Caught on Camera

Chapter 7, Scene 2, Part 14

Under the table, hidden by the white linen tablecloth, Rachel surreptitiously toed off the instruments of torture, exhaled with relief and pressed bare skin against the chair back's cool linen fabric. She'd made it, no thanks to leaky Mopette.

A waiter moved swiftly to fill her glass with white wine. Oh, she longed to drown the butterflies in her stomach. But the challenges of the evening demanded sharp wits. Instead, the action of taking tiny sips conveniently masked scrutiny of the other bridesmaids.

At Mickey's other elbow, Tiffany's breasts begged for attention. Unnaturally oversized for the starlet's slight physique, the ripe globes mounded from a low cut pink satin slip dress. A strand of blush pearls drew the observer's eye up the exquisite length of a creamy throat to the porcelain perfection of a classically beautiful face. Curled tendrils of hair artfully escaped from blond hair twisted into a chignon.

No wonder Asta, rather than exquisite Tiffany, had been elevated to Maid of Honor in the original's absence. By the bride's side in wedding photos, Tiffany's lush breasts would've certainly drawn every male's attention away from Candy's willowy figure. Rachel patted the camera pendant, considered tabloid-worthy camera angles for photos of Tiffany.

Across the table, Asta Armstrong lowered one eyelid in a languid wink acknowledging Rachel's perusal. Definitely the friendlier of the two women, Asta and Tiffany shared height and pale blond hair color, but there the superficial resemblance ended. A chunky turquoise necklace accented Asta's turquoise linen tunic. The smart casual look complimented athletic tanned shoulders and muscled biceps. Dressing in wildly expensive shoes and revealing dresses wasn't at all comfortable. Asta apparently didn't feel pressure to compete with the other Hollywood women.

Her natural blond hair gathered in a high ponytail, Asta had Halden's eyes, or rather, their mother's Nordic blue eyes. Freckles dusted a snub nose framed by high cheekbones curved in amusement. Rachel had thoroughly enjoyed chatting with her at the post-rehearsal reception. Unfortunately the public wouldn't be interested in photos of Asta, who was definitely the friendlier of the other two bridesmaids.

Tiffany picked up her fork and the men followed her lead. Wade, seated at her right, said in Rachel's ear, "Relax and enjoy yourself. Have some more wine."

She stiffened, glanced left and right, to find Mickey and Wade observing her. Yikes. She was so accustomed to being on the outside looking in that she'd completely forgotten to play her part in this show.

"You startle like a frightened bird every time someone speaks to you," Wade said. "Please believe me, we're fun once you get to know us."

Her stomach in knots, Rachel blurted without thinking, "I'll take that under advisement."

In the act of sipping his wine, Wade sputtered. "Are you a law student?"

Beam me up, Scotty. She wasn't prepared to converse with these sophisticated people so far out of her league. To fill the silence as they waited for her answer, she resorted to the truth, hoping she didn't appear foolish. "I'm a huge fan of legal drama television series."

Mickey set his water goblet on the table. "Hey, Rachel does remind me of Ally McBeal. Good call, Wade." Behind her chair he and Wade fist-bumped.

"That dippy lawyer who saw an imaginary dancing baby?" Asta interjected from her seat beside Wade. "Guys, be nice." To Rachel she added, "Don't let the teasing bother you. They only rib girls they like."

Ally McBeal? Heat flamed her cheeks. She'd loved Calista Flockhart in that show, which she'd binge watched on Netflicks the previous winter. When it first aired she'd been a child. Mortified, Rachel bent over the salad, vowing to keep her troublesome mouth shut.