Troy didn’t like to be rushed. Didn’t like that the paparazzi was all over the place on this one. But he was a free-lancer, so it came with the territory. He prefered close-up work, but his employer wanted a distance shot at a celebrity wedding. So he waited from his balcony.
He’d been enjoying the purrs and moans of a raven-haired, well endowed beauty when the call came in to his Manhattan apartment. They needed the shoot done today. In Malibu. He had three hours to catch a flight, the ticket would be waiting for him. Everything he needed would be waiting for him at the Hilton, across the street from the church where the wedding was taking place.
When he arrived and checked-in, the hotel manager welcomed him to California, and handed him the promised equipment bag. When Troy got to his room, jet lagged and grumpy, he checked to make sure the bag contained the right lens for the job, and took everything to the balcony, found a cushioned wicker chair, and started assembling the tripod. Nothing to do but wait now, and watch below as hundreds of guests crowded around the church, cameras flashing all around them. It was two in the afternoon and Troy coudn’t help but wonder why people were using flashes at all. Amatures.
Looking through his lense, setting the focus on the doors of the chapel, he grumbled inwardly again at the distance.
The groom was the celebrity, the bride was a studio executive who had finally netted her meal ticket. Troy had a chance to catch up on the event from a blurb in a newspaper on the flight over. He didn’t watch T.V., and had never heard of the actor getting married. He was thinking that the bride’s name rang a bell, something from his past, when the doors of the church opened.
It was Mandy on the groom’s arm. Troy had heard she’d been married, and had taken a new last name years ago after she had left him. Mandy was his Red Cross nurse in Kosovo when he’d been shot in the leg doing merc work. They had a two week affair, but in the end she left him saying they had no future because of the way he lived. Troy had never heard from her again.
Setting his cross-hairs on the grooms head, he squeezed off the shot. Blood and gore covered Mandy’s beautifull white dress as she screamed and collapsed unconscious on the church steps.
Packing his equipment, Troy wondered why she was wearing white. Wasn’t there some rule about wearing white if you had been married before?