Page 73 of Sex, Lies, and Margarita Mixes

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It starts with an email. The subject line simply says,

“There’s no way you approved this.”

The email is just an attachment.

I open it. It’s a screen-grab from a wedding blog. There’s a photo of a wedding reception table under my company’s name… except the table looks like a sad Pinterest fail. Plastic chairs. Wrinkled and stained linens. Centerpieces that might be… dead? The caption reads, “Bold Hearts Events drops the ball again? Guests say reception looked like a clearance sale at Hobby Lobby.”

I stare. Blink. And read it again. And then, again.

“No. No, no, no.” I screech.

Spinning toward my laptop, my fingers fly across the keys. “What the fuck?”

Chase hastily looks up from where he’s chopping peppers. “Everything okay, babe?” His tone is anxious.

Whirling around, I glare at him. “Do I fucking look okay, Chase?!”

Setting the knife down in the sink carefully, he holds his hands up. “Um… you look beautiful. Slightly murderous. I think I’m going to hide the knives, but you look beautiful. Uh, what’s happened?”

I jab a finger at the screen. “Sabotage! Someone Photoshopped this bullshit! Or used AI for these because they’re too fucking stupid to use Photoshop. But this is fake! That’s not our wedding. That’s not even our linens… those are poly! That’s a… a fucking plastic fork.”

He walks over, leans down to peer at my laptop screen. “Wow. That’s… impressively bad.”

“Exactly!” I wave wildly. “Who did this?! Why?!”

He taps his chin thoughtfully. “Think about it.” His eyes lock on mine. “Who benefits if your reputation tanks?”

My eyes instantly narrow.

I know exactly who it was. That bitch!

I practically snarl, “Danica.”

He nods. “Danica. My first thought. She’s still around?” He whistles.

“Yes, Danica Daniels. Rival planner. She used to work for us, but then, she quit and started her own business… The Wish version. She’s evil incarnate. Do you remember when she tried to pass off a Costco cake as ‘bespoke artisan couture?’ I mean, I actually like Costco cake, and their whipped buttercream is delicious, but Costco is not couture!”

He whistles. “So, she’s still a nightmare.”

“She is.” I flop dramatically onto the couch. “She’s been trying to poach vendors for months. And I saw her glaring at me at the expo. One of my couples called me to say she sought them out and offered to take over their planning after the Bridezilla incident. It didn’t work, so it appears that she’s now trying to sabotage us.”

Chase sits beside me and pulls me onto his lap. I settle against him. “Well, I think the first step is proving it’s her. Then, if you do, what are you gonna do about it?”

I smile slowly. “First… get proof. Then, burn her to the ground.”

He kisses my temple. “That’s my girl. But proof first, babe.”

The next day, I’m at a venue walkthrough when my phone buzzes with a text.

Mari Lynn

It’s 100% Danica.

Two calls this morning ratted her out. She’s been dropping snide comments at industry parties. Another client sent screenshots of a chat.

Want me to leak that video of her crying in the walk-in freezer?

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