The Aftertaste

Chapter Three

My leg won't stop shaking. My other hired photographers are out shooting so I'm here, waiting. Palms sweaty, I rearrange the tea cups and sugar, again. Hurry up.
The time ticks by, slowly. God is definitely punishing me. The door sings from being opened, Mrs. Alexander scrolls in, a smile on her face.
"Mrs. Alexander, you look nice." I hug her, the smell of lilac feeling my nose.
"Didn't I say I'm getting married? Mrs. Otello, a French man child."
I laugh, nervously. She's calm as she fixes some tea with only one cube of sugar. Blah.
"You sure you want to rush this ordeal? It seems like the boys would at least want a sa-"
"If they had a say, I wouldn't be getting married at all. I'm sure about this. Let me see those locations."
She flips through the pictures, analyzing the small details. I pulled out my most beautiful locations for her, I want it to be magical, as hectic as it may be.
"This one." She taps her manicured finger on the picture, three solid times. It's my most popular scenery. There's pretty pink flowers and a lake that has the pink petals scattered around. I love shooting out there.
"When's the wedding?" I ask, smiling at her choice.
"This weekend."
My eyes roll out of my head. Who does she think I am?
"How do you expect me to pull that together? It's Thursday, evening, may I include."
She stands, still sipping her bitter tea.
"You're a woman of amazing ways, you'll do it. It'll just be us, a pastor, and you. You're the most important prize, love. My designer will set up the area accordingly and since it's in such short notice, my husband is offering three grand. That means I want the best, that's why I picked you. I told my son he should've picked you too. Idiot boy..."
The cup is placed on the table and she's headed out without a second word.
I should've picked him.