Three #2
“She was? I thought security did that so I put her on coat check.”
Valerie shut her eyes and tried not to pant. Talking took so much effort. “Then we’ll guesstimate.”
“Did you stuff the gift bags?”
“That was your job.”
“I couldn’t find the bread and figured you’d do it.” Alexis sounded grim. “I have to go. Someone spilled a drink and an old lady’s on the ground.”
“What?”
“She’s probably fine.”
Valerie tried to sip some water, failed, and lurched out to Ricky’s office to see what was happening on his CCTV so she could flag any issues for Alexis.
She hugged the bowl she’d emptied of potpourri—the residual lavender scent was soothing—and her heart lifted slightly.
So far, it looked like it was going according to plan.
The room was full but not overcrowded, with the Badgertons solemnly circulating through their guests.
Even better, there were no elderly people sprawled on the ground.
A text came from Nico. How is the event?
Valerie pawed at her phone. Wonderful!
After another bout of dry heaving that she thought might bring up her actual stomach, she returned to the cameras.
Odd. It looked busier than usual. Was that…
? She looked closer and confirmed the existence of visors and fanny packs.
A group of tourists? Taking photos of the original stained-glass windows?
She tapped Alexis’s number so fast she nearly sprained her finger. No answer. Valerie dragged herself closer and saw a teenager sneaking off with a bottle of Malcolm’s thirty-two-year-old whiskey.
She called again and on the fourth try, Alexis answered. “What?”
“Get that bottle!”
“What bottle?” Alexis sounded frazzled.
“Where are you?”
“Stuffing the bags like you told me!”
“Alexis, Josette isn’t here yet. You need to be dealing with the event. There’s a kid stealing whiskey. Where’s the bartender?”
Alexis mumbled something about kids these days. “I sent him to help the catering staff because Penny said the mini stuffed Yorkshire puddings were coming out too slow. Fine, I’m going but don’t complain when only half the…”
Suddenly, NSYNC’s “Bye Bye Bye” rang through the entire building, overwhelming the dulcet strings of the Wilmington Sisters quartet. “Shit, shit,” yelled Alexis.
“What is happening?” Valerie tried to get to her feet to help but a wave of dizziness sent her back to the floor.
The screen filled with shocked faces as guests looked to the sky, trying to pinpoint the noise.
The tourists took more photos. A woman had her phone out and was turning it from her face, which she arranged in a traumatized expression, to pan around the room.
“Ricky’s portable speaker is still set up and I knocked into it,” Alexis called. The music cut off mid-word. “There. Fixed. Can I get back to work?”
Valerie watched helplessly from the floor as her beautiful plans disintegrated in an acid bath of bad luck. The security cameras didn’t have sound but they didn’t need to. There was enough visual carnage to keep her fully occupied.
A text came from Ricky. Josette’s car broke down. She’s going to be another hour.
Valerie didn’t answer because she was reaching out to the screen as if she could stop one of the guests as he backed into a table, causing him to stagger into the display of walking sticks that went tumbling. As the man flailed, he managed to rip down the lovingly hung green velvet drapes.
She would cry if there were any liquids left in her body to shed. But it couldn’t get worse.
Or could it? A quick look at her watch said the speeches were nine minutes late. She called Alexis.
“What now?”
“Speeches.”
“For fuck’s sake.” A moment later, Alexis came into view of the camera, fiddling with the laptop to stop the slideshow honoring Malcolm’s life and achievements that Valerie had spent three days crafting.
However, they were using the venue’s laptop instead of their own.
Valerie watched, almost dull with horror, as Malcolm’s serious face morphed into a group of people holding up bottles of beer on a beach wearing what might only generously be called swimwear.
One person was in a mankini. She looked again.
Make that two mankinis, the wearers graciously providing a front and back view.
“Roger Badgerton wants to speak with you,” said Alexis.
Too busy army crawling to the bathroom, Valerie didn’t have time to reply before Roger came on.
“What the hell is going on here? Where are you? Did I hire amateur hour? Are clowns in charge?” Roger demanded. “Good God, what is that noise? Are you throwing up?”
She was. She could dimly hear Roger and Alexis arguing in the background until the phone went dead.
When she dragged herself back out to the office, it was to a small reprieve.
Roger was talking at the podium, no doubt giving his speech, and the screen behind him was blank.
That wasn’t as good as the accompanying slides she’d planned, but monumentally better than the beach-blanket-bingo shot.
They were back on track. She closed her eyes as a huge shout came from the crowd below. Perhaps it was better if she didn’t know. Perhaps it would be better to simply roll under Ricky’s desk and die. She felt like the Grim Reaper had a sympathetic hand on her shoulder anyway.
She kept her eyes shut and waited for the commotion to pass. How bad could it be, after all?
As it turned out…pretty bad.