Forget Me Not by Julie Soto

19

Ama

JULY

Film crews make things ten times more complicated. It seems a stupid thing to only just now realize, but it’s true.

Because Hazel and Jackie are hiring a wedding garment designer from out of town, the film crew is going to miss their opportunity to do a montage of trying on gowns at a bridal shop. So Bea asked if we can stage it, because that’s apparently a very important thing to have in the episode.

I give Bea the names of the best shops in Sacramento, and we call them together to get this setup. I have to arrange a last-minute appointment to try on dresses that won’t even be purchased, and Bea has to clear the film crew by them. A store called Spring Maiden in Carmichael agrees to the shoot, as long as their store name is mentioned and the shop is shown favorably.

I let Bea handle Jackie and Hazel, giving them a script to loosely follow, and I just try to pretend it’s a normal vendor meet.

Spring Maiden is a lovely shop that I’ve been to only a few times, but thankfully the owner still remembers me from when I worked with Whitney. I arrive early to make sure we have the privacy we requested and to meet the assistants helping us today. The owner greets me and pulls me to the side.

“So we were able to close the shop to the public so the film crew isn’t stepping on anyone’s toes. But there was one appointment already on the books when you called, so they’re on the other side of the shop. I’ve let them know what’s going on.”

“Great,” I say. “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

The cameras get Hazel and Jackie walking in and the owner greeting them. Our assistant for the morning takes us to our private room with mirrors and a pedestal. Jackie and Hazel each talk through with the assistant what they’re looking for in a dress. Bea has decided that Hazel’s decision to wear a suit should be a “journey” she goes on through the scene, so Hazel is trying on dresses that “just aren’t right.”

Bea flags me over to the door, and I follow her out.

“Can we get an interview with you about dress shopping?” she asks.

“Sure.”

“Let me give Hazel and Jackie a break, and then I’ll have a cameraman set you up in this sweet little corner.” She points to a matte wall with the shop’s name painted cleanly onto it.

I’m waiting for the crew to get set and checking my emails when I hear, “Ama, I wondered if it was you.” I look up and Whitney Harrison is stepping out of the private room on the other side of the lobby.

“Whitney, hi!” I jump up to give her a hug before I can remember that I’m still suspicious of her. She clutches me tight, and I wonder again if maybe the vendor thing was a huge mix-up. “I should have guessed you were with the other party.”

“I hope you don’t mind that we couldn’t be rescheduled,” Whitney says, pushing a lock of hair away from her face. “My bride has had this appointment for over a month.”

“Oh, no, not at all.” I wave my hand. “I don’t care about privacy. I think it’s just for the film crew to have fewer people around.”

“That’s right,” she says. “How is the filming going? Does it interfere much?”

“Not so far.” I laugh. “It’s just a bit of staging with the vendors. The girls actually already have their attire,” I say quietly, “but the production crew wanted a wedding dress shopping scene.”

“Oh, good!” she says, placing her hand on my elbow. “To be honest, Ama, I was really worried to hear that the Hazel Renee wedding still didn’t have bridal dresses. It’s three months away!”

Whitney laughs, like we’re sharing a joke. I smile back.

“No, we’re all on schedule,” I say, shortly.

Just then, Hazel comes into the lobby, looking like she needs a break. She paints on a smile and walks over to us when I say, “All good?”

“Yes. Just stressful.” She turns her attention on Whitney and extends her hand. “Hi, I’m Hazel.”

“Hazel Renee, of course. Your wedding is going to be all anyone is talking about.” Whitney grasps her hand firmly.

“This is Whitney Harrison,” I say. “She’s a fabulous wedding planner.”

“Oh! I’ve heard a lot about you from Ama. And from my fiancée, when we were searching for planners.” If she remembers Jackie’s hesitations about Whitney, she doesn’t show it.

“Well, obviously you hired exactly the right fit,” Whitney says, dropping a hand on my shoulder. “Ama worked under me for years, so I can confidently say she’s remarkable.”

“Oh, we know!” Hazel laughs. “We’re really happy with her.” She sends a pleased smile my way, and a shadow of a wink crosses over her face.

“She’s one of a kind, for sure,” Whitney says. I try to parse out any sarcasm or ill will in her words, and I can’t find any. “Where’s the reception? I know it’s the Rose Garden for the ceremony.”

“We have a found space in Midtown,” I say, treading lightly. It’s kind of massive, what I’m doing with the old ballet studio. I’ve already got contractors telling me it can’t be done—that is, until I show them the budget.

“Ama’s going to make magic out of thin air,” Hazel says, bumping my arm.

“That’s very ambitious,” says Whitney. I can hear some of that old let’s-talk-shit-about-this-later attitude I remember from my years at WHW.

Hazel continues, and I get the feeling that she’s bragging for my sake. “I’m just so impressed by her. I’m going to try to convince my engaged girlfriends to consider her for their own weddings.” She turns to me casually. “You’ll meet them at the bachelorette.”

I … can’t feel anything for a few moments. My cheeks are so hot I think my face may have melted off. I turn from Hazel’s grin to Whitney in slow motion.

“The bachelorette,” Whitney repeats, eyes sliding to me. “Well, it’s nice Ama can carve out some time for that. Getting friendly with the clients was always her forte.”

I look to my shoes. What a fucking mess. I haven’t agreed to the bachelorette yet, but Hazel has been insistent. She doesn’t know what a minefield she’s triggered.

Bea interrupts us. “Hazel, can we go again? And Ama, I’ll have Nick come right out for your interview.”

Hazel follows Bea inside, and I feel like a dog, staring down the end of a newspaper.

“Well, some things never change,” Whitney whispers.

“I’m not going on the bachelorette,” I say quickly. “They invited me, but I know it’s not professional—”

“But they invited you, Ama.” She levels her gaze at me, lifting one perfect brow. “You’ve overstepped far enough for that to be okay.”

My throat feels stuck, lodged shut. “I’m sorry.”

She laughs, a tinkling sound she would reserve for grooms who thought they were comedians.

“Ama, you don’t work for me anymore. You can run your own business however you like.” She squeezes my arm, and I feel a manicured nail catch my skin. “I just hope you don’t get burned.”

I nod, my mouth unable to work. My eyes are pricking, and I want to run into the parking lot and scream.

“Call me if you need anything,” she says, walking backward. “It’s a huge undertaking.”

She disappears back into her private room. When Nick comes out with the camera and sets the lighting, I feel hollow. I don’t remember my answers to their questions.

When I tell Hazel and Jackie that I can’t come to the bachelorette weekend, I see their disappointment, but I stand firm.