn’t sober enough to be in the building five minutes before air. We’ll find you someone good and less costly.” It would be more work for me, but I could worry about that later. I had a delayed lunch to get to.
The flower shop was busy when I walked in. Morgan was helping a customer decide on which color roses to get his date for the evening. She convinced him that pink was the way to go when he wasn’t certain how the woman felt about him. This was the kind of issue I wouldn’t mind dealing with.
“Grab a square vase for me, will you, Skye?” She pointed toward the back room. I went through the swinging door and wound my way through the full stockroom to get the vase.
“Thanks.” She snipped the stems of two dozen pink roses and plopped them into the vase, sprinkling two layers of glass pebbles into the base and some water. She placed two leafy greens to each side. The arrangement was done in less than thirty seconds. Her shop eighty-five dollars richer. “Two more and we can go.”
I snagged another vase from the back and a bunch of yellow tulips to complete the last two orders for the customers in the store. We didn’t go out to lunch often because she had to close the shop, but after the morning I’d had I really appreciated being able to have a break with a friend.
“Major crisis kept you late, huh?” she asked as we took a seat in a café around the corner.
“You’ll hear about it later, but someone had to be fired.”
“Really? I can’t wait to read about it tomorrow.”
My face twisted into a sneer. “You know it drives me crazy to have a friend who reads her news when I work at a cable news network, don’t you?”
“It’s why I do it.” She grinned. “Did you tell Dallas I’m doing her flowers?”
I searched her eyes, spotting a touch of insecurity. She was a great florist, but wedding flowers were a whole different ballgame. “She’s happy about it. It means a lot to her.”
“Can we still get into the location in a couple of days? I have lots of ideas, but I need to see the venue first.” She waited for my nod. “Who’s going to help transport and set up?”
“The planner has some people he can use, but I’m going to ask Tori to supervise the whole thing.”
“Because you’ll be too busy keeping the bride from going bridezilla, huh?”
I was starting to wonder if Dallas would be that kind of bride. I thought I knew her really well, but stress and nerves coupled with not being in on every aspect of planning might take a toll. “Let’s hope not.”
“Seems like Ainsley could help you out.”
“She’ll be keeping her cousin in the building.”
“Oh, God, wouldn’t that be funny if he did a runner?” Her face turned serious as soon as it left her mouth. “Not really, though. I forgot I know the bride. She’d be devastated.”
“Wouldn’t anyone?”
“I would say, but again, I don’t do weddings for a reason.” She shrugged and might be thinking how her life would be different if she hadn’t gone through with her wedding.
“How’s my munchkin?” I asked of her daughter so we could focus on much better things in life.
Morgan’s face broke into a wide smile. “She’s great. You’ll have to stop by for another visit soon. She’s about to go into Skye withdrawals.”
“I’d like to see how that presents itself.”
“A tantrum. Only the promise of ice cream will calm her.”
I chuckled. I’d never seen Poppy throw a tantrum. “And how’s business?”
“Good,” she dragged the word out and studied me for a moment. “Everything else okay for you?”
I could share my recent thoughts about getting away from the headache that came with my new job. I liked seventy percent of it, but the thirty percent I didn’t made me want to quit every day. I was perfectly happy being an executive producer and should have stayed in that position, but I didn’t make rash decisions. Never had. She was like me. She’d saved for years to get her own flower shop. The idea of throwing it away for no other reason than whim would be pretty alien to her. She might even get a little disappointed with me.
“Sure. Stressful with the planning.”
“It’ll give you good practice for when you get married.”
“Ha!” I exclaimed then realized I’d spared her the full force of my aversion to marriage. Most people think someone who doesn’t believe in marriage is bitter about love. That wasn’t me. “I’m not much for marriage.”
“Really? Too bad. You’d make a good partner. You’re always considerate of others and doing or saying things that make people feel special.”
“I am?” I tried to think back to all the time we’d spent together and couldn’t recall one single instance where that would apply.
