The Wedding Wager (McMaster the Disaster) (7 page)

At the back of the room, a dress unlike any I had ever seen, hung on a dressmaker’s dummy, set up as if it were an art piece in a museum.

It had a sweetheart neckline and an asymmetric waist, which led to cascading fabric, draping down in huge waves, and pinched every so often to resemble a waterfall. The most interesting thing about the dress though, was that it did not have a bit of white on it. The whole thing was done in neutral colors, grays and tans, fading in and out of each other. The way it shimmered it was almost like rivers of silver and gold flowing through each other. The effect was mesmerizing… and certainly not traditional in any way.

I expected nothing less of Mattie, but even for him, this design was magnificent.

I could not wait to try it on, and for me, that said something. I was not the best tryer-oner in the world.

Of course, the next problem was, I had no idea how on Earth I was supposed to get such a huge, sweeping dress on. Or even off the mannequin for that matter.

I shouldn’t have worried.

As I set my glass down as gently as possible on the scary-breakable looking table two women, different from the ones I had already seen, appeared as if from nowhere out of panels designed to look as though they were part of the room, but apparently actually led somewhere. You know, unless the women had been sitting in there the whole time, which was just a little creepy.

They expertly unzipped and lifted the dress off the form as they pointed out a wardrobe screen for me to get undressed behind. I wish I could say I was completely comfortable with two other people in the room while I strode out from behind the screen in just my underwear—and good Lord… the heels—but I was nowhere near that worldly yet and needless to say, it was a tad awkward. Of course, the girls were nothing if not professional and had probably done this hundreds of times, so they were experts at averting their gaze while somehow still placing the dress over my head so gently, it practically did feel as simple as water flowing over me.

They zipped it up, tightened and adjusted until the dress was just right. I was dying to see myself in something so spectacular, but I noticed for the first time that there were no mirrors in the room.

The ladies motioned toward the door I’d come in through and I realized I was supposed to go back to the staging area where Mattie would be waiting for me. I also realized at that same moment that the women hadn’t uttered a peep the entire time. I couldn’t help but wonder briefly if they were femme-bots.

I walked out to find Mattie, being especially careful through the doorways as the dress barely fit through, and finally came upon him.

Where the dressing room was lacking in mirrors, this room made up for it with what had to be hundreds of them.

I could not take my eyes off myself, which I realized later kind of sucked because I didn’t get to see Mattie’s reaction. I did hear it though. It was in the form of a gasp as I entered the room, the whole place swirling with the shimmery silver and gold.

“There are no words,” Mattie said finally.

“I know,” I whispered, completely and utterly awestruck.

I spun slowly, watching the cascades of fabric swirl with me, feeling like I had turned into precious metal myself.

“This is the one,” I said, still in a daydreamy state.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on there girl.” Mattie’s voice was like a needle screeching across a record. “You do not just stop at one when it comes to wedding dresses.” He flung his head back and dramatically perched his hand over the bridge of his nose, as if I was giving him a headache.

Way to crush a girl’s fantasy moment, Mattie.

I sighed. “Really? You really think something is going to live up to this one?”

“Well I don’t know Josie,” he said, slathering on the sarcasm. “We’ll never know if you don’t get your butt back there and try the rest on.”

My shoulders slumped, which, believe me, was not all that easy with the stiffness of the bodice of the dress.

“Chop, chop,” he sing-songed, his mood snapping back to bliss in a heartbeat.

Yet another unspeaking lady met me in the hall and led me to dressing room #2. This time, the room was done up all in black and white with the centerpiece, of course, being another dress.

Dang it. This one was almost as gorgeous as the last.

Slightly more traditional in that it was all white, but that’s where the tradition firmly came to a halt. It was a simple shape, strapless, with a straight neckline. The unique thing about this one though, was the feathers. The entire skirt was covered with the softest looking feathers, flowing down to the floor with just a few quirky plumes popping out from the top of the bodice, almost reminding me of fireworks.

