Duo's POV
The Wedding Planner Part 2
The Job
I'm not sure what I was expecting when I drove up the winding lane between neat rows of trees to my newest job assignment. But I was unprepared for the sheer grandeur of the place. It was a veritable palace; well, okay, a really big mansion. But having grown up in an orphanage, I was still blown away by some of the places my job took me. I mean, shit, we could've lived for a week on what these people probably threw away after dinner every night.
I felt the familiar twinge of guilt at working among these rich, overindulgent people when I knew what it was like on the streets. I knew what it was like to go to sleep hungry. And here I was, watching folks spend enough money on one wedding to feed a slum full of starving children for a year. It was hard to take sometimes. But I consoled myself with the fact that my contributions to the orphanages back on L2 were, in some way, ensuring that my wealthy clients did some good with their money.
Plus, it made Quatre happy. Quatre had seen me through some very tough times...he'd been my best friend for years. And when he started up Winning Weddings, and begged me to work with him, I couldn't find it in me to turn him down. As he pointed out, I had a little experience in wedding planning, having nearly made it to the altar twice. I tried to argue that since neither wedding actually happened, it might be unlucky to have me involved in the planning process, but he was a persuasive little shit, trying to draw me out of the doldrums that the second failure had caused. So I agreed to take the job. And honestly, I was damned good at it. And, well, darned if it didn't work to bring back my spirit, too. Quatre was right, as he usually is in the matter of emotions.
I pulled the Jaguar up to the curb, where I was met by a valet. I kid you not! The rich slobs had someone to park their damned cars. (And before you slam me for driving an insanely expensive car, it's not mine! It belongs to the company. Quatre insists I drive it, especially when going to a ritzy, uptown address. They just wouldn't respect me if I sputtered up in the beat-up Jeep I actually own. Plus, it's a convertible! Who could resist?)
The valet held the door for me, gesturing up the marble staircase to the hand-carved mahogany door.
"Uh, thanks," I said, grinning and tossing him my keys, pausing to grab my briefcase out of the back seat.
I traipsed up the stairs, only to be met at the door by a tall, somber butler.
I must have passed the initial inspection, because he bowed at the waist. "Mr. Maxwell? Miss Peacecraft is expecting you...first door on the right."
I gave him a breezy wave and smile, and strode confidently into the plush hallway, trying not to gawk at the Persian rugs and antique tapestries as I headed for the door he'd directed me to. Hell, Lady Lucrezia's place had been just as splendid...maybe even a bit more. I refused to be impressed by this place.
Yet another servant of some kind opened the door to the sitting room and gestured me in. I found myself facing a young woman with long, blonde hair and very pretty blue eyes.
"Miss Peacecraft?" I guessed.
"You must be Mr. Maxwell." She held out a hand.
"Duo," I replied, taking the smooth, soft hand in mine and giving her my most charming smile. (Yeah, Quatre taught me well.) "Please call me Duo."
She smiled back, almost girlishly. "Duo. Would you like to have some tea on the veranda while we discuss business?"
I nodded, and found myself escorted out onto a beautiful patio, made up of various colors and shapes of stone arranged in perfect geometric designs and curves. "Wow...lovely," I said in honest appreciation. I always liked patios and gardens, especially for weddings. "I take it you want your reception here?"
Miss Peacecraft laughed, and it was a sweet, lilting sound. "Oh no! I couldn't have six hundred people traipsing around my home."
"Six hundred?" I echoed, trying not to see dollar signs. A wedding of that magnitude would take considerable preparation, depending on how picky the bride and groom were. And speaking of the groom, I glanced around. "Um, is your fiancé here?" I asked. "It's customary for both the bride and groom to state their expectations. Helps me get an idea of how to blend your desires."
"Heero--er, Mister Yuy, will be along shortly," she assured me. "He's working today, but I told him he'd need to take the afternoon off."
"I'm available for evening appointments as well," I told her, just in case the guy didn't show. Brides had a tendency to be a bit--high strung. I didn't want her to get panicky, and it wasn't unusual for the groom to try to avoid the planning process. Most men weren't that eager to discuss color schemes and flower arrangements.
"Oh, no, he'll be here," she promised, sitting at the umbrella table as a servant approached with a tray, and placed cups of tea in front of both of us.
"Great." I opened the briefcase and pulled out my portfolio and notebook. "I might as well take down some preliminary information while we wait."
So, over tea and biscuits, Miss Peacecraft and I outlined the Yuy-Peacecraft Wedding, including the estimated number of guests, preferred churches and chapels, and level of formality. Believe me, all those issues factor into planning the event, bigtime! I wasn't even going to get into venues for the reception until I had a better idea of how grand they wanted the affair to be, and what distance they were willing to travel.