“You give flowers to everyone on your staff for many reasons. Or are you doing that just to keep me in business?” One eyebrow quirked. “If so, that’s yet another considerate thing. You just told our waitress that you liked her name. That could be true, but saying something like that makes someone feel good. Last week, you spent a half hour going through all of your admin’s great qualities when she was having a lousy day. Your wedding planner called and said for the first time in his job, he finally feels like he can be his real self because you let him be.”
My brow inched higher and higher. “That’s nice of you to say.”
“See? Even that. Instead of just thanking me, you gave me a compliment.”
I could feel heat flush my face. I couldn’t remember being embarrassed more often than I’d been over the last couple weeks.
“You’re getting red. According to your friend, it’ll match your hair.” Her eyes wandered up to the scarf I had banded around my head to hide the roots I still hadn’t re-dyed to brown yet.
My friend? Ainsley? “Why would you think we’re friends?”
“Because you go well together. You might bicker a little, but there’s respect there, not indifference.”
I couldn’t really agree because it felt like we didn’t go well together every time we got into a verbal war over something. “She told you I have red hair?”
“She said she almost didn’t recognize you. When she realized I didn’t know, she tried to stop talking. But how could I not have guessed with all those freckles?”
“Brunettes have freckles, too.” I didn’t know why I was arguing. Maybe it was the fact that she and Ainsley talked about me, about the only thing that Ainsley liked about me.
“Less frequently, but you’re fair with freckles and hazel blue-green eyes, I should have guessed you were a redhead.”
“You might not have to guess anymore.”
Her eyes wandered back up to study the scarf. “Really? Why do you dye it? Not that it doesn’t look good.”
“Thanks, but it was one of those identifiers, you know? A redhead or lesbian or big rack. Something people point to and think that’s all you are.”
“Not the big rack,” she kidded and we both laughed as I glanced down at my A cups.
“It’s getting to be a hassle, no more evident than these past weeks when it’s been nothing but wedding planning and trying to make sure my highest rated newsmagazine show doesn’t get annihilated in another country.”
“Best excuse ever. I’d like to see the red.” Her hand reached out and tugged on a chunk of hair below my ear. “Is it really red or just reddish?”
“Really red.”
“Irish?”
“Scottish and Italian.”
“Like that cute friend of yours.” Her eyebrows wraggled.
“Half like.”
“Does she know?”
“That she’s cute? I’m sure she does.”
“Shut up.” She laughed and shoved my shoulder. “That you’re half Scottish?”
“My name kinda gives it away.”
“I thought most Mac names were Irish?”
“Both Scottish and Irish. There’s also an Isle of Skye that was populated by the MacKinnon clan.”
Her grin this time was teasing. “Did you learn that from her?”
“I did, actually. She could fill days on what she knows about her country.”
“You like people who know stuff.”
My eyes narrowed. “What’s this about?”
“Just saying. She’s cute. You’re cute. You’re planning a wedding together. You get along.”
“We don’t.”
“What?”
“Get along.”
“Not what I saw or heard.”
“Squash it, sister, or I’ll have to start in on why you’re not giving Tom from the coffee shop his chance.”
“Ack.” She shivered at the mention of the tall lanky man who practically worshipped the ground she walked on every time she came in for some coffee. Since he was easily ten years younger, she didn’t give him a second glance. “Fine. Just saying you might find this easier if you started having a good time making these wedding plans.”
For a moment, I wondered what kind of good time she had in mind, and every option I came up with didn’t completely revolt me.
Sixteen
Gary shook his head while making marks on the list in front of him. “We’ve called everyone. Everyone, do you understand?”
“Yes, Gary. We have a command of English between the two of us,” I kidded, indicating Ainsley sitting beside me on the couch in his office. I preferred the table where we’d sat before, but Gary apparently felt it was easier to deliver bad news to people on soft surfaces. Twice now her shoulder had bumped against me. I didn’t like that I was so aware of that shoulder. I wasn’t the type of person to be aware of shoulders. It was just a shoulder, not a hand or mouth, a harmless shoulder.
“What are we going to do? This has never happened to me before.” He sounded like he was talking about an inability to perform in bed.
“It’s only a photographer.”
