Caught on Camera

Chapter 5, Scene 1, Part 9

On Golden Prawns

Scene 1

Mickey vaulted over the stone terrace wall outside his room and strode across the Inn's manicured front lawn to a white gazebo -- a ten foot diameter wood dais with a cone-shaped roof supported by four round columns -- framed against a backdrop of blue sky and water. Off to the right, men and women lounged in the late Friday afternoon sun beside an infinity pool that, from his perspective, seemed to disappear into the vast lake beyond.

The wedding party gathered for the rehearsal at the head of wide granite steps leading down to a sandy beach. He scanned the cluster of well dressed men and women for the statuesque figure of Tiffany York. No doubt she planned to make an entrance. He knew his starlets. Rather, she wasn't an upcoming actor in his stable as yet, but he intended to rectify that before Sunday's departure.

Meanwhile he made himself agreeable, first to those he knew -- Halden, his parents, sister Asta and brother Garth from Wisconsin clustered together in a tight family circle -- and introduced himself to those he had yet to meet. The tall, slender, elegant middle-aged couple expensively dressed in black he identified as Candy's parents. Candy and her estranged twin Gwendolyn, winners of the genetic lottery, grew up in New York City where their father ran a modelling agency. The parents held champagne flutes by the stems, made polite conversation, but their eyes strayed often to the hotel entrance watching for Candy to emerge.

He excused himself when the Armstrong family pastor approached the bride's parents, drifting over to shake hands with Wade Edgeworth, Halden's college roommate and other groomsman, a film lawyer hired on a project basis by producers and independent filmmakers. Mickey and Wade often teamed with a favorite independent producer to get a screenplay green lit. Mickey packaged the stars and director, Wade negotiated the financing deals, while the producer developed the script and assembled the preproduction, production and post production teams.

Candy's blonde cousin in a short black silk sheath and three inch heels that showcased exceptional legs lingered behind the gazebo in an attempt to make herself inconspicuous. A Californian, he was accustomed to beautiful women, but this girl lacked their casual confidence. She gripped the stem of a half empty champagne glass in one fist, and the other fiddled nervously with a necklace pendant.

To pass the time while awaiting Candy and Tiffany's big entrance, he slid up alongside. "Enjoying yourself?"

She stiffened. "Yes, sir."

"Mickey, please."

She smiled. "Mickey."

He froze. When her pink rosebud lips curled up, unusual gold-flecked brown eyes crinkled at the corners -- a genuine smile. Not one he often witnessed in his line of business.

"It's a lovely afternoon." She lifted the champagne glass to her cute mouth.

"Yes." Lovely. Not the right word for Rachel. Intriguing. And those legs! He was a leg man, had been since his sister Nikki played with a poseable blonde Barbie doll and GI Joe when they were kids. Nikki had a thing for military men in consequence. Imprinting, that's what it was, but who cared?

Mickey forgot about circulating. Rachel was a stranger to most of the guests, so he devoted the next five minutes to naming the persons waiting for the bride.

"Halden often says that fishing the northern lakes with his brother Garth, Wade and me keeps him sane."

"What does his sister do?"

Mickey perceived, not with any sense of recrimination, that Rachel obviously wasn't interested in fishing, at least not for fish. Fishing for gossip was more her line. "Asta? She's a stunt double. She's fearless. Fast cars, fast boats, you name it, she can drive it. She's one of my clients. I signed her a couple of years ago."

"Signed her to--?"

"I'm an agent," he clarified. "I work for Herron Talent Agency." He left unsaid his plan to launch his own firm. One big name client on his roster and he'd be able to afford to quit his job and sign the lease on a small but ludicrously expensive suite of offices.

Revelation of his profession to women he met in LA usually sparked calculated interest in his connections, not in him. He braced for a request for access to a particular producer, casting agent, or director.

Rachel tipped her head to regard him, her big gold-flecked eyes serious. "How did you become an agent?"

"Long story." Her unexpected personal question left him at a loss for words, triggering an unfamiliar sensation in his gut. He warned himself to focus on his pursuit of Tiffany, not allow himself to be distracted by a shy girl as skittish as a long-legged colt. 

Mickey rarely met a woman who wasn't in the entertainment business or aspiring to be in the business. He didn't mind being used. Hell, he often enjoyed the perks. But by his thirties casual sex had lost its allure. The gorgeous women were only interested in what he could do for their careers, and dumped him once they got it. Other men called him lucky. He called it lonely.

The hotel door opened, forestalling further conversation. Arm in arm, Candy and Tiffany stepped carefully in spike heels along the uneven granite flagstone path to the wedding party scattered around the gazebo. Since Candy didn't drink, he deduced Tipsy Tiffany was responsible for their swaying gait. Candy's ever present assistant Wendy and the middle-aged wedding planner trailed in their wake. Availing himself of the chance to take Tiffany off Candy's hands and into his, Mickey excused himself, handed his flute off to a waiter and hurried to intercept the women.

Garth Armstrong reached them first, casually elbowing Mickey aside with the unconscious assertiveness of a former college football linebacker for whom finesse was a foreign concept. "Tiffany, allow me to escort you to the gazebo," Garth growled. For a reason inexplicable to Mickey, women found Garth's rumbling baritone seductive.

Smoothly, as if it had been his intention all along, Mickey offered his arm to Candy. Her natural five foot ten height, augmented by three inch heels, exceeded his own. He scanned her appreciatively. No girl of his acquaintance wore couture as well as Candy. A short sea foam dress hung from thin straps, clung to small, perfect breasts and revealed long, lean thighs. Silky blonde hair flowed down a bare back to her waist. She wore no jewelry except the rock Halden put on her ring finger three months earlier.

"You're stunning, Candy. Halden's the luckiest guy in the world." He meant it.

Like all women, Candy enjoyed genuine appreciation. She patted his forearm, though her gaze roamed in search of her fiancé. "Thanks, darling."

"It's your moment."

"Don't let Tiffany spoil it." Crystal hardness glinted in topaz eyes that had graced countless magazine covers in her day. "She helped herself to my mini bar while waiting for me to dress. Ask the waiter to substitute sparkling water for champagne when serving her, will you?"

"I'm on it." Any excuse to stick close to Tiffany was fine by him. Although he had competition. Mickey frowned. Garth walked ahead, a meaty arm wrapped possessively around Tiffany's matchstick waist. Mickey's strategic brain flipped through ideas to waylaid Tiffany before she began to reciprocate Garth's interest. He steered Candy toward her groom.

Halden enthusiastically clasped his bride's slim fingers and leaned in to kiss her fervently. "You look as beautiful in this moment as I've ever seen you."

"Darling." Candy wrapped her fingers half way around his bulging biceps and pressed her upper body into his broad chest for the kiss. Happiness enhanced her ethereal beauty. The cynic in Mickey reluctantly stood down. Against all odds, this Hollywood marriage appeared to be based on true love.

The middle-aged wedding planner, slim, cool and monochrome in a tailored skirt and jacket of a glossy white fabric the same color as her shoulder-length hair, stepped in front of the couple waving a clipboard. "It's time for the rehearsal, ladies and gentlemen." She shepherded the family and guests to their places.