“Yes. Exactly. That would have been even better than tricking her into giving it to you.”
“Chelsea! Jesus!”
“I’m serious.”
Morgun huffed loudly. The line hissed and crackled and Chelsea sighed right back with extreme flair, just to be annoying. Soon enough, Chelsea, because she was Chelsea and always had some brilliant idea or other—no one could ever accuse her of not being a quick thinker—was back on a roll.
“I think you should message her back. In three days. On Thursday. The wedding is on Saturday? Make her sweat. I can guarantee she won’t find someone else.”
“I hope she does. There’s no way I’m spending even a minute with her.”
“I think you could. I think you could do a lot of things to get where you really want to be.”
“Now you sound worse than she did.”
“I’m just saying. Your work is amazing. The world should see it. You have a great business, yes, but you’re never going to be happy doing it because it’s not truly what you want to be doing. You shouldn’t just be doing family portraits and all those horrible weddings that no other photographer would ever agree to do—”
“Hey!”
“I’m just saying. You’re worth so much more than that, and if you don’t think anyone is ever going to give you the opportunity, you have to take it! You have to fight for it! I think you could stand spending one night with Miss Wicked Fire Farting Dragon in public, where it would not even be a requirement to do the smallest romantic thing, if it could make your whole career. Please tell me you’ll reconsider.”
“She’ll find someone else. Someone desperate enough to take the money. Maybe she’ll even up the offer.”
“No, she won’t. She’s looking on the wrong platform. Everyone is going to be offended by that. Or by her. No one is going to put up with that and most people hate weddings. Christmas weddings must be extra horrible because everyone is stressed over the holidays as it is. Or everyone is busy. She probably won’t find anyone because almost everyone has plans for Christmas already. I swear, if you leave it to the last minute, she’s going to be so desperate that she’ll give you anything you want.”
“She’s so terrible though! She probably would think of a way out of it. Give me some fake contact or something.”
“Make her arrange a meeting, then. Set it up before you go to the wedding, even if it’s just over the phone. Give you some contacts and have them contact you to prove that she’s good on her word.”
“Hmm. I never thought of that. You’re kind of brilliant at this backstabbing stuff, Chels.”
“I know,” Chelsea laughed. “I am brilliant, but at all things. Not just the backstabbing.” She waited for all of two seconds before she tactlessly pressed on. “So, are you going to do it? Contact her?”
“God! I don’t know. That’s still three days away. A lot can happen in three days. I’m sure she’ll find someone.”
“I guarantee she won’t.”
“She might.”
“Come on! This is your chance! Don’t throw it away. It’s like, what, ten hours?”
“Probably more like twelve.”
“That’s half a day! You can do it! This could change the rest of your life! If you don’t do it, you’re going to regret it when you’re shooting that crying baby or that disgustingly in love couple or that wedding where everyone is a zilla something or other.”
“You know what I regret? Telling you about every bad day I’ve ever had. And the good ones too.”
Chelsea laughed loudly and slightly obnoxiousl
y again. “No, you don’t. You don’t regret anything when it comes to me, because I’m the most perfect best friend in the entire world and you love me like a sister from a different mister!”
“An annoying mister, who passed down his annoying genetics.”
“Annoying or not, you know I’m right. That’s why you’re getting testy.”
“I’m not getting testy. Don’t use that word with me.”
“Fine. Defensive then. She can’t be that bad…”