Accidental Makeovers Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  ROM-COM on the EDGE SERIES

  Coming Soon!

  JOIN ME ON THE EDGE

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  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ACCIDENTAL MAKEOVERS

  Carol Maloney Scott

  http://carolmaloneyscott.com

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright Carol Maloney Scott 2016

  Formatting by Rik – Wild Seas Formatting

  To My Son, Nick,

  For laughter, love and sharing your boundless talent

  CHAPTER ONE

  Bianca

  “Serving Girl, have you seen my granddaughter?”

  The grandmother of the bride looks at me, and through me, at the same time. She needs me, but she’s not sure if I qualify as an actual person.

  I take in the pearls and the smeared red lipstick on her geriatric lips, and I want to scream. I would like to be rude to the snobby old bitch, but my mother will kill me. Her catering business is everything to her.

  Instead I smile and reply, “Well, no Ma’am, I haven’t seen her lately. Not since the toast. Perhaps she’s with the groom.”

  She says gruffly, “No, that asshole ran off after the cake cutting.”

  “Mother, please. What seems to be the problem? Wait, are you saying Corey ran off and Raven is missing?”

  The bride’s mother, Penny Alexander, places her champagne glass on the bridal party’s enormous table and covers her mouth with her hand, blinding me with her diamonds.

  “I was so busy schmoozing with all of the guests from Harold’s club, I didn’t even notice.”

  The Alexanders are a wealthy family with old money roots in Richmond. But to their credit, they have taken their inherited wealth and invested in their own business ventures. Harold is a local real estate big shot, and Penny owns a line of high end salons, which Raven manages. Raven is their only daughter, and her wedding is by far the most opulent event my mother’s catering firm has worked…ever.

  Mother-in-law and daughter-in-law continue to debate the bride’s possible whereabouts, while I stand here like a dork.

  I should be canvassing the room, looking for more ways to serve the three hundred guests in the cavernous ballroom of the Madison Hotel. But frankly, I actually like Raven and I’m a bit worried about her. She was nice to me at the rehearsal dinner, the bridal shower, and the engagement party.

  Yes, this wedding has been going on for many months.

  “What the hell is going on?” Violet grabs my arm and smiles at the Alexander women, as she pulls me aside. “I just heard someone say the bride and groom are both missing. Please tell me they’re together? They ran off for an early honeymoon?”

  Violet is the wedding planner. She organized my friend Claire’s wedding, and my mom frequently works with her on catering jobs. Normally the epitome of calm, a sheen of sweat is forming on her forehead, and her blond hair is frizzing up at the mere mention of disaster at her most important event of the year.

  “I don’t think so. Grandma said she saw the groom run off after the cake cutting. Maybe they’re outside fighting about something? Or having sex in the dressing room?”

  Violet does not seem to be appeased by my suggestions.

  “Does it really matter at this point? The reception is almost over. All of the things that require the bride and groom to be in the spotlight are over…except…”

  “The damn bouquet toss. Shit. Okay, try to act natural. If anything, bring more drinks. If everyone is drunk, they may not notice…oh hello, Mrs. Alexander. How can I help?”

  Violet’s demeanor switches back to ‘happy hostess,’ and she engages in conversation with Raven’s family. There’s nothing more I can do, so I begin to gather the empty glasses on the table…what the hell? Something just grabbed my ankle.

  I shake my foot and chastise myself for losing it. I was out late last night with my girlfriends. My boyfriend, Max, stayed home with our toddler, Mick. Since he’s not one to volunteer to help out often, I jumped at the chance to get out on a rare Friday night off.

  Hopefully this wedding will end soon and I can go home and…there it is again. Now I’m almost falling over, and I steady the tray. That’s just what I need—to drop a whole tray of expensive stemware while everyone is freaking…okay, there it is again.

  What the hell is under this table?

  I lay the tray down, glance back at the search party, and lean down to peek under the pale, pink taffeta tablecloth. Oh my God…

  “Hey, Bianca. Get under here with me. Quick.”

  I feel like Ashton Kutcher is going to pop out and tell me I’ve been Punk*d. I mean, the bride is under the bridal party’s table. Hiding.

  I glance around and before I know it, I’m also under the table.

  “Oww.” I rub my head after banging it on my way down. “Raven, what’s going on?”

  I take in her beautiful bridal visage, and wrinkle my forehead in confusion. She’s not crying. Doesn’t appear to be drunk or under the influence of anything else. Her eyes are clear. Maybe she’s just having a nervous breakdown, but she seems too calm for that.

  She reaches out to grab my arm with her perfectly manicured hand—the one sporting the three carat princess cut diamond.

  I am not at all into engagement rings—I wouldn’t know a princess cut from a queen cut (are they all named after royalty?), but Violet has mentioned it numerous times throughout all of the wedding events. I presume that’s because she is waiting for a ring from her boyfriend, Luke. I’ve met the guy. Smokin’ hot, as in—on fire!

