Page 169 of The Wedding

Something clogged in Jamie’s throat for the briefest instant.Don’t tell me…

“There’s those damn Lady Slippers she made me get on our honeymoon.” Helen slowed down as they rounded the final bend of the driveway, bringing the grand, rectangular Manoir into view. “Did you know those orchids are some of the rarest in the world? I didn’t until I saw the bill. They can’t even live on their own. We had to bring over some fungus, too. To hell with it, when my wife says buy her some flowers for her brothel, what am I gonna do, say no?”

She parked right in front of the entrance, where someone quickly greeted them.

“Madam Warner, Madam Joy,” the man said, straight as a marble statue even in that heated June afternoon. “You are both expected in the Madam’s chambers.”

Jamie had never been to Monique’s private rooms before. She was more likely to spend time in the Receiving Room or out on the dining balcony overlooking the labyrinthine hedges in the backyard. Neither gave her much chance to take in the exquisite sights of the Manoir, which instantly transported a one to vintage days. This place had never been renovated since its late 19th-century origins, merely updated where necessary.It also had more staff and other such servants than the Warner Estate, and that said a lot. Then again, that was a residence, and this was a business first and foremost.

They passed the dining room on their way up the grand staircase, where five young women sat around a table eating an early supper and arguing over who was going to make the most money that night. Something something “big party.” One declared she would be the one to seduce the guest of honor that night, and everyone laughed at her before starting a brawl over the last piece of baked chicken.

“You’d never guess they were adults,” Helen mumbled, leading Jamie down the main hallway on the second floor. “I tell you, once you become involved with the owner of this place, you get to see all the bullshit that goes on behind the scenes. Sort of ruins the enchantment.”

Jamie was barely paying attention. She watched maids scurry about, vacuuming, dusting, and hustling to finish their cleaning before nightfall. One maid popped out of a large bedroom that contained hanging leather straps and a large painting of a woman screwing herself with a massive marital aid.What a world.

Monique was in her chambers, locked behind a series of doors that only Helen had the keys to. They found her in a large, albeit dark bedroom that matched her tragically gothic tastes so perfectly that Jamie had to hold back a laugh.

“You’re only fifteen minutes late,” Monique said with light sarcasm, accepting a kiss from her wife. She turned on a stool in front of her vanity, struggling to compensate for the bowling ball resting on her lap. As of late, Jamie had seen her wearing pastel empire sundresses that gave her the most comfort possible – while also advertising how monstrously pregnant she was. Here at work, however, she needed to look more Madam of the Night, less little wife of a fancy-pants billionaire. So Jamie’s eyes grew to see her friend wearing a black sheath dress with crimson sequins sparklingwith every movement. Her swollen feet forewent anything but bright violet Crocs, but a pair of plain satin slippers awaited her. So did a lady in waiting outside of the door, something Monique had become accustomed to since becoming Mrs. Warner… and heavily pregnant with a penchant to need things at the drop of a needle.

“Fifteen minutes, and still way early for what you want to accomplish.”

“I don’t take chances, Helen. By the way, could you tell Madeline that we need some privacy? I always forget someone is lurking about these days.”

“Will do.”

Helen left them alone, Monique setting her makeup aside as she fully turned toward Jamie. She did not, however, get up, and Jamie didn’t hold it against her. “Thank you for coming,” Monique began, sounding more like a madam and less like a friend. “I wasn’t sure if you had any concrete plans for the evening.”

Jamie looked between the large bed covered in a fluffy black comforter and the satin slippers on the floor. “You gonna tell me what’s going on or not?”

“Why, Jamie.” Monique fluttered her eyelashes as if she were about to suck a million dollars out of the woman in front of her. “I’m shocked you would think anything is afoot.” She pushed herself up, not asking for help as she lumbered over to a nondescript shopping bag at the foot of her bed. She picked it up, briefly glancing through its contents before handing it to Jamie. “You might want this, though. Didn’t know what you would bring at the last minute… let alone what you would be wearing… so I planned ahead and purchased this downtown.”

Jamie took the bag and sniffed through it. Everything was black. And silky. And lacy.

“You bought me lingerie…”

“To make up for missing your bachelorette party. Eve told me it was a riot, though.” Monique grinned. “Got sent home in a cab, piss-drunk.”

“Uh-huh…” The longer the minutes went by, the more Jamie suspected something was amiss. “What’s going on? Really.”

“Oh? I’m getting ready for tonight’s party. We’re having a big one. In fact, I’m throwing it. Got all my girls on high alert to make me a lot of money tonight.” That grin turned even more devious. “I can thank Etta for that. She always knows how to help me.”

“I… see…”

“Like getting married at a very opportune time. I needed something to kick off my summer season. Don’t you think a high-profile bachelorette party is the best way to do it?”

“You’re throwing Etta’s bachelorette party? Here?” Well, it was better than some strip club in Vegas or a dingy lounge in Atlantic City. Way better than something Etta would actually enjoy in New York.She would feel right at home here. I mean, she helped Moniquepay for this place…Jamie had no idea if that was a loan or an investment. Probably both and neither at the same time. “You brought me all the way up here before it began?” She doubted Etta was there yet. In fact, it seemed way too early for any guests to be there.

Helen reentered the room, commenting on how powerful the air conditioner was before sitting on the edge of the bed. “You tell her what mischief you’re up to yet, Princess?”

Monique shot her wife a look that dared her to say that in the present company again. “I was getting to it. You want to tell me what happened at the end ofThe Sixth Sense,too?”

“All right, all right…”

“Anyway,” Monique said. “Yes, we are hosting Etta’s bachelorette party tonight.”

“I thought Adele was throwing it?”

“She immediately came to me. So glad I’m the Etta expert here, aside from you.”