Page 113 of What I Did for Love
A hundred thousand dollars…
“You wouldn’t even have to say anything bad about them.”
She didn’t answer. She just walked away.
A hundred thousand dollars…
A funny videomontage ofSkip and Scooterclips played after dinner. Shortly before the cake-cutting ceremony, Dirk Duke appeared with a microphone. He was the most popular DJ in town—real name Adam Levenstein—and Poppy had hired him to spin music for dancing, which wasn’t scheduled to begin for another half hour. Dirk was short, with a bullet-shaped head, tattooed neck, and Ivy League education he did his best to hide. Tonight he wore a badly fitted tuxedo instead of his customary jeans. “Yo, everybody! This is a great party! Let’s give it up for Georgie and Bram.”
The audience dutifully gave it up.
“All youSkip and Scooterfans. Seeing Bram and Georgie married is great, right?”
Applause and a couple of whistles, one of them from Meg.
“We’re here to celebrate a marriage that happened two months ago. A marriage none of us was important enough to be invited to.”
Laughter.
“And tonight…We’re going to do something about that…”
Four waiters appeared bearing an arched bridal bower draped in white tulle caught up with blue hydrangeas. Poppy trailed behind in a floor-length black dress, her face smug with anticipation.
Georgie poked Bram with her elbow. “I think Poppy’s just unveiled her surprise. The one you told her to go ahead with.”
Bram grimaced. “You should have hit me over the head. I don’t like this.”
Georgie liked it even less as she watched the waiters position the bower at the front of the ballroom. Bram swore under his breath. “That woman is officially fired.”
“As an ordained minister in the Universal Life Church”—Dirk paused for dramatic effect—“it is my honor”—another pause—“to ask our bride and groom to step forward and”—raised voice—“repeat their vows in front of all of us!”
The guests were eating this up. Even her father. Poppy’s glossy, inflated lips formed a triumphant smile. A muscle ticked in the corner of Bram’s jaw. Poppy had no right to stage something this personal without consulting them.
Bram clenched his teeth and rose. “Put on your game face.”
Georgie told herself it didn’t mater. What was one more public performance after so many? Her crystal gown rustled as she stood.
Dirk elongated his vowels like a game-show host. “Dad. Come up and join them. Mr. Paul York, everybody! Bram, choose your best man.”
“He chooses me.” Trev shot up, and the guests laughed.
Georgie felt as though she were suffocating.
“Georgie, who’s your maid of honor going to be?”
She looked at Sasha, at Meg and April, and thought how lucky she was to have these wonderful women as her best friends. Then she cocked her head. “Laura.”
Laura’s face registered shock, and she nearly tipped over her chair as she got up.
They assembled at the bridal bower. Her father, Trev, Laura, and the reluctant bride and groom.
Dirk thoughtfully turned his back to the room so that Bram and Georgie were facing their guests, then he cupped his hand over the microphone. “Is everybody ready?”
She and Bram gazed at each other, and a moment of perfect, un-spoken communication passed between them. He lifted an eyebrow. She told him with her eyes exactly what she thought. He smiled, squeezed her hand, and pulled the microphone away from Dirk.
“A priest, a rabbi, and a minister walked into a bar…” Everyone laughed. Bram grinned and brought the mike closer. “Thank you all for your good wishes. Georgie and I appreciate them more than we can say.”
Off to the side, Poppy started chewing on her bottom lip. Bram’s speech wasn’t on her program, and she obviously didn’t like pesky clients interfering with her agenda.
