RESIDENT EVIL PIERSHERRY

Chapter 24

"WILL YOU JUST sleep with him already?"
Sherry looked around the salon. "Maybe you could say that just a
little louder, Ame. I'm not sure everyone heard you over the hairdryers."
Thankfully, Piers was waiting up front, sparing her at least some
embarrassment from her friend's comment. When they'd first arrived, he'd
conducted a check of the entire spa and salon area, then had positioned
himself by the door that was the only way in and out.
She and Amy sat next to each other, getting the finishing touches on
their makeup. "There are a few things going on with us right now, you know,"
Sherry said pointedly. "Like that slightly sticky issue with me being
attacked in my home by an armed intruder."
Amy immediately looked contrite. "You're right--that was a silly thing to
say. You have a lot more important things to worry about than my wedding."
Sherry and Amy shared a look in the mirror.
"Wow. I even shocked myself with that one." Amy grinned. "Well,
luckily, you'll be done having to put up with me in just a few hours. I bet you
can't wait."
"Don't be crazy--there's no place I'd rather be this weekend than right
here. Even if you have been a royal pain in the ass."
Amy laughed and wiped her eyes. "Stop, you're going to make me cry
with all this mushy crap."
The makeup artist applying Amy's blush pointed sternly. "Don't touch
your eyes. This is some of my best work."
The purple-haired, multi-tattooed and pierced cosmetologist doing
Sherry's makeup chimed in with her orders. "Look at the ground."
Sherry obeyed, trying not to blink as the woman put a second coat of
mascara on her lashes.
"That's waterproof, right?" she heard Amy ask her technician.
"Of course," he assured her.
"You can look up now," Purple Hair said when she had finished.
Sherry peered back up at Amy in the mirror. "Besides, I generally have this rule about not sleeping with a guy until he's taken me out on some
kind of date."
"When he saves your life, I think you can bypass that part."
"He did have dinner delivered the other night, although I think the FBI
picked up the tab. Do you think I can count that?"
Purple Hair stopped dusting blush over Sherry's cheeks. "Hold up.
Are you talking about the dark-haired guy who came in with you? The one
who searched me before I could do your makeup?"
Sherry grimaced. "Sorry about that."
"Don't be--it was the highlight of my month." Purple Hair threw her a
get-real stare. "That's the guy you're holding out on? Sweetie, you need to
grab that stallion and ride him like a cowgirl."
"I . . . don't really know you, but thanks for the advice."
Purple Hair winked. "Comes with the makeup. What do you think?"
Sherry checked herself out in the mirror. They'd left her hair down,
with waves and a lot more volume than she could ever replicate on her own.
And the makeup, which had felt like a lot going on, looked perfect and made
her lips look fuller, her cheekbones more defined, and added a sparkle to her
eyes. "It looks nice."
Amy snorted. "Nice? Give it a rest." She came up in the chair behind
her, looking mismatched yet still elegant with her hair pulled back in an
elaborate twist under her veil, and her jeans and white button-down shirt.
She put her arms around Sherry. "You're lucky I love you so much, to let
you look like that on my wedding day."
"You look gorgeous, Ame." No exaggerating there--minus the jeans
and button-down shirt, Amy was the very picture of a blonde, fairy-tale
beauty. "Aaron is going to be knocked off his feet when he sees you coming
down the aisle."
"He better not be. That'll look terrible on the wedding video."
The two women shared a laugh, and Amy inhaled excitedly. "So? Want
to help me get into my dress?"
Sherry nodded. "You bet."
"WHAT'S WITH AGENTS O'Donnell and Rawlings? Why couldn't we
just bring Piers with us?" Sherry asked as she followed Amy outside. The two FBI agents walked a few paces behind them.
"Because I consider Piers a wedding guest, and you are the only guest
who gets the sneak preview. Besides, Piers needed a few minutes to get
ready for the wedding."
Sherry stepped gingerly in her silver heels off the walkway and onto
a white fabric runner. She followed Amy across the lawn to the enormous
white domed tent that had been set up on a hill overlooking the bay.
Sherry took small, careful steps in her bridesmaid dress, although
there probably wasn't much need to do so. The dress was fitted but had a slit
on one side at her calf that made it easier to walk. Over the last eight months,
the one part of Amy's pickiness that she didn't mind in the least had been her
selection of the maid of honor dress--the same color and material as the
bridesmaid dresses Melanie and Jolene were wearing, but different in style.
Handpicked just for her, Amy had said. And when she'd said next that the
dress was fuchsia, Sherry had nearly handed over her maid of honor
badge right there.
Then she'd seen the dress Amy had chosen for her. Halter-style and
pretty from the front, but that was nothing compared to the back.
Or, rather, the fact that there wasn't any back to the dress.
After that, Sherry had shut her mouth and vowed to never question
Amy's judgment in anything bridal-related again.
"Are you sure you should be out here in your dress?" Sherry the
Dutiful Maid of Honor asked Amy nervously. "What if you trip and get a grass
stain on it or something?" Back when they'd gone dress shopping, she'd
nearly choked at the price of the one Amy had chosen, a blush and ivory
strapless taffeta Carolina Herrera with intricate ruffle detailing worthy of a
nineteenth-century ball gown.
Amy shrugged. "Then I guess I'll just have to deal with it."
Sherry blinked. "Okay. Who are you and what have you done with
my friend?"
Amy laughed as they came to the end of the runner. She waited as
Agent Rawlings stepped into the tent to check things out. When he nodded,
she grabbed Sherry's hand. "So when guests step inside the tent through
this main entrance here"--she pulled Sherry inside--"they'll see this."
For a moment, Sherry was speechless. It was breathtaking. There simply was no other way to describe it. They
stood at the entrance of the tent, facing the altar. The fabric runner continued
on, becoming a white center aisle across the grass that divided the silver and
white Versailles chairs guests would sit on. Scattered across the runner were
fuchsia and red rose petals and multihued leaves upon which Amy and the
bridesmaids would walk. Along the aisle, all the way to the altar, were tall
pillar candles that glowed softly. The altar itself was a site to behold, lit
elegantly with additional white and silver candles and adorned with more red
and fuschsia roses than Sherry had ever seen.
The most striking feature, however, was the thousands of tiny silver
lights arranged in elegant tiers across the top of the tent. At night, she
imagined, it would look just like a starlit sky.
Sherry stepped farther into the tent, taking it all in.
"And we'll have a harpist here at the entranceway, to play music as the
guests take their seats," Amy was saying. "The ceremony is at six thirty,
which will be right at sunset. Afterward, while we take our pictures and the
guests have cocktails and appetizers back at that gazebo we passed, they'll
set up the tables for the reception. The string quartet will be over there for the
ceremony, which is where the band will go for the reception. They'll set up a
dance floor over here . . . Oh, did I mention the heat lamps? See--hidden
along the perimeter there? We had a hell of a time figuring out what to do
with all the electric cords . . ."
Amy paused and looked anxiously at Sherry. "You haven't said
anything. Do you think it's too much?"
Sherry shook her head. "No. You did it, Amy. It really is the most
perfect wedding ever."
Amy smiled. "We used to come here every Labor Day weekend when I
was a kid. I think I was nine years old the first time. I knew, even then, that
this was the place I wanted to get married."
They both turned at the sound of a displeased voice coming up the
path behind them.
"I told Amy she could have twenty minutes with you guys," Piers was
saying to Agents O'Donnell and Rawlings, who stood attentively at the
entrance to the tent. "It's been nearly twenty-five minutes and I--"
Sherry looked over her shoulder just as Piers stalked into the tent.