“Charming.” He made a face at Kate, then said to me, “I never knew Fern went in for sixies hair.”

  The second model hit her mark at the end of the runway, threw her confetti and spun around.

  The blonde with the clipboard stuck her head through the drape and clapped her hands. “Where is my wind?”

  “Wind?” Richard and I mouthed to each other as two fans attached to the ceiling began blowing on the runway.

  “Didn’t you hear?” I cupped a hand over my mouth and talked into his ear. The music and the fans made it nearly impossible to hear each other. “This wasn’t Fern’s doing. It was the other hairdresser’s idea.”

  The lights changed to pink, and the music switched. The next model appeared in a tulle gown with a full skirt and a sheer bolero jacket.

  “Is that AC/DC?” Kate mouthed.

  The model strode down the runway, flung her confetti over her head and it promptly blew into our faces.

  “This is the strangest fashion show I’ve ever seen,” Richard yelled over the fans as he spit confetti out of his mouth. “And I had to sit through a swimwear show at my nana’s nursing home once.”

  Kate poked me in the side as another model emerged from behind the drape wall. “There’s the model who’s dating Christopher.”

  “She seems familiar,” Richard said.

  “She’s got an Angelina Jolie thing going on,” Kate said. “Without the tattoos and six kids, of course.”

  As the lights changed to a bright white, the dark-haired girl strutted down the catwalk in the form-fitting organza gown we’d seen downstairs. She was pretty in an unusual way with full lips and wide-set eyes. Kate was spot-on with her comparison to Angelina Jolie. The girl reached the end of the runway and paused.

  I grabbed both Kate and Richard’s knees on either side of me and squeezed. “Look at her hair.”

  “I’m looking. It’s a beehive. The car crash of hairstyles,” Richard said. “I can’t pull my eyes away.”

  “Ouch.” Kate rubbed her leg. “What wrong with her . . .?”

  Richard sat up, staring at the model more intently. “Wait a second. Is that what I think it is?”

  The bright lights were concentrated at the end of the runway, and before the model could toss her confetti in the air, we could see all the diamonds glittering inside her beehive.

  Chapter 11

  “You find a security guard, and I’ll make sure the model doesn’t leave,” I yelled in Kate’s ear.

  “What if it isn’t only one model’s hair?” Kate yelled back. “What if the diamonds are spread out through all of them?”

  I groaned. I hadn’t thought of that. Just because we hadn’t seen them, it didn’t mean they couldn’t be tucked away under layers of extensions and hairspray.

  “Then I’ll make sure none of the girls leave,” I called out.

  Kate nodded and slipped out of the room as the fashion show continued.

  I leaned in close to Richard so he could hear me. “You keep watch on the doors, and I’ll go backstage and tell Fern.”

  I hunched over as I crept down the row of chairs and behind the drape backdrop. I scanned the group of models for Fern. He wasn’t hard to spot, as one of the few people not wearing a beehive. I wiggled my way through the models until I reached him.

  “We found the missing rings,” I said.

  “What?” He made hand motions to indicate that he couldn’t hear me over the music.

  “The rings.” I gestured to my ring finger, then pointed to the nearest beehive. “They’re in the hair.”

  Fern squinted at me, then shook his head. I could understand his confusion. The idea sounded ridiculous. But still not as ridiculous as having beehives in a bridal fashion show, if you asked me.

  “I’ll show you.” I tugged him behind me as I made my way through the models to the dark-haired girl coming off the runway. I grabbed her by the arms and reached up for her hair. She pulled away.

  “Who are you?” The woman with the clipboard spotted me. “You can’t be back here.”

  “What are you doing?” Fern eyes darted from me to the woman.

  I made another grab for the beehive. “Help me reach in her hair.”

  The woman with the clipboard closed the few feet between us and swatted at me with her clipboard, connecting with my knuckles. I jerked my hand back and yelped. The model took advantage of the distraction and hurried back onto the runway.

  “Richard,” I yelled as the music paused between songs. “Don’t let her escape.”

