Page 16 of The Friend

“Rearranging?” She lowered her voice when she noticed an older couple wearing the ugliest matching floral shirts she’d ever seen staring at her. “This isn’t about rearranging, my friend. It’s about jumping through hoops so Mark’s biggest customer doesn’t throw a hissy fit and ditch the whole shoot.”

“Sounds serious. Anything I can do to help?”

“Not unless you’re a size one hundred and two,” she muttered, circling the size twelve on her notepad in vicious circles until the page tore.

“Actually, I am.”

Her pen slowed as a glimmer of an idea flickered to life.

No…she couldn’t…could she?

Trying to keep the edge of excitement out of her voice, she said, “How good is Tom at taking photos?”

“He’s fully qualified. He wants to work with me for a while before branching out on his own. Why?”

“And you’re definitely a size one hundred and two?”

He rolled his eyes. “I think I know my own size.”

He paused as she gnawed on the inside of her cheek to stop a satisfied smile blooming across her face. It couldn’t be this easy, surely?

“Come on, Weiss. Spill it. What’s this about? And why are you looking at me like a cut of prime fillet?”

“Am I?” She batted her eyelashes, knowing Judd would come through for her. He always had before.

He laughed and shook his head. “Your poker face hasn’t changed a bit over the years. It’s still useless, so why don’t you tell me what’s going on.”

“Fine. I need a model to wear a fancy tuxtoday. The shots need to be done and emailed back to Mark tonight, or tomorrow morning at the latest.”

He grimaced and held up the schedule in front of his face as if anticipating some missile she would lob his way.

“Uh-uh. No way. I’m not a model.”

“I don’t need a model. I need someone real looking, apparently. And the tux will fit you, which will save me wasted hours scouring the guests to find someone suitable. So you’ll do it, right?”

She tried her best smile, somewhat relieved at how he took the news. At least he hadn’t thrown anything yet, which is what he’d done in the eighth grade when she hadn’t picked him to be on her volleyball team.

His eyes narrowed. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

“Well, yeah. It’s a wedding shot, so there’ll be a bride and you’ll probably have to look all lovey-dovey but hey, you can do it.”

“You’re crazy.” He smirked, before barking out a laugh.

“Glad my predicament can provide you with a morning’s entertainment. And here I was, hoping for a little support.”

His smirk faded as he studied her, sensing her discomfort. “You’re really in a jam?”

“You could say that. If you won’t do it, you could come up with some helpful suggestions.”

“Seems pretty simple to me. Find some other crazy guy to pose for these shots, let me take them, and all’s well with the world.”

She snapped her fingers, as if the thought had never occurred to her. “Brilliant. Now, where do you suppose I find someone like that on such short notice? And find a bride? And have a fitting for them? And scout the perfect location? And reorganise the day’s schedule? And organise the makeup artist,the hairdresser, not to mention sorting through the shots after they are taken, choosing the best ones, and getting them to Mark all in one day?”

His skeptical expression meant her sarcasm had fallen on deaf ears if and she knew she had to take a different tack.

Mustering every ounce of persuasive charm she possessed, she leaned forward and fixed him with the same coy smile she’d used to great effect last night, knowing the exact moment when comprehension struck as he frowned.

“I’ve already said no.” He held up both hands and shook his head.

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