The Alphabet Wedding (Alpha #1.5)

by Andie M. Long

  'Anyway. Stella said I wouldn't be able to do it.'

  'Ah. Now we get closer to the truth. It's not love. It's competition. You two are competitive junkies. Heaven forbid Mr Perfect aka Gabriel Gregory can't pull off organising a wedding. So what's next on the Wedding agenda? I might as well have a laugh watching you have to pick out favours or something, you big girl.'

  'Actually the next thing on my list is choosing the wedding car.'

  Chris goes silent. I watch as his face animates. 'Car? Did you say you need to look at cars?'

  The testosterone levels in the room have exploded.

  'Yep. Cars? Fancy it?'

  'Bring it on. Let's go test drive some beauties.'

  'We just hire one Chris. It'll come with a driver. They'll collect us from the house and take us to the venue.'

  He shakes his head. 'Oh no. I think we need to know exactly how much space there is in the rear. You know so Stella's dress fits in. How reliable it is. I definitely think we need to drive some and see what they're like.' He flips open his phone and starts tapping keys.

  'Oh I am so on this.' His blue eyes have lit up like Topaz. 'Dreamytestdrive. Same day service.'

  'What's that got to do with a wedding car?' I ask him.

  'We'll think of something,' he says, shrugging my reservations off.

  Pretty soon I'm doing a ten mile test drive of a Bentley Continental GT as Chris assures me Bentley's are great wedding cars. We then test drive a Ferrari Spider each. Employees from the firm sit in the passenger seat as we drive through local roads and highways.

  'Fuck, this is great. What shall we try next?' Chris is pumped. He's practically bouncing on the sidewalk.

  'Aston Martin?'

  'Fuck yeah, let's be James Bond.'

  Someone once told him he looked like Daniel Craig's younger brother. My brother would be oh-sixty-nine. James Bonk.

  At the end of the day we've test driven five cars each. I haven't picked a wedding car, but instead went back to Chris's apartment to watch Skyfall and drink a ton of beer.

  Chris points at the screen. 'You need to get us suits like James Bond's for the wedding.'

  'Why do I need to get you a suit?'

  'I am your fucking Best Man aren't I?'

  I look at him.

  'Am I not your Best Man? Who is then?'

  'I forgot I need a Best Man.' I hold up my beer bottle. 'Bro, will you do me the honour of being my Best Man?'

  'Can I have a James Bond suit?'

  'Course you can.' We clink bottles. 'We're going to rock this wedding Bro. Gonna look like the bomb.'

  Later I ring Stella.

  'Hellllloooooo my beautiful wife to be.'

  I hear a sigh. 'Are you drunk?'

  'I might have had a little tipple with my awesome brother.'

  'Where are you now?'

  'Chris'ssssssssssss.' Oops a few too many ssss there, I couldn't stop.

  'Sssssssssssssssssss.' I'm like a snake. Oh now I need a piss.

  'Gabe.'

  'Yessssssssssssssssssss.' I start laughing.

  'Stay at Chris' place tonight.'

  'Okay my darling.'

  I'm sure she says assssssssssssss, before she hangs up.

  It's entirely possible that when I wake up the next morning I've booked an Aston Martin DBS V12 for myself and Chris to arrive in.

  D is for Dress

  I peel myself slowly off Chris' sofa, clutching my head. 'Oh my God. You fucking owe me Bro.'

  'What did I do?'

  Annoyingly Chris looks fresh as a fucking daisy.

  'I'm in trouble with the missus. First time I've stayed out all night since we moved in together.'

  'Jeez you really have lost your balls.'

  I raise an eyebrow. 'Would you mess with Stella?'

  My brother looks at me. 'We better fix this mess or you're gonna be toast.'

  Over a strong coffee Chris asks me what's next.

  'I've not booked a car for her yet.'

  'Give me a minute.' Chris picks up his cell and starts tapping again.

  He passes it over, 'What about this one? What's not to like?'

