The Alphabet Wedding (Alpha #1.5) (2 page)

'
Ronnie
.'

'Sorry. I'm a bit overexcited. Only things have been a bit crap my end lately.'

'I can't answer any of your questions because I've no idea yet. As regards your idea to do an Alphabet Wedding I've got as far as the letter B for Bridesmaid and that's you.'

'What did you do for A?'

I pause. 'I kind of cheated and made that stand for Aaarrrggh.'

She tuts. 'Not good enough Gregory. I suggest I give you another B in punishment for cheating. This one might actually help you.'

'I don't need any help.'

'Stubborn man. Believe me you need this. Go buy a copy of Brides Magazine. Thank you for asking me to be a bridesmaid. I shall look forward to hearing from you further. I've got to go.'

She hangs up.

Really? A whole magazine about Brides? What do they find to discuss? I get ready to head to a news vendor.

What in the name of almighty God is this crap? Page after page of white dresses. One has a skirt covered in what looks like the office shredding. Oh this one's okay. Nice bit of lace accentuating the Bride's tits. She can have one like that. I need to make a note of the Designers name and so look around for paper. I can't find anything so I tear the corner off the magazine and write on that. Okay. I turn the page and yet another Bride in a white dress, but this one is standing next to a bloke who is baring a pumped up, gym bunny chest. What's that all about? I add to my note, go to gym.

Flick page, white dress.

Flick page, white dress.

I'm seriously bored now.

Flick page, navy dress.

Flick page, black dress.

What the fuck? Are these for the bridesmaids? I look closer. No they are indeed dresses for the bride. Now I feel stressed. I thought brides just wore white. What if Stella wants a coloured one? I try and calm my breathing. She's not bothered remember? Stick with white.

Flick page. Short white dress. Short? A short dress. I thought they were all long? I wonder what she'll think if I get her a short dress that shows her legs off and with tight lace on the chest?

Flick, flick, flick. No fucking dresses like that. Bollocks.

There's a picture of a cake. I write down cake on my piece of paper.

A miracle happens on the next page. An article. Five must haves for your wedding. I write them all down. Meringue cake. An ice sculpture. Cocktails. A pinata. Flowers. I cross flowers off because Stella believes flowers should stay in gardens. One less thing to worry about.

Flick. Flick. Flick. Bridesmaids dresses. I'm not picking those. No chance. I pick up my cell.

'Hello.'

'It's Gabe again.'

Hold phone away from ear.

'Gaaaaabbbbbeee. Twice in one day? I thought only Stella had that delight.'

'Funny. Bridesmaid dress. If I send you the money, will you buy your own?'

'Sure honey. What's the theme for the wedding then? Are you doing Alphabet?'

'I'm working my way through an Alphabet list. Is that not enough?'

'No honey, the wedding needs a theme. Something to pull it all together.'

I flick through the magazine and look at the contents. It doesn't say anything here about a theme.

'All weddings have a theme these days. Let me think. Now you're getting married at Christmas. You can't have Frozen as a theme, because that's what I would want myself. Hmmmm. How about Winter Wonderland?'

'Ronnie. What does that even mean?'

'Your wedding would look so pretty if you kept in mind snow and ice. It would capture the December wedding. So silver, pale blues etc.'

I remember one of the five must haves. 'Like an ice sculpture?'

Deafening squeal.
I need new ears.

'Fantastic idea. You got this Gabe, I know you do.'

'So will you get yourself a dress?'

'Yes. I'll get something on a winter theme.'

'Yeah, no rush. It's only June.'

'You know things get booked up way in advance right? Also time tends to run on ahead without you realising?'

'It's all good Ronnie. I have a list.' I look at the tiny piece of paper with my scribbles on. I don't need to add bridesmaid dress, that's done. 'Thanks Ronnie. Sorry to disturb you.'

'No problem honey.'

I end the call and go and get myself a beer. This is so easy, I don't know what brides fuss about.

As I'm seated nursing a beer, a little dark haired angel comes wobbling towards me, dragging a teddy bear with her. One thumb is in her mouth. She's all puffy faced from having her afternoon nap.

'Hey Athena. You coming for a Daddy cuddle?'

She nods and toddles up to me, putting her arms up to be lifted.

I pick her up and put her on my knee. She snuggles into my chest. Then she spots the magazine, sits up and leans over to grab it. Then she throws it on the floor.

Yeah that's about where it belongs Athena.

Looking over, the magazine has fallen open on bridesmaid dresses and there's a picture of a child bridesmaid.

I look at Athena. Oh God. She's going to have to be a bridesmaid too isn't she?

Oh fuck.

C is for Car

'I just had to call to see you. Thought I might have been able to tell you now had ovaries.'

'Fuck off,' I retort to my younger brother.

Christopher looks at me and guffaws loudly. His shaggy blonde hair shakes around his face. He looks like he's just got out of bed, which knowing him he probably has. The question is whose bed he'll have just left. My brother is a manslut.

'How on earth did you get yourself in this mess?'

'It's women isn't it? They get to you.'

'That's why I give relationships a wide berth bro. Suck it and see, that's me.'

I raise my eyebrow.

'They suck it, I see them. Then I ditch them.'

'It'll happen to you Chris.'

'It fucking well won't. The only females I am beholden to are Mother and that gorgeous little niece of mine.'

Chris is entirely smitten with Athena. I reckon he'd bloody die for her, he's that soft. It makes us all laugh behind his back. He's like a bag of marshmallow when he sees Athena, instead of the hard brittle he usually acts like. I don't know about me warning off her boyfriends. I reckon I'll have to knock Chris out of the way.

'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 smug. This wedding is either going to be genius, or a spectacular fuck up.