a few photos. “Damn, woman. You don’t have to actually cry.”
“It’s been that long since I’ve had a milkshake. That’s worth crying over.”
“I can tell. Give me a smile. Think about how you’re going to sucker me into paying for your extra large milkshake. I’ll even hold your hair if you make yourself sick after so long of trying to eat less than a bird. As an added bonus, you’ll get two cherries on top; I’ll let you steal mine. You know those damned cherries go straight to my hips.”
A laugh escaped before I could stop it. “Why are all the good men gay?”
“You just attract the good gay men because you’re too damned sweet, treat us like we’re human beings, and don’t mind when we go shopping with you. Who else is going to tolerate my taste in clothes and offer helpful advice on what looks best? You don’t even beg me to go full gay mode on annoying men to make them go away.”
“I don’t need you to make annoying men go away. I just act like myself.”
According to Ben’s expression, I was full of crap. “Cut yourself some slack, Hope. One day, you’ll find a man who knows your worth. The rest are just shitty sex fixes, and your battery-operated boyfriend does a better job.”
“Remind me of that the next time I’m stood up on a date.”
“You got it, babe. Strike some poses for me and show me that smile of yours. In ten minutes, your day goes straight back to hell.”
As predicted, Amy’s arrival dumped my skinny ass straight into the bowels of hell. Since my detour dealing with Rick hadn’t unseated my throne of perfectionism, she decided she needed someone to photograph every square inch of the gardens to immortalize her wedding day.
I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t remind her she hadn’t wanted a wedding in the first place.
Unfortunately for Amy, I’d anticipated something of the sort, so I’d begged Ben to come extra prepared. I’d hear his complaints for months over his offended sensibilities, but he’d brought five spare, cheap cameras along just in case. I could find a few extra volunteers to help me take thousands of photographs Amy wouldn’t bother looking at.
Amy began her evil work at the pond, but a few kids, a baseball bat, and their ball ensured her victory. I hadn’t even registered the crack of them hitting their ball before it’d bounced off my thick skull. I lost a few minutes thanks to their aim, and when I finally rejoined the rest of the world, I discovered I’d spent some time in the pond along with Ben’s camera.
He might kill me for trashing even one of his cheap cameras.
Water dripped into my eyes, but when I lifted my hand to wipe my face, someone stopped me. My eyes refused to focus properly, although I identified the person as a man. Men wore suits, women wore dresses. That had been the dress code for Amy’s wedding, and the person interfering with my attempts to get the water out of my eyes was definitely wearing a suit.
“You were supposed to photograph the pond, not dive in,” Amy complained. “You’re a mess. You have weeds in your hair.”
I couldn’t even tell if Amy was actually upset I’d interrupted her photography shoot. I thought her tone implied glee, but I decided I wouldn’t care. I’d threatened her with a ball and chain, so it was fair enough for her to view the incident as karma biting me in the rump. “It’s a rule. Someone at a wedding always ends up in the pond. No one told me I’d score a headache, though. I could live without that part.”
My brother sighed, and I realized he was the jerk who kept stopping me from wiping my face. Then, since one sigh wasn’t good enough, he did it again. “You’re not supposed to catch baseballs with your head.”
Fine. He wasn’t wrong, but did he have to say it? I came bundled with various forms of revenge, and I figured I’d delve into my love of amusing movies to exact my revenge. “’Tis but a scratch.”
“Your clock’s been cleaned!” He shook his head, confirming he was, indeed, the helpful entity who refused to let me get the water out of my eyes.
When my brother figured out I was yanking his chain, he might kill me. “No, it hasn’t. I’m talking to you. If my clock had been truly cleaned, I would not be speaking to