The ladies got to work getting the first dress off me before I even knew what was going on. Honestly, I was so mesmerized by another dress that was so beautiful.

It was that moment that I realized this was going to be a lot harder than I thought.

How was a person supposed to pick just one?

I got another amazing reaction from Mattie as I waltzed through the door, and from myself, for that matter. I could hardly believe it was me walking into that room of mirrors. The whole place was magical with dress after dress, each as gorgeous as the last: a super cute short baby doll with the lightest of pink crinoline showing beneath; a tight sheath with material that looked curiously like crinkled crepe paper, which, weirdly, totally worked; and a somewhat traditional A-line, though paired with the black sash and black full-length gloves that Mattie picked, it looked slinky and sophisticated.

Every one of them was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. And apparently Mattie felt the same way.

This was not going to be hard like I’d first thought.

This was going to be impossible.

The rest of the appointments were much the same thing. Unbelievable unique dress after unbelievable unique dress.

“So, what did you think?” Mattie asked.

“I think you’re the meanest man on the face of the planet.”

He beamed.

Only Mattie could read the true meaning behind a statement like that. “Seriously though Mattie, what am I going to do?”

He shrugged. “It’ll come to you,” he said. “Whichever one is still stuck in your head in a few days will be the one.”

I nodded. “Maybe.” My hands dropped to my sides. “I think I need a drink.”

“To the Martini Bar,” Mattie cried, as if we were going into war.

Frankly, I kind of felt like I’d just come from the battlefield.

I was tempted to order one of everything on the menu, I was so stressed out, but after the champagne at the dress places, I figured one was more than enough. Especially since my mother insisted on making a date with me tomorrow and refused to tell me where we were going or what she had planned.

There was a holiday Apple Cinnamon Martini, so we each ordered one. I closed my eyes and sipped slowly, taking deep breaths and letting the heat of the cinnamon and booze settle into me. “What a day.”

“It was a bit long,” Mattie said. “Although while you were taking forever to change, I had plenty of time to finalize appointments for cake tastings, flowers designers, music auditions…”

I put my head in my hands. It was like the party that would never be, there were too many details to finalize.

I wished my martini would just hurry up and kick in already.

CHAPTER 8

“So you’re going with Mattie?” Jen asked, after I explained how beautiful the dresses were.

I sighed. “I think so. I can’t imagine my mother coming up with anything more perfect than those dresses. I mean, every one of them felt like it was made just for me.”

“Holy crap, your mother’s going to have a conniption.”

I cringed. “I know. I’m trying not to think about it.”

“How are you going to tell her?”

“God, I don’t know. She’s taking me for lunch or something tomorrow, I’ll just have to wait ‘til the time is right and just spit it out.”

Jen snorted. “I’m not sure there is any right time to fire someone from being your wedding planner. Especially someone who is family. And especially someone who is your mother.”

I leaned my head back on the couch. She sure wasn’t making it easy for me to bliss back into the memory of those dresses. But now that I saw what Mattie really could do, it was a no-brainer.

“Man, I wish I could be a fly on the wall for that. I’d love to see your mother’s head blow up into a million explody pieces.”

I gave her a look that said I was so not in the mood for her visuals… even if they were slightly hilarious.

“Are you sure you even want to go through with the whole big wedding thing? If you would just elope you wouldn’t have to worry about either one of them being pissed off.”

“Really? You really think they won’t be pissed if I just go ahead and change my plans to not even include them at all?”

She looked like she was mulling it over. Like seriously concentrating. “I see your point,” she conceded. “Hey,” she brightened, a master at changing the subject, which I, of all people, could certainly appreciate. “Have you seen the polls lately?”

“Polls?”

“Yeah, you know, the wedding polls. People from all over the world are voting on the wedding.”

I sighed. “Not the tabloids again.”