  As the first few chords of “Rock You Like A Hurricane” blasted from the speakers, I pushed a redheaded model to the side and ran onto the runway with clipboard lady screaming at me to stop. The dark-haired model glanced behind her, and her eyes filled with panic as she spotted me giving chase. She hiked her skirt and hopped off the end of the runway. I followed. For a girl who seemed like she could blow away in a stiff breeze, she could run fast. She’d almost reached the back ballroom door when Richard dashed from the other side of the room and knocked her over. She tried to scramble up, but Richard sat on her back.

  “Get off me,” she shrieked, struggling underneath his weight.

  I reached the pair and stopped to catch my breath. “Nice tackle.”

  Richard arched a brow. “I’ve watched football.”

  “Cut the music,” clipboard lady said from the runway, where she leveled a finger at Richard and me. “You ruined my dress rehearsal.”

  The music stopped, and the models came out onto the runway, staring at the scene of Richard in his perfectly pressed lavender button-down shirt and black pants sitting on top of a model half his size. Christopher and Fern both ran over.

  Christopher’s face flushed red. “What are you doing? Get off her at once.”

  Richard held up a finger and ticked it back and forth like a metronome. “Not until we retrieve the diamonds.”

  “What are you talking about?” Christopher asked.

  Richard leaned over the flailing girl, put one hand on each side of her head, and shook her like a Magic Eight Ball.

  Clipboard lady and several of the models screamed. Christopher’s mouth dropped open, and Fern swooned against me. Before I could tell Richard to stop, the first ring dropped from the model’s hair. Then another and another and the room went silent.

  Richard stopped shaking and picked up a diamond ring from the floor. “Does anyone have any questions now?”

  The model raised her head from the floor. “I didn’t know they were in there. Christopher said he added crystals to my hair. I had no idea they were actually diamond rings.”

  “That’s not true,” Christopher said, gaping at the girl on the ground. “I never said I added crystals to her hair.”

  “Who else could have done it?” Fern asked. “It certainly wasn’t me. And the beehives were all your idea.”

  Christopher shook his head. “No, they were her idea.”

  Richard put his hands on his hips without getting off the model. “You expect us to believe that this model picked the hairstyles for the fashion show and managed to hide the diamond rings inside her own hair?”

  “Stella,” Christopher said, his voice now barely a whisper. “Tell them.”

  The girl didn’t meet his gaze. “I had nothing to do with this.”

  The double doors opened, and Kate came inside followed by Detective Mike Reese and the scowling head of hotel security. All three paused when they saw Richard perched on top of the tiny model with several diamond rings scattered around her head.

  Detective Reese stared at Richard, then at me, and shook his head slowly. “Why am I not surprised?”

  Chapter 12

  “I suppose that’s that,” Richard said as we made our way through the ballroom foyer on the basement level. He’d been peeved that Detective Reese had not wanted him to shake the remaining rings from the model’s head. “I suppose Fern will do a fine job, but my way would have been faster.”

  The woman with the clipboard had declared the dress rehearsal to be over and had stalked back to the hair and makeup room with the rest of the models. I’d barely spoken to Detective Reese before he’d gone off to question Christopher in the hotel security office. I’d been proud of myself for acting normal around him. Well, as normal as could be expected after he walked in on my best friend pinning down a model and shaking diamonds out of her beehive. I felt a little disappointed that he hadn’t said more when he saw me, but at least I hadn’t embarrassed myself.

  “Your face is still flushed,” Kate said.

  I put my fingers to my cheeks. “Flushed?”

  “You turned red the second Reese walked in the door,” Richard said. “Even I noticed from the floor.”

  I groaned. Great. So much for playing it cool.

  “Don’t worry.” Kate patted my arm. “I doubt the detective noticed. He was too busy dragging Richard off that poor model.”

  “He did not drag me off. He merely assisted me in standing up. But he should have thanked me for trying to be thorough.”

  “You promise me you had nothing to do with him being here?” I asked Kate again as I dodged the one remaining ladder in the foyer.

  She drew an X over her heart with one finger. “You know I didn’t. Only a few minutes passed from when I left the room to when I ran into Reese and the security guard coming up in the elevator. Hotel security had already called the police.”

