4 - Liars & Lipstick
610 Words
The wedding venue buzzed with champagne flutes and jazz covers of Taylor Swift songs, but Amelia’s pulse still raced like she’d chugged three espresso shots. She’d spent the taxi ride practicing Zen breathing, but the second Lila’s sequined gown came barreling toward her, all bets were off.
“MILIE!” Lila launched herself like a glitter missile, nearly toppling them both into a tower of macarons. “You’re here. You’re actually here.”
Amelia’s throat tightened at the familiar vanilla-coconut scent of Lila’s hair—the same drugstore shampoo they’d shared in dorm showers. “Sorry I missed the bouquet-making trauma.”
“Shut up, you’re perfect.” Lila pulled back, mascara smudged. “I should’ve noticed back then. All those ‘food poisoning’ excuses when you missed parties…”
Amelia dabbed her friend’s tears with a cocktail napkin. “Ancient history. Now smile before Ethan thinks I’m kidnapping his bride.”
Across the terrace, Ethan Cross stood brooding over his whiskey like Batman at a garden party. He nodded stiffly at Amelia. She nodded back. Progress.
Lila shoved her toward a woman in a blush pantsuit. “Sarah! Keep my girl company while I go bridezilla on the florist.”
Sarah Chen—their former Econ 101 study buddy—gaped. “Amelia Hart? Did you invent glowing skin? Drop the serum name or I riot.”
Amelia laughed, the sound loosening the knot in her chest. “It’s called ‘sleeping through your twenties.’ Highly recommend.”
They grabbed margaritas and commandeered a velvet loveseat. Sarah updated her on hedge fund drama and divorces, Amelia shared sanitized Tokyo stories. Then—
“Okay, spill.” Sarah wagged her lime wedge. “How many hotties have you melted since graduation? Ten? Twenty?”
Amelia nearly choked. “What am I, a Marvel villain?”
“With those legs? Absolutely.”
She flashed ten fingers, then ten toes. Sarah whooped.
“Living the Eat Pray Love dream!”
“More like Work, Cry, Tinder.” Amelia grinned, but her ribs ached. None of those dates ever lasted past three weeks. None of them had storm-grey eyes that could dismantle her defenses with a glance.
The wedding arch trembled in the ocean breeze as Lila adjusted her stilettos—death traps disguised as shoes. Then she saw it: a black Rolls-Royce gliding up the cliffside drive like a shark breaching water.
"Holy shit." Her manicured nails dug into Ethan's arm. "That's—"
Alexander Voss emerged, his Tom Ford suit absorbing sunlight like a black hole. Even from twenty feet, his presence vacuumed the air from the terrace. Ethan froze mid-handshake with a venture capitalist, his "tech bro cool" evaporating.
"Mr. Cross." Alexander extended a hand that looked capable of crushing diamonds. "Congratulations."
Ethan's palm was sweaty. Lila could smell his panic. "Sir, this is—wow—an honor. We didn't expect..."
"Obviously." Alexander's smile cut like broken glass. He strode past them toward the champagne tower, his security detail swallowing cell signals as they followed.
Lila's bridal instincts overrode terror. She lunged, silk train snagging on gravel. "Stop."
Alexander turned. Up close, he was unfairly beautiful—all sharp cheekbones and venomous green eyes. The kind of face that made sensible women sign prenups.
"This is a private event," Lila hissed.
He glanced at her trembling Louboutins. "And you're a hostess. Do act like one."
Ethan pulled her back, whispering through gritted teeth: "Babe, he owns half the city's data centers. Play nice."
As Alexander disappeared into the crowd, Lila texted Amelia with shaking thumbs:
Lila: CODE RED. THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA IS HERE. GET TO THE BATHROOM NOW.
- Writer
