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RAE
TWO DAYS UNTIL THE WEDDING
“This is the wardrobe?” I eye the cut-out jumpsuit hanging from the rack.
This morning, the photo shoot for Top Women in Music is at the Bellagio, on the casino floor. The theme is "no luck required."
Annie’s straddling a stool in front of a slot machine, laughing at the photographer’s joke. My friend looks beautiful and relaxed.
With all the wedding craziness, I forgot to look at the options before leaving the interview. They must have assumed I was good with what they selected.
Last night, after going to Tiffany to pick out his wedding band, Harrison and I went back to our penthouse. Leni FaceTimed to go over a mix of wedding details. I tried to take things off her to do list, but Harrison kept putting them back on.
At one point, Leni suggested we do the reception somewhere else.
I leapt to agree that there was no point having a huge venue for a handful of people.
“Do it at the Wynn,” she went on before I could speak. “Give out five hundred invites, have the photographer document it, then we can post the shots publicly. If the magazines know there will be pictures, they’ll be less likely to crash the ceremony.”
“Good idea,” Harrison said, turning to me. “What do you think?”
“I think this is getting out of hand.”
“It’s fine, Rae. I could do this in my sleep,” Leni assured me.
I couldn’t very well argue with the prospect of more privacy for our ceremony, so I agreed.
By the time we crawled into bed, it was after three.
As I tried to sleep, I reminded myself we’re in one of the most incredible cities with our friends and each other and the rest is details.
But our disagreements over dinner came back to my mind and kept me up even longer.
Now, I take the jumpsuit and head behind the curtain to strip out of my jeans and pull on the new outfit. When I zip it up the back, I look in the mirror. My hair is freshly blown out, my eyes lined dark. I look fierce.
The phone on the stool in front of me dings.
Callie: You can’t just text me you’re getting married at an estate outside Vegas in two days!!
A string of messages follow, none of which I can answer at the moment.
“Rae? How’s it coming?” a voice calls from outside.
I switch the device to vibrate and pull back the curtain.
The director beams. “I love it.”
My friend bounces over, holding up a hand for a high five. “Tag, you’re it.”
“Raegan, we're thinking of shooting you overhead on the table in front of the roulette wheel. Can you get up here?”
I set my phone on a gaming table in the area roped off from the rest of the casino floor and climb up on the table. When I lie back, the felt tickles my bare shoulders.
Even after years, being in the spotlight still isn't as natural for me as it is for Annie, but what matters is the goal.
The world has a million ways to tell women no.
Not you.