“I know. I know. But these ones are actually kind of fun.” She pulled her computer onto her lap. “There’s one at Snoop.com where designers have put their hat into the ring for people to vote on their favorite dress. If I were a betting woman—and judging by how many times I’ve voted on the Vera Wang, I am—I’m guessing you won’t even have to pay for your dress. I bet it’ll be one of those things, like at the Oscars, where the designer just gives the dress to you for publicity.”

“Oh great, so now the general public is picking my dress?”

She scoffed at me, slapping me lightly on the arm. “Come on, it’s just for fun.” She turned the computer so I could see the screen.

Sure enough, six pictures of runway models wearing the latest couture wedding gowns stared back at me. I mean, it was hard to tell on the tiny netbook screen, but I had to admit, the gowns were nothing if not stunning. “Wow.”

Jen nodded. “See? How fun is that?”

“Is there a shoe one?” I asked, sitting up a bit straighter and leaning in.

“I think that one’s over at GossipCentral.org.” She quickly typed in the address.

“Oh my God, I so want to vote on those diamond encrusted ones,” I said, noting the irony of voting on my own wedding shoes.

“So vote,” she said, plopping the computer onto my lap.

“Are you serious? I can’t vote on a gossip magazine poll about myself.”

“Why not?” she asked, like it was nothing.

I couldn’t even think of one reason. I mean, it was just for fun after all, right?

I actually giggled as I hit the submit button and the screen thanked me for my vote. Then I squealed when I saw that 48% of all voters picked the same shoes as I did. We were in the lead!

Oh good Lord, what had gotten into me?

But after the thrill of voting, I wasn’t about to stop there. Jen showed me all the polls, the cake, the flowers, even the location.

I only wish we’d stopped before we clicked on the site that showed us 88% of readers thought our marriage would end before our first anniversary.

Even worse, another 16% didn’t think we’d even make it to the altar at all.

~ ~ ~

I tossed and turned all night wondering why everyone thought Jake and I would go down in flames. I mean, I know celebrity couples don’t have the greatest track record or anything, but still, weren’t Jake and I the perfect match? Well, Jake was perfect, that was for sure, and me… well, I’d soundly proven to the world that I was definitely not perfect.

So that was it. They thought he was too good for me.

God, he probably was too good for me.

I was completely and utterly ordinary.

And Jake was a movie star for Pete’s sake.

There was definitely no need to check in on the Disaster Diary to make me feel like crap. And on top of it all, tomorrow was a day with my mother.

After a sleepless night.

“Hooray,” I said sarcastically to myself as I headed out the door, still trying to figure out how the hell to break the bad news that she would not be planning my wedding.

My mind spun with a million scenarios of how things might go.

And my brain couldn’t even invent one good outcome, no matter how hard I tried.

“Miss?” a voice said from somewhere in the distance. “Miss? The meter’s running.”

Oh, the cabbie. I shook my head, focusing back on the present. “Sorry,” I said, handing him the fare. I had no idea how long we’d been sitting there in front of the coffee shop before he finally jolted me back to reality.

Once out of the cab, I stood, still in a bit of a trance slash panic, almost as if I was glued in place.

“What are you doing standing out here?” my mother asked, storming out of the shop with two cups in her hands. “What were you thinking about? You looked a million miles away.” She handed me a cup. “Here. It’s a Dulce Latte. I presume you still like those?”

I looked at my hand as if the cup had appeared from nowhere. My mother started walking away briskly.

God, why did everyone in my life have to walk so fast? I took a long hit off the latte and scurried to catch up. I hated to admit it, but my mother did know exactly what I needed on a chilly day.

“Mother slow down! Where are you going so fast?”

“We have an appointment to keep,” she said, checking her watch and walking even faster, if that was possible.

“An appointment?”

“Yes. You’ll see.”

The scary thing was, I was starting to see. This had to be something wedding related. God, I’d so badly hoped she’d forgotten about the whole thing.

I felt like I was six years old, running to keep up with my mother, both hands holding onto my cup, trying my hardest not to make it spill, somehow wondering how she could move so fast and not even seem to worry about her drink at all, until finally she stopped and I nearly ran right into her, almost coating her with latte.