  I look over the details. A white Bentley Continental Flying Spur. Sounds very grand. Lots of legroom, so perfect for the dress. Soundproofing. Climate control. The piece de resistance? Massaging seats. I'm sold. I call and book it. Cars are done.

  'Right. Are you working today Chris?'

  'Not until tonight. Why?'

  'It's D-day. I need back up. On your feet Soldier.'

  'D-day. D is for? Oh jeez. No. Please no.' Chris falls to his knees in an over the top mock faint.

  'Yeah. The Dress.'

  I'm quite confident about Dress shopping, because I just intend to get an Assistant to help me. I asked Ronnie what size Stella was so I know she's a twelve. I just need an expensive shop and I reckon I'm made.

  I ask Chris to Google the top Bridal Boutique.

  Fast forward ninety minutes later and we've been turned away by four different ateliers. They won't supply a dress without a bride to perfectly fit to their esteemed material.

  'Now what?' I ask Chris.

  'There's a sale on at Neiman Marcus?'

  'Lead the way.'

  Chris hits on an Assistant as soon as we get there.

  The assistant reluctantly turns to me. 'What body shape is she?'

  'Slim, with a nice rack.' I tell her.

  The saleswoman sighs. 'What size?'

  'Twelve.'

  'I'll get you a few dresses to look at. Go and take a seat over there.'

  She brings over a selection. It's as boring as looking at the magazine. There's a high necked suit. God no. A big lacy thing. Nope, that'll take too long to take off. Finally I'm left with a Herve Ledger boat necked bandage dress. Nice and tight and short. Will show off Stella's amazing legs. I'm about to get out my wallet when the Assistant shows me the final dress.

  'This is Victoria Beckham. It's a flared column gown with embellishment on the back.'

  It's stunning. 'That's the one.' I tell the Saleswoman and Chris.

  'I'd have had her in the other one,' says Chris.

  'You wouldn't have her at all,' I growl.

  Chris steps back. 'Steady on He-Man. I meant if I were you.'

  'Nah. This is perfect. VB is London mixed with New York, just like my Stella.'

  'He's lost his balls,' Chris tells the saleswoman. 'I've still got mine.' He winks at her.

  She giggles at him and flicks her hair.

  'You'll have to keep this at your apartment for me. I can't have Stella seeing it.'

  'Anything for you Gabe.'

  'Why are you so smug and happy all of a sudden?'

  He waves a piece of paper at me.

  We leave the store. I have a dress. Chris has a telephone number.

  E is for Entertainment

  I had the most amazing fucking idea at three am. I almost got out of bed for it. Except I was wrapped around Stella's hot body, so I stayed where I was.

  I'm going to let you in on a little known fact about me. I love British Eighties music. That's right. Duran Duran rock. At three am it came to me that there's only one band that will possibly do for our wedding. That's right.

  ABC.

  Now imagine my euphoria at finding out that they can actually be hired. I've sent an email to the company who organise their appearances.

  Can you imagine the Look of Love I'll get from Stella?

  I'm so awesome.

  Think I'll put some of my tunes on.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Stella

  I am really wondering if this has been a mistake. Don't get me wrong I seriously have zero interest in organising my wedding. However, doing the laundry yesterday I found receipts for test driving fast cars, so I now know what Gabe and Christopher spent the other day doing before they got rip roaringly drunk. This morning I've walked into the lounge to find Gabe rocking around the room to Right Said Fred's I'm Too Sexy. Plus he's looking really s
mug. This wedding is either going to be genius, or a spectacular fuck up.

  You know to worry when you make the bed and uncover a copy of Brides Magazine under the mattress at your fiances side. Not Playboy. Gabe has a secret Bridal Magazine. I flicked through it. There were no clues. No folded over pages. Just a corner of the magazine missing from the back page.

  Seeing Gabe so enthusiastic about this project has shown me that it's time to get him back to work after the wedding. We both took time off after what happened. Decided to live off the inheritance Gabe was left from his father. With everything that took place we just wanted to make the most of being together. So aware that time is short. We wanted to spend as much time as possible with Athena. Gabe needs a role again now. I wonder if he'll go back into Law?

