Page 6 of The Ex Effect
Double no.If memory served, Morgan hated rule breakers almost as much as tardiness. I vaguely remember an argument between us when I begged her to live a little and skip class, and she freaked out at me at my locker. As the woman lit up and inhaled a deep drag, I wanted to snap a pic of Morgan’s face, which looked like she just stepped in dog shit.
Morgan stepped a few inches away from the embers. “I thought this was a non-smoking venue?”
Jane flicked an ash. “Well, yeah, I’m the owner, so not all rules apply to me. And I’ve had a fucking terrible day, so…”
All Jane needed to do was whip out a flask and Morgan would roll over in her prudish grave. Maybe I was a sadist, butthis awkward-as-hell moment was the most fun I’d had since arriving back home.
After walking down the path, Jane cut through the brush. My boots squished in the soggy grass, and I peeked at Morgan’s pristine ankle wedges getting mud on the side. I withheld a smile picturing her scrubbing those with a toothbrush and a pile of baking soda when she got home.
Jane jutted her finger at a structure that could only be described as a run-down machine shed meets a Quonset hut. “There’s the venue.”
Yikes.
Morgan’s throat rolled with a swallow as she stared at the rusted, metal-framed building. “Your website said it could hold three hundred people, correct?”
The woman inhaled a large puff, then flicked the cigarette into the grass. The airborne ashes flew and Morgan, most likely fearful a spark would land on her cashmere scarf and burn her at the stake, whipped her shoulder back.
The cigarette sizzled on the wet grass, but I still wanted to snuff out the smoke. With Peaches living on a hobby farm, and my aunt and uncle owning a tree farm, sparks were cancerous. I cracked my neck and exhaled, silently repeating Peaches’s catchphrase: “Ain’t your baby, Maury.” AKA, mind your own damn business.
The doors screeched like a power drill slicing through sheet metal as Jane opened them, and I gritted my teeth.
Morgan stepped inside and froze. “Well, this has that…rustic vibe…people like.”
Rusticwas the understatement of the year. The place looked like an abandoned warehouse with a single string of white lights dangling from the ceiling—not even near the “finished and ready to serve” venue it touted on its website. A few folding tables and chairs were stacked against the wall in the corner next to a single wooden bench. The room carried a smellthat I couldn’t quite place—almost the sharp tang of garbage meets a dirty, wet mop.
I stepped further into the space and my boots stuck to the floor. Each sticky footstep echoed as I moved further into the space.Gross.
“Over here you have a bar area.” Jane pointed to a standing table with a sink. “Bring your own. We don’t have bartenders on staff. And I don’t recommend drinking from the tap, so pre-make everything.”
Seriously, how did this place pass inspections?
Morgan’s lips remained pulled tight. “Do you have restrooms to accommodate that many people?”
Jane nodded. “Yep, I’ll show you.” She escorted Morgan and me past the “bar” area, and through the door to a small kitchen space with steel counters, a huge farmhouse sink, and one refrigerator. She pushed open another door and pointed outside to a wooden shed with a floppy sign that saidRestrooms.
Oh no.This was surely the nail in the coffin. No way in hell would Olivia squat in her wedding gown over a toilet in the ground.
“Outhouses?” Morgan frowned.
“Yep,” Jane said. “Good enough for the settlers, am I right?”
A few moments passed when Morgan crossed the grass. “Well, let’s take a look.”
She was not actually going for this, right?I tugged at her elbow and put my mouth up to her ear. Damn it if that vanilla rose scent didn’t distract me for a split moment. “I don’t think this is the right venue.”
Morgan snapped her gaze at me. “Are you saying you can’t shoot here?”
The blow to my ego was instant. “I can shootanywhere.” Did Morgan even look at my work? I knew Olivia sent her my website last week, so had Morgan done even the smallest duediligence, she would know that I normally loved this style… making something that others don’t find beautiful, into something beautiful. But for a wedding venue, this place wasn’t right.
At the outhouse, Morgan opened the door for a peek. A putrid fog emerged and floated right over to me. I slammed a palm over my mouth and nose.Don’t puke.
Morgan, who was clearly a poker-face champ, simply stepped back and clapped off her hands. “I think we’ve seen enough to decide. I’ll check in with the bride, then keep you posted.”
“Don’t keep me waiting.” Jane pulled out the pack of smokes and stuck a cigarette between her lips. “There’s other people who want this.”
I sincerely doubted that.
We walked back to the parking lot in silence. Morgan looked like a deflating balloon as she swapped crisp steps and straight shoulders with slow movements and a creased forehead. I wasn’t actually feeling bad for her, right? Sure, this limited-option situation sucked. But Morgan looked like all hope was lost. Even though it had been fifteen years since I spent any significant time in our town, there must be other places. “So, what are the next steps?”
