"There's a bouncer?" Holly whispered incredulously as she and Alexa hurried away from Vikram and took their place in line behind an impatient-looking, Prada-clad Anne Hathaway. Seeing the willowy, fashion-diva actress, Holly felt some of her old shyness wash over her; maybe she hadn't changed entirely from that starstruck girl she'd been at The Standard.
"Hottest ticket in town." Alexa grinned at Holly, feeling herself ease back into her element. What had she been stressing about? She felt a rush of gratitude toward Margaux for inviting them into this enchanted world.
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The bouncer -- who had a tattoo of a bald eagle on his bald head and a permanent sneer -- was finally crossing Anne Hathaway's name off the list and letting the actress pass through. Then he narrowed his eyes as Alexa and Holly stepped forward.
"Alexandria St. Laurent," Alexa announced confidently. "And one guest." She tried to toss her hair, but then remembered it didn't have the same effect with its new length.
Holly felt the tiniest morsel of dread as the bouncer's beady eyes scanned the list. She remembered how impulsively Margaux had invited Alexa to the wedding. Maybe the carefree actress had somehow forgotten ... ?
"You're not on the list, blondie," the bouncer announced, looking back up at Alexa. "I can't let you or your guest in." He nodded at Holly. "Vikram will show you out."
"I'm -- what?'" Alexa stammered, stunned as a raindrop landed on her nose. "Of course I'm on the list Margaux personally invited me -- you have to check again!" A horrible thought occured to Alexa then: Had Jonah, in some weird act of vengeance, demanded that her name be taken off?
"Alexa," Holly urged as her friend's face turned purple. "Margaux probably spaced on putting you on the list." Holly began to take a few steps back, not
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wanting to cause a scene. She reached for Alexa's arm, but her fiery friend jerked away. "Come on." Holly added. "Let's get out of here -- we'll go to the Chateau Marmont or something ... get some drinks...."Holly heard murmurs from the other people in line, which only made her panic deepen. Alexa raised one eyebrow as she and Holly held a silent discussion with their eyes.
The girls were still facing each other, both wondering how to proceed, when an elderly woman's voice suddenly emanated from behind Tucker, loud and imperious
"Where's Vikram?" she was demanding. "I want to speak to him about some disruptive creatures running around the wedding site."
"The guests aren't allowed to complain to Vikram," the bouncer replied, sounding pissed, and Alexa and Holly turned around slowly. "Who are you, anyway?" he added.
The woman --- who wore her silver hair up in a bun, a diamond choker around her throat, and a mink stole over her black floor-length gown -- put her hands on her wide hips. "How dare you? I am the aunt of the groom, Paul DeMille," she thundered. "I am Henrietta von Malhoffer!"
Henrietta von Malhoffer.
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Alexa and Holly looked back at each other, their eyes huge. They would have recognized their old nemesis even if she hadn't spoken her name. They'd had dangerous run-ins with the volatile Henrietta in both South Beach and Paris.
Maybe she's following us, Holly thought, biting back a giggle and sidestepping behind Alexa as Henrietta continued to rail at the bouncer. Holly wondered what the fastest escape route would be; she'd hate for Paul's dear relative to recognize the girls who had once pretended she was their aunt.
Meanwhile, Alexa was having the opposite reaction. She was thrilled to see Henrietta. With the prissy grande dame screaming in his face, the bouncer was so distracted that he likely wouldn't notice if Alexa and Holly slipped right past him.
Which, after Alexa had grabbed Holly's hand and signaled the plan to her, they did.
Cool drops of rain battering their shoulders, the girls ran at full tilt toward the mansion, whipping past starlets and news reporters, who. looked at them curiously. Holly wasn't remotely as fast as usual in her ridiculous heels, so she and Alexa kept pace with each other, hair flying and breaths catching. They staggered down the rose-strewn path, and then arrived, panting, in a sumptuous back garden.