  I head into the study and pick up the phone and dial Maddie. We spend a few minutes in general chit chat and then I ask her my burning question.

  'Has he been in touch with you yet? About the wedding?'

  'No.'

  'Not even to ask you about the venue?'

  'Not even to ask me if I'm still alive Stella.'

  I sigh. Maddie had put in an immediate hold on The Plaza as soon as we had a date.

  'I've been thinking anyway.' There's a pause.

  'Yeah?'

  'I realise I was just considering the wedding from my own selfish point of view. I really can't see you at home at a huge wedding venue. I gave up the deposit on The Plaza. I think we should see what Gabriel comes up with for a venue.'

  I exhale in relief. I never wanted to be the focus of American Society attention.

  'Thank you Maddie.'

  'I'm sorry.'

  'No. Don't be sorry. It's not your fault you've got the least Princessy daughter-in-law to be. You should have got Ronnie. She'll want the full Kate Middleton.

  'The most important thing is I have you. You and Athena. You are everything I could have hoped for in a future daughter-in-law Stella. Where you get married doesn't bother me.'

  'Thank you Maddie. I feel the same about you.' I bite my top lip. 'Anyway, just in case do you think you could do me a favour?'

  I go on to ask her to do something for me. A safety net for in case the smug git fucks up.

  I walk back out into the room and now Gabe is still dancing to I'm Too Sexy, but now he has a little bopping Athena at his side. Her little nappied bum shakes from side to side. I'm so in love with this scene playing out in front of me. I go and join them.

  'I just spoke to your mum about the wedding venue.'

  He places a finger over my mouth. 'Sssh. I have everything in hand. Just leave it all to me, my Bride.'

  We carry on dancing.

  CHAPTER THREE - F TO K

  F is for Father of the Bride

  Houston (or rather New York), we have a problem. Who is going to give Stella away? Her father is deceased and she has a very strained relationship with her stepfather. I really can't see her wanting Mitch by her side. I try and think of male significant others in my fiancees life. There aren't any.

  I decide there is only one person who may be able to fulfil this role and I set off to his house to ask him. I call to pre-warn his father.

  My little brother Samuel Lucas answers the door. It's been a tough couple of years for the handsome little fella (who by the way looks just like his older brother, ahem me). He lost his precious mother to drugs and we will never know if this was an accidental overdose or our father's doing. We decided to tell him about his real father. It wasn't easy, but Chris and myself wanted him to know he had two big brothers who were ready to step up for him at any time. His adoptive father Mike is also a top bloke.

  'Gabe.' He flings his arms around me.

  'You gonna let me in then bro?'

  I shake hands with Mike and agree to a coffee. Then I go through to their lounge, pushing Lego further up the sofa so there's room to sit down.

  'Right. I have a question to ask you Sam.'

  Sam stands stock still. 'Oh-kay. You're not giving me a sex talk are you, cos Aunt Ronnie has already covered all that with me.'

  Mike hands me my drink and shakes his head. 'Don't ask. She's his go-to girl for all things embarrassing. It saves me the shame.'

  'Like anything about Ronnie surprises me.' I turn to Sam. 'No fella. Not sex talk. I wondered if you would give Aunt Stella away at our wedding?'

  His forehead creases, 'Oh yeah, she hasn't got a Dad has she?'

  'Nope.'

  'Will I get a suit?'

  Oh fuck something else to add to the list.

  'You sure will and we're all going to dress like James Bond. All three of us brothers.'

  He pulls his arm down triumphant.'Yeaaah. You hear that Dad? I'm going to give Stella away.'

  'I heard son.'

  'There's just one thing Sam. I know it's difficult but you have to keep it secret.'

  'My Dad says it's bad to keep secrets and I have to tell him everything.'

  'Well your Dad knows doesn't he? But I don't want your Aunt Stella to know. I want her to be surprised when you turn up in your sharp suit, ready to walk her down the aisle.'

  'Where are you two getting married anyway?'asks Mike.

  'The Plaza. My mother's sorted it.'

