Chapter 5
“Hold still.” The silk sash tightened around Jamie’s waist, throwing her off balance in her stilettos. Before she tumbled into the floor-length mirror in front of her, Etta snatched her into a protective embrace.
“Oh, my God,” Jamie heaved, still wobbly in her heels. What made me think these were a good idea? Probably the fact that they were cute, open-toed, and wrapped around her ankle in such a way that they complemented the skirt that flared above her knees. “I’m gonna die before the wedding is over.”
Etta made sure she was steady before releasing her girlfriend.
Jamie saw her in the mirror, charming in her three-piece suit with a sapphire-blue shirt.
Usually, Etta saved the fancy suits for charity dinners, but the wedding of the year worked as well.
At least she got to pick out her outfit.
To be fair, so did Jamie. All Monique requested was that her bridesmaids wear the same shade of blue and have their dresses approved by her.
Jamie chose a halter dress with a bust-boosting sweetheart neckline, a likewise heart-shaped waistline, and a cute skirt that showed off her calves.
She accessorized with the sapphire jewelry set Etta had given her over the first few months of their relationship.
Necklace dangling, earrings sparkling, bracelet clutching, ring glistening, and barrette fitting snugly in her wavy black hair.
When it came to colors, everyone agreed that blue was best – although the grapevine said that Monique’s favorite color was actually black.
Hence it being the accent color, along with white, at the wedding.
No black for Jamie, aside from her hair, and the bruise she would probably sport on her knee later.
“Thanks for helping me. Everyone is in the other room trying to get Monique to fit into her wedding dress.” Every once in a while they heard Eve shout in frustration.
Stuff along the lines of, “Didn’t the seamstress just take your final measurements two weeks ago?
What the hell have you been eating? Ramen and mac and cheese every day?
” It was especially the sight because the usually tomboyish woman was running around in a flirty dress like Jamie’s.
Every time the Amazonian with spiky hair and glaring makeup clomped through the room, she sent people running for cover.
“It’s my pleasure.” Etta had come in there to pay her respects to Monique before the wedding.
I’m surprised she took today off from work.
The woman hadn’t had time off since last Sunday night, when Jamie returned from Miami, weary and in need of a serious bath.
“I want to see you before anyone else does, anyway.” She brushed something off Jamie’s open back, sending tingles through her body.
“Etta…” Jamie stifled a giggle. “What are you saying?”
She looped her arms around Jamie, hands placed on top of her abdomen while mouth nibbled her neck. “I’m saying that I, as your partner, should get to see you in this gorgeous dress before anyone else.”
“You like it, huh?” Jamie wouldn’t mention the black lingerie set she wore beneath. I discovered the straps are detachable. Perfect for this cut. “You should. You paid for it.”
“Did I ever get my money’s worth.” Etta squeezed the breath out of her girlfriend.
“All right.” Jamie had to put an end to the pawing before things got too far. She was sure her girlfriend would love to ravage her in the small changing room for anyone to walk in on, but Jamie had other things to worry about. “That’s enough. You get yours later.”
“Later?” Was she seriously put out? Apparently. Etta was used to getting what she wanted, whenever she wanted. “Fine. You think it’s safe to go in there yet?”
“About five women are trying to get Monique in that dress.”
“What? That seems strange.”
Jamie shrugged. “She didn’t drink hardly anything last weekend, but she was snacking a lot. Probably nerves. Water retention is a bitch.”
“Crisis averted!” someone called. “Don’t bend over and you’ll be fine!”
“I don’t see how I could possibly bend over!” Monique retorted.
Jamie had no idea how Monique struggled to fit in her dress.
It was flowy. Not quite an empire cut, but damn close, with fabric flowing free starting from her bust and down to the ground.
She looked like a veritable princess as she floated past brightly lit windows, heading toward a different room to have her makeup done.
Someone – one of her girls from the Manoir, Jamie believed – chased after her with a brush and comb, demanding she slow down to have her hair fixed.
“Welcome to a woman’s most stressful day,” Jamie said. “I don’t envy her.”
Etta looked askance at Jamie. “Not in the mood for a wedding, are you?”
All the blood rushed to her face. “What are you saying?”
“Absolutely nothing. Just giving you a hard time.”
“Not today of all days, please.”
Etta kissed her girlfriend’s forehead. “Everything will go fine. Trust me. I saw the wedding planners Monique hired. If something goes wrong, they’ll make sure it looks like it was on purpose.”
“Jamie!” someone shouted from down the hall. “Pictures!”
It had been a long time since Jamie went to a wedding, and that one was held in a community center with minimal fuss.
Nor was she in the bridal party. So to have her day micromanaged by a wedding planner named Jenny was one of the most grueling things in the world.
That’s what Jamie told herself when Jenny panicked that the maid of honor’s sash was slightly off-center before they took the bridal party pictures.
She also insisted on fixing Jamie’s hair.
She was more involved with the posing of the picture than the actual photographer, who was mostly concerned with whether to include Monique’s veil.
They ended up focusing on the circlet of diamonds she wore on her dark head.
Portraits lasted an hour. This did not include the pictures that would come later that afternoon during the reception when Helen and her party would finally be included.
For now, Monique followed the staunch tradition of not letting her fiancée see her before the ceremony.
That was easy to do at Warner Estate, which had three living quarters to keep everyone separated until the ceremony was held at a nearby chapel.
