The Bride Wore Black by Ally Gray

Chapter 1
    “ I don’t care what anyone says, I still say the answer is no,” Jeremiah declared, flouncing back against the upholstered chair and crossing his arms in front of his chest, glaring at the faces of his colleagues one by one around the conference table. “It’s tacky, and low class, and it’s not what Abigail would have wanted.”
    “Now, I have to disagree,” Tori argued hotly. “Abigail was nothing if not the poster child for avant-garde expression. She was a forward thinker, and she was always on top of the latest styles. She was a trendsetter in this business, that’s for sure. I think she would say that this is the 21 st century, and if this is where the wedding industry is headed, then we’ll not only help take it there, we’ll lead the way.”
    There was a smattering of applause from some of the others at the table at Tori’s speech. Jeremiah shot daggers at her with his topaz blue eyes, eyes that were completely wasted on a lead florist who wasn’t even gay despite what he happily let many of the staff believe. Stacy could only hope his wife really appreciated those eyes.
    “I don’t care,” he repeated. “It’s just disgusting. And on Halloween? How original.”
    “Now hold on,” Stacy interrupted, raising her hands for quiet from her seat at the head of the table. Even after all these years, it still surprised her most of the time when that gesture actually worked. Everyone became silent and turned to see what she had to say.
    “If this is really what the bride wants—and I can only guess that the groom is in on it, too—then it is our obligation to stage the most perfect wedding that we can. That was the founding principle that drove Abigail’s every waking thought, and probably most of her sleeping thoughts, too. Our clients will have the perfect event, or we will die trying. Am I right?”
    Heads nodded around the table, and even Jeremiah had to look away lest he get sucked into the pep talk.
    “But a Goth wedding, Stace? Black candles? Black roses splattered with fake blood? A black aisle runner with yards of spider web tulle? Are you serious? Just what exactly have we been sucked into, no vampire pun intended?”
    “I don’t pretend to understand it, but it’s what the bride wants. Her parents haven’t objected—” Stacy began.
    “That’s because her parents haven’t told that little brat what to do since the day they got her to pee on a potty,” Jeremiah said, pretending to mutter behind his hand but actually speaking at full volume.
    “As I was saying,” Stacy continued, shooting her lead florist a warning look, “the family is on board with the design, the bride and groom have made their wishes clear, and therefore, we have a job to do. Tacky or low-class or creepy or not, this business isn’t always going to be fingertip veils and oceana roses. Every once in a while, there’s gonna be a pasty white girl with black lipstick and a nose ring walking down our carefully crafted aisle, and it’s our job to make sure her undead day is perfect!”
    This brought more agreeable applause, mostly from the newer department heads who were just so thrilled to be working for the prestigious Events by Design firm that they would have worked while simultaneously being set on fire and eaten by ants, just for the privilege of being associated with the most famous event planning firm in the country.
    “Fine. But I draw the line at the rehearsal dinner slash séance that she and the groom are planning,” Jeremiah said, grinning smugly at the detail that hadn’t been shared with the group.
    “You’re not serious,” Tori said, looking at him over the tops of her completely fake reading glasses. Ever since her last boyfriend had dumped her for not being intellectual enough—her opinion, not his, formulated due to the fact that she was an event stylist and he worked for NASA—she’d taken to wearing them. She preferred the red tortoise shell pair whenever there was a