  'The Plaza? Get you two. No simple wedding then?'

  'I think Stella would have preferred it, but my Mother booked it the minute we had a date.'

  'Well I hope everything you're organising is lavish then, to match your surroundings.'

  As Sam runs off back to his Xbox, I fill Mike in on the details so far.

  'Wow. It sounds like you do actually have this Gabe. I'm amazed.'

  'I said it'd be easy. I don't know why they go all Bridezilla, there's nothing to it.'

  'You got a notebook or something then? To keep track?'

  'Not necessary. I've only needed to scribble a few things on a little bit of paper.'

  'Take my hat off to you Gabe.'

  I grin. Then I remember that I didn't empty my pockets before I put my pants in the wash. What was on that list again? It wasn't much. Meringue cake. That was it. Ice sculpture. No problem. I've done to F already. The dress is sorted. Venue sorted. Best man and Father of Bride done. Car organised. Band in progress. I don't think there's much left to do to be honest. I'll think of something for every letter though. We are having The Alphabet Wedding and the Alpha is organising.

  I get back in my car, stick on Van Halen's Jump and headbang and sing all the way back. I'm totally rocking this.

  G is for Guests

  I'm at my Mother's. We're in her kitchen where she has insisted on making me a sandwich, despite the fact I told her I'd grab some lunch later.

  'Mother. Can you let me have your invite list for the wedding, with peoples addresses?'

  She wipes her hands on a cloth and pushes the sandwich towards me.

  'Oh I've decided not to interfere darling. You invite who you like. It's yours and Stella's wedding. She just wants it small doesn't she?'

  What? My mother's booked The Plaza. It's huge. It's going to look a bit dumb with only a handful of people in it.

  'No, Mom. Seriously let me have the list. It'll be fine.'

  'No Gabriel. You need to keep it small.'

  'But what about The Plaza?'

  'They understand. Arrangements change.'

  'They do?'

  'Of course. It's The Plaza.'

  'So just a few guests?'

  'I think that's best. When I last chatted to Stella, she sounded delighted about a small gathering.'

  'Right. Thanks Mom. I'd better get a list together.'

  I sit with the small notebook I now have. It's in my pocket at all times and annoys me, but at least I won't wash this one.

  Guest list:

  Stella.

  Athena.

  Mother.

  Chris.

  Sam.

  Mike (plus one as he's been seeing a friend of Ronnie's.)

  ABC - Reception only. They might stay fo
r some food (fingers crossed).

  Fran and Mitch.

  Ronnie plus one, for in case her and Col make up.

  Wow. That's one small list.

  I've had an email back confirming ABC are available.

  Holy fucking crap!

  I email the Organiser back and let him know the venue. I agree that we'll sort out air fare etc in due course. I write it on my To-do list at the back of my notebook. See how organised I am? Yeah, general notes at the front. To-do list at the rear.

  Current To-do list:

  Meringue cake.

  Ice sculpture.

  ABC air fare.

  Just noticed those initials spell MIA. Just like my dear fiancee with these arrangements. Luckily for her I am used to building complicated law arguments so this wedding stuff is childs play.

  H is for Hen Night

  Well I've had a lovely refreshing break from Wedding Planning as it was going so well. It's now October and I'm back with the programme (also known as Stella asked me how it was going and I realised I hadn't done anything for four months).

  I've decided to move on from a pocket notebook. Largely because I've misplaced it. I have a feeling Athena may have used it to scribble in. I now have a lovely spreadsheet. This has reminded me of what I haven't been using the last year or so. My business brain. Time to take it for a workout.

  I'm up to the letter H and in this instance it's H for Hen Night. Now as you know, in the USA we call them Bachelorette parties, but my bride to be is English and so she is a Hen. I've taken to conversing with Ronnie by email now as she's never at home, (goodness knows what the woman is up to now). I've checked Athena's clothes size and asked Ronnie to bring her a dress that matches her own. I've been suitably informed via Email that British hen parties now take up the best part of a weekend and consist of lots of drinking with an appearance by a male stripper.