  I studied her with suspicion. “And the detective just happened to be the one assigned to the case?”

  Kate shrugged. “The hotel may have mentioned that it was a bridal show and there were nosy wedding planners.”

  I closed my eyes. “Perfect.”

  “At least the show can go on.” Kate glanced at her phone. “And we still have thirty minutes before the brides arrive.”

  “Thirty minutes?” I said. “We’ve barely done any setup.”

  We passed through the open double doors of the basement ballroom and I stopped. I shouldn’t have been surprised by how dramatically the room had transformed during the half hour we’d been upstairs because it happened with every event setup, but the change still startled me.

  Like all major events, this one had come together quickly at the end. The lighting stands had been tucked out of the way and now illuminated the ceiling with swirling patterns of pale pink and lavender light. The carpet had been cleared of all boxes and crates so we could walk freely down the middle of the room. The vendor displays on either side were finished and a string quartet sat tuning their instruments on the stage at the far end.

  “Am I seeing things or is that wedding planner offering Botox?” Richard said to me as we passed Brides by Brianna.

  “Interested?” Kate asked.

  Richard gave her a venomous look. “I would as soon get Botox at a wedding show as I’d get a massage at the airport.”

  “Well, I’ll bet you she has a line out the door for the entire day,” Kate said.

  Richard sniffed. “There are some things one does not do in public.”

  I was with Richard on this one. If I ever got to the point where I felt the need to shoot toxins into my face, I certainly wouldn’t pick the middle of the Hotel W ballroom as the place to do it. But, then again, I also knew about the powerful lure of freebies and that some of the brides at the show came to drink as much Champagne, eat as much free cake, and collect as many free gifts as possible.

  “I wish we had something as tempting as Botox to give away,” Kate said.

  “We have the chocolates covered in gold dust,” I reminded her.

  She held up her two hands like scales. “Botox. Chocolates. Which would you stand in line for?”

  “You forgot the gold dust,” I said.

  Kate eyed me. “Unless we’re offering to spray the brides in gold dust from head to toe, I don’t think there’s much competition.”

  I waved to Tammy from Tamara’s Flowers, who still wore her apron and stood misting her flower garland from a green spray bottle. She waved back.

  “Since when are there blue carnations?” Richard asked once we’d passed the florist’s booth.

  “Since she painted them,” Kate said in a lowered voice.

  Richard wrinkled his nose. “Well, I hope all that misting doesn’t make her spray-painted flowers run.”

  “Be nice you two,” I said. “It’s her first show.”

  “At least she’s set up,” Kate said as we reached the Wedding Belles display. Although the gold branches were no longer piled on the floor and now created a lush, leafy canopy over the entire ten-foot square space, our gold bar stood bare save the orchid arrangement on the far right side. A light sprinkling of gold paint from the branches dusted the floor. “Our space is a ghost town.”

  “It won’t be once we set out the chocolates.” I hurried behind the bar to where my bags had been hidden. I pulled out a pair of gold and white cake stands and placed them on the bar. “See? Better already.”

  Richard stood back and tapped a finger to his chin. “How many more cake stands do you have under there? A hundred?”

  “I have these.” I produced a pair of three-tiered dessert displays ornamented with gilded birds and set them next to the cake stands.

  “And?” Richard said.

  I stood up and put my hands on my hips. “And the chocolates to go on them.”

  “This can’t compete with Botox Barbie down there,” Kate said, flailing an arm in the direction of our competition.

  “She’s right,” Richard said. “As ridiculous as I find jabbing needles in people’s foreheads in public, you can’t deny that the idea is good for buzz.”

  I reached under the bar for one of the boxes of gold-dusted chocolates in the shape of jewels and resisted the urge to slam it on top. “Buzz? Since when did being a good wedding planner become about creating buzz?”

  “Since forever.” Richard came up to the bar and sat on one of the stools. “But now the buzz isn’t about the actual weddings you plan, it’s about the hype. The fake wedding you design for a styled shoot, the absurdly elaborate tablescape at a wedding show that no bride could afford, the birthday dinner you throw for yourself so you can post perfect Instagram pics. Buzz, buzz, buzz.”