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With the drizzle letting up, the garden looked like a watercolor painting. In front of a glittering pond -- on which downy-white swans floated serenely -- stood a wedding canopy made of beech trees and gardenias. Rows and rows of white chairs with plush seats were set up before the canopy, and in the center of the garden was a grand white tent hung with small white lights. The sweet scent of roses mingled with Chanel perfume and peanut sauce wafting from waiters' silver trays. Tuxedoed musicians seated in a circle were playing Bach on their violins, and guests milled about, nibbling on chicken satay and sipping from tall flutes filled with champagne and wild strawberries.
They'd made it.
Holly glanced over her shoulder, but it seemed Tucker had more important things to deal with than chasing down two wayward girls. "I can't believe we got away with that," she whispered as she and Alexa hurried deeper into the crowd, passing a gaggle of good-looking young guys -- groomsmen -- wearing charcoal-gray, three-piece suits with silver silk ties.
"Why not?" Alexa asked as she gratefully accepted a strawberry-and-champagne drink from a waiter and grinned at Holly. "We, my love, are masters of breaking the rules."
Holly nodded and accepted her own champagne
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flute. Maybe that was what LA had been all about -- breaking with the past, inventing rules of their own. Mulling this over -- and trying to keep her heels from sinking into the wet grass -- Holly followed Alexa past streams of shimmering, laughing guests over to the white-draped gift table, which was laden with giant boxes wrapped in gilt-and-cream paper.
"It's gorgeous," Holly sighed, meaning not only the gift table, but everything. She sipped from her champagne, tasting the fresh strawberry, and glanced around her to survey the garden. I'm really here. At Margaux Eklundstrom's wedding. Holly spotted a woman with abundant auburn hair wearing a flowing blue gown, standing under the wedding canopy with her hands clasped. A few guests were starting to fill the white chairs, grumbling slightly over the rain. "I think it's going to start soon," Holly added, feeling a pang of anticipation and setting down her unfinished drink; she would be driving back later that night.
Balancing her champagne flute in one hand, Alexa was busy trying to fit her flowered gift bag onto the jam-packed table. When the bag slipped from her grasp, the tissue paper, card, and photo of the Vegas strip landed face up in the damp grass at Alexa's feet.
Shit.
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"That's a beautiful photograph," someone commented in a slightly raspy voice. A pair of leather black shoes came to a stop before the photo. "It's a shame to see it treated like that."
Alexa let her gaze travel upward, over a pair of dark gray pin-striped trousers, a well-fitted gray suit jacket, a gray silk vest and tie, a half-smiling, full mouth, and then slicked-back blond hair, high cheekbones, and bright hazel eyes behind black-framed glasses.
Alexa's heart stopped. She forgot all about the photograph. Disbelief shot through her as she tried to absorb the insane fact that she was looking right at...
"Seamus?" Alexa gasped, feeling Holly freeze beside her. With his hair combed back, he looked different, and Alexa wondered if the boy who had tormented her on their road trip had a twin brother who knew the Eklundstroms -- and looked damn sexy in a suit.
"Hi again," Seamus replied, and gave a wide, easy grin.
"Seamus, what are you doing here?" Holly demanded, feeling light-headed at the sight of him. How had he gotten past the bouncer?
Alexa, who was wondering the same thing, took that moment to notice that Seamus was dressed exactly like the other groomsmen who'd been milling about. He obviously wasn't crashing.
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What on earth ...
Seamus gave a bashful smile and lowered his head, putting his hands in his pants pockets. "Remember, at the Getty, how I said I had something to tell you?" he began, and the
n he lifted his head to meet Alexa's gaze.
The weirdest thing happened then. Alexa felt her heart give a kick, and her cheeks flushed as she studied the depths of Seamus's hazel eyes. In them she saw kindness and intelligence and -- something else. Something that made her heart beat even faster.
"Shay! What up, brother? You want us to start the wedding without you?"
A guy in a black tux appeared at Seamus's side. He was short and stocky, with salt-and-pepper hair, and Alexa immediately recognized him as Oren Samuels, the agent she'd read about in Variety. Oren thumped Seamus on his shoulder, then pointed across the grass. "Jonah's looking for you -- it's almost showtime."