“And videographer,” he wailed. “They’re all booked. I took this job knowing it would be a challenge but with the full confidence that I could get it organized in time. And now this. My perfect record, down the drain.” One of his minions began rubbing his back in consoling circles.
I could point out that his florist and caterer options had been disasters as well, but that might send him packing to the unemployment line. “We have a videographer. I work at a television network. Everyone has camera experience.”
His head popped up. “Any still photographers?”
“No, but we ran a story once on a NFL photographer. I can give him a call. He may not be interested, but I figure if he can capture action on the field, he can handle a bride in a dress.”
“What will the couple think about this?” Gary looked genuinely worried.
“Dallas thought he was very good at what he did. If he’s been to a wedding, he’ll know what shots to take. You can always help him with that, right?”
“We’ll have a wedding shot boot camp.” His eyes danced at the very idea.
I called the photographer. He was surprised but happy to see us right away. We took a cab and met him at his apartment.
“Thanks for considering this, Isaac.” I shook his hand when he opened the door.
“Anything for Dallas, but I’m not sure I’m the right choice.” His lanky frame sported a soccer jersey and basketball shorts. He couldn’t be less like the other vendors we’d visited if he tried.
“This is Ainsley, Colin’s cousin, and Gary, the wedding planner.” My hand gestured to each. “Gary will be able to tell you what they’ll need. He and his staff will be there the entire time so he can direct you if need be, right, Gary?”
“Absolutely.” He shook Isaac’s hand. “Can we see some photographs you’ve taken recently?”
“I have to turn in my SD cards to the team after every game, but I’ll show you some shots on the website and for the papers.” Isaac pulled up the photos on the team’s site and onto the
Post’s
sport section to indicate the shots that were his.
“We’d need you for the entire night. You’ll take candid shots all throughout plus the usual groupings and settings. You’ve seen wedding photos, haven’t you?” While it was posed as a question, Gary seemed to take it for granted that everyone had seen wedding photos.
“For a few friends. Pretty typical, posed, not what I’m used to taking.”
“You have to take team shots. This won’t be much different,” I encouraged, knowing if Isaac wouldn’t do this we’d have to resort to a camera person on staff. Their photos wouldn’t come out anything like Isaac’s.
“I’m sure Colin and Dallas will want something different anyway,” Ainsley said. “I think they’ll like the shots that aren’t posed. Photos that show them sharing the day with each other and their friends and family.”
He nodded. “I can pull that off.”
“Can you pull it off for our budget?” Gary’s shock at not coming through with a photographer must have erased his diplomacy.
“For Dallas, sure, whatever you need. Her story raised my profile. I went from being second photographer to first. On off nights I get to work for other teams. That would have taken years on my own.”
“You would have gotten there just fine, but I’m glad the story worked out for you.” I stood and shook his hand. “Thanks, Isaac. Gary will call you with the details. We appreciate you being so accommodating.”
“Take care, Skye.”
We left the apartment as one, but Gary ditched us as soon as we hit the street and he could get a cab. That left Ainsley and me standing alone on the sidewalk with nothing left to do tonight. We’d anticipated interviewing three photographers. Instead, none would take the appointment and the one guy I called saw us right away.
Friends would head to dinner together or a movie, but we weren’t friends. She didn’t seem to know what to do about this free time either. After all the action we’d be facing the past two weeks, it was almost a letdown to have nothing to do.
“Em,” she said and a shiver went through me. The way she pronounced her verbal pause was just as appealing as the accent that always got to me. First a shoulder brush and now a verbal pause. I really needed to get my focus back. She looked around and shrugged. “I guess we have a free night.”
“Looks like,” I agreed, thinking about all the work I could get done now that I had time. Contract reviews, finalize budgets, or I could just relax and read for an entire evening. Not one of Ainsley’s books. It should be an Ainsley-free night. One of my favorite mystery writers had just released a new novel. That would make for a pleasant evening. “We could get a jump start on the wedding guest gifts.” Or, apparently, my mouth could decide we should spend the evening together doing wedding stuff. Stupid mind-of-its-own mouth.