A Bad Boy is Good to Find - By Jennifer Lewis Page 0,29
better.
“Perhaps Maisie’s told you, but in this company we don’t waste time hemming and hawing. We get the show on the road. Location?”
“Well,” Lizzie drew in a breath. “I know you sent us a list of locales, and they are all lovely. But Con and I have our hearts set on a very special place.”
She paused, looked down at her hands, then up at him with intense faux-sincerity. “Con is from a tiny town in Louisiana, a sweet little place in the mangrove swamps, and we’d love to return to his birthplace to exchange our vows.”
“Mangrove swamps? I thought those were in Florida?” Don’s eyes narrowed.
“Cypress swamps?” Lizzie flushed. “I’m afraid I haven’t been there, but Con’s told me so much about it. It sounds charmingly rustic.”
“Humph. It could work. What’s this place called?”
Lizzie licked her lips. “It’s called, um, Mudbug Flats.” She kind of murmured it.
“What?” One of Don’s impressive gray eyebrows shot up.
“Mudbug Flats.” The name rang though the air. Suddenly this all seemed like a terrible idea.
“That sounds like hell.”
“Don,” Maisie leaned forward and cleared her throat. “You have a glamorous New York City heiress, traveling to a Louisiana bayou town called Mudbug Flats. It has a charming fish-out-of-water quality.”
“Humph. You know, she just might be right.” He looked at Lizzie. “I hired your cousin because she knows the right people. Goes to the right places. She’s got class, so I’ll defer to her on this one if that’s what she wants. If Lizzie Hathaway wants to get married in Mudbug Flats, Louisiana, then Celebrity Access will make it happen.”
He reached a hand across the table. Lizzie suppressed a nervous giggle and shook it. It was going to happen. Exhilaration and terror surged in her veins.
“Gia, can you track down the nearest big, fancy hotel. Maybe an old plantation or something? I want to move on this fast. The guest list is your job, Maisie. I’d like a truckload of New York high society, all the Hathaways’ old cronies and those people you hobnob with.”
Maisie blanched. “Um, I’m not sure that…”
Lizzie cut in, terror streaking along her nerves. “Con and I would prefer an intimate wedding. Just the two of us and a witness or two.”
“Humph.” Don’s face wrinkled up. “I do think a Rockefeller or two would add class. Maybe Donald Trump?”
“Maybe Donald Trump,” said Maisie with a poker face.
Lizzie struggled to keep a beatific smile in place. Somehow an anonymous television audience didn’t seem nearly as frightening as the possibility of a crowd of former “friends,” who were quite capable of flocking down to enjoy the spectacle. Maisie didn’t seem to like the idea either. She was probably describing her “journalism” career rather creatively at cocktail parties.
“That’s settled then. I’ll leave all the details to Maisie. Sitcom Stars of the Nineties is tanking on Tuesdays, and Ty’s looking for something to fill the slot. Let’s move on this while the story’s hot.” He stood and extended his hand to Lizzie. “I’m glad you came to us. We’ll put on a wedding you’ll never forget.”
As Lizzie tried not to wince at his hearty grip, his words echoed in her mind with grim foreboding.
Don left the room and Gia scurried after him.
“Good save,” said Maisie with a swift exhale. “I suspect you don’t want your Spence classmates there any more than I do.”
Her penetrating gaze made Lizzie wonder if her cousin suspected she wasn’t entirely on the up and up. Maisie might be a heartless bitch, but she wasn’t stupid.
“I prefer to keep things simple. If we had to invite several hundred people it might postpone our wedding for weeks, even months, and Con and I just can’t wait that long.” Another fake smile. Maybe she could paint one on with lipstick and save her facial muscles the trouble?
“Well,” Maisie rubbed her hands together. “I must say, I’m looking forward to it. I hope Gia can find a nice place to put us all up. I’d better talk to her and make sure she’s not calling the local Holiday Inns. Let me tell you, they need me around here.”
“I’ll bet they do.”
“And since I’ve been planning my own wedding to Dwight for two years, I have contacts at all the finest bridal suppliers. We’ll give you a wedding fit for a queen.” Smug smile. “I do hope Conroy won’t feel too out of place.”
“I’m sure he’ll feel quite comfortable in the familiar surroundings of his hometown.” She sipped her cappuccino. Hoped her forked tongue didn’t show.