Still stunned, Holly looked over to where the other guy was pointing. Next to a grove of lemon trees, all the groomsmen were gathering alongside the bridesmaids, who wore pale-blue gauzy dresses and garlands of violets in their hair. Holly could make out Jonah, handsome and grinning as he posed for a photo with another groomsman.
"I have to go," Seamus said unnecessarily as Oren
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led him away. "I'll find you girls after the ceremony." Then Seamus glanced at Alexa. "The photo --" he said, gesturing to it.
The photo had slipped Alexa's mind as surely as it had slipped from her hands. She knelt down to retrieve it but kept her eyes on Seamus. "Yeah?" she replied cautiously.
"That's the one you took in the car, right?" he asked, giving her a half smile. "I remember."
Alexa nodded, her heart going to her throat. Seamus knows, she realized, the thought springing to her head before she could stop it. He knows me.
Flustered, Alexa restored the contents of the gift bag, found room for it on the table, and hurried with Holly over to the rows of white chairs, which had been wiped dry by Vikram's staff. The rain began to let up as the girls breathlessly sank into the last two remaining seats. They were sitting behind Esperanza, who looked as prim as ever in her white suit and high, tight bun.
"I can't believe Seamus lied to us," Holly was fuming as she set her gold-studded black clutch in her lap.
"Well, I guess he didn't technically lie, since we never asked him if he'd be here," Alexa argued, twisting around in her seat to look at the groomsmen. She didn't see Seamus, but she spotted Jonah standing at
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the head of the line, self-assuredly smoothing back his dark hair. Alexa thought about waving to him, but she decided she'd wait until after the ceremony. Besides, she had other things on her mind now.
"Since when are you Seamus's defender?" Holly asked. She could feel a mischievous smile tugging on her lips.
Alexa whirled back around to face her friend, her cheeks pinker than Holly had ever seen them. "I'm not -- I just --" Before Alexa could finish, the musicians struck up a tune on their violins (Holly recognized it as the Beatles' "Here Comes the Sun," which she thought was a cute choice) and the processional began.
Down the aisle came the adorable, towheaded child actress Nevada Giroux, wearing a tiny replica of the bridesmaids' blue gowns, and scattering fresh violet petals from a woven basket. Oohs and ahs followed her, and then faded as beaming, dressed-to-the-nines parents and grandparents took their turns, nodding graciously as camera flashes went off. Next came the groomsmen and bridesmaids, walking two by two. Jonah, the best man, led the way, beside a curly-haired redhead who had to be the maid of honor. Up ahead, Holly noticed the crew from E! filming, and helicopter blades were whirring overhead, as they had that
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morning at El Sueño. In that heart-jumping moment, it fully dawned on Holly that she was at an event that would be major pop-culture news for at least a week.
Thank God she hadn't worn her prom dress after all.
A hush fell over the crowd, and all heads turned to see Margaux and Paul, arm in arm. Alexa gasped at the genius of Margaux's Paz Ferrara-designed bridal gown: It was very eighties-retro, short and strapless with a bubble hem and it was fuchsia. She wore it with high-heeled, strappy, fuchsia sandals, carried a bouquet of black roses, and wore a wreath of the same flowers in her short hair. Her tear-filled dark-blue eyes darted from side to side, and then she smiled.
She was stunning.
Scandalized murmurs shot through the crowd. Now the camera flashes went off with a vengeance, and Holly was so blinded by them that she only caught a quick glimpse of Paul, who looked almost clean-cut in a black tux that hid his tattoos. The couple stopped under the canopy, facing the auburn-haired woman in the blue gown.
"Welcome," the woman said into a microphone, her voice strong and melodic. "My name is Bluebird Wasserstein, and I am a certified Kabbalah Minister of Love and Peace, practicing only within the city of Los Angeles."
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"That's a surprise," Alexa snorted, and she and Holly covered their mouths to muffle their giggles. Esperanza glanced over her shoulder, arching one dark eyebrow.
