“You invited us to dinner, Azmir,” Dawn argues.
“It’s always business,” I repeat. “Had you played it cool and maintained your professionalism, Michael would have inquired about your presence at this meeting during a private conversation, at which time I would have possibly plugged your services. He, being under my influenced, would have considered your professional presence tonight and possibly called you up for a consult.”
“I’m sorry, Azmir. I can understand your perspective. It won’t happen again,” Shayna offers.
“Excuse me?” Dawn snaps her head to Shayna. “This is the second time you’ve apologized for me professionally. Let’s make sure you understand it will be the last. Even you admitted to feeling slighted for not being invited to Azmir’s wedding. Am I lying?”
“Dawn!” Shayna calls out on a gasp. She gets up, excuses herself and then leaves the table.
I can’t believe the contents of Pandora’s box. Neither do I have the time to examine them. I stand from my seat.
“I’m going to forget the last minute of this conversation. I advise you to remember the first few.” I slowly turn as to not attract any more attention to our table than what’s been established.
“Shayna knows I’m in love with you,” Dawn murmurs. “Does she?”
I turn back towards the table and observe Dawn twiddling her fingers, staring straight ahead.
“Pardon me?”
“Shayna knows I’m in love with a man who is about to marry another woman. Does Rayna?” Dawn’s eyes then make their way to meet mine. “Shayna says it’s a purely physical attraction and that I shouldn’t dwell on it. She’s wrong. There’s so much more to you than your physical features. It’s everything.” She exhales before returning her gaze ahead. “Rayna should be concerned. Very concerned.”
“Rayna has no reason to be concerned. Ever,” I state vehemently because it’s true.
Dawn’s head jerks over to me and her eyes fill with emotion. But she slowly nods, saying something that I hope is, I’ll let it go.
I leave her at the table and take to my suite upstairs.
~~~~~~~~~~
Rayna
Friday, I enlist the help of the only semblance of a friend I have—Chanell—to visit a bridal boutique with me. I went to one yesterday alone with little success.
So today, we’re in Beverly Hills at one of the two boutiques Tessie, our wedding coordinator, recommended. While visiting the first one yesterday, I established the style of gown that I’m in the market for. The gown specialist told me I have the ideal frame for a mermaid/trumpet or column/sheath. I’m more drawn to the mermaid cut, and I want something with simple straps or strapless. I don’t want a lot of fabric, just something simple and less traditional. Now that it’s known that I won’t recite my vows within the four walls of a church, I feel free to be as eclectic as I wish.
The gown I considered at the first boutique, after three and a half painful hours of discussion, measurements, and selections was a beautiful ivory, Chantilly leaf lace, sweetheart gown with cascading snowflake lace. I was able to try on a sample and adored the delicacy of the fabric that lay well against my skin. I was tired and hungry, and quickly decided on it until I thought to ask the price. When I asked why was it so expensive the specialist explained that it was a 2013 Oscar de la Renta runway design. Although I’d fallen in love with the cathedral veil that it was paired with, there is no way that I’m asking Azmir to foot the bill for a gown that would only be worn once. And it’s well out of my price to even consider.
When I told Azmir about it last night he accused me of being scrimpy. I corrected him by saying I was economical. He may have been a millionaire for almost two decades, but I’ve never been even close.
So, I’ve come to the second boutique Tessie offered today. As I’m flipping through the catalogue the bridal specialist provided, Chanell can’t hide her girlie excitement.
“Yo, ‘dis shit right here proper, Rayna!” she shrills with little regard to her surroundings.
I mean, this isn’t on par with the uppity boutique I visited in Beverly Hills yesterday, but this exclusive spot in Orange County is nothing to sneeze at either.
“Oh, yeah?” I push out noncommittal.
She screams that every five minutes. And I’m, of course, aggravated out of my mind with too many options to choose from. In the recesses of my mind, I chide myself for not dreaming bigger in my former years. If I’d been your typical female who had every detail of her wedding and family planning laid out in my mind at least, I wouldn’t be here today, fingering through the fourth catalog in search of my happily ever after gown.
“Yeah, Rayna! Word bond! Just come check this shit out. It’s mad cute and lacy. You know, your type,” Chanell called over.