  Raven’s ring is the talk of the town among hopeful girlfriends, but I have a feeling her new husband’s exodus will replace the sparkling gem in the gossip mill.

  “Corey ran off and I don’t want anyone to know. At least not until I can escape and get on the plane to Paris.”

  Her eyes dart around, as if other guests may have decided to play hide and seek, or nap off their ‘free wedding bar’ intoxication under the table.

  “Well, I think you’re safe under here for now, but your absence has been noticed. Your mother and grandmother are looking for you, and they’ve enlisted Violet’s help.” Her eyes widen and I continue. “I hate to pry but since you pulled me under here—can you tell me what happened?”

  She purses her lips and says, “He grabbed me after the cake cutting, and I thought he wanted to have a private moment to share our love, but instead he shared his love for men!”

  It’s a good thing I’m no longer holding the tray, or Raven and I would be picking shards of glass out of our asses on the way back to the surface.

  “Multiple men? A particular man? Or men in general?”

  “In general. He pic
ked a great time to come out of the closet, right? But the signs were all there, and as soon as he said it, they all raced through my head. And then I released him.”

  “You mean you were restraining him?”

  A vision of Raven straddling her new husband, with the cake knife in her hand, flashes before my eyes.

  “No, I mean I emotionally released his soul into the cosmos.”

  “Ohhhh.”

  I say this as if I know exactly what she’s talking about. If I didn’t know better, it sounds like she’s saying she killed him. At least I think I know better. I survey her dress and hands for any signs of blood. Just in case.

  I forget that Raven is one of those new age spiritual people. I’m pretty open minded, so I would be willing to learn about it. I am self-taught on many subjects, but when it comes to spirituality, I have no background at all.

  “What I mean is—I saw in an instant that this was a mistake. It was always a mistake. Now we can both be unrestricted—and divorced. World’s shortage marriage?”

  She smiles and I am wondering if she’s on some kind of drug. She’s taking this way too easily.

  “I had joked with him that we were getting married on April 2nd, and asked him if it was an April Fool’s prank. That’s ironic now, huh?”

  I suppress a smile, because I am still not one-hundred percent sure that Raven hasn’t murdered Corey, and stuffed his body in the fountain out back.

  I strain to hear if anyone has any clue that we’re hiding under the table. There is no one sitting at this table because they’re all dancing…or looking for Raven…oh shit, now some guy has decided to sit down and shove his knees in my…

  “Shh, don’t freak out, Bianca. Here, shimmy down this way.” She grabs my hand and pulls me away from Mr. Big Knees. “That’s Corey’s brother. He’s a football player. Pro. Yep, that family is going to be thrilled to hear my runaway groom’s news. His father is one of those gun nuts, too. Very right wing family.”

  “I’m really confused. Why did you think you were compatible? How long did you date?”

  “It was six months before we started planning the wedding, but I was so in love. And my mother has been nagging the hell out of me, ever since I turned thirty a couple of years ago. It’s not my fault my playboy, asshole brother won’t settle down and procreate new Alexanders to preserve the family line. You don’t know how lucky you are that…”

  “That I’m poor? No, I am beginning to see it has its advantages.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way. Just that you can do whatever you want.”

  Raven doesn’t comprehend that I can’t do anything I want. I want to move out of my mother’s house with my boyfriend and child, but Max isn’t budging from the comfy lifestyle at my mother’s beautiful, inherited townhouse on Monument Avenue.

  So we’re not living in the slums, but it’s not ours.

  I also want to stop serving snooty people at weddings and parties, and pursue my passion. But after spending money on a makeup artist course, I haven’t been able to figure out how to turn that passion into a living. I dream of Hollywood and Broadway, but I would settle for a barely ‘staying alive’ level of income to start. But so far, I haven’t had any luck.

  Of course, since Mick was born sixteen months ago, I’ve had little time for anything. So I carry a tray around and smile, while my dream curls up and dies like a…

  Instead of regaling her with my problems, I stay focused on the immediate issue, which is that my legs are locked in a crouching position, and soon more people will smash their knees into my face. They may need to call for the Jaws of Life to pry me out—I’m in pretty good shape, but I’m not an Olympic squatter.

  “So how are you planning on getting out of here? What can I do?”

  I don’t think crawling out and yelling, ‘Hey, everybody go home—the groom’s gay—April Fool’s,’ is going to go over big with this crowd. Plus no one would hear me, as I would still be on the floor waiting for my legs to spasm back to life.

  “Look up for a second.” She studies me intently and I’m afraid to ask what’s above me. A spider? Chewed gum? Something more disgusting?

  “Why?” I quickly glance up and all I see is the table. Maybe this is the beginning of some kind of meditation. I’m okay with that, but if she starts chanting and rolling her eyeballs back into her head, I’m going to tuck and roll.

  “Now close your eyes.”

  What the hell is she doing?