"Today," Bluebird went on, smiling serenely at the crowd. "We I say we, because a wedding is at its essence a communal affair will wed Margaux and Paul in a truly beautiful ceremony combining Buddhist, Jewish, Christian, and Wiccan traditions."
"Is this for real?" Holly whispered to Alexa.
Up front, through the bustle of the crowd, Alexa thought she saw Seamus cough into his fist in order to disguise a laugh, and she grinned.
After Bluebird had chanted a few indecipherable prayers blessing the bride and groom, Margaux and Paul turned to each other to exchange the rings and speak their vows. Suddenly Holly felt some of her silly mood subside. A seriousness bloomed in her as she watched the couple gaze lovingly at each other. The rain had stopped completely, as if in deference to the ceremony, and as the sun set behind Margaux and Paul, the sky layered itself into shades of violet, yellow, and pink -- like the hint of a rainbow. The whole garden seemed to glow.
A director couldn't have set up this scene better, Alexa mused with a smile.
"Paul," Margaux said into the microphone, her
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voice throaty with tears. "My heart, my rock, my reason for living. Whatever adventure life takes us on, I know you will be beside me, holding my hand as we sky dive out of that plane, drive backward down Hollywood Boulevard, and dance naked on the roof of the Roosevelt Hotel." Nervous titters echoed through the crowd. "Or whatever," Margaux amended, grinning.
Alexa was chuckling at Margaux's overdramatics, but Holly bit her lip, thinking of Tyler. Her hand strayed to her now bare ring finger just as Paul slid the gold band onto Margaux's. Everything Margaux had said, crazy as it was, defined what Holly had wished she and Tyler could have been. She wanted a fellow adventurer, someone who'd urge her to take risks when she was feeling her most cautious. Holly hadn't exactly doubted her decision about Tyler before, but now she felt certain about what she'd done even if that certainty was colored with sadness.
The sun was disappearing behind the hills, and the first stars were appearing overhead, as Paul stomped on a glass wrapped in fabric, the crowd erupted in cheers, and the newlyweds started kissing in a totally inappropriate, get-a-room way. Even Alexa felt herself blushing at the sight. God. It had been so long since someone had kissed her like that and
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suddenly she craved that kind of reckless passion. Almost unintentionally, Alexa searched the wedding party for Seamus, but she couldn't make him out between the blinding camera flashes.
As Margaux and Paul, hand in hand, darted laughing up the aisle, a woman sitting behind Alexa and Holly cleared her throat. "I give them three months," she remarked snidely.
Holly sighed and began to clap for the couple. Despite all of the skepticism, irony, and fakery in Hollywood, and despite Holly's own recent love woes, she was still determined to believe in romance. And no matter how long she stayed in Los Angeles, she knew she always would.
The cocktail hour was held inside the tent, which was decorated with gold fairy lights and black-and-white snapshots of Margaux and Paul. Each of the fuchsia-draped tables, which were arranged in a heart around the d
ance floor, was scattered with black roses and marked with different movie titles, such as casa-blanca and gone with the wind . While Holly went off to find their place cards for dinner, Alexa rose up in her peep-toe shoes and scanned the masses for Seamus again. She wanted to see if she'd feel that funny, heart-pounding way in his presence again.
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Scoping out the golden-hued tent, Alexa spotted more famous, chiseled faces, including Charity Durst, who was talking to Belle Runningwater. Jonah and several groomsmen were laughing and getting down in the middle of the shiny dance floor, even though the stage -- which was set up with drums, a keyboard, and a microphone -- was lacking musicians. And then, with a jolt, Alexa saw Seamus, standing in line at the bar and chatting with one of the giggly bridesmaids, who was clearly throwing herself at him. But Seamus kept glancing around the tent as if he, too, were searching for someone.
"Guess what?" Holly grunted, reappearing with a sour expression on her face.
Alexa glanced at her friend, feeling her stomach sink. "We don't have place cards," she replied flatly. Thanks, Margaux.
"This is so cruel," Holly groaned, tucking her clutch under her arm. Delicious smells of olive oil, roast chicken, and basil were wafting over from the back of the tent; she was ravenous. "What are we going to do?"
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