Page 12 of Champagne Fizz

“Like being proposed to with edible glitter all over your pussy,” Arie says.

“Arie!” Olivia yelps.

“What?” Arie shrugs like she hasn’t said anything wrong. “She’s your wedding planner. Isn’t the first question out of her mouth supposed tobe how did he propose?”

Come to think of it, I did ask them that question and they deliberately avoided it.

“Okay,” I interject, trying to forget the image of glitter all over one’s— “No glitter at the wedding! Got it.”

“This is why I like her,” Ned proclaims.

At least I’ve got the groom on my side.

“Riiiiight, back to the plan,” I say loudly, trying to get things back on track. “The wedding will be on the beach in front of the resort. Cocktail hour will be out on the Flambé patio.” I point out the window to the location. “We’ll need to rearrange some of the furniture, but the reception will be—”

“Inside in the dining room,” Arie interrupts. “Yeah, we know. I’m glad it took you so long to plan what I basically said two hours ago.”

Arie raises her eyebrows and puts a hand on her hip, staring at me like I’m a complete joke. I stare back, trying to stand up to her, knowing I need to assert some sense of authority, but not knowing what else to do other than glare back.

Who’s the imposter now, Sue Blade?

Still me.

“Great,” Arie says dryly, rolling her eyes at how unimpressed she is with me. “Talk to Simon about the menu and anything else you’ll need.”

“Yes, of course,” I say, trying not to sound like I’ve been dismissed by the queen of Flambé, which obviously, I have been. I turn to Simon. “I’ll need to see the catering contract and—”

“Oh, no no no!” Arie swivels back with a flourish. “This is Olivia and Ned. This is family. It’s free. No need to put anything in writing.”

“I’d prefer if we—”

“You’re at Flambé now, sweetheart,” Arie snaps. “We like things a little more swift and dirty, if you know what I mean.” She looks at my yellow outfit like I might as well be the marshmallow queen, before she grabs her boyfriend’s crotch obscenely.

“Oh, hello!” Conner growls lewdly, snatching her wrist and twisting her into a lurid kiss.

“Get a room!” Ned complains.

“Or at least use the bathroom,” Olivia interjects.

“Seriously?” Ned looks at his fiancé, and she shrugs.

“When you work with them, a closed door with a lock is an amazing thing.”

“Jesus!” Ned curses, before pointing at his brother. “No sex during my wedding. You got it?”

“Do you mean just the ceremony, or—?” Conner asks, pulling himself away from Arie.

“I mean the entire twenty-four hours of May 28th,” Ned clarifies.

“So, at midnight,” Conner continues to poke, “we can fuck on the dance floor even if everyone hasn’t finished their wedding cake?”

Ned turns to me. “The wedding better end at ten. Sharp. I don’t want anyone near those two when they find loopholes in the rules.”

“Ten can be arranged,” I say, refraining from mentioning that I’ll still be here several hours afterwards to take down everything.

“They’re egging you on,” Olivia reminds Ned.

At which point, Connor and Ned start squabbling about something having to do with stolen cars and lawyers, and all the family drama I’ve yet to piece together.

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