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First, find out about the couple and what they wanted.
‘Ijust want somebody who’s going to make me look good in every picture,’ the bride said.Francescacouldn’t help but roll her eyes.Sheimagined thatIshaniwould photograph well in a dingy call centre with fluorescent overhead lighting.
Paramjeetfinally piped up. ‘Wewant photos and videos that look like one of my father’s films.Better, even.Andhow can you fail, with two people as beautiful as us?’
‘Jeet!’scolded the bride.
‘Well, it’s true.’
Francescapretended to gag as she opened the luxury box of coffee capsules.Shewas confronted with five colour-coded rows: blue, red, yellow, black, and green.Beinga fan of theMatrix, she decided to choose between blue and red.ShethoughtParam-jerk was more of a blue pill kind of guy; he would choose wilful ignorance.Sheplucked the capsule out of the box and confronted the machine.Nowwhat?
Shelifted up a silver lever as she heardKrishmove onto part two: selling whatFrancescaand he could do for the couple.Hesuggested they peruse his sample albums and she heard the soppy, dramatic background music from his slideshow start up.Sheslid the capsule into the hole and pressed a blinking button.Nothinghappened.
‘Oh, that’s amazing,’ she heard the bride croon.Krishwasan amazing photographer.Theserich wankers would be lucky to have him.Francescastabbed at the button a few more times, until a groaning noise emitted from the machine.Somethingwas happening.
Ishaniasked, ‘Haveyou shot a wedding atBlenheimbefore?’
Francescahuffed.Didit matter?Avenue was a venue.
Thegroaning noise stopped and there was a moment of silence before black liquid spewed forth. ‘Shit!’ yelledFrancescaas coffee splattered all over the table and dribbled to the floor.She’dforgotten to put an actual mug below the nozzle.Shegrabbed the first thing she could find to catch the liquid: aJoMalonediffuser.Shepulled the sticks out and tried to line up the small hole at the mouth of the bottle with the stream of coffee.Afew drops burned her hand, but thankfully, most of it had already ended up on the floor and the stream sputtered out.Shewinced at the layer of dark liquid now sitting on top of the expensive oil in the bottle.
‘Allokay?’Krishcalled to her.
‘Fine!’ she barked back.
Let’stry that again, she thought.Sheprocured another blue capsule, inserted it into the machine, and opened the cupboard above to find a mug.Shecould see thatKrishhad stocked it with designer porcelain, printed with stunningFornasettifaces.Andshe would really have loved to serveParam-jerk his coffee in one of those, but her hand strayed to the left, to a mug she had brought from home.Itfeatured a still of a toplessRyanGoslingin the filmCrazy,Stupid,Love next toEmmaStone’squote: ‘Fuck!Seriously!It’slike you’rePhotoshopped?!’
Francescasmiled for the first time that day.
Onceit had filled with coffee, she organised the mug, a bottle ofEvian, a glass, and a plate with some fancy biscuits onto a tray, and brought them into the viewing area.Krishmoved one of the albums out of the way, and she placed the tray on the table.Shewatched asParam-jerk picked up the mug.Hepaused for a second as he read the quote and looked at the picture.Thenhe smirked atFrancesca. ‘Yeah.Iget that a lot.’
Hismask of amiability slipping,Krish’smouth hung open as he took in what she had done.Shesat down in her chair and ignored him.
Recoveringhimself,Krishstarted the showreel of her work.Shewished she could close her ears.Shehated being reminded of all those weddings she’d shot.Theone playing right now had taken place in centralLondonat a snooty hotel.Sheremembered being in excruciating pain and having to run out to vomit in between speeches.
Sittingback in her chair, she rested her elbow on the arm and placed her middle finger across her lips, her pointer finger laying along the side of her face.Anyonelooking at her would see a woman in a thinking pose, but really she was trying to cover up the tension building in her jaw.Sheground her teeth together.
Ishanidirected a question towards her. ‘Haveyou shot anyIndianweddings before?’Francesca’sshowreel didn’t include any because the answer was no.
Francescadidn’t trust herself to speak right now, so she just kept her mouth clamped closed and shook her head.
‘Ummmm,’Krishsaid, jumping into the uncomfortable silence, ‘Francescahasn’tshot anyIndianweddings yet.We’veonly just started working together, butIcan assure you her work is top notch.’
‘Iwant drone footage and lots of tracking shots,’Param-jerk said with the vague filmic knowledge of someone whose dad worked in the movies.
Shit, she’d have to find a drone operator for her team.Didshe know anybody? ‘Noproblem,’ she managed to strangle out.
‘Howmany guests are you having?’ askedKrish, in what she realised was an effort to draw their attention away from her.Thankbloody fuck for that.Butinstead of relaxing, her body stiffened with tension.Shehoped this meeting would end soon.
‘Fivehundred for the ceremony and then another five hundred in the evening,’ saidIshani.
Thatwould make this the biggest weddingFrancescahad ever worked.Shemust have made a noise because the bride turned towards her. ‘Iknow, right?It’snot that big, but we’ll have the real wedding back inIndiainOctober.’
Gumsnapping,Param-jerk added, ‘Yeah.Ifyou do a good job on this one, then we can talk about the next one.’
Notfor me,thoughtFrancesca.I’mbusy inOctober.
Amovement caught her eye.Asmall beige head poked out ofIshani’sbag, andFrancescajumped. ‘SweetChrist!’ she exclaimed.Itwhined, as though upset at the profanity.