We were side by side, poring over pictures of Lady Lucrezia's wedding set-up when I heard what sounded almost like a growl. When I looked up over Miss Peacecraft's head, I was met with a glare from a pair of dark blue eyes set under a scowling brow.
There in the doorway was a man in a business suit, although his tie was loose, and the top button of his shirt was undone. He had piercing blue eyes, messy brown hair, and elegantly-chiseled Asian features. He also had a very unpleasant gleam in his eyes.
"Oh, Heero! You made it!" squealed the woman. As she pushed back her chair to get up and go to him, I had to move my arm from across the back of it, and I suddenly thought I knew why I'd been on the receiving end of such a look.
I stood up, too, nodding politely and holding out a hand. "Mister Yuy, I presume?"
He looked at the hand I had held out, and then pointedly ignored me. "Relena--who's this?" He waved a hand in my direction, still scowling darkly.
"Silly!" she chided. "That's Duo Maxwell...our wedding planner."
The look he darted me then nearly made me take a step back, but I stiffened my shoulders and dropped my hand to my side, waiting for him to make the next move. I kept a smile pasted firmly to my lips, hoping the man wasn't in a line of work that entailed carrying a gun. Not that there was one in evidence, but you never know.
"You're--a man," he said slowly, the scowl easing into a somewhat confused frown.
"Ah, yeah...last time I checked." Shit--being flippant with a client was never a good idea.
The scowl returned. "He's entirely unsuitable, Relena. Get someone else." Mister Yuy turned as if to walk away.
"But, Heero!" Relena caught his arm, holding him back. "He's got perfect references. Quatre Winner himself recommended him...said he's the best planner they have!"
Yeah...put that in your pipe and smoke it, asshole! I could feel the street-rat in my upbringing rising to the surface. "Look, Miss Peacecraft, if it's going to be an issue, perhaps you should get someone else," I suggested, biting back the urge to tell her surly fiancé to kiss my ass. I quickly stuffed my notebook and albums back into the briefcase and snapped it shut, counting to ten...forward and backwards.
"Please, Heero--"
"For Christ's sake, Relena--"
"If you two will excuse me?" I interrupted, walking over and holding out a business card to Miss Peacecraft. "You can call if you reconsider," I said politely, through clenched teeth.
She took the card, looking over her shoulder at the man with messy, dark hair, who was glaring at me. As if I'd done anything wrong! I glared back.
"It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Peacecraft," I said, taking the hand she held out and nodding my head politely. (Hey, I wasn't the Oriental-looking one--I didn't bow. Her slanty-eyed lover there could do it! Okay, so the deep blue eyes weren't 'slanty'--but he definitely was of Asian descent.) When I released her hand, I looked squarely at her fiancé. "Good afternoon," I said icily, brushing past him and heading for the door.
I could hear the woman's voice raised in protest, and her fiancé's deeper voice responding. But I ignored them both, irritated that he seemed to think a man was incapable of being a wedding planner, and even more irritated that he seemed to think I'd been inappropriately close to his intended. I mean, shit, the table wasn't that big, and we kind of had to put our heads together to look at the pictures. I'd been showing her some details in one of the ballroom photographs...not making a move on her. And he should have known that. Or if it bothered him, he should have spoken up. But calling me "unsuitable" was just ridiculous. He didn't even know me!
I drove the Jag a little faster than necessary, letting the wind whip my braid out behind me, and enjoying the feeling of flying down the highway. It helped ease my irritation, and by the time I arrived back at the office, I was singing along with the radio. Yeah, it'd take more than a scowl and a glare to ruin my day!
In fact, it took Quatre. As I walked into the office and tossed my briefcase onto the couch, my boss/friend looked up from the vidphone. "Ah, Duo, good! Miss Peacecraft just called--she wondered if you'd be able to meet with her and her fiancé again tomorrow afternoon."
Shit, damn, and motherfuck.
I nodded. "Sure, Quat...just tell her to keep her boytoy on a leash this time," I said snidely.
His blue eyes widened, and he glanced in alarm from me to the vidphone.
"I take it she's still on the line," I sighed.
I heard a girlish giggle from the vidphone. "It's okay, Duo," came her distant voice. "I know Heero can be very intimidating when you first meet him. I promise he'll be on his best behavior."
"I'll be there," I muttered, wishing I could sink into the floor. Great. Just great. I not only made her fiancé jealous...I dissed him right in front of her. Smooth, Maxwell. Smooth.
TBC...
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