  “Wow, your eye makeup is stunning. Didn’t you tell me at the bridal shower that you took a makeup artist course? I can’t believe I forgot all about that. I should have asked you to do the bridal party makeup. I think we all look bland and pasty. How many colors of eye shadow did you use?”

  She continues to stare, and now that I know she isn’t performing a weird eyeball ritual with me, I gladly open and close my lids, while shifting my eyes to show off my handiwork.

  “It’s a mixture of a palette of shades.”

  She smiles and grabs both of my hands. I hope she’s not going to kiss me now. I’m all for gay rights, but I would rather avoid a second coming out today.

  Unless of course it helps me with coming out from under this table.

  “I have the BEST idea.” She suddenly quiets down and laughs. “I almost forgot I’m hiding under the table at my own wedding.”

  Yes, it’s so easy to do, says my crippled limbs.

  I now notice that she isn’t crouching, but sitting flat on her butt in her multiple-thousand dollar wedding gown, which she will probably discard on the floor as she changes into her Paris honeymoon getaway clothes.

  Or knowing her level of impulsivity, she may get on the plane in her dirty wedding dress and buy everything she needs when she arrives in the City of Lights. Or is it love? Something like that.

  “What’s your idea?” I ease my legs out from under me and almost collapse from the pain.

  It’s also awfully hot under here, but I resist the temptation to lift the tablecloth for a breath of air. The reception is winding down, and our window of opportunity to get out of here undetected is waning. Uh oh, the music stopped.

  Shit.

  “Oh no, the music stopped. Is he saying this is the last dance? There must be a full panic out there by now. Listen, I’m going to make a run for it. I called my driver to meet me outside. That’s actually why I’ve been under here. I could have taken off, too, or hidden in another room, but like a fool I came back in here after Corey left, and then realized that I didn’t want to share my news yet. I couldn’t muster up a tear if my life depended on it, and I know some of these people will be pretty pissed about the wedding gifts they bought from my Neiman Marcus registry, and they would want to see some regret on the part of the jilted bride. But before I go, what do you think of working as a makeup artist in one of my Richmond salons? The one in Washington Hill? We’ve decided to add professional makeup services to our menu, and you’d be perfect!”

  My heart races. “Wow, that’s an amazing opportunity. When did you decide that?”

  “Just now!”

  I guess I need to jump on this idea before her mind flits off to something else. A squirrel might run by.

  “But I don’t have any clients to bring to you, and I’ve never worked in—”

  She waves her hand as she returns a text. “Doesn’t matter. You’re a natural. Listen, Ronald is here with the car, but I will have Eric, my business manager, get in touch with you. He will get you all set up. This is going to be fabulous. When I get back from my trip you’ll already be a star!”

  I hope she’s planning on a lengthy sojourn, or she’ll be disappointed in my level of stardom.

  “How long will you be in Paris?”

  “Long enough to get a connecting flight to someplace more interesting. Grittier. More real. I hear Sofia is interesting. Have you ever been there?”

  I am searching my brain for the location of Sofia. Or maybe that’s someone she knows and I’m not following?
r />   As if reading my mind, she says, “It’s in Bulgaria. Listen, give me your number quick so I can put it in my phone.”

  I rattle off the digits without time to process all of this….stuff.

  Our friend, Jon is of Bulgarian descent. He’s the bass player in Chain, the band Max started a few years ago with his friend, Brandon. Jon was born here, but his parents are first generation Americans.

  Maybe the next time the guys have band practice, I’ll ask Jon if he knows any Sofia hot spots. But something tells me that Raven can find the sizzle all by herself.

  “Perfect! I gotta run, Hon. You have been a life saver! Really, I don’t know how I would have gotten through the last ten minutes without your supportive aura and good karma. I’ll give Eric your number in a minute. Bye, Bianca.”

  And she’s off. I peek out from under the tablecloth and witness the bride flying towards the ballroom exit, with a horde of family and friends on her tail. Even though she has been hunched down like Quasimodo for an hour, I have a feeling she will win the foot race to the getaway car.

  Fortunately, this mass exodus has afforded me a chance to inch out into the room, and attempt to stand up.

  Miraculously no one seems to spot me as I stretch and massage my sore legs.

  “Bianca, where have you been? Didn’t you see Raven running out the door?”

  Violet is even more sweaty than she was before. Her professional look is almost disheveled. I wish I could tell her what happened. A gay groom certainly can’t be pinned on the wedding planner.

  “I was looking for her in the side rooms. I thought maybe she had—”

  “What the devil is going on out here? It sounds like a herd of elephants just stampeded out the door.”

  My mother has apparently been in the kitchen this whole time, and had no idea the bridal couple had disappeared.

  We fill her in on the details, at least as much as Violet knows.

  Violet runs off to attend to the distraught wedding guests, especially the very confused Alexanders. I hope Raven at least texts her parents, so they know she’s okay.

  Even though I know I should keep quiet, I crack under my mother’s scrutiny. Ever since I was a little girl, I can’t lie to her. Her bullshit radar is rock solid.