  I made a face. “Fake, fake, fake.” Richard knew how much I detested the idea of designing fake events for photos, even though it seemed to be the fashionable thing to do. I maintained that I didn’t have time to make up a fake wedding and book a photographer to shoot it. Not when I was busy planning actual weddings.

  “Smoke and mirrors, darling. Smoke and mirrors.” He twisted around on his stool and gestured to the woman in the lab coat across the room. “Sadly, now the smoke and mirrors have needles and liability waivers.”

  “We can’t compete with that. No bride will bother coming over here now.” I felt tears pricking the back of my eyes. What was wrong with me today?

  Richard slipped off his stool and walked around to me, draping an arm around my shoulder. “Of course they will. Not everyone getting married has the skin of a fifty-year-old.”

  “I have an idea.” Kate tapped away at her phone.

  Richard and I exchanged glances. Kate’s ideas usually involved hot guys, skimpy clothes, and cocktails. I didn’t see how any of those could help us now.

  Kate tore her eyes from her phone long enough to meet mine. “Trust me.”

  Before I could protest, Lorinda rushed up to me with Fern only a few steps behind her. “You did it. You got my diamonds back!”

  Her excitement snapped me out of my funk. “That was fast. I thought it would take a lot longer to pick them out of that girl’s hair.”

  “I might have used Richard’s technique to speed things along,” Fern said.

  “You mean you shook them out?” I asked.

  Fern shrugged. “Maybe once or twice. But I got them all out.”

  Lorinda held up a black velvet roll of fabric. “And just in time, too.”

  Over her head, I could see that brides were already gathering in the lobby. Where had the time gone? I felt like I’d arrived a few minutes ago, and already it was showtime.

  “You need to change.” Richard eyed my jeans and T-shirt.

  I glanced down at myself. I’d forgotten that I still had on my set-up clothes.

  “Good thing. You’ve got gold all over the bottom of your jeans.” Kate pointed to the layer of gold dust on my calves. Then she pointed to Richard’s pants legs. “You, too.”

  “Perfect.” Richard wiped at his pants and came away with gold on his palms.

  I pointed to the gilded canopy of greenery above our heads. “It’s from the branches that Buster and Mack spray-painted gold. I must have brushed up against them. And it got all over the carpet.”

  Fern kicked a leg up behind him. “The bottoms of my shoes are gold. How fun!”

  “Don’t worry. Brides won’t notice your legs,” Kate said to Richard.

  “I don’t care about that,” Richard said. “These are Prada pants, and they aren’t supposed to be gold. My days of wearing gold pants are long over.”

  “Richard in gold pants.” Kate smiled. “Now that’s something I’d like to see.”

  “Not on your life.” Richard made a face at her, then walked off.

  “Come on.” Fern scooped my garment bag from where I’d hung it off the edge of the bar. “You can change and I’ll fix your hair.”

  I put a hand to my ponytail as Fern pushed me out from behind the bar.

  “Yes, for heaven’s sake do something with her hair,” Kate said.

  I glanced back as Fern pulled me away from the Wedding Belles space.

  “Don’t worry,” Kate said. “By the time you come back, this booth will be a bride magnet. Trust me.”

  Knowing Kate the way I did, I wasn’t so sure if her idea of attracting brides would fit our brand. Or be legal.

  Chapter 13

  Once I’d changed into my sleeveless turquoise sheath dress and black peep-toe heels, Fern draped a black smock around my shoulders and steered me onto a stool. The “Hair by Fernando” space consisted of a square silver mirror suspended below his sign, a stool for brides to sit on, and a table that held his brushes, sprays, clips, and bobby pins. A pair of magazine covers of models he’d styled had been blown up and placed on metal easels to flank the space. It was simple and clean, which seemed like the complete opposite of Fern’s dramatic personal style. But, then again, Fern didn’t need a lot to draw in brides since his personality and wardrobe already filled the room.

 

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