Once the pictures were finished, the bridal party climbed into a stretch limousine to head three miles down the road to the chapel Helen grew up in.
According to Monique, it was Helen’s only real request for the wedding, and Monique was more than delighted to acquiesce even though neither of them was religious.
Jamie understood why Monique was excited when they arrived at the adorable chapel overlooking a hill and lake.
Out here in the countryside, it was picturesque.
However, it had little room for a party as big as theirs to prepare in, so it was necessary to dress and style at the manor before coming here.
Monique was nevertheless taken into a humble room and had her look touched up.
Jamie slipped out to be choreographed by Jenny, who reminded the bridesmaids what order they were in when going down the aisle.
Jamie rendezvoused at the rear of the chapel with the rest of the party.
Every woman but her had someone to walk down with.
As the maid of honor, Jamie was going solo, since Helen’s number two already stood with her at the front of the chapel.
Monique must have won the coin toss of the decade when she got to play the role of “bride at the center of attention.” Then again, she liked attention much more than Helen, who was probably happy enough to let Monique have it.
No pressure, girl. That’s what Jamie told herself as a bouquet of fresh red roses and sprigs of baby’s breath were shoved into her hands. The flower girl, a child of five, attempted to waddle down the aisle before anyone told her to.
The chapel was packed. Every pew was filled, and the ushers did an exemplary job showing people to their seats.
The guestbook was crammed with signatures, most of which Jamie didn’t recognize as she signed it too.
Jenny, with a freakin’ earpiece and mic on her head, in turn, ushered Jamie to the front doors of the chapel as the music began.
Jamie wasn’t even the one getting married, yet things happened at the speed of light.
I’m gonna get motion sickness from this.
She waited as everyone cooed over the flower girl stumbling down the aisle in shoes too small.
She cast rose and carnation petals all over the white silk runner and stopped to give her grandmother a handful of them before continuing.
Well, I can’t very well follow that act.
But Jamie was due next since the mothers of the brides declined to walk down the aisle.
“Go!” Jenny jabbed Jamie in the side, and she was off, trying her best to not trip in her stilettos as she plastered on a smile and shuffled down the aisle.
Bulb flashes went off in her face. More than one video camera pointed in her direction.
Jamie wasn’t the bride, but she was the first adult walking down the aisle, and every eye was on her.
Guests leaned in to mutter things to one another.
“She’s pretty, I guess.” “How does she know Monique?” “Isn’t that Etta Coleman’s piece?
” “What does she see in her?” Even at a wedding ceremony, people gossiped.
Jamie was relieved to see Helen by the time she reached the altar.
Helen stood in a simple white dress and jacket because she was one of the only women in the county who could pull off a style traditionally reserved for middle-aged divorcees considering their third marriage.
Jamie squared her shoulders as she gingerly turned around in her heels and stood in her designated space.
Jenny would have sighed in relief, but she was busy jabbing Eve in the waist and reprimanding her for not walking fast enough.
The man she walked with was one step ahead of her – and he was a full two inches shorter than a Warner woman in heels.
Jamie kept her smile on as she watched women in blue and two token men in black walk down the aisle, set to pleasant live strings. Six couples followed Jamie, and then the bride appeared. Everyone stood up to the change in music.
Monique took the first two steps into the chapel by herself.
Etta rendezvoused with her, holding her arm out for her to take.
Most people would find it odd for a woman’s ex-girlfriend to give her away at her wedding, but Monique didn’t have a father.
Why not Etta? She had given Helen her blessings ten times over.
“This is the kinkiest wedding in the world, and hardly anyone realizes it,” said the woman next to Jamie. She had to agree.
Whatever Monique had felt over the past few weeks was completely blown away now.
She walked with her chin high, her petite stature almost matching Etta’s more stoic gait as she stayed with her every step down the aisle.
This wasn’t a meek woman resigned to some fate.
This was the queen of her own destiny marching forward.
Her dress flowed behind her, pulling a conservative train of delicate lace.
Yet it was the bodice that attracted the most attention.
Monique went for an off-the-shoulder look, with ruffled sleeves that draped from her arms and intricately weaved in and out of her beaded bodice.
The veil that caused such a fuss during picture time was nothing more than a sheer thing that sat atop her head, clutching the diamond circlet and disappearing into the length of her dark hair as it bounced with her steps.
The most curious aspect, however, was the diamond choker around her throat.
Jamie had never seen it before. It was probably purchased for the wedding, but Jamie did not doubt it had more to do with Monique and Helen’s kinky lifestyle than the nuptials.
Guests gasped. A million pictures were taken.
Helen looked so lovesick that Jamie was going to be sick as well.
By that time, her knees locked up and she spaced out the majority of the ceremony, concentrating on her impeccable posture.
Half of America’s high society would be studying her face tomorrow.
She was bound to show up in a few Page 6 pictures, and that frightened the bejeezus out of her.
Don’t think about it… don’t think about it…
She missed the part where Helen and Monique were declared married. Jamie snapped out of her stupor to the sound of applause and the sight of a tall woman bending down to kiss her petite wife. Jamie’s heart exploded into a million hormonal pieces.
Meeting Etta’s eyes again was the wrong thing to do. Tears poured from Jamie’s, threatening to ruin her makeup. Luckily, everyone else around her was crying too, and she could blend in with the festive crowd.